Chapter 37
Ron stomped up to the portrait of the Fat Lady, called out the password, and shoved open the door to the Gryffindor common room. His knuckles were red and chapped from the cold. He expected the place to be quiet. It was almost time for dinner, and most of the Tower had gone down to the Great Hall. But there was a gaggle of third and fourth-year blokes bunched up near the fire, wrappers and Chocolate Frog cards scattered all over the rug.
The fire crackled loudly, tossing flickering shadows across the room. The guys were opening frog after frog, laughing, and stuffing their mouths with chocolate before the enchanted sweets could leap away. Ron was already in a foul mood. Flitwick had made him redo his essay, and he had spent the last two hours in the library rewriting the entire thing. He set his book bag down and scanned the scene. He noticed right off that Dean and Seamus were at the heart of it, with three others orbiting them and hooting at every card pull.
Ron sneered at the mountain of chocolate wrappers. "Are you lot trying to overdose on sugar or something?" he said, but it came out meaner than he intended.
Seamus grinned back with chocolate-smeared lips. He held up a stack. "Oi, Ron! You want in? We got three Fleurs and a Susan Bones so far. She's barely even wearing …"
Dean cut him off with a cackle. "Just wait. The new batch is filthy. They must've gotten desperate for attention." He ripped open another box, and a brown frog flopped onto his hand. The card fluttered free and landed face-up on the rug.
A mop-headed third-year named Pidge snatched it up. "No way! Look! I haven't seen this one before!"
They mobbed in for a look, and the card went round the circle twice before Seamus whooped so loud Ron flinched.
"Holy shit," Seamus said. "Is that … it is! You've got to see this."
He held the card high. "Check it out, you sad git!" he hollered at Ron, as if taunting a wounded animal. "Is this your mum?"
Ron froze, and every nerve lit up in his arms and ears. "You're shitting me," he said, hoping they were just busting his bollocks.
"Mate, I can't believe Potter got her to pose. He's the luckiest bloke in the world," Seamus said with awe in his voice, shaking the card so the picture flashed in the firelight. "And she's …"
Pidge crowed, "Look at the tits on her!"
Dean and the others dissolved into hyena-like laughter. Even the older female prefect trying to read by the window snorted and quickly looked away.
Ron stalked over, his shoes thumping menacingly on the floor. He didn't even bother with pleasantries. He snatched the card out of Seamus's hand. The edges were smeared with fingerprints from all the fingers that had touched it. The Chocolate Frog card was titled "Molly Weasley: Witch of the Hearth," which was bad enough, but the moving picture was worse. Ron stared at the image with an open mouth.
Molly sat on her own bed at the Burrow. He could immediately tell that it was her room. He'd seen it hundreds of times before. She was on her knees with one arm covering her ample chest, but it was doing a terrible job of covering her tits. Her boobs spilled out over the top, jiggling with every movement. Molly adjusted, spread her knees wider, then caught sight of Ron watching her. She grinned and gave a sheepish, taunting wave.
The next instant, she leaned forward, squeezed her tits together, and made them bounce in a way that seemed physically impossible for a woman her age. Ron's mind nearly went blank. There was a hint of light pink areola threatening to break free each time she shifted. His eyes followed as Molly giggled, tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear, then slowly crawled toward the edge of the bed.
She turned around and arched her back, giving a clear shot of her thong-covered ass. Her panties were little more than a thin string that strained to cover her plump pussy lips. He could see the slightly darker skin of the rim of her asshole, but the string covered the actual hole. As she wiggled, the camera lingered on the way her cheeks bounced. Then, as if to taunt him further, she reached back and jiggled one butt cheek in each hand, giggling and mouthing something about "naughty boys." She blew a kiss straight at Ron.
Every sound in the room faded except for the soft, wet smack of chocolate in someone's mouth. Ron felt a flush rise up his neck, searing his face with redness. His heart battered in his chest.
"Bit of all right, that one," said Pidge, which brought the room roaring back.
Dean piped up, "Hey, is that her real room? It looks like your house in the background."
Seamus snorted, "It probably is. She's a kinky little bugger, ain't she, Ron?"
The laughter crashed down around him, and Ron's hands shook so hard the card nearly slipped. He had never wanted to punch someone more than he did right then. Instead, he crumpled the card in his fist, hard enough that the edge cut into his palm.
Seamus lunged for the card. "Oi, give it back!" He grabbed at Ron's wrist, but Ron shoved him away.
"Don't talk about her like that," Ron growled, his voice low and dangerous.
Seamus smirked, but Dean stepped in, his face gone cold. "It's just a laugh, mate. Nothing personal."
Ron didn't answer. He just squared his shoulders and stared at Dean like he was daring him to say more. Dean shrugged. "I guess some of us just have better-looking mums than others."
That broke Ron. He swung wildly and clumsily and caught Dean right on the cheekbone. Dean staggered and put a hand to his face, then retaliated with a fast punch to Ron's jaw.
They crashed to the rug in a tangle of arms and legs, cards scattering everywhere. Seamus cheered them on, Pidge cowered behind an armchair, and the other boy started chanting "fight! fight! fight!" like a lunatic. The Prefect got up and began shouting at them, trying to break up the fight. When she couldn't, she stomped out of the common room, going straight to McGonagall.
Ron got a knee in Dean's side and tried to roll him over, but Dean was wiry and strong, and he twisted away. Ron landed another fist to Dean's shoulder, then Dean slammed his forehead into Ron's nose. Stars burst in Ron's vision.
"Fucking hell!" Ron howled.
They broke apart, panting, and Dean spat a glob of blood onto the carpet. Seamus was already picking up the fallen Chocolate Frog cards, inspecting them for damage. Ron wiped his nose and saw blood on his hand. He glared at the others. "You're all a bunch of degenerates," he spat.
Seamus grinned, not even sorry. "We didn't make the cards, mate. Don't shoot the messenger."
Ron looked down at the crumpled Molly Weasley card in his hand. The image had a tear through the middle, but Molly was still on her knees, still beaming and waving. Ron wanted to torch the thing right there in the fireplace, but his hands were shaking too much.
Dean, rubbing his face, snorted. "She really is fit, though."
Ron lunged again, but this time Seamus and the other bloke held him back, laughing even harder.
"Relax, Weasley," said Seamus. "Everybody's mothers and sisters do this kind of thing. Besides, you should be proud. Nobody else's mum gets her own card."
Ron snarled. "You lot are despicable."
He broke free of Seamus's grip and stormed toward the boys' staircase. The laughter trailed after him, but so did the abject humiliation. This wouldn't go unanswered. Ron promised himself that much.
Red Light District
Apolline Delacour draped herself across the duvet, propped up on her elbows, with her chin balanced lightly in one palm. Her other hand trailed along the bedspread, then up and down the curve of her own thigh. She wore nothing but a white thong, and the thin string bit perfectly into her hips. The fabric was so small it vanished between the thick cheeks of her ass.
The room was nice and warm, heated by the glow of the fire in the hearth. Outside, the windows showed Hogsmeade with its dark slate roofs dusted with frost. The Three Broomsticks' rented room was above the kitchens, and the sweet, sticky scent of butterbeer drifted up from the floorboards.
Harry stood at the foot of the bed, his camera ready, trying to look cooler than he felt. He wore jeans and a t-shirt, and his hair was a disaster as always. Apolline graced him with a gorgeous smile, and her blue eyes glittered in the firelight. Needless to say, his cock was straining in his trousers.
" 'ow is this?" Apolline asked, her sexy French accent making his cock twitch. She stretched out a little further, one arm over her head. The pose was calculated, practiced, and perfect. She was obviously a pro. Her breasts flattened against the duvet, and the smooth curve of her side pulled tight over her ribs. The strings of her thong dug deep into the flare of her hips.
Harry watched her through the viewfinder and clicked off a shot. "Bloody hell," he said, lowering the camera. "You're a natural."
Apolline smiled slowly, enjoying being admired. "I 'ave 'ad practice," she said. Her voice was even softer than usual. "In France, modeling is a tradition. You must learn to control every inch of your body. It is an art."
"You really do," Harry agreed. He stepped closer and snapped another photo, then a third. "You always know exactly where to put your hands. The other girls could learn a lot from you."
Apolline rolled onto her back and arched up, stretching like she was waking from a dream. Her nipples pressed hard against the bare skin of her chest, but her arm fell in just the right way to cover them from the camera. She lifted her knees, then opened her thighs, letting the string of her thong pull tight against her mound. The white fabric nearly disappeared, and the lips of her pussy made a perfect V at the crotch. Harry's mouth went dry. He snapped three more shots before she giggled.
"You are blushing, 'arry," Apolline smirked. "Do you not like to look?"
"I like it a lot," Harry said honestly. "You just keep surprising me. Every time I think I've seen the best part, you show me something new."
"Come closer," Apolline said, and she crooked her finger.
Harry moved up to the edge of the bed. Apolline sat up, swinging her legs over the side. She let her knees fall open, and the fabric of her thong vanished completely into the deep crease of her pussy. Apolline traced her finger along the waistband, then tugged lightly at the knot on one side, but she didn't undo it yet.
"Do you want to see more?" she teased.
"All of it," Harry said. There was no point in lying.
A satisfied smile spread across her lovely face. "Then you must photograph every detail," she said, and she leaned back again, resting her weight on her hands behind her. Her chest thrust forward, and her hard, crinkled nipples pointed directly at his face.
She spread her knees apart, and the wetness at the crotch of her panties was plain to see. Harry zoomed in and captured the way the fabric stuck to the shape of her pussy.
"You like?" she asked teasingly.
"Yeah," Harry said, and his voice cracked just a little.
"Good," Apolline purred. "Because there is more." She lay flat on her back, then pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging her legs. Her pussy was completely exposed now, and the thong was lost between her lips. She let her thighs fall open, showing him the shiny pink wetness underneath. She tilted her hips to make sure Harry could see everything. Harry took the shot, then another. He couldn't stop.
Apolline let go of her knees and ran her palms down her shins, then back up to her thighs. She traced two fingers along the edge of her thong, then hooked them inside and tugged outward. The fabric pulled tight, showing every contour of her flushed womanhood.
She smiled up at him. "You may remove them, if you wish," she said.
Harry put the camera down on the nightstand. His hands shook slightly from his eagerness, but he knelt on the bed beside her and reached for the knot. Apolline was still, breathing deep and slow while watching his face. He tugged gently, the bow came loose, and the thong sagged. Harry slid his hand under her thigh and pulled the other knot. The second bow fell apart instantly, and the string slipped from her hips.
He pulled the thong down slowly, not wanting to miss a single detail. It peeled away from her mound with a wet little sound. The lips of her pussy were flushed, pink, and puffy, and so smooth he didn't see a single hair. Apolline grinned up at him, not the least bit shy. "You like bald pussies, yes?" she asked.
"Definitely yes," Harry said, nodding dumbly. "It's amazing." He breathed in the thick, heady scent of her wet pussy, and his cock throbbed with need.
Apolline rolled onto her side and pulled her knees up, her arm tucked under her head. She stretched her top leg, pointing her foot like a dancer, and let her other hand drift up to her breast. She cupped and squeezed it so the flesh bulged between her fingers. She then traced around the nipple with her thumb. Harry reached for the camera and took three more shots.
"Is it good?" she asked, never breaking eye contact.
"It's perfect," Harry said.
She rolled onto her belly and arched her back, lifting her ass into the air. She bent her knees, spread them wide, and then dipped her chest down and rested her chin on her forearms. Her long, silvery blonde hair spilled down her back in thick, luxurious sheets. Harry could see her cunt, shiny, open, and glistening just below the curve of her ass. Her asshole was small and tight, puckering teasingly at him. The pale hole was ringed with a faint blush.
Apolline wiggled her hips. "Do not be afraid," she said, teasing him further. "Take a closer photo."
Harry did just that. He crept up until the lens was only a foot away, then focused tightly on the way her pussy drooled onto the bedspread, and the way her asshole puckered with every breath. He took the shot.
"Beautiful," he said softly, not even realizing he'd spoken.
Apolline giggled out a soft, sweet sound. "You 'ave a very good eye," she told him. "And a very 'ard cock," she added, glancing back at the obvious bulge in his jeans.
Harry looked down and shrugged sheepishly. "It's hard not to," he said. It was a valid excuse when a naked goddess was sprawled out in front of him.
"Why do you not take it out?" Apolline asked. She was sprawled on the bed, her fingers tracing slow patterns on the inside of her thigh. Her wet pussy was on full display. "You are my photographer, and it is tradition. You are allowed to enjoy my body."
Harry hesitated for half a second. He set the camera aside, pulled his t-shirt over his head, then unbuttoned his jeans. He shucked them off, and his cock bounced free, already hard and ready.
Apolline watched his enormous cock bounce around. "Magnifique," she breathlessly stated, her accent growing heavier with each word. "It is so large. I 'ave always 'oped to 'ave one of this size inside me."
Harry crawled onto the bed, his hands on either side of her hips, and bent down to kiss her belly. Her skin was soft and hot, tasting faintly of honeydust. Apolline shivered as he kissed and nipped at her delicate skin.
She rolled onto her back and beckoned him closer. "Take one more picture," she moaned. "So you will always remember this day."
Harry fumbled for the camera and pointed it at her face. Her hair fanned out across the pillow, and her eyes were wide and hungry. Her chest rose and fell in rapid little breaths, and her nipples stood out stiff and perfect on her tits.
He clicked the shutter. He then took another as she reached down and spread her own pussy, showing him the glistening pink inside. She cupped her mound and moved her fingers up the crease, dragging a strand of wetness up to her clit. Her lips parted, and she let out a slow, warm sigh.
"Now," she said. "You must take me."
Harry put the camera down and climbed onto the bed. Apolline pulled him down, and their lips met. Her lips tasted sweet, and her tongue was hot and very soft. She grabbed his cock and aimed it at her entrance, but didn't let him in. Instead, she stroked it along her pussy lips, smearing herself all over him.
"You are strong," Apolline said, her breath hot on his neck. "But are you gentle?"
"Sometimes," Harry said, and kissed her again.
Apolline smiled and wrapped her legs around him, pulling him even closer. "I will teach you to be both," she promised.
Harry grinned, dizzy with lust. He braced himself over her, every muscle quivering with anticipation. But Apolline wasn't ready to rush. She pulled him down until their bodies pressed together, and her breasts smashed flat against his chest. She reached down and guided his cock between her thighs, just resting it in the slick valley. She rocked her hips and rubbed the tip against her clit, over and over, making herself even wetter.
Harry gasped. "You're driving me insane."
Apolline giggled, then pushed him over onto his back. She straddled him, and her tits swung in front of his face. Harry caught her nipple as it swung by, and he sucked it into his mouth. "You must let me 'ave control," she said, and her eyes were fierce and playful at the same time.
She ran her hands up and down his body, then pressed her pussy to his cock and slid up and down the length, never letting him in. She just ground against him, coating his shaft in her juices. She bent and kissed him, then sucked his earlobe between her teeth. After having her fun teasing him, she finally sat up straight, grabbed his shaft with one hand, and lined him up with her entrance. Harry looked up at her, breathless.
"Ready?" Apolline asked.
"God, yes," Harry replied.
Apolline grinned, then slowly and torturously lowered herself onto him, her eyes locked on his the entire time. The feeling was almost overwhelming. Harry let out a grunt as she took him in, inch by inch. She was so tight and so wet that he thought he might lose control before it even began. Her silky walls clung to him like a latex glove.
Harry groaned, grabbed her hips, and thrust upward, but Apolline held steady, working her hips in tiny circles, and milking every bit of pleasure from his body. She rode him with the slow, steady grace that only a Veela could pull off. Her hands gripped his chest, and her nails dug in with every bounce of her hips.
"Do you like 'ow I feel?" she purred. Harry nodded, too far gone for words. "Good," Apolline said. "Because I like 'ow you feel, too. My 'usband does not appreciate my body as much as 'e used to. Even so, 'e is not nearly as blessed as you are. It is such a shame."
"His loss is my gain," Harry said, then moaned loudly as she squeezed him with her pussy. Apolline giggled and rolled her hips in a figure eight pattern, milking his cock with every sway of her wide, womanly hips.
She moved faster, grinding down on him, and her tits bounced and flopped with the sway of her body. She reached down and stroked her clit, rubbing fast and hard. The muscles inside her clenched, and Harry felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge.
Apolline threw her head back and thrust out her perfect chest, making her perky tits jiggle. "Yes," she cried out. "Just like that. Fill me, 'arry."
Harry bucked his hips, losing control. He grabbed her ass with both hands and held her down as he thrust up into her. The pleasure hit all at once, and he emptied himself into her. Every spurt of his cock drew a fresh moan from Apolline.
She came at the same time, and her pussy clamped down hard, milking every drop. Her whole body trembled, and she babbled in French. Harry didn't understand what she was saying, but judging by the way her silky walls fluttered around his shaft, he got the gist of it. For a minute, they just stayed like that, panting with their bodies still fused together. Her pussy was still trying to milk his cock as Harry caressed her soft, smooth skin. Then Apolline bent and kissed him slowly and deeply.
"Your cock is even better than I 'oped," she said, her voice thick and satisfied. She wiggled her hips, making sure every last drop had been deposited.
Harry grinned, exhausted and happy. "It's nice to be appreciated."
Apolline rolled off him and stretched out on the bed. Harry ran a hand up her smooth belly and kissed her naked breast. Apolline shuddered when he kissed the hard tip of her pink nipple. She ran her fingers through his hair and looked over at him with a soft expression.
"You will always remember this night, yes?" Harry smiled and nodded. He would never forget it. Apolline kissed him deeply before pulling away with a sexy smile.
"I assure you … it will not be our last," she said and giggled loudly as Harry rolled between her thighs, hooked the back of her knees under his arms, and folded her body in half.
Red Light District
Ron took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the twinge in his bloody nose. The adrenaline from the fight hadn't faded yet, and every step fueled his rage. He hit the fourth floor, cut down a side corridor, and banged on the door marked PRIVATE: NO ENTRY. Inside, Fred and George's voices were already arguing over something. He barged in without knocking.
The Weasley twins were crouched at a makeshift worktable, littered with cauldrons, vials, and a spread of candy wrappers. There was a giant battered cardboard box on the floor, packed tight with Chocolate Frog card packs. There were hundreds of them, maybe thousands.
George looked up and snorted. "Ahoy, Ronniekins! Have you come to make a purchase?"
Fred wagged a card at him. "Or maybe you're here to try and scrounge some freebies again?"
"Shut up," Ron said. He slammed the door behind him and stalked across the room. "Have you two seen the cards?"
Fred rolled his eyes. "We sell them, little brother. Of course, we've seen them. I have a growing collection myself."
"That's not what I mean," Ron said. "Have you seen the card of Mum?"
George cocked an eyebrow. "You mean Witch of the Hearth? Everyone's trying to get that one."
Fred grinned. "It's second only to the new one of Fleur in a micro bikini. That one's a work of art. I've got three in mint condition."
Ron's hands clenched tightly. "It's not funny. It's sick. Did you know Harry was taking those pictures?"
Fred and George exchanged a look. Fred leaned back until the chair stood on two legs, his hands behind his head. "Mum wrote us and told us she was going to pose for Harry. She said she'd always regretted not staying in the business, and she wanted to help out."
"She … what?" Ron blinked in confusion, thrown by the news.
George shrugged. "She said you'd probably be weird about it, but she wanted to 'support your friend's enterprise' and 'show a bit of Weasley pride.'"
Fred nodded. "Good on her. If you've still got it, why not show it off and earn some gold?"
Ron stammered, "She's mental. You're all mental."
George looked at him like he was stupid. "You know it's not just her, right? Hannah's on a dozen cards. Rosmerta, Professor Sinistra, Bellatrix …" he said, counting all the witches on the cards. "Even Ginny will have her own line next year. There are even Hermione groupies in Slytherin. We're entrepreneurs, Ron. This is the market."
Fred grinned. "Besides, it's not like the photos are even that dirty. At least, not compared to what some of those Beauxbatons girls get up to."
Ron grabbed a card off the desk and shoved it under Fred's nose. "This isn't dirty to you? She's in a thong. Her ass is out. She's … she's …"
George plucked the card away and flipped it for Fred to see. "Wow, look at the technique. They even got the freckles."
Fred looked at the card, then said, "Honestly, Ron, you need to grow up. You're the only one bothered by this."
"I'm not bothered by it," Ron lied. "It's just … it's embarrassing. Everyone in the castle's talking about it."
Fred shrugged. "They're talking about Harry … or Fleur … or Hermione. Mum's just one of the crowd. Even Dad wrote to us and asked us to send him one of those cards so he could brag about her at work. If anything, you should be proud. She's a legend now."
"She earned a hundred galleons from the one shoot. That's more than Dad earned all last year. She's even doing another photoshoot with Harry next week, and she'll get another hundred. She's talking about taking the family on holiday this summer," George explained.
Ron glared at him. "You lot are disgusting."
George shrugged again. "You don't have to look at it, you know. Just ignore it."
Ron stared at them, his jaw tight and his pulse pounding in his ears. He wanted to say something that would put them in their place, but every time he tried, it just sounded hollow and stupid in his head.
Fred said, "If you keep being a whiny baby about this, you're going to end up alone and pathetic. No one wants to shag a mummy's boy who can't even look at a picture."
George nodded, "It's just tits, Ron."
Fred added, "And a bit of bum."
Ron gave them both the finger and spun around. He slammed the door behind him so hard the hinges rattled.
He heard George say, "He'll thank us someday."
"Doubtful," Fred snorted in amusement.
Ron wanted to scream, but instead, he just stomped away with his fists balled, vowing to get the last word next time. He didn't even make it two corridors before he saw three third-years trading cards on the stairs. One of them was holding the coveted Molly Weasley card. They didn't even notice Ron passing.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking, feeling like the only sane person in the castle.