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The Feathered Serpent: Chapter 18
🕑 Added 2024-02-16 09:00:08 +0000 UTC“Good morning, dear. Come, have a seat,” Perenelle Flamel smiled at Daphne who nodded respectfully and took a seat beside the elder woman at the small dining table.
“Good morning to you too, Perenelle,” Daphne greeted.
“Harry’s still asleep?” Perenelle asked, pouring some tea for herself before helping Daphne with her breakfast.
“Yeah,” Daphne nodded.
“You don’t look like you slept too well last night,” Perenelle remarked, taking in the slightly drowsy demeanor of the blonde. Daphne stifled a yawn, wiping the water off her eyes, and sighed.
“Kinda hard to, considering everything that’s going on,” she replied, earning a sympathetic squeeze of her hand from her companion.
“I understand, dear, but worrying about it won’t do anything. Nick said he will look into the matter, didn’t he? You best leave it to him. Something will surely come up,” Perenelle said softly. “What you need to do right now… what you both do, is to get stronger and support each other as much as you can. Worrying will only impede your efforts. Trust an old woman when she says you don’t want to worry too much, or you’ll start showing wrinkles soon.”
Daphne could not help but smile wryly. She nodded and started on her breakfast under the watchful eye of Perenelle Flamel.
“You remind me a lot of myself, you know?” She started. Daphne glanced at her as she ate. Perenelle smiled faintly. “It feels like several lifetimes ago… I don’t even remember things from that era. But I do remember how I used to be. Always curious, interested in multiple topics, not to mention a lot calmer than my husband.”
“Harry’s not that bad,” Daphne smiled.
“But you’re the calmer one, aren’t you?” Perenelle chuckled. “Trust me, I’ve seen enough over the past few days to know the kind of people you two are. And so has Nick. After all, if that wasn’t the case, he wouldn’t have agreed to do what he told me and Albus last night.”
Curious, Daphne stared at the older woman.
“Albus told us about your desire to compete in the European Championships. Is that true?”
Daphne nodded.
“We’ve started climbing ranks in the Intra-school circuit. We want to compete in the championships starting next year.”
“The junior bracket? You do know you can bypass that restriction if you want, right?”
“Yeah,” Daphne nodded. “Although we’re working hard. We hope we’d be ready for the senior pro matches by next summer, but it we’re not, then the juniors it is,” Daphne replied.
The professional Dueling circuit for adults required one to be at least 21 years old, but there was a provision for those older than 16 to compete should they show enough promise at the domestic level, and their wizarding school vouches for them. Despite being two of the most capable students in their year, Daphne and Harry had doubts they would be ready for the senior level.
Perenelle nodded thoughtfully. Albus had told her about what these two had been up to since they had come to Hogwarts, particularly how they had defeated Elstan Greyback, and one thing had become clear to them. Daphne and Harry were gifted, and they would only grow from here on now that they had a serious goal in front of them.
“Tell me, Daphne. Would you and Harry be interested in a few memories we show you?”
A gleam entered Daphne’s sapphire orbs and Perenelle smirked.
“About what?”
“How the duels used to be like hundreds of years ago. I’m sure you have access to recent ones but those medieval ones had a certain degree of… creativity to them. Now, I’m not an advocate for violence but when it comes to this sport, I do believe one can do with certain unorthodox ideas, if you catch my drift.”
Daphne’s lips curled upward as she gazed at the woman and she nodded.
“It’d be an honor and quite a learning experience, I’m sure.”
“What’s up?”
Daphne and Perenelle glanced up as Harry approached them. He leaned down and pecked his girlfriend before taking his seat at the table.
“Perenelle has this idea that we could make use of a few memories she has to share,” Daphne replied. “Duels from a few centuries ago and how things used to be back then.”
“Good idea,” Harry nodded, smiling at Perenelle in gratitude as he accepted his breakfast.
“We would also like it if you two stayed here until your holidays are over,” Perenelle interjected.
“Perenelle, we wouldn’t want to—”
“Oh, don’t give me that nonsense, dear,” the woman waved her hand dismissively. “You two would certainly not impose on us oldsters. It’d be nice to have some company around here.”
Daphne and Harry exchanged a glance before the latter nodded with a resigned smile.
“Okay, we’ll stay,” he replied as Daphne nodded in agreement.
“Splendid,” Perenelle smiled. “Help yourselves to the books in the library and the small training area in the basement.”
Harry nodded. It was truly an invaluable opportunity he and Daphne had at their disposal, and they would be foolish to waste it.
They watched Perenelle get up and push the chair back inside.
“Meet me in Nick’s solar and I’ll arrange those memories for you to watch, okay?”
They nodded, watching as the old woman left.
“You holding up okay?” Harry asked as he turned to his girlfriend who gave him a soft smile and nodded.
“Just fine now. Ain’t as if we can get anything done by worrying too much.”
Harry sighed.
“I can’t stop thinking about it, to be honest,” he muttered, making Daphne glance at him in concern. “Voldemort’s soul latching on to me like a fucking parasite.”
“Nicholas said it yesterday, didn’t he? He’ll find something to get it out of you, and it ain’t as if we’re in any hurry. Voldemort ain’t coming back anytime soon, and we have to use that soul piece to extract as much information as possible,” Daphne replied. “That reminds me, have you thought about what I said last night?”
Harry frowned and stared at his plate. As they were lying in the bed last night, Daphne had proposed that he should try and tap into Voldemort’s knowledge bank, to put it crudely, and learn anything that could come to aid them in their future endeavors. The idea was intriguing, to say the least.
“As I told you, it won’t be a bad idea to get back at him that way,” Harry began. “But you remember what Dumbledore warned us about yesterday, right? There’d be some truly fucked up shit in that bastard’s memories, and I don’t think I’d like to witness any of it.”
Daphne nodded in understanding.
“There’s one thing we can try though,” Harry mused, earning her attention once again. “When I get proficient enough in this crappy task, I can look for memories that contain him learning whatever we want to borrow from him. That way, we can get it done without going into any nasty stuff.”
“That’s a good idea,” Daphne nodded.
“There’s a long way to go though,” Harry reminded her. “I need to master Occlumency and even learn how to tell souls apart. It’d be months before I get capable enough to even think about diving into his horrid memories.”
“Don’t worry, we have time,” Daphne replied, as she gained a thoughtful look on her face. “And I think we should start working on it as well.”
“Working on what?” Harry asked, chewing a mouthful of bread.
“How to safely get that soul piece out of you,” Daphne replied. “The others might be working on it but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t do our bit either.”
“True,” Harry pointed his bread at her and nodded. “Another thing to include in our vast practice regimen. Yay!”
Daphne chuckled as she gazed at her boyfriend. It was a good thing that the revelations of the previous two days had not taken an adverse toll on him, and she could say the same about her. Still, seeing him back to normal did a lot to reassure her as well. She exchanged a loving smile with him and clasped their hands on the table.
They would ride this wave out together as well, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
XXXXX
A young wizard with his slicked-back blonde hair sat in an intricate armchair, his eyes affixed to the flames dancing in the fireplace. The orange glow was reflected in his ash-colored orbs as he took another hefty swig of his firewhiskey.
His heart burned with hatred and rage after the events that had transpired in the past four months at Hogwarts.
Everything had been perfectly set up for him. The scion of the House of Malfoy would arrive at Hogwarts and revel in all the plaudits the peasants would shower on him. He had long envisioned how his life at Hogwarts would go, and how he would further improve upon all the groundwork his father had laid the foundation of during all these years.
He was the most privileged and the greatest wizard that would graduate out of Hogwarts, both academically and politically, and everything had been ensured to see it out.
Furthermore, he had already identified the alliances he would be making, both on personal and political levels, and he had long since begun making inroads.
However, no plan survived first contact, and he had gotten a first-hand experience.
Draco Malfoy clenched his teeth in rage and violently flung the half-empty glass of firewhiskey away. The glass shattered into hundreds of fragments as it collided with the wall.
“Aye, aye, and what’s got young master so worked up?”
Draco Malfoy glanced over with a sneer as the two trolls walked up to him.
Flint and Gibbon. They were also the heirs of two pureblood families but he knew them as nothing more than his father’s vassals, and as such, beneath him. Both boys were two years older, and more sadistic than one would imagine two students to be.
Draco watched them take a seat at the table and grab the bottle of firewhiskey one after the other, helping themselves to the liquor.
“Let’s say up all night chatting, shall we, young master?” Flint grinned, his crooked teeth revealed in all their hideous glory.
“Aye, aye. Tell us all about your youthful troubles,” Gibbon nodded eagerly.
Draco cast a disgusted glance at the pair.
“I’m not your entertainment,” he hissed. “Your monkey to perform while you drink like barbarians.”
“Oh come on, young master,” Flint’s grin was still prominent on his face. “Tell us what’s troubling you.”
“We’re such good friends, aren’t we?”
“Like hell we are,” Draco retorted. “Sit there silently, fill your guts, and fuck off.”
Flint and Gibbon exchanged an exasperated look but did as they were told. Meanwhile, Draco grabbed another glass and poured himself another round of firewhiskey.
An hour passed in absolute silence, and all that was left by the end of it was an absolutely smashed heir of the House of Malfoy with his head leaning against the chair and his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Drool dripped down his chin onto his lap as he sat there, almost out of it.
“Everyone’s a moron,” he muttered, intoxicated. “A fucking moron.”
“Huh?” Gibbon glanced up, his eyes slightly droopy but his mind still alert. He and Flint were used to the booze and it didn’t affect them as much.
“They got no bloody idea. Fucking retards, the lot of them. They say stupid shit, they do stupid shit, and they think it makes them cool,” Draco continued.
Flint exchanged a glance with Gibbon who shrugged. Suddenly, the former grinned.
“Hmm… I think I do understand what you mean, young master,” he muttered. “You are that age when things feel weird. Not a grown-up but no longer a brat too.”
“You’re fucking two years older, Flint. Quit with that crap already,” Draco muttered as he turned to him. He pushed his glass forward and pointed his finger at it. “Refill.”
“Sure thing,” Flint shrugged and poured another load into the glass. Both he and Gibbon watched Draco as he picked it up and gulped it down entirely in one full swig. Droplets slid past his lips and down his chin, pooling on his lap.
“Aye, aye. Look at him drink,” Gibbon grinned.
Draco slammed the glass down on the table, breathing heavily as he wiped his lips and chin with the back of his hand.
“Flint, Gibbon…” he eyed them in disdain. “I’m your lord, but you’re mocking me right now, aren’t you? Huh?”
Flink and Gibbon exchanged a look with each other as Draco continued to stare at them.
“Drinking ain’t fun tonight,” the former muttered.
“Aye, aye. I already feel it wearing off,” Gibbon concurred. “Should’ve gone to Knockturn and drunk off a poor wench’s belly.”
“That woulda been fun, innit?” Flint grinned.
Suddenly, the table jolted as Draco slammed his hands on top of it, glaring. In his highly intoxicated state, his eyes were tainted red and they bulged in anger.
“I ain’t deaf, cunts! I can hear you!” He snarled, brandishing his wand. “You think worthless lowlives like you have the right to mock me!? Your lord!?”
Flint and Gibbon stared at him in surprise.
“Your fathers serve my father for a pittance! Scumbags, the lot of you. So much for the pride of purebloods, groveling at another’s feet like vermin.”
Flint was quick to regain his composure, finding the state of the Malfoy heir amusing more than offensive.
“We like to call ourselves allies, young master,” he waved his hand dismissively. “We’re useful when the time is right.”
“Oh?” Malfoy eyed Flint with a raised eyebrow and pointed his wand at him. His arm was shaking violently under the effect of alcohol. “You think you’re useful, you troll? I’ve never seen you do anything but be a loudmouth and drink like a pissant.”
“Well, it ain’t as if we’re in a war, right?” Flint shrugged. “It’s all nice and cozy. Why waste energy doing silly shit when you can happily eat, drink, and fuck whenever you want?”
“It gets boring though,” Gibbon interjected. “But yeah… eat, drink, and fuck. That’s a jolly good life.”
Draco stared at one after the other, all logic having left him in his drunkard state.
“Draw your wand,” he sneered, looking down on Flint. “I wanna see how useful you really are.”
Flint and Gibbon exchanged another look and sighed as one before they both kicked the chair Draco was sitting on. The chair gave away and the Malfoy heir fell with a shrill cry, his chin colliding with the table as he dropped to the floor, moaning pathetically. The bottle of firewhiskey and the glass all shattered across the floor, soaking his shirt.
Flint walked forward and pressed his shoe-clad foot on Draco’s arm who looked up with a gasp and wide eyes. He found himself face to face with Flint’s wand pointed right between his eyes.
“See? We’re useful,” Flint grinned as he pulled his wand and foot back, standing by Draco’s feet. “Your father understands our worth, that’s why he keeps us around. You need someone to do the dirty work for you, young master.”
Draco stared at Flint with clenched teeth. They could hear his breathing getting higher in intensity and his eyes widening when suddenly, to the surprise of both Flint and Gibbon, Draco’s face scrunched up and he began to cry.
“Err… what?” Flint muttered, staring at the awful display of the Malfoy heir thrashing about erratically and he cried like a pansy. He slapped the floor repeatedly, flailing his legs about in a display of absolute immaturity.
“I wanna die! I wanna die! I wanna die!” Draco kept crying out repeatedly as he flailed about. “Gah!”
“Aye, aye. He’s drunk too much,” Gibbon muttered.
“Ahh, that’s too bad,” Flint groaned in disappointment. “I thought we could keep drinking together so it would bring us closer. What to do now…?”
Malfoy had turned over on his belly now in his tantrum, repeatedly slamming his fists on the floor.
“I’m a nobody! Father’s gonna be so angry! Damn you, Potter! Damn your slag! Damn that wastebin! Fuck offff!”
Flint and Gibbon stared at him before the former sighed and stepped forward.
“Help me out here, you doofus!” He hissed, and Gibbon hastily rushed forward. Both wizards grabbed an arm each and lifted Draco back to his feet, slowly helping him over to his chair. Promptly, Malfoy fell forward, his head smashing against the table, as he began to slam his fists on top of it, rattling it violently. Flint sighed in exasperation.
“Err… listen, young master,” he began. “You don’t like how you’re treated at Hogwarts, eh? Everyone making fart sounds in front of you, mocking you, all that shit… you want them to treat you like an adult and your father’s son, right? Not like a dumbfuck, a moron, a worthless prick, a pathetic waste of space, you get it, eh?”
“You fuckers…” Draco cried out. “You treat me like that too! You’re my servants! Know your place!”
“Ehh, what the hell…” Flint muttered. “What else did you expect, young master? You’re basically a baby still suckling on your mother’s tit. You’re not even a real adult… a real man to be taken seriously! To become a real man, you—”
Draco cried out again in frustration, cutting Flint off.
“Aye Flint, praise him a bit, will you? That’d shut him up real nice,” Gibbon sighed. “The booze and now this crap… I’m getting a headache.”
“Ah, shut it, Gibbon. I’m working on it. Just quiet and listen,” he retorted, glancing at him before he turned back to the pathetic mess that Draco Malfoy was. “Ehh, you know, young master, becoming a real man ain’t that big of an ask. All you gotta do is complete a… rite of passage, I think we call it.”
Gibbon stared at them as he took a large swig straight out of the bottle he had just taken out of the cabinet. Draco’s crying subsided and he glanced up, staring at Flint, who smirked.
“You need to kill someone.”
Draco’s eyes widened and he slowly pushed himself up on his arms, staring at Flint who stared back with a feral grin.
“Killing someone will make you feel so, so confident in yourself. You oughta try it at least once,” he continued, smirking. “Once you feel how easy it is to kill someone… how exciting it feels when you finally see the life vanishing from someone’s eyes… how powerful you feel when you stand over the rotting carcass of your enemy… you won’t be afraid anymore. It’ll grow you up instantly. That’s how all boys become men.”
Draco stared at Flint with wide eyes, his entire body shaking. All the hints of intoxication fled his mind in that instant and he found himself seriously thinking about it.
“Kill someone…” he whispered. “B-but… who?”
“Well, that’s obvious!” Flint exclaimed eagerly. “We’re purebloods, aren’t we? We’ve got the perfect targets for this practice.”
His eyes narrowed in malevolence as he glanced to the side at Gibbon who smirked as he drank again.
“We’ve got quite a few of them at Hogwarts as well. Or if you can’t wait that long, how about we go on a little hunting session? Us three. I’m sure you’ll find it very exciting.”
Draco’s heart thudded hard and fast in his chest as he stared at the evilly smirking visage of Marcus Flint and he gulped.
Flint smirked and leaned back in his chair, helping himself to another glass of firewhiskey after pouring some for his young master. He was truly looking forward to what the Malfoy heir’s decision would be, and there was one thing he knew for sure. It would be incredibly fun.
XXXXX
It had been a week since Harry and Daphne had arrived in France to stay with the Flamels, and it was safe to say that it had been a productive time for both.
Their lives had been jolted after the revelations of the first couple of days but all it did was strengthen their convictions and give them a new sense of purpose.
Harry and Daphne had been offered to watch the memories of Nicholas and Perenelle comprised of numerous dueling tournaments that had been held over centuries, from international to domestic ones, and they devoured those memories like hungry wolves.
They knew they were capable, but some of what they had seen pushed the limits. It was safe to say that Harry and Daphne were eager to try some of those techniques out once they got back to Hogwarts and resumed their weekly ventures down with the Dueling Club.
They did not slack in their practices either. Nicholas and Perenelle had allowed them to use the training room they had in their basement, although calling it a training room was putting it harshly.
It was small, and the walls had to be magically reinforced to prevent any damage from dangerous spells.
“It’s main purpose is to enhance your reaction time and let you hone your control over magic,” Nicholas had said when they had asked him about it.
It turned out the ancient alchemist had constructed this room not to practice brutal magic but to improve one’s technical ability. The lack of ample distance between the two combatants meant that they had to move out of a spell’s path quickly, and it contributed significantly to their response time. Their reflexes, enhanced further by their animagus forms, had improved even further. Although they were not unnaturally quick and agile after only a few days of toiling hard in that room, both Harry and Daphne could feel the improvement and they had already decided to incorporate this training in their normal regimen at Hogwarts.
Their animagus training also continued at a nice and sedate pace. As instructed by McGonagall, they took turns while transforming so as not to raise any unnecessary complications. Nicholas and Perenelle were curious about it, but when they described what had happened the first time they had done it together, they understood the reasoning. It did earn them a few teasing looks and remarks from the elder couple though. Those people still seemed young at heart.
They were slowly but surely gaining more and more control over their animagus abilities and although they had yet to take the step forward and transform together, they believed it was not long for them to be able to get it down.
Nicholas and Perenelle also aided them in their other endeavors. Harry had long taken an interest in Runes and the former was a treasure trove of knowledge. He had gotten the basics down a long time ago owing to his parents’ journals but the old alchemist was in a different galaxy altogether. Somehow, Nicholas Flamel had developed his own method of inscribing runes on any surface, and it looked so incredibly detailed and well organized that it made whatever else he had read earlier seem crude. Nicholas was confident that his method had an increased success rate and resistance to any interference. Harry was not foolish enough to refute the words of a man of his caliber and he had eagerly invested himself into learning as much as he could from the venerable scholar.
Meanwhile, Perenelle had taken a keen interest in Daphne, and the two women had spent a significant amount of time together. They discussed several historical events. Daphne surprised the woman with her interest in the subject and the knowledge she possessed, and Perenelle was all too happy to impart whatever she knew about those events, clarifying various oddities while refuting numerous myths that had pervaded the history books. Furthermore, Daphne’s interest in healing pleased Perenelle to no end, and she had taken her under her wing. Although they did not have enough time for her to teach her everything, the intricacies of the art of healing that not even many qualified healers could board about were easy to impart. Earlier, Daphne used to rely a lot on healing spells but Perenelle educated her on how exactly the spells worked, which organs and vitals they targeted, and the order in which the healing operated.
By this time, both Harry and Daphne were confident that they were much more proficient in their respective areas of expertise than they had been not only a week ago, and that whatever they encountered in those subjects in the future would come much easier to them owing to their superior grasp on the basics and the actual know-how.
It was the 31st of December, and both Nicholas and Perenelle had retired for the day after all the festivities they had partaken in. The day had been a usual one but the evening had been raucous, with numerous games, dances, good food and drinks, and friendly wagers. Harry had found out the hard way that despite his old age, Nicholas was still a dab hand at Darts.
Midnight was approaching, and Harry found himself spooning Daphne on the sofa in the living room of the Flamel household.
“The week passed so quickly, didn’t it?” Daphne whispered.
“Mm-hmm,” Harry nuzzled her neck, dropping a soft kiss to the exposed skin of her shoulder as he held her by the belly.
“We’ll be heading back soon,” Daphne continued, her voice slightly breathless as Harry started to work her up. His lips were attached to her neck and shoulder while his hands pulled her close. Daphne could feel him getting hard as he kept her rear pressed against his crotch, slowly caressing her belly over her top.
“I know,” Harry replied, taking a small break before he resumed kissing along the slope of her neck.
“Mmm… Harry,” Daphne moaned softly. “Not here, love.”
“Why not?” He asked huskily, his hands reaching up and cupping the underside of her tits over her top.
“The Flamels, Harry…” she moaned. “They can come and see us.”
“Doesn’t that make it more exciting?” He whispered hotly, nibbling on her earlobe. Daphne gasped when she felt him fully palm her tits and give them a firm squeeze, and she could not stop herself from pushing her rear against his hard-on.
“Oh Merlin,” she gasped. “You’re so bad!”
“It does turn you on, doesn’t it, my love?” He whispered with a triumphant grin as he leaned over so that he could see her face. Her expression heightened his arousal. She looked so utterly alluring right now with her eyes clouded over and her lips parted seductively as she wet them with her tongue every other second.
Daphne turned her face toward his and eagerly accepted the demanding kiss, giving into it. His familiar lips danced with hers and she happily allowed access to his tongue, rolling hers against it within the confines of her mouth. She continued to rub herself against his erection while he played with her tits over her top, fondling and groping her. He would occasionally pinch her hardened nipples over her clothes and he would brush his fingers against her skin, filling her with longing. She desired to feel all of him.
“Tell me you want to take this to the bedroom and we can go right now,” he whispered against her lips.
“Just shut up and fuck me,” she retorted, pushing her rear hard against his erection.
Harry smirked and pulled one hand off her tits. He slowly dragged it down her body, caressing her belly with gentle touches before he reached the waistband of her leggings. He slid his fingers inside, pushing past her leggings and the thin knickers she was wearing.
Daphne gasped into their kiss when she felt him touch her inflamed pussy. They had not had sex since they arrived in France for numerous reasons and their passion had finally reared its head on New Year’s Eve.
She moaned when he started to tease her folds, running his fingers along her wet lips for a few seconds before he parted them wide and ran a finger along her slit. He caressed her for a few more seconds before he slowly plunged one finger inside her.
Daphne gasped and allowed him to take control. She surrendered herself to his ministrations, reveling in the wondrous feeling of his fingers pushing in and out of her while he played with her tits and kissed her so magnificently. She reached up and pulled the straps of her top down her shoulder, and Harry easily took charge. He pulled them further down, easing her arms out of the straps before he grabbed the front and pulled the top over her tits, exposing them.
“All yours,” Daphne whispered into the kiss and Harry eagerly helped himself. Daphne simply lay there, feeling ecstatic under his ministrations. Her arousal was increasing with every moment and it was not long before she wanted to feel him inside her.
Harry unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pulling them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, slapping against her arse, and he felt her raise her hips for him. Harry wasted no time and pulled her leggings and knickers down.
Daphne immediately pushed back against him, trapping his length between his hips and her lower lips, and she started to move to and fro, rubbing his erection against herself and coating it with her love juices.
“Go on,” she whispered.
Harry reached down and aligned himself with her. Daphne moaned softly as she felt her lower lips part for him, accepting the intrusion as he pushed forward, burying himself to the hilt inside her.
He began to move, and Daphne was no passive participant. She started to rock back against him, taking as much of his length inside her as she could. Her tits swayed back and forth before Harry reached up and cupped them, squeezing passionately.
Harry groaned at the feeling of her hot, tight depths around his member and increased the pace of his thrusts. He fortunately had the foresight to apply the requisite charms around them beforehand and thus, they did not have to be overly mindful of the sounds they were making.
Daphne reached behind herself and held him by the back of his head, pulling his face down, and Harry eagerly kissed her back. They snogged passionately as they fucked, and Harry started to work her up even more. One hand played with her nipples, tweaking and twisting them alternately while the other dropped to her clit and started rubbing it with only one intention.
His ministrations were fruitful as he felt Daphne start to shudder. Her inner walls tightened around his length and with a moan that he stifled with his kiss, she came. Her hips bucked wildly as she shivered, riding her climax out. Harry held her to himself all the while with his arms firmly wrapped around her and once her climax subsided, he started to move again.
Daphne moaned as he started to thrust into her, chasing his orgasm as well. They kept kissing each other heatedly and Harry reached up once again, holding her tits in his palms and gently playing with them. Over a week of suppressed libido reared its head in no time, and as Harry felt his orgasm approaching, the pace of his thrusts increased significantly.
He started slamming faster and harder inside her and mere seconds later, he was pushed over the edge by her clenching depths.
He groaned as his cock swelled, filling her core with his thick, hot seed. To their combined surprise, that was enough to send Daphne over the edge, and with a muffled cry, she came for the second time.
Panting, the couple lay on the couch, finally feeling utterly satiated.
To be continued…
