Harry was sitting in one of the armchairs positioned in the quieter part of the Common Room, lazily flipping through the pages of his Transfiguration textbook. The theory behind Vanishing Spells was somewhat more complex than he had expected. Ridiculously complex, even, considering that the model behind the (supposedly harder) Conjuring Spells was much less convoluted. Still, McGonagall's test was certainly going to go into minute details, and Harry had no intention of failing it.
"You have to make her lift the ban," an angry voice sounded, startling him momentarily. "There are three matches remaining in the season, we need to win at least one of them."
He looked up to see Angelina Johnson, this year's new Quidditch captain, glaring fiercely at him. The tall black girl was standing just a few feet away from him, apparently having managed to approach his armchair without making Harry notice her whatsoever. The boy wondered whether she had been intentionally sneaking up to him: he was rather intent on avoiding her this past month, and Angelina was probably well aware of that by now.
"What?" Harry said, confused.
"You have to make Umbridge let you play Quidditch again, you moron," she growled.
Oh, that. Well, that had been precisely the reason Harry had been avoiding Angelina all this time. Merlin knew why, but her wrath was focused on him, not on Umbridge.
A month ago, Professor Umbridge had banned both him and the Weasley twins from ever again playing Quidditch at Hogwarts. She had that power thanks to yet-another Educational Decree the Minister had issued recently, probably in response to her whining about not having the authority to do as she pleased. The pretext was stupid and completely unrelated: they had a minor and mildly unpleasant alteration with Draco Malfoy. Harry couldn't have had predicted that it would result in having him banned from Quidditch, of all things! Still, Angelina appeared to disagree on that, blaming him for being unable to play.
"We can't win without you," she continued, still glaring at him slightly. "The Weasley girl isn't terrible, but she isn't nearly as good as you are, either. You simply have to make her let you play again."
"How?" Harry asked calmly, responding to her glare with a steady look. "She's intent to make my life as unpleasant as she possibly can, you know that."
"I don't know how," Angelina sighed, this time sounding more annoyed than angry. "I don't care how. Plead with her, negotiate with her, beg if you must. Just do it," she said. "It's your fault that you got yourself banned from the pitch. You have to find out how to fix that. We're going to lose the Cup if you won't."
"My fault?" Harry growled, failing to restrain himself. "Do you think I wanted her to ban me from Quidditch? Do you think that I want to be called a liar every other day? Do you think I want to hear her insinuations about me all the time?"
"You have decided to tell everyone these things about You-Know-Who's return!" Angelina bit back. "You had to know there would be consequences for that!"
"These things are the truth!" Harry exclaimed. "Voldemort has returned. Do you want me to lie that he hasn't?" He watched Angelina flinch at the Dark Lord's name.
The girl stayed silent for a moment, then leaned towards him so that her face was on the level with his.
"If you have to, then lie," she said, much more calmly. "What's the point of telling the truth when no-one believes you?"
Harry bristled, opening his mouth to retort when she quickly interrupted him.
"I mean, I'm not mocking you, I'm not trying to insult you," Angelina said gently. "But you know that almost no-one believes you, outside of your closest friends. You know that most people think that you're either lying or imagining things. What's the point on insisting on saying them anyway?"
Harry kept quiet, glaring stubbornly at the girl.
"If you were to tell her that you were lying, and then retract all that you've said about You-Know-Who," the witch continued, "then maybe she would…"
"Go away," Harry snarled, barely stopping himself from shouting at her. "I don't want to hear any more of that, I really don't. Go bother someone else!"
Angelina stayed silent for a long moment, not moving a step away from where she stood. Harry was about to repeat himself when she finally spoke up.
"I'm sorry," she said, her tone sounding genuinely apologetic. "I really didn't mean to insult you. It's just that we are losing matches more often than winning ever since you were forced to leave the team."
Harry remained quiet, feeling his anger slowly evaporate.
"It's my first year as the captain," Angelina continued, pushing a stray lock of hair away from her face, "and my last year at Hogwarts. I really wanted to win the Cup — I really want to win the Cup. I'm really sorry for being rough with you, I'm just stressed out like hell."
"I'm sorry for yelling at you," Harry said awkwardly.
She nodded, then straightened and turned on her heel without saying anything more, walking in the direction of the girls' dormitory.
Harry stayed in his armchair, morose, the Transfiguration textbook laying forgotten in his lap. He knew that she didn't mean to insult him by saying that… and he knew that she was right when it came to no-one believing him about Voldemort. Besides Ron and Hermione, and maybe a dozen other students, the school body as a whole was utterly convinced that he was trying to make them believe some imagined story he had made up to make himself even more famous than he was already.
And yet… and yet it wasn't a reason to stop telling the truth, was it? However unpleasant the consequences of doing that might become.
He still thought that, even as some doubts started to creep into his mind.
Regardless of how bad he felt because of that, Harry had simply given up on trying to console Ron.
There apparently was no way to convince the redhead that it wasn't his fault that Gryffindors had lost against Hufflepuffs yesterday. Whatever Harry had said to him, from whichever angle he had tried to approach the matter, Ron was still utterly convinced that it was because of his inadequate skills as a Keeper they had lost the match. As a result, Harry's friend was… well, Harry didn't want to use the word depressed, but…
"I'll go to Angelina and tell her that I'll leave the team," Ron said firmly, interrupting his musings.
Harry blinked… then blinked once again.
"Mate, the team's already missing both the Seeker and the Beaters," he said, bewildered. "I mean, Ginny's not bad, but she's a replacement Seeker. Without you, Angelina would have to find herself a replacement Keeper on top of that."
"They couldn't be worse than me," Ron moaned. "I'm pants at Quidditch." Harry stifled the urge to groan.
"You aren't bad, Ron…" he started.
"I'm not? Good to know!" Ron exclaimed. "I'm not brilliant either, am I? If I were, we wouldn't have lost."
Harry stayed silent, trying to think about something to say.
He knew that Ron was wrong. The boy probably wasn't the best Keeper on the planet, but he was good — better than any other candidate for the position. It wasn't Ron's fault that they had lost the game, it was Umbridge's. Harry knew it was a vain thought, but Angelina was right about him: he was a much better seeker than Ginny. With him, they would likely have won the game, even with Kirke and Sloper playing Beaters in place of the Weasley twins. But he couldn't quite bring himself to say it out loud.
Ron remained silent for a few minutes before finally speaking up.
"You're right," he said, his voice sounding oddly hollow. "There's no one available who could play better than me… for whatever it's worth." He smiled, even though it didn't look very much like a genuine smile. "But that doesn't make me a good Keeper."
With that, he got up and started walking towards the stairs leading to the boys' dormitory, leaving Harry alone. The boy remained in his armchair, lost in his thoughts.
Frankly, being honest with himself, some part of Harry was tempted to follow Angelina's advice. He was trying to tell the school about Voldemort's return since the beginning of the year… and so far, his only result was placing himself in the spotlight, in a bad way, and having Umbridge ban him from Quidditch. What is the point of telling the truth when no-one believes you? Dumbledore would probably say that speaking the truth wasn't something one required a particular reason to do… but Dumbledore was respected enough that no-one had dared to openly call him a liar to his face. They said that he was being deceived by Harry, that he was being naïve by believing his story, yes — but no one had dared to insult the old wizard by trying to tell Dumbledore he was confabulating to make himself even more famous.
If Harry were to change his story, if he were to tell Umbridge that he had been lying, the Ministry would likely stop their smear campaign. Perhaps they would even help his reputation recover. His schoolmates would look at him weirdly for some time after that, sure, but it would pass. Maybe he would even be able to play Quidditch again?
"We wouldn't lose with you playing the Seeker," someone said from beside him.
Harry blinked, then looked at the speaker, surprised to see Angelina sitting in the armchair Ron had been occupying a few minutes ago. She looked strangely detached, her voice sounding slightly hollow, in a similar way Ron's voice did. She was wearing a thick red sweater — Gryffindor colour, he thought.
"You know it wasn't my choice to get banned from playing," he said.
"Have you tried to ask Umbridge to lift the ban?" Angelina asked. "Do you know that she wouldn't do that if you were to beg her?"
"I'm not going to beg her for anything," Harry spat. "Besides, that bitch wouldn't do me any favours. Not unless I would say that I was lying about Voldemort, and I won't say that."
"Why not?" Angelina exclaimed, making Harry flinch. "What exactly do you gain by insisting on saying the same thing over and over again?"
Harry was angry when she had asked him that the last time. Yet he couldn't bring himself to be angry now.
"Nothing," he admitted quietly, after a moment of thought. "To be honest, I sometimes want to stop saying that, just for everyone to give me some peace. But that, and getting to play Quidditch again, simply isn't enough to make me actually do that."
He hadn't meant anything in particular by that: Harry was just saying what he was thinking at the time. And yet that didn't change the fact that after he had finished that last sentence, Angelina had remained still and silent for a minute or two, staring at him intently. At first, he didn't think much of it… but as the seconds passed, he was slowly starting to grow uncomfortable. The way her expression had changed from resigned to something like determined hadn't alleviated his discomfort in the slightest.
He was about to ask her why was she staring at him like that when the black girl finally spoke up.
"Come with me," Angelina said, getting up from her seat and starting to walk in the direction of the Fat Lady's portrait.
Bewildered, Harry rose from his seat and chased after her.
"Where are we going?" he asked Angelina when they had left the common room. She didn't answer him, instead gesturing for Harry to follow her further.
It took them only a few minutes to reach their apparent destination: an unused classroom, from the looks of it. The door had proven locked.
"Alohomora," Angelina whispered, casting the unlocking charm, then gestured for Harry to enter the room first. He did, still feeling slightly weirded out by her behaviour. Angelina followed, closing the door behind them and locking it using the Colloportus charm. She then waved her wand in a complicated pattern, whispering some spell Harry couldn't recognize.
"A charm that makes the room soundproof," she explained, seeing his uncomprehending expression. "Find yourself a chair," she added. Harry remained where he stood, growing more suspicious with every word.
"You aren't going to torture me, are you?" he asked her, half-serious.
"What?" Angelina paused and goggled at him, her mouth open. Then she started laughing out loud, apparently finding his question hilarious. It took her a minute to get herself under wraps.
"No… I don't think you will consider it torture," she said mysteriously, smiling. "I intend to try and convince you to get your Quidditch ban lifted," she explained further, seeing his uncomprehending expression. "Sit," she added, pointing at the nearest chair, getting herself seated on the teacher's desk, her legs hanging from the edge.
Harry sighed, obeying her instruction.
"Angelina, there's nothing you can say that would convince me to tell everyone I had been lying the whole year," Harry said, starting to feel tired.
"I know," the witch said, smiling, seemingly unmoved by Harry's answer.
He stared at her for a moment.
"So… can I go?" he asked, smiling back at her.
"Nope," Angelina said. "I said I was going to convince you to give up. Didn't say that I was going to do that through talking with you. I have a proposition for you."
Harry frowned, some part of him growing suspicious once again. Was she going to try and blackmail him?
"I will suck you off if you'll promise me that you're going to do your best to persuade Umbridge to lift the ban," she said, her tone still conversational.
Harry blinked. Then blinked again. And again. He could feel his mouth hanging open.
"…what?" he finally managed to articulate.
"I'm going to give you a blowjob, on the condition that you'll beg Umbridge to let you play again," Angelina said again, this time sounding fairly amused. Her smile was slightly wider than before, as if she was trying not to laugh at him.
"Are you being serious?" Harry asked after a long moment of silence, still staring at her, his brain having trouble comprehending what she had said.
Angelina frowned slightly for a moment, then jumped off the desk and walked up to him. She conjured a small, fluffy carpet directly in front of Harry's chair, then knelt on it, looking up at the wizard.
"I'm going to unzip your trousers and suck your cock, right now," she said, "as long as you promise me to do your best to play on the team again." Her expression was strangely determined.
Harry stared at her for a second before coming to a decision.
"Fine," he said.
"Fine?" she asked, sounding mildly surprised. "I wasn't sure… Just like that?"
"What, did you want me to resist longer?" Harry asked, smiling at her. "Okay, I can promise you that: I'll do my best to convince the bitch to let me play. Can't promise any results, though."
"I know," Angelina shrugged, then moved her hands to his belt. She swiftly unbuckled it, then looked at Harry pointedly, waiting until he rose minutely from his chair, allowing her to move his trousers to his knees. Then she liberated his dick from his boxers, without bothering to lower them.
Embarrassingly enough, it was still soft: things moved a bit too quickly for Harry's brain to register the need to get aroused. It was rapidly catching up, though, judging from how his cock had quickly started to grow in the girl's hands. Angelina played with it for a few moments, staring at it curiously, moving the foreskin up and down a few times. It took maybe a minute before it grew half-erect — which the witch apparently took for a sign to go further.
She brought her face closer, forcing Harry to spread his legs wider in order to allow her access. Her hand had moved Harry's foreskin down a moment ago, yet the girl didn't appear to be intent on touching the exposed head just yet. Instead, she brought her lips to the side of his cock and kissed it, then repeated herself in a different place, slightly closer to his balls. Soon, his shaft was all but drowning in her kisses, now fully erect. The kisses promptly turned into licks, with Angelina's tongue slowly moving over Harry's skin, still staying clear of the swelled head.
Harry couldn't deny it felt really nice to have Angelina do that to him… but he was also slowly growing impatient. He felt as if she was just teasing him, intentionally. He also found out that he had no idea what to do with his hands, both of them hanging loosely on his sides.
Choosing to address both problems at once, he put his left hand around his cock, then placed his right palm in the girl's black hair. He gently pointed his cock in the direction of her lips. Angelina didn't resist: she finally brought her face closer and kissed him on the head, then licked it a few times, eliciting a quiet moan from Harry's throat.
The moan turned much louder as the black girl's lips suddenly enveloped Harry's dick. Harry looked at her, surprised, seeing almost half of his dick vanish inside her mouth, the sight turning him on more than anything she had done before. Angelina's tongue immediately started moving around Harry's head, swiftly licking it without pause, somehow managing to keep her teeth away from it. A long and low moan escaped Harry's lips at the feeling, growing louder when the witch started to move her head up and down on his cock. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her as she fucked him with her mouth, her spit running down the length of his dick to his balls, her tongue still teasing Harry's head without a shadow of mercy.
His right hand was still in her hair, moving up and down as her head bounced on his dick. His left hand was free, however — Harry chose to move it to the woman's chest, feeling her breast through the thick fabric of her sweater. Angelina didn't seem to mind — if anything, she had begun to play with his cock more roughly, sucking on it and licking it at the same time, bobbing her head on its length even faster. Harry groped her tits through her clothes, squeezing them and fondling without pause, enjoying how soft they felt in his palms, despite the bra Angelina was obviously wearing.
But all of that could only last for so long, considering the intensity of Angelina's ministrations. Soon, Harry started to feel a new wave of arousal slowly spread inside his body, foreshadowing his climax.
"I'm going to finish, soon," he breathed between moans.
Angelina didn't try to answer, instead choosing to play with his dick even more relentlessly, sucking on it harder, licking it more vigorously, as if inviting him to climax as soon as possible. So encouraged, Harry took maybe fifteen seconds to cum.
He groaned loudly as his seed shot out of him and filled the girl's mouth, wave after wave, accompanied by the loud slurping sound Angelina made over his cock. She was still sucking him as hard as she could, clearly intent on both forcing more cum out of his shaft and on swallowing all of it. Harry's orgasm lasted longer than he was used to… and when it was over, the boy was barely capable of thinking, much less of thinking clearly. It took him a moment to recover — Angelina kept her lips wrapped around his dick the whole time, even though she had long since stopped sucking on it.
He looked at her, his expression one of pure adoration, causing the witch to start laughing, Harry's slowly softening cock still inside her mouth.
"Ouch," Harry groaned, moving his hips as far back as he could, removing his dick from her mouth. "Your teeth!"
"Sorry," Angelina said, still fighting to stop giggling. "I don't think anyone has ever looked at me with so much worship in their eyes."
"Yeah, erm," he said, stammering, "You kinda deserve it. You've just sucked me cock." The very moment these words left his lips Harry started to feel like punching himself.
The girl started to laugh openly, despite clearly trying and failing to get herself under control. "You've just… you've just sucked me cock…" Angelina continued to guffaw, resting her head in Harry's lap, her muffled cackling still reaching the boy's ears. Harry could feel his face turn deep red as the girl continued to crack up in his lap for the next minute, apparently not intending to stop anytime soon.
"Yeah, well," Harry said, "You can stop laughing now, you know."
His words caused another burst of laughter to escape her lips, though they had also provoked her to try harder to clamp on her mirth. Finally, after another minute of forcing Harry to listen to her amusement, Angelina had gotten herself under control. She slowly stood up from her conjured carpet, tears of laughter still visible on her cheeks.
"Okay, okay," she said, then snickered. "I've got you impressed. I have to say, that actually feels nice."
"It should," Harry said, smiling. "This whole thing certainly felt nice for me."
Angelina giggled. "Yeah, I've noticed," she said. "Anyway — I've got your promise, right? That you'll do whatever's necessary to convince Umbridge to let you play in the next match."
"You do," Harry said. "Maybe I'll even do it on her terms if there's no other way."
"Thanks, Harry," Angelina smiled at him, taking her wand out of her pocket. She cast a quick charm on herself, causing the few droplets of Harry's cum on her chin to vanish, then another, this time pointing her wand directly at her mouth. "Breath refresher," she commented, seeing Harry's curious gaze.
Harry got up from the chair and put his trousers back on, watching as Angelina undid both the soundproofing charm and the locking charm on the door. They left the classroom looking almost as they did before entering it. Almost, since Harry's face was much redder than it was before. They started walking back to the Common Room.
"If we win the next match," Angelina said at some point, then paused for a moment. "If we actually win it, then you can hope for a repeat."
It took a few seconds for Harry's brain to catch on to her words.
Of all the houses, Gryffindor was the one perhaps most inclined to enthusiastically celebrate its victories. When Harry had finally returned from the shower and entered the Common Room for the first time after the match, his housemates' reaction was rather spectacular. He was grabbed and lifted, then carried around the room, with people cheering and singing everywhere.
Harry was quite embarrassed to be in the centre of attention… though he would have to lie to say that he didn't like it.
It took him a few minutes to convince them to put him back on the floor. He immediately scooted away from the crowd, to the quieter part of the room. However enjoyable their attention was, he didn't feel like partying. He still had some business to do later today, with Umbridge — and, hopefully, some more pleasant things to do before that, thankfully not with Umbridge. Harry smiled, seating himself in his favourite armchair.
It didn't take long for Ron to join him there. The redhead appeared to be outright ecstatic: apparently, their triumph had succeeded at improving his mood.
"Don't ever tell Ginny that I've said that," Ron started, "but I really prefer when you are playing the Seeker."
Harry laughed.
"I'm not going to," he said easily. "Though I've heard she's not bad, either."
"Not as good as you are, mate," Ron laughed. "You're the star of the team. You've proven that today. Doing a Wronski Feint in this weather? That was insane."
It was insane. Harry wondered whether he would dare to do that without the special motivation Angelina had offered him. Probably not. Clearly, an opportunity to get a blowjob from a pretty girl was enough to make him risk his life to catch the Snitch. Some part of him was telling him that he ought to re-evaluate his priorities… it wasn't a large part, though, nor especially loud.
And speaking of Angelina: there she was, standing in the entrance of the room, waving to him. Harry perked up and rose from his seat.
"See you later," he said to Ron, "I've got some things to talk about with Angelina."
He quickly walked up to the girl, joining her by the Fat Lady's portrait.
"Come on," she said, smiling at him, almost laughing. Judging from her voice, she was still ecstatic after the match, just as most of the house was.
They left the common room and went to the same unused classroom they had visited together before — with the same purpose in their minds, Harry observed, amused. It didn't take them long to reach it. Angelina opened the door, then closed and locked it after them, casting the same spells she did before. Harry immediately went in the direction of the same chair he had previously used, seating himself on it and looking at Angelina expectantly. The girl laughed.
"You're more confident than before," she noticed, amused. "But we can start with a blowjob if you want to, I think." The word "start" flashed briefly in Harry's mind, though he was swiftly distracted as Angelina once more conjured a fluffy carpet in front of his chair and knelt on it.
She had once again unbuckled his belt and took off his trousers — this time down to his ankles — then did the same with his boxers. Harry's dick was already at half-mast, apparently getting better at reading the situation. Angelina looked at it for a moment, licking her lips sensually, then looked Harry back in the eyes briefly, obviously enjoying the expression on his face. She then skipped any sort of foreplay, grabbing his cock and putting her lips around it, immediately starting to lick it and suck on it.
Harry let his head fall back and closed his eyes, letting out a loud moan. He could feel it when Angelina started to bob her head up and down on his dick, enveloping more and more of his length with each iteration, working her tongue around his shaft as if she was trying to lick it clean. At one point he was finally forced to open his eyes and look down, surprised at a new feeling. Apparently, the black girl had decided to try and stuff the entirety of his member inside her throat, judging from how her nose was pressing against his body and how her eyes looked at him expectantly. The boy felt obliged to say something.
"Wow," was the only thing his brain was capable of coming up with.
Harry almost immediately regretted saying anything as Angelina started to laugh, with his dick still inside her throat. She quickly moved her head back — making him wince at the feeling of her teeth on his cock — and started to cough and hack, still cackling at him.
"Wow, he says," she managed to say finally, still giggling.
"Yeah, but… could you, you know, get back to sucking me?" Harry suggested, causing the witch to explode in another burst of laughter. This one contained less coughing, thankfully, and lasted slightly shorter.
"Harry," Angelina finally got a hold of herself and looked at him half-seriously. "Don't make me laugh when I'm deepthroating you, please. I could choke on you. Or bite you."
Harry blanched. "Sorry."
Angelina smiled. "Still, you appeared to like it, so…" She brought her face closer to his shaft and moved Harry's foreskin down, then licked his head a few times, causing another groan to escape him. She slowly wrapped her lips around it, keeping her eyes locked on his, then started to move her head down, without pausing. It took her only a few seconds to get back to the position she held before, with her nose pressed against Harry's stomach. She stayed like that for a long moment, then — as slowly as before — started to move her head up, finally letting his dick fall out of her mouth and breathing in and out a few times.
"See what I can do?" she asked rhetorically, smiling widely at him. "It took me quite a lot of practice to get to that point — you could at least say wow once more," she added jokingly.
"Wow," Harry answered obediently. Angelina laughed. She brought her face to his dick again and licked his head a few times more, looking at it intently, then looked back to Harry.
"Last time you were groping my tits the whole time I was sucking you. Any reason you aren't doing that right now?" she asked, her tone teasing. Harry moved his hands forward and placed them on her chest, feeling her breasts under her shirt. They were softer than they were last time, he observed, and he could actually feel her erect nipples. Angelina giggled at his surprised expression. "I knew what we're going to do after I get to the Common Room. Didn't see a point in wearing a bra," she said.
"Is there any point in wearing a shirt?" Harry asked her, momentarily surprised at how quickly he came up with the question. Angelina smiled widely and pretended to think for a moment.
"Nope, don't think so," she said, moving back a bit and grabbing the hem of her T-shirt, then taking it off over her head. She threw it on the closest chair, then turned back to Harry, allowing him to stare at her.
And stare he did. Angelina's tits weren't exactly huge, but they were big — bigger than he would have expected without getting to fondle them before. They were surprisingly round, adorned with dark nipples at the top of each globe. He reached out and felt her boobs in his palms, this time without any fabric covering them. If someone would have asked him that a moment before, Harry would have said that he couldn't possibly become more aroused than when feeling Angelina throat around his shaft — but now, now he knew otherwise. He started to play with the girl's breasts, squeezing them, first gently, then more forcefully. Angelina winced and let out a quiet grunt, causing him to stop his ministrations.
"Sorry," Harry said apologetically.
"No problem," she smiled at him, using her hand to massage her left breast, catching Harry's eye once again. She started laughing, refusing to stop at Harry's annoyed pretend-glare. "Boys!" She commented, apparently not intending to say anything more on that. Harry got back to fondling her tits once she had moved her hand away, this time paying attention to how rough and how gentle his touch was.
"Want to suck on them?" Angelina asked a moment later, meeting his eyes. Her pupils were slightly dilated, Harry observed, and she was blushing. The woman was enjoying this as much as he was, Harry realized, feeling another wave of arousal crash through his body.
"Sure," he answered without thinking.
Angelina got up from the floor and moved forward, straddling him, his erect member pressing against her groin. She bent her body slightly forward, moving her right nipple closer to Harry's mouth. The boy reacted immediately, catching it with his lips and starting to suck on it and lick it, eliciting a small moan from the black girl, the very first one she had let out in their encounter. He used his right hand to start fondling the other breast, squeezing it and groping, then using his fingers to play with the nipple, then going back to feeling her entire tit. His mouth was still playing with her right boob, now kissing it rather than sucking on the nipple, forcing another series of moans out of Angelina's throat.
"Damn," she whispered to him between her moans. "I've got to get you to play with my tits more often." More often, Harry repeated in his thoughts. There was a chance that all of this was going to happen again? He started toying with her breasts more vigorously, this time switching between them every now and then, licking the left one, then kissing the right one, squeezing both and fingering her nipples.
He continued like that for a few minutes, enjoying every little groan and moan the witch exhaled. Soon her hips started to move against him, rocking back and forth, as if she was trying to ride him, moaning louder now. After a few moments of doing that, Angelina suddenly moved away from him and got up, taking a step back, then started to remove her shoes. She shot him a glance.
"Take off your clothes," she said, sounding out of breath. "We're going to fuck."
Harry obeyed immediately, getting up from his chair — nearly toppling to the floor in the process, due to his trousers hanging at his ankles — then swiftly removed his shoes, pants, and boxers. Finally, as his own shirt was laying on the same chair Angelina's was, he looked back to the girl.
Angelina was standing in front of him absolutely nude, apparently having disrobed much quicker than him. Harry ogled her athletic body, feeling his cock twitch at the sight before him. Angelina was as tall as he was, the boy noticed for the first time, and her body was very slim, yet toned. Her legs were cleanly shaven, in contrast to her groin — there was a triangle of black hair covering her pussy from his eyes.
Harry crossed the distance between them and started to snog the witch, apparently not surprising her in the slightest, considering how enthusiastic her response was. He could feel her tits squeezing against his chest, as well as his dick pressing against her crotch. Harry's tongue played with hers while his hands made way to her ass, fondling it roughly, much rougher than he allowed himself to grope her breasts earlier. Then he moved his left hand back to his dick, positioning it between her legs. Grabbing Angelina's back, he pressed her body closer to his, feeling his cock slide between her thighs, still kissing the girl wantonly. He couldn't be sure that he wasn't just imagining it, but he was almost certain that he could actually feel the wetness of her pussy on the top of his shaft. He could certainly feel the heat emanating from it. Almost involuntarily, his hips started to rock back and forth. Angelina let out a stifled moan at almost the same time he did, then rapidly made a step back, disentangling herself from his embrace.
"Where do you want to do it?" she asked candidly. Harry was momentarily confused before his brain caught up.
"Erm… the chair?" he suggested. Angelina immediately shook her head. "Too uncomfortable," she commented. "Give me a moment."
With that she walked back to the desk and grabbed her wand, starting to wave it in a complicated pattern over one of the chairs. Its shape quickly started morphing into a cube, which then stretched itself and flattened, taking the form of a thick mattress. Ordinarily, Harry would likely admire her skill at Transfiguration — but now he was focused more at admiring her body, exposed to him entirely. He was barely able to stop himself from closing the distance and groping her again, he realized. He couldn't even remember ever being as horny as he was feeling right now.
Soon, she was finished, a huge, soft-looking mattress laying there on the floor in front of them. She turned back to him, apparently intending to say something, only to be silenced by his passionate kiss. He embraced her again, moving his hands up and down on her body, before finally forcing himself to break the kiss. Angelina chose not to say anything — she simply put her wand on the floor, then sat in the middle of the mattress, her front to him, and spread her legs invitingly.
Harry didn't need a second invitation. He knelt on the edge of the mattress and bent his body forward, kissing her again, straightening his knees while using his hand to awkwardly try and point his dick to the right place. After a moment of fumbling, he had succeeded, allowing him to jerk his body forward and finally enter her.
He was briefly surprised at how hot she was feeling around his cock — and how wet. He started to clumsily move his hips back and forth, slowly establishing a rhythm, fucking the black girl while looking her in the eyes. Angelina started letting out small moans the very second his shaft found its place inside her and didn't appear intent on stopping any time soon. After a few moments, Harry had managed to make his position more comfortable, laying on top of Angelina's body while still having enough freedom of movement to shag her frantically.
Harry continued for two, maybe three minutes, before finally feeling his orgasm slowly approaching. "I'm going to finish soon," he breathed. Angelina's eyes shot open as she looked at him.
"Fuck," she commented. "Stop! Harry, stop!"
Harry stopped, surprised at the unexpected command. "Get off me, I'm going — I'm going to ride you," she said haltingly.
The boy did as instructed, allowing her to sit upon the mattress. Angelina was breathing deeply, he noticed, and it took her a moment to vacate her place on the mattress. He lied back just as she did before, allowing her to straddle him — but she didn't, looking at him hesitantly.
"There's a spell that would allow you to last a bit longer," she said, sounding slightly reluctant. "I can cast it on you if you'll allow me to?"
Harry felt a tinge of uncertainty somewhere deep inside him — but then it passed as quickly as it appeared. "Sure."
Angelina flicked her wand in the direction of his cock, whispering an incantation. Harry whined when a wave of pure cold touched his groin, sinking into it, then spreading outwards. The feeling passed almost immediately, thankfully, yet it left him much less… much further from finishing than he was before. He opened his mouth to comment on it, but then Angelina interrupted him by throwing her wand away and straddling him hastily.
She positioned herself over his dick and sank onto it, letting out a loud moan, accompanied by a similar sound leaving Harry's lips. She remained there for a second, motionless, then began to ride him. Slowly at first, then faster, moaning loudly with each movement — much louder than she was before. Harry would've felt slightly insulted by that, if not for the waves of pleasure spilling inside him with her every bounce over his prone body. He reached out with his hands and grabbed her tits, fondling them once more, succeeding in making her moans even more raucous.
They continued like that for a few minutes, with Angelina continuing to ride him vigorously. Then, without any warning, she screamed in ecstasy, and Harry could feel her pussy contracting around his cock, squeezing it rhythmically, harder than ever before. With a loud grunt of his own, he came, his orgasm almost mind-shattering — the boy's vision literally darkened for a moment as his shaft pumped his cum inside the witch's nubile body, wave after wave after wave.
It ended, at last — at least when it came to Harry's orgasm. Angelina's climax seemed to last noticeably longer than his, judging from how long her pussy was pulsating around his length. But that ended as well, just when the girl had let her body fall forward and lay over him, panting loudly in his ear.
He couldn't really fault her for that — he was panting too.
They stayed like for a few minutes, slowly recovering from the experience, their breathing gradually returning to normal. Finally, after what felt like a small eternity, Angelina rose slightly above him, pushing herself on her elbows, and looked him in the eye.
"We really need to do that some time again," she said, smiling, her expression still strangely serene.
Harry's Quidditch privileges were revoked again after the interview with the journalist, of course. The reporter had (predictably) insisted on interviewing Harry without Umbridge present, and so the boy chose to tell him the actual truth about Voldemort's return. Professor Umbridge was naturally furious beyond belief afterwards. Not that it had mattered any longer: Gryffindor was already on its way to win the Quidditch Cup, regardless of the result of the last match.
Harry was quite honestly proud of himself: he had won the Cup practically single-handedly — since everyone had agreed that it was thanks to him that they had won the penultimate game — and shagged Angelina Johnson. Damn, was there anything left to achieve this year?