"Why do you always block my plays? I'm a landlord too, remember!"
Narcissa Malfoy's frown deepened as she shot a cool glance at Penelope and Fleur.
This round, they were supposed to be her teammates, fighting against Diana, Tonks, and Gemma.
Penelope offered a sweet smile in return. "Madam, come now—we're all working toward the same goal: victory."
"Exactly," Fleur added with a nod, her silver hair swaying over her shoulder.
Narcissa's eyes drifted to the others. Tonks looked smug, Diana grinned but said nothing, and Gemma clapped gleefully.
"These little girls… such a thirst for revenge," Narcissa murmured with a smirk.
She understood. Her elaborate bluff in the previous round had sparked a silent alliance of retribution. If she didn't lose this round, they'd certainly continue to gang up on her.
With that in mind, she began playing her cards with less aggression—just enough that her "loss" seemed natural.
Soon enough, the coordinated attacks and Narcissa's subtle underplay led to the landlords' defeat.
"Madam! Time to pay up!" the girls cried gleefully, eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"How childish," Narcissa scoffed softly.
She rose gracefully and walked to the tall, arched windows, pulling the velvet curtains closed with a flick of her wand.
"No need to scandalize the whole of Avalon," she said dryly.
Blushing, the girls lowered their eyes.
"Come on, off with it," Diana teased.
Narcissa gave a refined smile. "A loss is a loss," she said, adjusting her golden hair like a queen preparing for a portrait. "Even a Malfoy honors her debts—with grace."
She slipped off her elegant white shawl and the silk scarf draped over her shoulders, exposing her swan-like neck. With practiced composure, she took her seat once more.
"Scarves count as clothes?" Tonks asked dubiously, raising an eyebrow.
"They're part of my attire, are they not?" Narcissa replied serenely.
"Hmph, fine. Then I'm taking off my socks," Penelope said.
Without hesitation, she tugged her white socks off her dainty feet and quickly tucked her legs under the thick quilt with a playful squeal.
Everyone turned to Fleur.
The spotlight was unmistakable.
"Well, Miss Delacour?" Diana said with a mischievous smile. "What will it be?"
"I…" Fleur hesitated, then reluctantly bent down. Her fingers trembled as she peeled off her white silk stockings, revealing long, smooth legs that made several of the other girls gasp.
Even above her thighs, the glimpse of pale underthings drew collective admiration.
"Wow!" the girls cheered like she'd scored a goal in Quidditch.
Fleur blushed deeply and hastily pulled the blanket over her lap.
"Truly exquisite," Diana purred, snatching up the discarded stocking and twirling it on one finger before giving it a teasing sniff.
"Diana!" Fleur growled. "You'd better lose next round—I'll make sure you take off that racy black lace!"
Narcissa, ever the composed host, shuffled the cards without comment. "Deck is ready. Shall we continue?"
And so began the third round.
After the bluffing of the first game and the grudge-driven second, the girls were now truly invested. They had adapted to each other's play styles and honed their skills.
Fifteen minutes later, Penelope, Fleur, and Diana emerged victorious.
As if following a ritual, Narcissa unfastened her dark outer robe and hung it on a nearby rack, revealing her amethyst-colored gown that hugged her curves.
Tonks and Gemma quietly removed their socks and wiggled their toes against the warm blanket, joining the barefoot club.
"Again!" Diana said enthusiastically.
Round after round passed.
The mood shifted from competitive to celebratory. The girls grew more daring, less modest, and clothes steadily disappeared over the hours.
By now, they'd been at it for nearly three hours.
Moriarty had been pacing outside the room multiple times, trying to play the role of the dutiful host.
Merlin's beard, I'm just checking if they've torn each other apart, he reasoned. It's not eavesdropping if I'm concerned.
Just as he raised a hand to knock again, he was hit with a volley of shrill protests from behind the door.
"Don't come in, you pervert!"
"Out, out, OUT!"
"Disturb us and you'll regret it!"
"If you open that door, I swear I'll hex you!"
He paused, then smiled when he heard a chorus of laughter from within. Their voices, cheerful and teasing, brought him comfort.
He wandered back to the sitting room, letting them have their time.
Two more hours passed. Evening fell, and the sun dipped below the enchanted skyline of Avalon.
At last, Moriarty returned to the bedroom door.
"It's already six," he said, knocking lightly. "Time to come out and eat."
BANG BANG BANG!
He flinched as fists struck the other side of the door.
"I'm coming in!"
"Wait—NO!"
"You can't!"
"We're—we're decent, don't come in!"
Moriarty raised an eyebrow. Was that… panic?
He leaned closer and heard the unmistakable sound of hurried dressing.
Diana's sharp voice rang out next.
"Fleur! That hole in your stocking was YOUR fault!"
"Mine? Your claw-like nails ripped it!"
"Bad quality stockings then!"
"Don't deflect!"
Moriarty nodded sagely. Diana's nails were notably long. He'd been on the receiving end of many a clingy hug.
Then came Penelope's amused voice.
"Gemma, you put your bear on backwards!"
Laughter followed, accompanied by Gemma's shy little yelp.
"Shhh! He's right outside!"
Bear? Moriarty blinked. A bear can be worn?
Before he could contemplate that thought, the door burst open.
Diana strode out first, fully dressed but clearly flustered. She grabbed Moriarty by the arm and pulled him along.
"Pervert! Sneaking around eavesdropping on girls! Lecher!"
"Hey, now—"
Before he could finish, she leaned close, their cheeks nearly brushing.
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," she whispered, then added in a sultry purr, "Or I'd hex you for real."
He smirked and opened his mouth to reply—
—but the door opened again, and Diana scrambled away as the rest of the girls spilled out.
Gemma came last, her head bowed and cheeks flushed. She gave Moriarty one shy glance before lowering her eyes again.
She looked adorable and slightly mortified.
Interesting, Moriarty mused. Gemma usually holds herself with such poise. I wonder what she had to remove…
Narcissa was the last adult to emerge.
She walked slowly, her fists clenched, her expression unreadable. The red tint to her neck—absent her usual scarf—stood out against her pale skin.
Moriarty took note of that detail.
No scarf? That's strange.
He peeked inside the bedroom. The cards were scattered, the bed a chaotic mess. But the scarf was nowhere to be seen.
Odd.
Then, as Fleur walked past, he noticed something strange.
Her skirt was… flaring wider than usual.
Wait…
Upon closer inspection, he spotted it—the missing scarf had been tied around her thigh, covering a small tear near the back of her stocking.
So that's where it went.
And just below the scarf, with each step Fleur took, a glimpse of bare skin flashed in and out of view.
Moriarty's mouth curled into a knowing smile.
So Diana tore her stocking, and Narcissa lent her the scarf. Impressive teamwork.
Even better, it showed that the girls were learning to cooperate beyond just the game.
"I should get you a few new pairs of stockings," Tonks said suddenly, walking beside Fleur.
"Make them black ones," Moriarty chimed in playfully.
"Pervert."
"Big creep."
"Terrible junior!"
"Ugh, Moriarty!"
"You wish!"
The banter echoed down the corridor as the group headed to dinner.
Moriarty ordered a feast, and the girls demolished it in minutes.
But just as he hoped they'd settle in for the night, he noticed something odd.
They weren't retreating to their own rooms.
Instead, they all began walking—together—toward his.
Moriarty froze.
Wait… they're not… continuing, are they?
In the luxurious suite, the girls piled onto the sofas, their giggles returning.
Moriarty eyed them cautiously and conjured a plush chair to sit beside them, but even that didn't put him at ease.
They were too comfortable.
And they weren't holding back at all now.