This chapter has an R-18 section.
Chapter 49:
– Kuroka –
Kuroka stood outside the heavy obsidian door at the end of the hallway and chewed her bottom lip raw.
This was bullshit. Absolute, unequivocal, grade-A bullshit.
She replayed the scene from twenty minutes ago in her mind:
The five of them, Vali's entire little ragtag team, standing in a circle in the common room of their shared hideout, each holding a straw pinched between their fingers. Arthur had suggested the method with that infuriatingly calm British politeness of his. Le Fay had enchanted the straws to be perfectly fair and tamper-proof. Bikou had been cracking his knuckles and chanting "not me, not me, not me" under his breath like a prayer.
And Kuroka, the most powerful Senjutsu user among them, a woman who could literally feel the life force and intentions of every living creature within a mile radius, had somehow drawn the short straw.
There is no way they didn't cheat. No. Fucking. Way.
She'd checked their ki signatures during the draw. Clean. She'd read the ambient nature energy in the room. Neutral. She'd even tasted the air with her tongue for traces of Le Fay's sneaky little enchantments. Nothing.
Which either meant it was genuinely random bad luck, or all four of her so-called friends had collaborated on a method so elegant it bypassed every detection ability she possessed.
I'm going with option two. Those bastards.
She adjusted her black kimono for the fourth time, tugging the neckline a fraction higher than she usually wore it. Kuroka's default setting was "barely dressed and proud of it." Her kimono always hung loose off one shoulder, the sash tied just tight enough to keep things technically legal, the hemline high enough to show the full length of her thighs.
It was a look. It was her look. She owned it.
But standing outside this particular door, some deep feline survival instinct was screaming at her to cover up, make herself small, and maybe find a nice dark closet to hide in for the rest of the afternoon.
Her two black cat tails swished anxiously behind her, betraying her nerves despite her best efforts to keep them still. Her matching cat ears were flattened halfway back against her dark hair.
Okay. Okay. Just knock. Ask the questions. Don't make eye contact for too long. Don't say anything stupid. Don't flirt. Absolutely, under no circumstances, do NOT tease her. Get in, get answers, get out. Easy.
She raised her fist.
I hate all of my friends.
She knocked. Three quick, polite raps against the obsidian surface.
Silence.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Kuroka's tails wound around each other in a tight, anxious spiral.
"Come in, cat." The voice was soft and flat and calm.
Kuroka pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room was sparse and strange, as it always was. Ophis didn't decorate the way normal beings did. The only piece of furniture was a wide, low-backed chaise lounge upholstered in deep violet fabric, positioned in front of the window so its occupant could gaze outside.
And on that chaise, legs tucked beneath her with her hands folded neatly in her lap, sat the second most powerful being in existence.
Kuroka's usual entrance, the hip-swaying, tail-flicking, half-lidded sexy swagger that she weaponized against every man and most women she encountered, was absolutely nowhere to be seen. Her posture was straighter than it had been since childhood. Her steps were measured and careful, like she was walking across a frozen lake and listening for cracks.
"Nya... hi, Lady Ophis," Kuroka said, bowing her head respectfully. Her voice came out softer than she intended. "Um, I just came to ask you some questions, if that's okay, nya."
She lifted her gaze as she spoke and then promptly forgot the second half of her sentence.
What the...
Ophis had changed.
The last time Kuroka had seen the Infinite Dragon God, she'd worn her usual form—a small girl in a Gothic Lolita dress, barely reaching Kuroka's chest, with a body that looked like a porcelain doll and eyes like two pools of liquid midnight. That form had always been unsettling in its own way, the vast cosmic indifference of an infinite being packed into such a tiny, childlike vessel.
But now...
Ophis still had the same flawless, alabaster skin, so pale it seemed to emit its own faint luminescence. The same impossibly dark hair, black as the void between stars, falling straight and silky past her shoulders. The same bottomless black eyes that held no pupil, no iris, just an endless depth that made you feel like you were staring into the space between dimensions.
But the body was different. Older. Taller. The doll-like child was gone, replaced by a young woman who appeared to be around eighteen or nineteen years old.
Her face. Kami, her face. She was beautiful.
Oh, Kuroka thought, her cat ears perking forward involuntarily. Oh no. She's really, really sexy now.
A violent shudder ran through Kuroka's entire body from the tips of her ears to the ends of her tails as her survival instincts caught up with her libido and tackled it to the ground.
BAD! BAD THOUGHT. THIS IS OPHIS. THE INFINITE DRAGON GOD. THE BEING WHO COULD UNMAKE REALITY BY BLINKING TOO HARD. DO NOT THINK ABOUT WHAT SHE LOOKS LIKE NAKED. DO NOT. STOP IT!
Her tails puffed out to twice their normal size.
Ophis tilted her head to one side, watching Kuroka's internal meltdown with the placid curiosity of someone observing a particularly interesting insect.
"Ask your questions, then, cat," she said. Her voice was the same as always, flat and unhurried, but something about her mouth, the faintest suggestion of a curve at one corner, made Kuroka think she might be in an unusually tolerant mood. "I am in a good mood."
She literally just said she's in a good mood. Ophis. In a good mood. Since when does Ophis have moods? Since when does Ophis voluntarily disclose emotional states?
Kuroka's curiosity, which was every bit as powerful as her Senjutsu and twice as likely to get her killed, began to stir beneath her nervousness. "Right, nya. Okay." Kuroka straightened up and clasped her hands in front of her. "So, the thing is... everyone's been noticing some, uh, unusual activity lately, nya. Specifically from you, Lady Ophis."
Ophis said nothing. She simply watched and waited.
Kuroka pressed on. "Your snakes, nya. The little fragments of your power that you distribute sometimes? You've been sending them out like crazy. Not to Sacred Gear users. Not to potential recruits. You've been stuffing them into random magical animals all over the world, nya." She started counting on her fingers as she listed the incidents. "There was a Nundu in sub-Saharan Africa that gained enough power to level an entire poacher encampment and three surrounding villages before the local mage clans put it down. A pod of Selkies off the coast of Iceland that developed the ability to sing curses strong enough to capsize military warships. The mundane humans blamed a rogue wave, by the way, but the Norwegian magical government had to deploy their entire emergency response division, nya." Kuroka's ears flattened as she continued. "A colony of Demiguise in Southeast Asia went completely invisible on a permanent basis and started stealing food from muggle grocery stores, which caused a massive local panic about ghosts. And then there's the big one..." She gave Ophis a pointed look even though she knew she was probably pushing her luck. "A Thunderbird over the Atlantic that grew large enough to generate its own weather system." She held Ophis's gaze as steadily as she could, which was about as comfortable as staring into an open furnace. "It's causing a lot of chaos out there. Even the mundane humans have started noticing things they shouldn't be noticing, nya."
Ophis uncrossed her legs and recrossed them the other way, the hem of her black dress shifting against her pale thighs. She looked down at her own hands for a moment, and Kuroka could swear she saw the dragon god's fingers twitch, the tiniest fidget, as if she was remembering a sensation.
"I was searching," Ophis said.
Kuroka waited. When nothing else came, she prompted gently. "Searching for... what, nya?"
"Someone." Another pause. Longer this time. "There was a warmth." Ophis's voice dropped half a register, still quiet, still calm, but something underneath it had shifted. A texture Kuroka had never heard before in the dragon god's voice. "I felt it through one of my snakes. A fragment I had distributed months ago, given to a human faction for their use. The snake was activated in combat, and during that combat, it was struck by a fire. It burned through my snake, destroying it completely. But before the connection was severed..." Ophis lifted her right hand and pressed her palm flat against the center of her chest. "Here. I felt it here. Warmth. Something I have never..." She trailed off. Her black eyes seemed to flicker.
Kuroka had forgotten how to breathe.
"I wanted to feel it again," Ophis continued, matter-of-fact, as if confessing an earth-shattering vulnerability was no different from commenting on the weather. "So I distributed more of my snakes. Into creatures all over the world. I reasoned that if more of my fragments were active and in contact with more living beings, the probability of encountering that warmth again would increase."
Kuroka felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of her neck.
The Infinite Dragon God had caused a global magical crisis affecting every supernatural faction on the planet, triggered mass panic in at least four governments, and gotten several hundred mundane humans killed by rampaging magical beasts.
Because she was looking for a feeling.
Because she wanted to be warm.
"But... you said you found them, nya?" Kuroka asked carefully, keeping her voice very, very neutral. "The person you were looking for?"
"Yes." Ophis's hand was still pressed against her chest. "On a small island. His aircraft had crashed. He had fought one of my empowered creatures, a Thunderbird, and won. I healed his injuries. He let me sit with him. He held me." The word held came out differently than the rest. Slower. Like Ophis was savoring the shape of it in her mouth. "He was warm, Cat. So warm."
Kuroka's enhanced feline vision zeroed in on it with predatory precision, and what she saw made her breath catch in her throat.
Ophis's cheeks.
There was color there. The faintest, most infinitesimal flush of pink, barely visible against her porcelain skin. If Kuroka hadn't been a Nekoshou with eyes designed to hunt in pitch darkness and pick out a mouse's heartbeat at fifty paces, she would have missed it entirely.
But she didn't miss it.
The Ouroboros Dragon, the Infinite Dragon God, the being whose emotional range historically spanned the vast spectrum from "blank" to "slightly less blank," was blushing.
Nya.
NYA.
Is she... does Ophis want to... is this about... NYA!?????
Kuroka's brain short-circuited. Rebooted. Short-circuited again. Her tails whipped back and forth behind her, and she had to physically bite the inside of her cheek to keep the words from tumbling out.
Don't say it. Don't you dare say it! Don't tease the infinite being about having a crush. You enjoy living! You enjoy having a physical form. You enjoy existing in a reality that hasn't been collapsed into a singularity because you made the dragon goddess feel embarrassed. Keep your mouth shut, Kuroka.
"Oh," she managed, her voice only cracking slightly. "Oh, that's... that's really nice, Lady Ophis, nya. Really, really nice. I'm happy for you."
OPHIS WANTS TO GET LAID!
THE OUROBOROS DRAGON WANTS TO GET RAILED!
SHUT UP BRAIN!
"Nnyyyaaa..." The sound escaped through her clenched teeth like steam from a pressure valve.
Ophis tilted her head again. "Are you unwell, cat?"
"Fine! Totally fine, nya!" Kuroka's voice cracked on the second 'fine.' She cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and wrestled her expression back into something resembling composure. "So... you found them. The person you were looking for. That's... that's great, Lady Ophis. So we don't have to worry about any more empowered animals running around, nya?"
"No," Ophis confirmed. "I will not need to empower more creatures. The search is concluded."
"Wonderful, nya. Fantastic. Problem solved. I'll let the team know." Kuroka nodded rapidly, already planning her retreat. Mission accomplished. Questions asked. Answers received. Time to leave before I say something that gets me atomized.
She took a half-step toward the door.
"There is something else."
Kuroka froze mid-step, one foot hovering above the ground, her tails stiff as boards.
"Oh?" She slowly lowered her foot and turned back around. "Is there something we can help you with, Lady Ophis, nya?"
Ophis's dark, infinite eyes locked onto Kuroka's golden cat-slit ones. The faintest crease appeared between her brows, a micro-expression that on any other being would be meaningless, but on Ophis represented a seismic shift in emotional engagement.
"Yes," Ophis said. "I want you to find out everything you can about the half-devil named Harry Sitri…"
The tall, gorgeous, blue-eyed half-devil bastard I met three days ago in Kuoh Town? The one who told me Shirone was safe and happy. The one I shamelessly offered a nude modeling session to because his phone got destroyed and I am constitutionally incapable of not flirting with beautiful men.
THAT Harry Sitri?
Ophis wants to know everything about the guy I was grinding on conversationally three days ago!?
"Harry... Sitri, nya?" she repeated, making absolutely sure her voice didn't betray the five-alarm fire currently blazing through her skull.
"Yes. You know this name?"
"I... may have met him, nya. Recently. In Kuoh Town."
Ophis's eyes sharpened. The shift was subtle but unmistakable, like a lens being focused.
"You met him?"
"Briefly, nya. Very briefly. Vali and I ran into him after he finished a fight. He was... very polite. Very handsome."
Very shirtless. Very sweaty. Very much exactly the kind of man I would climb like a tree if he wasn't apparently the target of the Infinite Dragon God's first ever romantic fixation.
"...Tell me everything you know about him," Ophis replied, this was not a request.
…A half an hour later.
She made it exactly four steps down the hallway before her composure shattered.
She broke into a dead sprint. She skidded around the corner, nearly crashed into a floating light orb, and burst into the common room where Vali, Le Fay, Arthur, and Bikou were exactly where she'd left them, sitting around the table pretending they hadn't been anxiously waiting for her to come back alive.
Four heads turned.
Vali raised an eyebrow.
Kuroka slammed both palms on the table so hard the wood cracked.
"NYA! You all are NOT going to BELIEVE this!"
Bikou leaned back in his chair. "She killed you and this is your ghost?"
"SHUT UP, MONKEY!" Kuroka whipped toward Vali. "Vali! That guy! The half-devil we met in the Japanese park! Harry Sitri!"
Vali's expression shifted from bored to attentive in an instant. "What about him? Did he change his mind and become the new Red Dragon!?" Vali asked hopefully.
"NO! Ophis wants him! She wants to know EVERYTHING about him! She was BLUSHING, Vali! The Infinite Dragon God is BLUSHING over a nineteen-year-old half-devil student! She's changed her whole body to look like an older, hotter version of herself and she's sitting in there talking about how he HELD her and how WARM he was and how nobody has ever made her FEEL all this stuff before!"
Dead silence. As was expected…
Le Fay's mouth fell open so wide her witch's hat slid off her head.
Arthur's hand froze halfway through adjusting his glasses.
Bikou's chair tipped backward and he hit the floor with a crash, but nobody looked at him because they were all too busy staring at Kuroka.
Vali was the first to speak. His silver eyes had gone very, very wide, which for the notoriously unflappable White Dragon Emperor was the equivalent of a full-blown panic attack.
"Ophis," he said slowly, "has a crush. On Harry Sitri."
"YES, NYA!"
"The same Harry Sitri whose mother is a Satan."
"YES!"
"WHAT THE FUCK!?"
"I KNOW RIGHT, NYAAA!"
– Harry –
"I'm sorry your plane ride got ruined, Asia. I know you were really enjoying first class."
Asia looked up at me from the flat rock she'd claimed as a seat. "Please don't apologize, Harry-san. It was the most wonderful flight of my life, even with the crashing part." She clasped her hands together in her lap. "I got to sit in a real leather seat. There was a blanket that wasn't scratchy. The nice lady brought me orange juice in an actual glass, not a plastic cup. And the little TV screen had a movie about a fish who gets lost and his father swims across the entire ocean to find him. I cried three times."
"She really did," Jasmine confirmed from a few feet away, wringing seawater out of her messy brown hair. "I could hear her sniffling over the isle."
"It was very emotional!" Asia's cheeks flushed. "The fish loved his son so much..."
"Asia," I said gently.
"There will be plenty of plane rides in the future, Harry-san." She folded her hands more tightly, her voice softening into something warm and steady and so sincere it made my chest ache. "I'm just glad that you and Jasmine-san and Marlene-san and everyone else are okay. That matters so much more than first class."
This girl. This absolute angel of a girl. I'm going to protect her with everything I have. Anything that tries to hurt Asia Argento is going to have to go through me, my entire peerage, two devil princesses, a Satan, and a reincarnated Valkyrie who fights like a Norse apocalypse in high heels. Good luck with that.
"There'll be as many plane rides as you want," I told her. "First class every time. And I'll make sure you get to finish the fish movie."
Asia beamed. "Finding Nemo."
"Finding Nemo. Got it."
"Ahem." Jasmine materialized at my elbow. Her round glasses were slightly askew, one lens still spotted with saltwater droplets, and her cheeks were pink in a way that had nothing to do with the tropical sun beating down on us. "I'm, ah... I'm glad you're okay too, Harry," she said, pushing her glasses up her nose. The lenses immediately fogged from the warmth of her blush, turning opaque. "Really glad. Extremely glad. Glad is... definitely the word I'd use to describe my current emotional state regarding your continued physical existence."
Behind her, Marlene leaned against a scorched palm tree with her arms crossed under her chest, watching her daughter's fumbling attempt at expressing affection with the satisfied grin of a woman who was enjoying every second of the show.
"Sweetheart," Marlene said, "you're allowed to just hug him."
"I don't need to hug him, Mum. I expressed my gladness verbally. Like an adult."
"Your glasses are completely fogged. You can't even see him right now."
"I can see him perfectly fine," Jasmine said with enormous dignity, turning approximately thirty degrees to the left of where I was actually standing. "He's right there."
I reached out and gently turned her shoulders until she was facing me. She squeaked at the contact.
"There you go," I said.
"I knew that." Her voice was very small. Her glasses were very opaque. "I was testing you."
I kissed the top of her head, and through the fogged lenses I caught the way her lips pressed together hard to keep from smiling too wide.
I left Jasmine to de-fog her glasses in peace and turned toward the beach where Newt Scamander was crouched beside the Thunderbird's massive corpse.
"Professor Scamander," I said, walking over to him. "What's your plan from here? Are you staying on the island?"
Newt didn't look up immediately. He was peeling back a layer of scorched plumage near the Thunderbird's throat, exposing the area where I'd pumped Veela fire down into its body. The flesh beneath was a lattice of burn scars over deep black veins that had crystallized into something hard and glass-like.
"Oh, yes. Absolutely." He finally glanced up at me, and despite everything, his expression held more wonder than exhaustion. "This creature was host to something I've never encountered before in over a century of fieldwork." He pointed at the black crystalline veins. "Whatever corrupted this Thunderbird didn't just enhance its power. It rewrote its biology at a fundamental level. Whatever this substance is, it turned a gentle giant into a weapon."
I almost opened my mouth. What I knew so far was right there on the tip of my tongue.
But then the image surfaced.
A girl. Pale as moonlight, midnight hair, bottomless black eyes. Pointed ears like something out of a fairy tale. How she'd climbed into my lap and pressed her face against my neck and breathed me in like I was the first warm thing she'd ever touched.
"Can I feel your warmth again?"
Some instinct told me she was the cause of all this and to not talk about it...
I don't understand what she is. I don't know what she wants. But I'm going to find out on my own terms before I point anyone else in her direction.
"I hope you find your answers," I said instead.
He nodded, as if that was exactly the answer he'd expected. "Don't worry about me, though. I won't be a stranger."
I shook his hand. His grip was surprisingly strong for a mortal man who had to be pushing a hundred.
"You're not staying on this island permanently, are you?" I asked.
The old magizoologist actually chuckled at that. "Oh, hardly. No, I just need a few days with the specimen. After that, I'll be heading straight to Scotland." He dusted off his coat. "You're looking at one of Hogwarts' newest professors, actually. There's a reason I was on that flight to London in the first place."
I blinked. "You're teaching at Hogwarts?"
"Dumbledore's been after me for years to take a position. I kept turning him down because fieldwork always felt more important. But after the attack on the school, after those students died..." The lightness left his face. "I decided it was time to stop saying later. These young people are going to be walking into a world full of creatures far more dangerous than anything their current curriculum prepares them for. They need someone who's actually been in the field. Someone who can teach them to respect magical creatures and survive them."
"I look forward to your class, Professor."
"And I look forward to seeing what else you're capable of, Mr. Sitri. Something tells me you'll make my lessons very interesting." He glanced past me at the three women waiting on the beach. "Now go. Get your people home. I have work to do, and your friends look like they'd rather be anywhere that isn't a smoking crater in the middle of the Pacific."
I gave him a nod and turned back toward Marlene, Jasmine, and Asia. Behind me, I heard Newt open his enchanted case and begin descending the ladder inside it, humming something that sounded suspiciously like a lullaby.
The three of them made quite a picture standing on that narrow strip of beach.
I walked up to the shoreline and squinted. Clear skies. Calm seas. I could feel the salt on my skin and the warmth baking through my ruined shirt.
"I don't think we're that far from China," I said, shading my eyes against the glare of the afternoon sun and scanning the flat blue horizon. "From there we can find a magical district and get a portkey to London. Or at least to a major hub with international Floo access."
"And how exactly are we getting to China?" Jasmine asked, joining the group with Asia trailing shyly behind her. "Because the last time I checked, swimming three hundred kilometers through open ocean isn't part of the Hogwarts fitness curriculum."
Hogwarts didn't have a fitness curriculum because most wizards and witches were lazy by default…
"I could fly us of course," I suggested again. This time a giant bird wouldn't be trying to eat us.
Marlene gave me a long, appraising look.
"Harry," she said with a slow smirk, "being carried across the ocean in your arms against your chest was a lovely and thrilling experience. Very romantic. Very damsel-in-distress. But that was a short hop from the crash site to this beach. Three hundred kilometers of open water at flight speed means hours of holding two full-grown women and a very sweet teenage girl while fighting crosswinds and trying not to drop anyone into the Pacific. My arms are going to go numb. Jasmine's going to throw up. And I'm going to spend the entire trip trying not to think about how your hand is on my ass."
"I wouldn't put my hand on your..."
"You absolutely would, and I wouldn't complain, and that's exactly the problem when my daughter is dangling from your other arm watching the whole thing."
"MUM."
Jasmine's face had gone the color of a ripe strawberry. Her glasses fogged again.
I bit back a laugh and briefly considered the alternative. Asia was a reincarnated devil. She had wings. She could technically fly and carry one of the passengers while I carried the other. But Asia had never actually flown before. Her wings were brand new. She'd manifested them exactly once, in the living room of the mansion in Kuoh, and had promptly crashed into a bookshelf, knocked over a lamp, and tangled herself in a curtain before Fleur untangled her while Gabrielle took photographs for the family album.
Sending her on a three hundred kilometer maiden voyage over open ocean with a human passenger seemed like the kind of decision that would result in Lilja executing me in my sleep.
Okay. Flying is out. Portkey requires a magical district we can't reach without crossing the ocean first. Floo requires a fireplace connected to the network, and unless this volcanic rock has a secret wizarding bed and breakfast, that's also out.
But I have something else.
I looked at the ocean again. Specifically at the waves, the swells, the way the water moved in long, rolling patterns driven by the deep Pacific currents. I could feel it all through my Sitri magic, every drop and every current, the temperature gradients, the salinity layers, the massive slow-motion rivers of cold water flowing hundreds of meters below the surface. The ocean was alive with motion, with energy, with an almost infinite reservoir of raw material.
A grin spread across my face.
"What's that look?" Marlene said, narrowing her eyes. "I don't trust that look."
"How do you ladies feel about a boat ride?"
Jasmine blinked. "A boat ride? Harry, we're on a deserted island. There are no boats."
"Not yet…"
…The ice boat was holding together beautifully. My magic kept it stable and structurally sound, the hull slicing through the Pacific swells at well over a hundred kilometers an hour. As a feat of magical engineering, I was genuinely proud of it.
The downside, the one variable I hadn't properly accounted for, was that it was a boat made entirely of ice.
And ice was cold.
"Are you girls okay?"
I shifted in the captain's seat, trying to find a position that didn't involve the icy hard seat digging into my lower back, and the movement made Marlene's weight settle differently on my lap. Her hips rolled with the adjustment, the rough denim of her jeans grinding down against my crotch, and the friction dragged a soft, breathy moan out of her that she did absolutely nothing to suppress.
My cock was rock hard. Had been for the last forty minutes. There was no hiding it, no adjusting it away, no pretending it wasn't there.
She'd known since the first ten minutes when the temperature aboard the ice boat had dropped enough to make her nipples visibly stiffen through her thin crop top and she'd announced, with zero hesitation and maximum eye contact, that she was going to sit on the warmest thing available.
The warmest thing available had been me.
The tropical sun helped. It beat down from a cloudless sky and kept the air temperature warm enough that the chill radiating off the hull was manageable rather than dangerous. But manageable for a devil and manageable for a human were two very different thresholds.
My Sitri blood ran hot. Hotter than a normal human, hotter even than most devils. I could sit on a glacier in my underwear and feel nothing worse than a pleasant coolness. Jasmine and Marlene, on the other hand, were fully human witches with no supernatural resistance to cold, and Asia, while technically a devil now, was freshly reincarnated and her body hadn't fully adjusted to all the changes yet.
Within the first half hour, the chill had won.
Jasmine and Asia had gravitated toward each other first. I'd glanced back to find them huddled together in one of the rear seats, Jasmine's arm wrapped around Asia's slim shoulders, the blonde girl tucked against Jasmine's side with her face pressed into her neck. They looked like two kittens in a basket, and if the circumstances hadn't involved the very real risk of hypothermia, I would have found it devastatingly adorable.
Marlene had lasted longer. Sheer stubbornness, probably. She'd sat in her own seat with her arms crossed and her legs pulled up, jaw set, refusing to acknowledge the cold for a solid fifteen minutes past the point where goosebumps had broken out across every visible inch of her skin.
Then a particularly large swell had sent a sheet of icy spray over the gunwale and directly into her lap, and she'd said, very calmly and precisely, "Right, fuck this," stood up, walked to the bow, and planted herself directly on top of me.
She'd swung one leg over my thighs, settled her full weight onto my lap facing me, and pressed every available inch of her body against my bare chest. Her breasts pushed into me through the thin fabric of her torn crop top, her arms looped around my neck, and her face tucked against the curve of my jaw.
The heat coming off me must have felt like a furnace to her cold skin because she'd let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief that vibrated against my throat and sounded way too much like the sound a woman makes when she sinks into a hot bath after a long day.
"Marlene."
"Shh. Warming up."
"You could sit beside me. There's room."
"This is warmer."
"Jasmine is watching."
"Jasmine is nosy like that..."
That had been forty minutes ago. And Marlene McKinnon had not moved a single centimeter in a direction that would reduce the amount of body contact between us. If anything, she'd been slowly, incrementally increasing it, shifting her weight forward, pressing her chest harder against mine, adjusting the angle of her hips in ways that were definitely not necessary for thermal regulation.
Now, as I asked if they were okay and my shift made her grind down against the rigid length of my cock through her jeans, she lifted her head from my shoulder and looked at me from approximately four inches away.
"I'm doing just fine," she purred.
Her blue eyes locked onto mine, bright and sharp and dancing with the same reckless mischief I'd seen in them the first time we met. Her smirk was slow and deliberate, the kind of smile that said I know exactly what I'm doing and I know exactly what it's doing to you and I am having the time of my life. The wind caught her hair, long golden-blonde strands whipping across my face, into my nose, sticking to my lips, carrying the scent of some floral perfume that had somehow survived a plane crash.
"You're warm," she murmured, rolling her hips in a slow, lazy circle that made my fingers tighten reflexively on her waist. Her breath ghosted across my jaw. "Has anyone ever told you that you run absurdly hot? It's like sitting on a furnace with abs."
"You're doing this on purpose."
"Doing what on purpose?" Innocent voice. Wicked eyes. Another slow roll of her hips, this one more deliberate, more precise, her denim-clad ass dragging across the full length of my erection. I felt every centimeter of that movement, the rough texture of her jeans creating a maddening friction through the thin fabric of my trousers. "I'm a freezing woman sitting on the only heat source available. This is survival, Harry. Pure instinct. I can't help it if my body is responding to the proximity of a large, muscular, shirtless young man who happens to radiate heat like a small sun."
"You're grinding on me."
"I'm shivering. There's a difference."
"You are not shivering. You haven't shivered once in the last twenty minutes."
"That's because your cock is keeping me very warm." She said it with the same tone she might use to compliment a particularly good cup of tea. As if the sentence she'd just uttered was perfectly normal small talk for a woman straddling a man young enough to be... well.
Behind us, Jasmine's voice rang out, sharp and mortified. "I can HEAR you! The wind is not as loud as you think it is!"
Marlene didn't look back. Didn't break eye contact with me. Just raised her voice enough to carry over the spray.
"Then stop eavesdropping, darling."
"I'm not eavesdropping! You're sitting on his lap and talking about his... his..." Jasmine sputtered to a halt, the word apparently too much for her to vocalize.
"Cock, sweetheart. The word is cock. You're a grown woman and a Gryffindor. You can say it."
"I am NOT saying that word while we are on a BOAT!"
"What does the boat have to do with it?"
"EVERYTHING! The boat has to do with EVERYTHING!"
Asia's small, confused voice drifted forward. "Is Marlene-san cold?"
"No!" Jasmine said quickly. "No, Asia, she's fine. She's very warm. She's warmer than she has any right to be. She is taking advantage of a survival situation to be completely inappropriate and she knows it."
Marlene finally glanced back over her shoulder, giving her daughter a look of pure maternal amusement. "Jasmine, darling, our lives haven't been normal since you were kidnapped by a stray-devil clone of Voldemort."
She turned back to me. Her smirk softened into something warmer, something real beneath the flirtation. I caught it in the slight loosening of the tension around her eyes, the way her fingers stopped their teasing trail across the back of my neck and simply rested there, steady and grounding.
She's coping, I realized with a clarity that cut through the haze of arousal. The flirting, the grinding, the relentless teasing. This is how she processes fear. She and Jasmine almost died today. The plane went down, both engines gone, seconds from impact. She couldn't protect her daughter. She had to stand there and trust that I could save them. So she flirts. She teases. She takes control of the only thing she can control right now, which is how close she is to me and how flustered she can make me. Even if the way you grab on happens to involve straddling his lap and grinding on his dick for forty-five minutes straight.
I moved one hand from her waist to the small of her back, spreading my fingers wide against the strip of bare skin between her crop top and her jeans.
"You're okay," I said quietly, for her ears only. "You and Jasmine are okay. I've got you."
(R-18 Start)
"…I'm going to be more than okay in a moment," Marlene murmured against my neck, her lips curving into that familiar smirk I could feel against my skin.
Before I could ask what she meant, her right hand slid from behind my neck and dipped between our bodies, reaching into the valley of her cleavage. She pulled her wand free from where she'd been keeping it tucked between her breasts. She held it loosely between two fingers, angled downward between us where our hips were pressed together, hidden from any possible line of sight by the wall of her own body.
What is she…?
She whispered something I didn't catch. I felt the magic though. A precise, controlled cutting spell, surgically targeted, that carved a neat opening through the front of her jeans and her underwear in a single silent motion. Then she angled the wand down a few more degrees and did the same to my trousers.
Cool Pacific air hit my cock and I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth.
I was completely exposed. The spell had opened a clean gap in the fabric, edges perfectly smooth, not frayed or torn, just parted, like a seam had been undone by invisible fingers. My cock sprang free from the confines of my trousers, hard and thick and aching from nearly an hour of Marlene's relentless grinding, the shaft flushed dark and the head slick with the pre-cum she'd been coaxing out of me since she first settled in my lap.
And above it, inches away, I could see her.
The hole in her jeans framed her pussy perfectly. Soft pink folds, glistening with arousal, framed by a dusting of blonde hair that was slightly messy and unkempt, darker than the golden waves on her head, curling against her mound. She was wet. Visibly, obviously wet. The inner lips were swollen and parted slightly.
My eyes snapped up past Marlene's shoulder, instinct overriding arousal for one critical second.
Jasmine and Asia were huddled together in the rear seat, roughly three yards away. The angle was wrong for them to see anything even if they did look. I think? From where Jasmine sat, all she'd see was her mother leaning against me with her arms around my neck, the same position they'd been in for the last forty minutes.
Marlene watched me check with her blue eyes glittering with amusement and lust, and when my gaze came back to her, she winked.
"They can't see a thing," she whispered, her lips brushing my earlobe. "Just a woman keeping warm on her favorite furnace."
"Marlene..."
"Shh."
She planted both hands on my shoulders for leverage and lifted her hips. Slowly. So slowly that I could feel every millimeter of separation as her warm weight rose off my thighs, cool air rushing into the gap between our bodies. She rose until just the curve of her ass rested on my knees, her back arched, her core flexed, holding herself in a position that required serious athletic control.
I looked down between us. My cock stood rigid, pointing straight up at the slick, pink entrance hovering just above it. A bead of my pre-cum caught the wind and I watched a thin strand of Marlene's arousal stretch downward, close enough that the two nearly connected, a glistening bridge that said our bodies already knew what was about to happen even if my brain was still stuttering through the implications.
We are on a boat. On the Pacific Ocean. Going a hundred kilometers an hour. Her daughter is sitting right behind us. This is supposed to be my Queen's best friend. And I cannot think of a single reason to stop her here.
Marlene shifted her grip on my shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscle, and I felt her thighs tense against my hips as she aligned herself. The head of my cock kissed her entrance, just the tip nudging between those swollen pink lips, and even that featherlight contact sent a jolt of sensation up my spine that made my abs clench.
She sank down.
I felt her body open for me inch by inch, her wet pussy stretching around my thickness, the tight heat of her swallowing me in a smooth, agonizing glide. Her walls gripped me in warm flesh, every ridge and fold of her squeezing against my shaft as gravity pulled her down and her own weight impaled her deeper.
"Nnnh..." Marlene's lips pressed together hard, her eyes squeezing shut, a choked sound vibrating in her throat that she barely managed to swallow before it became a full moan. Her back arched as her body adjusted to the stretch.
I bit down on my lower lip so hard I tasted blood to stop from groaning loudly.
Fuck.
The feeling was intense. She was blazing hot inside, tight and wet and gripping me with a muscular control that spoke to experience, her inner walls rippling along my length as she took me deeper, her body instinctively trying to pull me in further even as she fought to maintain her slow, silent pace. I could feel every flutter, every clench, the way her pussy squeezed around the thickest part of my shaft as it pushed past her entrance and sank into the deeper, softer walls beyond.
She bottomed out with a quiet, shuddering exhale that puffed warm against my face.
Her hips were flush with mine. Every inch of my cock was buried inside her, the head pressed against something deep and firm, her clit grinding against the base of my shaft where our bodies met.
She sat there for a long moment, not moving, just breathing, her chest rising and falling against mine, her nipples so hard I could feel them poking through the thin fabric of her top like small stones.
"Oh wow," she breathed, barely a whisper, her forehead dropping to my shoulder. "Oh, you're big. You're so fucking big. I knew you would be. I could feel it through your trousers for the last hour and I still wasn't ready."
I wrapped one arm around her lower back, my palm flat against the strip of bare skin above her jeans, holding her steady. My other hand gripped the armrest of the captain's seat so tightly the ice creaked under my fingers.
"You good?" I managed, and my voice came out rougher than I intended, scraped raw by the effort of not groaning loud enough for the entire Pacific to hear.
Marlene lifted her head. Her blue eyes were slightly unfocused, pupils blown wide, her lips parted and flushed. "Good doesn't even begin to cover it," she whispered, and rolled her hips.
The movement was small. Barely perceptible from the outside.
Just a slow, grinding rotation, her hips tracing a tight circle with my cock buried to the hilt, her inner walls dragging along my length in a corkscrew motion that hit every nerve ending I had simultaneously. She wasn't bouncing, wasn't riding me in any way that would be visible from behind. Just subtle circles, her pelvis rocking against mine, her clit rubbing against my shaft, using the natural sway and vibration of the boat over the waves to disguise the rhythm as nothing more than the motion of two people sitting close on a moving vessel.
Marlene McKinnon, you magnificent, terrifying woman.
I tightened my arm around her waist, pulling her closer, changing the angle just slightly, and felt the head of my cock press against a spot inside her that made her entire body stutter. Her breath hitched. Her fingers spasmed on my shoulders. A sound escaped her, a tiny, strangled "Ah..." that the wind mercifully ripped away before it could travel.
I brought my hand up from the armrest and cupped the side of her face. My thumb traced her cheekbone, rough skin against soft, and I held her gaze.
"I've got you," I said quietly.
The same words I'd said before. But they meant something different now.
Marlene's eyes glistened. She blinked it away fiercely, swallowed hard, and then leaned forward and kissed me. It was slow and deep and almost tender, her lips moving against mine with a patience that contradicted everything about the tight, wet pussy clenching rhythmically around my cock.
And while she kissed me, her hips never stopped. Those slow, silent, amazing circles continued, grinding me deeper, milking my shaft with the practiced squeeze of her inner muscles.
– Jasmine Potter-McKinnon –
Of course Jasmine noticed…
She wasn't stupid. She wasn't oblivious. And she certainly wasn't deaf.
She'd noticed the moment her mother's "shivering" had stopped and been replaced by a different kind of movement entirely. The way Marlene's shoulders rolled in a slow, rhythmic pattern that had nothing to do with the rocking of the boat. The way her mother's fingers gripped Harry's shoulders with white-knuckled intensity, nails digging into his bare skin, her forearms flexing with each subtle rise and fall of her hips. The quiet, wet sounds that the wind almost carried away but not quite, not completely, not enough.
Jasmine had looked away immediately. Stared at the ocean. Counted waves. Tried very hard to think about Quidditch formations, Potions homework, the mating habits of Blast-Ended Skrewts, literally anything other than what was happening three yards in front of her.
It hadn't worked.
Because the Pacific Ocean wasn't loud enough to cover a witch who'd gone nearly twenty years without being properly fucked.
"Mmnh... hahh..."
Jasmine's jaw clenched. Her eyes squeezed shut behind her round glasses.
Don't look. Don't look. Don't you dare look, Jasmine McKinnon-Potter. That is your mother. That is your mother sitting on a man's lap on a boat you are also on. You are not going to look.
"Nnnh... oh, fuck... right there..."
I'm looking.
Her eyes opened. Drifted forward. And she saw everything.
The angle that had supposedly hidden everything from view had shifted over the last several minutes as Marlene grew bolder, less careful, her hips rising higher with each roll, her back arching deeper. From Jasmine's position in the rear seat, she could now see past the curve of her mother's waist and between the gap of their bodies on every upstroke.
Harry's cock, slick and glistening with Marlene's arousal, disappearing into her mother's pussy over and over and over again in a slow, grinding rhythm. The lips of Marlene's cunt stretched pink and tight around his shaft, clinging to him on every rise, a thin strand of wetness connecting them each time she lifted high enough for the head to nearly slip free before she sank back down with a barely suppressed whimper. Jasmine could see the muscles in her mother's inner thighs flexing and trembling with each controlled descent.
Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god!
That's... he's so...
It's so big. How is she even taking all of that?
Jasmine's face was burning. Her pulse was hammering in her ears louder than the wind. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks and her neck and lower, pooling between her thighs with a tingling urgency that made her squirm against the ice seat. Her knickers were wet. Not damp, not slightly moist, wet, and they'd been getting wetter with every passing minute, every stifled moan, every obscene glimpse of Harry's thick cock spreading her mother open.
I should look away. I should really, really look away. I should close my eyes and put my fingers in my ears and hum the Hogwarts school song until we reach China.
She didn't look away.
This is Dad's fault. James Potter was a legendary pervert. Everyone says so! I inherited this. This is genetic. The Potter pervert gene skipped zero generations and landed squarely on me. I am watching my mother get fucked by the man I have a massive crush on and I am so turned on I can barely breathe and it is entirely James Potter's fault.
Beside her, Asia made a small, strangled sound.
Jasmine's attention snapped sideways. Asia was sitting rigidly upright, her small hands balled into fists on her thighs, her green eyes wide and fixed on the exact same scene Jasmine had been watching. Her face was flushed a deep, vivid pink that extended all the way down her neck and disappeared into the collar of her tattered habit. Her lips were parted, her breathing shallow and fast, and she was squirming.
"A-Asia?" Jasmine whispered.
"I feel so hot," Asia breathed, her voice tiny and tremulous. Her hands came up and pressed against her own cheeks as if trying to cool them down. "Jasmine-san, I feel... something is... I don't understand what's happening to me. My whole body feels like it's on fire and it's... it's all coming from..." She pressed one small fist against her lower belly, right above her pelvis. "Here. Right here. It's so intense and I don't know how to make it stop and I don't know if I want it to stop and I'm scared because the Church always said these feelings were sinful and wrong but it doesn't FEEL wrong, it feels..."
She trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut, and a full-body shudder ran through her that made her gasp.
"Hhahh..."
Oh. Oh, Asia.
Jasmine understood immediately. It clicked into place with the same clarity as solving a complex Arithmancy equation, all the variables aligning at once.
Asia was a devil now. A recently reincarnated devil. A Pawn in Harry Sitri's peerage. She was still adjusting to her new body, her new instincts, the fundamental rewiring of her biology from human to devil. Devils were inherently sensual creatures.
Asia wasn't just turned on. She was experiencing a fundamental supernatural response to watching Harry fuck, and she had absolutely no framework for understanding it. She'd been raised in a convent. Raised to believe desire was sin. Raised to suppress and deny and feel shame for the basic biological urges of a human body, let alone the amplified urges of a devil one.
"Asia." Jasmine shifted closer, keeping her voice soft and steady. She put one hand on Asia's trembling knee. "Hey. Look at me."
Asia's eyes opened. They were glassy, her pupils dilated so wide the green was just a thin ring. A tear was tracking down her flushed cheek, not from sadness but from the sheer overwhelming intensity of what her body was doing to her.
"Nothing is wrong with you," Jasmine said firmly. "What you're feeling isn't sinful. It isn't bad. It's completely natural, especially for what you are now. Your body is responding to Harry because he's your King and you care about him and that's how the bond works. It doesn't mean you're broken or fallen or anything the Church told you. It means you're alive and healthy and your new biology is working exactly the way it should."
"B-but I've never..." Asia swallowed hard, another shudder rippling through her. "I've never felt anything like this before. It's so much, Jasmine-san. It's too much. I can't think. I can't breathe. I keep looking at Harry-san and Marlene-san and I can see them and I know I shouldn't watch but my eyes won't move and every time she... every time he..." Her voice hitched and her thighs squeezed together hard, her whole body curling inward. "Nnnh..."
"I know," Jasmine murmured. What do I do? What am I supposed to do here?
She's overwhelmed. She's scared. She doesn't know how to process what she's feeling because no one ever taught her that desire isn't something to be terrified of. If I leave her like this she's going to spiral into a guilt-shame cycle that could take months to untangle.
And honestly? I'm not exactly in a position to judge. I'm sitting here with soaking wet knickers watching my own mother bounce on Harry's cock and my biggest complaint is that I can't see it from a better angle. The Potter pervert gene doesn't get to act morally superior right now.
Fuck it!This wouldn't even be my first time with a girl.
Because it wouldn't be. Not really. Not if she counted what had happened in the Gryffindor girls' dormitory at the start of last year, when Lavender Brown had declared, after three butterbeers smuggled in from Hogsmeade, that it was "an absolute tragedy and a crime against womanhood" that Jasmine and Parvati had never been properly kissed.
"I'm going to fix this right now," Lavender had announced, slightly tipsy and fully determined.
And she had. She'd kissed Jasmine first. Soft and slow and patient, one hand cupping her jaw, the other resting on her waist, her glossy lips working against Jasmine's inexperienced ones until something clicked and Jasmine's body figured out how to respond. Then Lavender had kissed Parvati, who had responded so enthusiastically that Lavender had to pull back laughing and say "Down, girl." And then Lavender had made Jasmine and Parvati practice on each other while she supervised and critiqued their technique like a kissing professor, which Jasmine had complained about and secretly loved.
They'd never gone further than kissing. But the experience had taught Jasmine two important things. First, she was definitely attracted to women in addition to men. And second, she was better at showing how she felt with actions than with words, because words made her glasses fog up and her tongue tie itself into knots, but kissing? Kissing she could do.
Jasmine cupped Asia's face in both hands. The blonde girl's cheeks were burning against her palms, damp with tears, and her green eyes were huge and startled and trusting.
"Jasmine... san?"
"Do you trust me?"
Asia didn't hesitate. "Yes. Of course I trust you. You and Harry saved me and gave me a home!"
"Then close your eyes."
Asia closed her eyes.
Jasmine leaned in and pressed her lips to Asia's.
The kiss was gentle. Tender. Almost chaste in its softness, just the warm press of Jasmine's mouth against the trembling bow of Asia's lips, a point of contact that said I'm here and you're safe and this is okay. Asia went rigid for a fraction of a second, every muscle in her small body locking tight, and Jasmine felt the sharp intake of breath through her nose, the tiny squeak of surprise that vibrated against her lips.
Then Asia melted. The tension drained out of her like water from a broken glass. Her shoulders dropped, her fists unclenched, and she leaned into Jasmine with a soft, shaking exhale that tasted like saltwater and something faintly sweet, like the lingering ghost of the orange juice she'd had on the plane. Her lips moved against Jasmine's, clumsy and unsure and achingly earnest, trying to mimic the rhythm but not quite finding it.
Jasmine slowed down for her. Tilted her head. Let her lips part just slightly, catching Asia's lower lip between both of hers and sucking on it with gentle pressure. Asia made a sound, a tiny, breathless "Mmm..." that Jasmine felt more than heard, and the blonde girl's small hands came up and gripped the front of Jasmine's jacket like it was the only thing keeping her from floating away.
Jasmine deepened the kiss slowly, her tongue tracing the seam of Asia's lips, asking permission rather than demanding it. Asia opened for her on a shuddering inhale, and when Jasmine's tongue slid against hers for the first time, the sound Asia made was the sweetest thing Jasmine had ever heard. A helpless, wobbling "Ahh..." that was half moan and half sob, her fingers twisting tighter in Jasmine's jacket, her body pressing forward into Jasmine.
Jasmine's right hand slid from Asia's cheek, down the side of her neck and further. Jasmine's fingers met the warm, bare skin of Asia's stomach. Asia's belly flinched at the contact, her muscles tightening, but the sound she made into Jasmine's mouth was encouraging, a breathy whimper that rose in pitch as Jasmine's fingers climbed higher.
She wasn't wearing a bra. Asia's breasts were small and perky, fitting perfectly in Jasmine's palm as her hand closed gently over the left one. The skin was impossibly soft, heated from the devil blood now running through her veins, and Asia's nipple was already stiff, a tiny hard bud that pressed into Jasmine's palm.
"Aahh..." Asia broke the kiss with a gasp, her head tipping back, her green eyes fluttering open and then squeezing shut again as Jasmine's fingers circled her nipple, rolling it between thumb and forefinger with a light, teasing pressure. "J-Jasmine-san... that feels... nnhh... that feels really..."
"Good?" Jasmine whispered, pressing her lips to the corner of Asia's jaw, trailing soft kisses down to her neck. She could feel Asia's pulse hammering under her lips, fast and hard and alive.
"Yesss..." The word dissolved into a hiss as Jasmine's other hand slipped under the habit from the opposite side and found her right breast, cupping both at once. Asia's back arched, pushing her chest forward into Jasmine's palms. "Please don't stop. Please. It feels so good and I've never... no one has ever touched me like this and I didn't know it could feel like this..."
Jasmine kneaded gently, learning the shape of her, the weight and softness, the way Asia's breath stuttered each time she pinched a nipple just slightly harder. Asia's breasts were modest and firm, perfectly proportioned to her body. Each time she rolled a nipple or traced the sensitive underside, Asia's hips jerked involuntarily, her body chasing sensation it had never been allowed to have.
"It's okay," Jasmine murmured against Asia's throat, kissing the spot where her pulse pounded fastest. She could feel Asia trembling from pleasure she'd been taught her entire life to deny.
"Hahh... hahhh..." Asia's breathing was coming in ragged little pants now, her chest rising and falling under Jasmine's hands. Her eyes were still closed, her head tipped back, her lips pink and swollen from kissing, and two fresh tears were sliding down her temples into her tangled blonde hair. "Jasmine-san... I think I... I think something is happening... it's building, it's getting bigger and I feel like I'm going to..."
Jasmine kissed her again, swallowing whatever Asia was about to say, and rolled both nipples between her fingers at the same time with a firm, decisive pressure.
Asia's entire body seized. Her back arched off the seat, her thighs clamped together, and she cried out into Jasmine's mouth, a high, muffled "MMMPH!" that vibrated between their joined lips. Her hands flew from Jasmine's wrists to her shoulders, gripping hard, nails biting through the fabric of Jasmine's jacket as the wave crested and crashed through her. Jasmine held her through it, one hand still cupping her breast, the other sliding around to the small of her back and pulling her close, anchoring her while her body shook and trembled and pulsed.
She just came. She just came from having her breasts touched and kissed for the first time in her life!
When the tremors finally subsided, Asia slumped forward into Jasmine's arms, boneless and panting, her face buried in Jasmine's neck, her breath coming in hot, shaking gusts against Jasmine's skin. Small, overwhelmed sounds kept escaping her, little hiccuping whimpers that made Jasmine's chest ache with a fierce, protective tenderness.
"Thank you," Asia whispered, so quietly that Jasmine barely heard it over the wind and the waves and the distant, muffled sounds of Marlene moaning at the front of the boat. "Thank you, Jasmine-san. Thank you."
Jasmine held her tighter, pressed her lips into Asia's messy blonde hair, and pretended her own eyes weren't stinging.
"You don't have to thank me, Asia."
Asia's breathing gradually steadied and exhaustion of the day caught up with her.
Within a minute, she was asleep. Jasmine shrugged off her coat and laid it down as a pillow for Asia to sleep on instead of the cold, icy deck.
"That was so hot!"
Her mother's voice carried over the wind, husky and breathless and dripping with the satisfied purr of a woman who'd just witnessed something amazing.
Marlene had turned around on Harry's lap. Giving up all pretenses of staying quiet or subtle.
She'd spun herself a full hundred and eighty degrees while keeping Harry's cock buried inside her, a move that required a level of flexibility and shamelessness that should have been physically impossible and yet was so perfectly, quintessentially Marlene McKinnon that Jasmine couldn't even pretend to be surprised.
Her mother was now riding Harry in reverse, her back pressed against his bare chest, her legs spread wide on either side of his thighs. She'd yanked her torn crop top down beneath her breasts, freeing them completely, and they bounced with each roll of her hips, full and round, the nipples flushed dark pink and stiff in the salt air. Her head was tipped back against Harry's shoulder, her golden-blonde hair spilling down his chest in tangled waves, and her blue eyes were locked directly on Jasmine with an expression of pure, unfiltered maternal depravity.
Between her spread thighs, Jasmine could see everything. Harry's thick cock splitting her mother's pink, swollen pussy open on every downstroke, the shaft glistening, slick with Marlene's arousal, veins standing out along its length. Marlene's clit was exposed and engorged, peeking out from its hood each time she ground her hips forward.
The wet, rhythmic sounds of their fucking were completely audible now, obscene and unmistakable, skin against skin, the squelch of a thoroughly soaked cunt being filled over and over.
Harry's hands were on Marlene's hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh above her torn jeans, guiding her rhythm. His jaw was clenched, his blue eyes dark with intensity, and Jasmine could see the muscles in his forearms flexing each time he pulled her mother down onto his cock.
She's looking right at me. She watched me kiss Asia. She watched me touch her. She watched the whole thing and she's turned on by it. My mother is riding a man's cock three meters away from me and telling me it was hot that I made a girl cum with my hands.
"Touch yourself, Jasmine." Marlene's voice was commanding beneath the breathlessness, the authoritative tone she used when she was done asking and had started telling. Her hips never stopped their rhythm, rising and falling on Harry's cock, her breasts swaying with each bounce, and she held Jasmine's gaze without a flicker of shame or hesitation.
"Mum, I can't just..."
"Yes you can." Marlene cut her off, her voice catching on a moan as Harry thrust up into her. "Ohhh... fuck, right there... you can and you're going to. I can see your face, sweetheart. I've been watching you squirm for the last twenty minutes. Nnnh... your thighs are clenched together so hard you're going to pull a muscle—"
"MUM!"
"Don't 'Mum' me, Jasmine." Marlene reached back with one hand and gripped Harry's hair, pulling his mouth to the side of her neck. He took the cue without hesitation, his lips latching onto her pulse point and sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Marlene's eyes fluttered and a low, rolling moan spilled out of her. "Mmmnh... oh, that's good... listen to me, darling. I raised you better than this. I raised you to go after what you want without apologizing for it. I raised you to be brave and honest and to never, ever be ashamed of your own body."
Her hips rolled in a slow, deep circle, grinding Harry's cock as deep as it would go, and her back arched against his chest.
"Ahhh... I want you to touch yourself and cum while you watch the boy—no MAN—that you love fuck MY pussy," Marlene said, every word deliberate, every syllable shameless and raw. "That's not a suggestion, sweetheart. That's your mother telling you what you are going to do now!"
Jasmine's face was on fire. And between her legs, she was aching. What Marlene's words were doing was giving her permission.
James Potter was a pervert. Marlene McKinnon is clearly a bigger pervert. And I am their daughter. This was always going to be my destiny.
Jasmine carefully undid the button of her trousers.
Pulled down the zip.
And slid her hand inside.
Her fingers pushed past the waistband of her soaked knickers and found herself, and the contact ripped a gasp out of her that she couldn't have contained if she'd tried. She was drenched. Her fingers slipped through the slick folds of her pussy with zero resistance, parting the swollen lips, and when her middle finger grazed her clit she jerked like she'd been electrocuted.
"Ohhhh... oh fuck..."
"There she is," Marlene breathed, her lips curling into a smile that was equal parts pride and lust. She reached down between her own legs and spread her lower pink lips apart with two fingers, giving Jasmine an even clearer view of Harry's cock sliding into her hole. "Watch, sweetheart. Watch what he does to me. Nnnh... watch how deep he goes... fuck, Harry, you're so deep..."
"Fuck, this is so amazingly hot!" Harry groaned underneath Marlene.
Jasmine watched. Her fingers found a rhythm on her clit, rubbing in tight, desperate circles, her hips rocking against her own hand. She could feel the muscles in her thighs trembling, her abs clenching, the coiling pressure in her lower belly.
Her eyes were fixed on the point where Harry and her mother were joined. The thick, glistening shaft disappearing into wet pink flesh. The way Marlene's pussy gripped him on every outstroke, the inner lips clinging to his cock, the obscene stretch of her entrance around his girth. The sounds. God, the sounds. Wet, rhythmic, primal, the slap of skin and the squelch of a thoroughly fucked cunt and Marlene's moans getting louder and less controlled with every bounce.
"Ahh... ahh... ahh fuck... Jasmine, look at me."
Jasmine dragged her gaze up from the junction of their bodies to her mother's face. Marlene's blue eyes were glazed and half-lidded, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen and parted. She looked wrecked in the most beautiful way possible, like a painting of a goddess in the middle of being worshipped.
"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," Marlene panted, and the sincerity in her voice cut through the haze of lust and hit Jasmine somewhere vulnerable. "So beautiful. Nnhh... Ohhh...ahhh fuck, Harry, slow down, I'm trying to talk to my daughter! We're having a moment—"
"I can't!" Harry groaned and laughed at the same time.
"Mum, I'm close," Jasmine choked out, because she was, she was right there, her fingers flying over her clit in frantic, sloppy circles, her hips bucking off the ice seat. "I'm so close, please don't stop talking, please..."
"Nnnh... you want to hear Mummy cum on his cock, baby? Is that what's going to push you over?"
"Yessss..."
Marlene braced both hands on Harry's knees and started bouncing faster, harder, her ass slapping against his thighs, her breasts jumping with each impact. Harry groaned and his hands tightened on Marlene's hips hard enough to dimple the skin.
"Oh fuck oh fuck oh FUCK..." Marlene's rhythm shattered, her hips stuttering, her spine arching violently. "I'm cumming... nnhh... AAHH... I'm cumming on his cock, Jasmine... look at me... LOOK AT ME... AAHHHH!" Marlene came hard. Her entire body convulsed on Harry's lap, her thighs clamping around his, her head thrown back against his shoulder, her mouth open in a cry that the wind couldn't carry fast enough. Jasmine saw her mother's pussy clench tight around Harry's cock, the muscles visibly rippling, a fresh gush of wetness running down the shaft and pooling where their bodies met.
Jasmine shattered. Her orgasm hit her from the base of her spine and crashed through her entire body. Her back arched off the seat, her free hand slamming down on the ice armrest, and the moan that tore out of her throat was loud and raw and utterly beyond her control.
"OHHHH FUCK... FUCK... aahh... aahhhnnn..."
Her vision whited out. Her fingers kept rubbing, kept circling, her hips grinding against her own hand as the waves rolled through her one after another after another, each one pulled higher by the sound of her mother's breathless moans and the wet, obscene slap of Harry still thrusting up into her. Her thighs shook, her abs cramped, and she came so hard that the aftershocks were still pulsing through her a full thirty seconds later, leaving her slumped in the ice seat with her hand down her trousers and her glasses completely fogged and her lungs burning.
"Oh... oh my god..." Jasmine panted, staring at the white fog of her lenses. "Oh my god."
From the front of the boat, Marlene's voice drifted back. It was wrecked and satisfied and warm. "Good girl."
Jasmine let her head fall back against the seat and stared at the sky through her useless glasses.
She heard Harry's voice next, rough and strained with his own impending release.
"Marlene... I'm going to..."
"Inside," her mother commanded without hesitation. "Cum inside me, Harry. Fill me up. I want to feel you..."
"Ahhh... fuck..."
Harry's groan hit a pitch that made Jasmine's spent body clench one last time. She heard her mother gasp and then a long, shuddering "Ohhhhh..." as Harry came inside her.
(R-18 END)
– Harry –
"...Well. That was certainly an experience."
The ice boat glided into Shanghai Harbor at a fraction of the speed we'd been doing on the open ocean. The afternoon sun was lower now.
We were getting stared at.
A lot.
A fishing trawler chugged past us on the port side, its weathered captain leaning over the railing with a cigarette dangling from his lips and an expression of complete bewilderment frozen on his face. The cigarette fell into the water. He didn't notice.
Two decks below him, a younger crewman had his phone out and was filming us while shouting something in rapid Shanghainese to his colleagues, all of whom were now crowding the railing to gape.
On the starboard side, a sleek white yacht glided by, and I watched a middle-aged man in a linen suit walk straight into the railing because he was too busy staring at our boat to watch where he was going. His wife caught his arm, looked at what he was staring at, and then she walked into the railing too.
Fair enough…
I guided us toward a stretch of commercial docks on the western bank, weaving between a rusted cargo barge and a tourist ferry whose passengers were now all pressed against the windows on our side. I found an empty berth between a pair of modest fishing boats whose owners were thankfully nowhere in sight and brought us alongside the wooden dock with a gentle bump.
The ice creaked and groaned as I cut the flow of demonic energy sustaining it. Without my constant attention, the boat was already beginning to lose its structural integrity. By the time anyone came to investigate the strange vessel, there'd be nothing left but a puddle of rapidly evaporating water and some very confused dock workers.
I hopped out first, landing on the weathered planks, and offered my hand to the others.
Asia took it. Her green eyes were fixed firmly on my chest, which would have been flattering except for the way her cheeks were burning a shade of pink usually reserved for sunsets and Weasley hair.
She mumbled a barely audible "Thank you, Harry-san" without looking up, and the moment both her feet were on the dock she released my hand like it was a hot stove and shuffled three steps to the left, where she became intensely fascinated by a coil of mooring rope.
Adorable. And I'm proud of her, honestly. The Asia I found in that Kuoh alley weeks ago would have been crippled with guilt and shame right now, praying for forgiveness, spiraling into the toxic self-punishment cycle the Church beat into her. This Asia is blushing and embarrassed and can't look me in the eye, but she's not in pain. She's not ashamed. She's just a girl who had her first intimate experience and doesn't quite know how to act afterward.
That's normal. That's healthy. That's exactly where she should be.
I'm going to let her go at her own pace. No pressure, no expectations, no timeline. She'll come to me when she's ready, or she won't, and either way she'll know she's loved and valued and safe.
Jasmine took my hand next and climbed out of the boat with the stiff, mechanical movements of a person operating on pure autopilot. Her round glasses were sitting slightly crooked on her nose. Her dark hair was a salt-crusted disaster. Her cheeks were the same shade of pink as Asia's, possibly pinker.
"Jasmine."
"Hmm." She didn't look at me. Her jaw was set in a hard line and a muscle twitched in her cheek.
"You okay?"
"Completely fine. Absolutely fine. Never been finer. Finest I've ever been in my entire life. Could not possibly be more fine than I am at this exact moment."
"Your glasses are fogged again."
"I'm aware. I can see exactly zero percent of my surroundings right now. I am navigating by echolocation like a bat. Please do not comment on it further."
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning. "I wouldn't dream of it."
She released my hand, cleaned her glasses furiously on the hem of her jacket, jammed them back onto her face, and marched down the dock without a backward glance, her spine so straight you could have used it as a ruler. She made it about ten paces before her shoe caught on a raised plank and she stumbled, caught herself, and kept walking with the grim, unbroken stride of someone who had already committed to pretending that didn't happen.
The Potter dignity remains undefeated.
Marlene was last. She didn't take my offered hand. She vaulted out of the boat, landing on the dock beside me with catlike grace. The boat rocked from the push-off and a large chunk of the stern broke away and splashed into the harbor.
She straightened up and stretched, raising her arms above her head, arching her back in a way that made her top strain and ride up past her navel. Then she sauntered up to my side, looped her arm through mine, and leaned her weight against me with a satisfied sigh that practically vibrated with contentment.
"Lovely cruise, Captain," she murmured, tilting her face up to press a kiss against my jaw. "Five stars. Would ride again."
"You're shameless."
"I know. Isn't it wonderful?"
Behind us, Jasmine made a strangled noise that might have been a word in a language that hadn't been invented yet.
I looked down at Marlene. She looked up at me.
This woman is going to be a permanent fixture in my life, isn't she? I think I might be okay with that but I would definitely need to have a proper talk with Lilja when we reach London.
I then took stock of our group as we gathered on the dock.
We looked like a collective wreck.
My shirt was long gone, sacrificed somewhere between the plane crash and the Thunderbird fight, leaving me bare-chested in the rapidly cooling Shanghai evening. My trousers were salt-stained, torn at one knee, and bore suspicious dark patches that Marlene's Reparo charm had done its best with but not entirely eliminated.
If we walk into a magical district looking like this, we're going to get arrested, propositioned, or photographed for the front page of whatever China's equivalent of the Daily Prophet is. Possibly all three.
Rita Skeeter would sell her own mother for a photo of Harry Sitri stumbling into Shanghai harbor shirtless and covered in scratches with three women who all look like they've been thoroughly ravaged.
Which, to be fair, one of them has.
That's a paperwork nightmare I don't need.
"Change of plans," I announced, turning to face the group. "We're not going to the magical district yet."
Jasmine's head snapped up, her embarrassment temporarily overridden by confusion. "We're not? Why not?"
"Because I look like I lost a fight with a lawnmower, you look like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket, Asia looks like she survived a war, and your mother..." I glanced at Marlene, who smiled serenely back at me with her arm still hooked through mine and her collection of hickeys glowing like beacons in the fading light. "Your mother looks like she had a really good afternoon."
"I did have a really good afternoon," Marlene confirmed. "The morning wasn't great of course, with the whole plane crash business, but it all worked out pretty well. I feel like I also connected more with my daughter…"
"MUM."
"What? It happened, and I'm not ashamed!"
"I'm pretty sure the Gremory clan has a property here in Shanghai. Rias mentioned once that her family owns hospitality businesses in every major city in East Asia, and Shanghai is their biggest market outside of Tokyo." I fished through my memory, trying to recall the exact conversation. It had been during one of our late-night talks at Hogwarts.
"And they'll just... let us in?" Jasmine asked skeptically, looking down at her ruined clothes. "Looking like this?"
"I'm engaged to the Gremory heiress. We'll get the best rooms they have, no questions asked, no payment required."
"Must be nice being devil royalty," Marlene mused, hooking her arm through mine.
"It has its perks."
"The biggest perk is currently tucked back inside your trousers, darling."
Asia padded up beside me on my other side, still not quite meeting my eyes, but she reached out and gently took hold of the hem of my ruined trousers between her thumb and forefinger, holding on like a child keeping track of a parent in a crowd.
"Harry-san?" she said softly.
"Yeah?"
"Will the hotel have a television? I would very much like to finish watching Finding Nemo…"
I looked down at her. At her wide green eyes and her shy, hopeful expression and the way she was holding onto my clothes like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go.
"Asia, I will personally make sure you can watch it in 8K high definition."
She beamed at me.
The Chinese Ministry of Magic could deal with whatever muggle reports surfaced about a ghost ship made of ice that appeared in Shanghai harbor and then melted into nothing. Add it to the pile of impossible things that happened today.
Twenty minutes later, after a cab ride during which the driver kept glancing in his rearview mirror at the shirtless foreigner flanked by three women of varying states of dishevelment and saying nothing because the fare was excellent, we pulled up in front of the Grand Gremory Shanghai.
XXX
Do you also want to read a few chapters ahead of my posts on this site? You can!
You can check me out on "Pat-reon.-com / Starwaves" to support me and read a few chapters ahead of everyone else!