Christmas

Chapter 14: 21 December 10:00 AM -- 28 December 8:00 AM – Christmas

It was going to be a dismal holiday.

Everyone knows that Ministry offices are nearly empty during the holiday season. It was only natural that Harold Clearwater would make up the slack by moving a camp bed into his office, working around the clock and leaving his charming wife yearning for some company. Instead, he decided to celebrate the season by spending more time at home. England expects every man to do his duty, you irresponsible twit!

Draco had been receiving pleading letters from his mother. A large number of his father's friends wanted to convene at the Malfoy estate during the New Year holiday. They would need a lot of attending, but they definitely did not want any hired help around they could not trust. That left the catering to Mrs. Malfoy and the two remaining house-elves unless Draco came and helped.

Draco gleefully showed me a return letter with the wonderful news that I was acceptable to all the Malfoy house guests because I was from Durmstrang.

I think Draco suggested my name out of spite because both their families insisted that Barbara and Shelly come home for the holidays. The girls had been sending hints in letters to their respective families. They wrote that they had just talked to a boy named Draco Malfoy, who seemed very pleasant. They wrote again that they had just received help with a Transfiguration spell by Draco, who appeared very talented. On both occasions, the replies from their families had sent the girls to bed in tears.

I explained the Yankee joke to Draco, and we made yellow badges containing black line drawings of the North American burrowing rodent.

"They are so cute," said Shelly, besotted by the twitching noses of the little varmints.

"I thought you two didn't like animals," said Barbara.

We absolutely had to make badges for the two girls.

There was more good news. Theodore Nott and his mother could come and help, too. If Mrs. Malfoy, Mrs. Nott, and I were in the same room, those two women would have everything figured out in less than a minute. The other thirty to fifty people in the room wouldn't know that anything had happened, but Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Nott would know everything without a single word being spoken.

"Sacre Bleu!" as the Americans say.

"What?" said Draco.

"How do you spell 'mincemeat'?" I asked.

We explained the joke and made a badge for Theo. Then we had to make one for Terry.

I hadn't helped. Out of Old World politeness I had responded to their letters, telling them that everything was dull at Hogwarts and their sons were doing fine. I had been certain I would never see Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Nott again.

I had even written a few letters back to Penelope Clearwater. My mother and father, with help from the German Ministry, had visited Penelope and talked about the independent bookkeeping business. The German Ministry thought the more normal we appeared to the Brits and the more personal contact, the better. It was a diplomatic exchange of goodwill, except that Mr. Clearwater was murderously angry. Nothing's perfect. At any rate, since my family and I had been such good friends to her, Penelope was eager to introduce me to the Weasley family. Wouldn't it be lovely to spend Christmas Eve with them? I, too, thought it a lovely idea. It would be a cleaner death then the one awaiting me at the Malfoys.

I did ask about Percy Weasley. He wasn't reconciled with his family yet, but the Weasleys wanted to see Penelope, and Penelope had told them she was bringing her friend, Hermann Busch. That should put the dumb cluck in the weasel house.

It was a tight timetable. The train would take us from Hogwarts to London on Saturday, 21 December. Saturday night, Sunday, and Monday I would help the Malfoys prepare for their visitors. Tuesday morning, 24 December, I would go to my hotel room in London. Penelope would take me to the Weasleys that evening for Christmas Eve. I would be in London on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Saturday morning, 29 December, I would return to the Malfoys through Wednesday, 1 January. The friends of the Malfoys, to whom I would be a servant, would be there Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. If I was still alive, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday were free. Sunday, 5 January, the train would take what was left of me back to Hogwarts. Tell my parents I died bravely.

* * *

To picture the wing of the Malfoy Manor with Narcissa's room, imagine building a U from five wooden cubes. Place three cubes in a row. Stack the other two cubes on the outer cubes. Turn the structure from vertical to horizontal. Turn the cubes into varied rectangles to allow for doors and passage ways. The middle rectangle of the three is the Master Bedroom; the left rectangle is the Mistress's Bedroom; and the right rectangle is the Other Mistress's Bedroom. Malfoy Manor is an old house for an old-fashioned family. The other two rectangles were for the personal servants. Narcissa had the Other Mistress's Bedroom completely filled with boxes of stuff. Narcissa had her own opinions about family relations. We had to clear it for Janice Nott. Draco and Theodore would stay in the servants' rooms, which were very luxurious. To complete the arrangement and to help guard against intrusions by any of the guests, I would stay in the Master Bedroom.

"What?" I said.

"That's a good joke," I said, "and they say Malfoys don't have a refined sense of humor."

I looked at Narcissa and Draco. They weren't joking. The five of us were to form a tight unit guarded at night by spells and proximity. No one else was willing to use the Master Bedroom. I discovered why when I entered it. Evil. Nightmare City. Janice Nott had vouched for my decontamination abilities, and Narcissa reminded me that I had the best nightmares. The elves and I took everything that was moveable to the dungeons since Narcissa and Draco refused to touch any of it. The elves and I scoured the room with soap and water followed by our best benign spells. The elves and I brought the furniture from my summer rooms into the Master Bedroom. Just to thumb my nose at everyone, I did request black satin bedding. "I can be evil, too," I told the room. I brought up two bottles from the wine cellar, and the elves and I had a glass to toast the new Master Bedroom. I told the elves I would take care of Narcissa. They protested, but after a glass of wine they were in no shape to do anyone any good. I sent them to bed, reminding them of all the work to be done tomorrow. This imperious style seemed appropriate for the person sleeping in the Master Bedroom. It was one in the morning and Draco had gone to bed, but I could hear Narcissa still moving boxes. I removed the spells from the adjoining door and entered the Other Mistress's Bedroom, bringing the open wine bottle and a glass.

Narcissa was standing in the middle of the room: dirty, sweaty, and cursing everything in sight ... in a word, gorgeous.

"What the bloody hell are you doing in here," she said.

She kicked a box, and I heard something break.

"I brought you something bloody hell to drink. Then you can bloody hell kick my shins, and then you can feel the bloody hell better."

She glared at me.

"Do you want the drink first, or do you want to kick my shins first?" I asked.

"I'll have the drink first. Where are the elves?"

"The elves and I toasted the renovated room, and they staggered off to bed," I said.

"You got my elves drunk?"

"Yes."

"Bloody hell," she said, finishing the glass of wine. "I will kick your shins."

"Care for another glass first?" I asked.

"The elves were too stressed to sleep after cleaning that room," I said while filling her glass. "I gave them a glass of wine, and they went to bed and passed out."

I tossed the empty bottle on the bed. I moved her dusty, matted hair out of her face. I said, "Do you realize that I miss fighting with you?"

"Is that what you really miss?"

"No," I said.

She gave me a hug, spilling some wine. No problem for a witch.

I showed Narcissa the renovated bathtub and coaxed her into using it with me. I waved my wand to lock the three bedrooms. While she was in the tub, I poured her another glass of wine and massaged her back.

"You left me," she said.

I knew she was talking about last summer. "Yes ... I did."

"I know you couldn't help it, but you left."

Narcissa had a brief mental image of writing to the German Minister: "Dear Sir, Please let Mr. Busch stay and continue our torrid affair. I promise to take care of him. There's beer in the cellar, and I've ordered some pickled cabbage for the stamina he'll need. Sincerely, Narcissa Black Malfoy."

I wondered what she was smiling about when she reached over, took my hand, and said, "I'm glad you're back."

Narcissa climbed out of the tub, stumbled over to the bed, curled herself around me, and fell asleep. I lay awake for a while, feeling frustrated and cursing myself for being considerate.

I thought of Mr. Malfoy escaping from prison and stumbling upon us. Would he be angry. Especially if he arrived after dark and tripped over things. I had rearranged the furniture.

Narcissa awoke with a cry and sat straight up. I leaped out of bed, wand in hand. Narcissa said that it was a bad dream. I told her that it was the room, but there wasn't any real problem since Ravenclaw boys were specially trained to take care of Slytherin girls. Yes, that was what they were teaching me at Hogwarts. I was getting a NEWT in it ... Nubile Elegant Witch Tending.

"For half a second I took you seriously," said Narcissa.

We lay side by side as I rubbed her temples and ran my hands through her hair, slowly relaxing her. I encouraged her to cuddle me and nuzzle me. Narcissa was now nibbling on me. I had my hand between her legs and she was rotating her hips.

After a while I noticed that nothing was happening. Narcissa was lying still and not moving. She was definitely not wet. I stopped and lay there facing the ceiling. Looking back on it, I wonder if it had been better if I had said something, something comforting to Narcissa. Looking back on it, I realize I had been hit with a double blow. My fantasies about being a stud had been revealed as phony. My thoughts that Narcissa really liked me had been called into doubt. I wasn't functional. As we lay there looking at the ceiling, an elf appeared and announced that Draco was getting up. Narcissa left for her own bedroom. I braced myself to face misery.

Draco saved the day ... partly because he was even grumpier than I was and partly because he was a tactician, too. We both realized we needed to know how many people were coming, when they were coming, who was going to stay overnight, and what they wanted to eat and drink. An elf appeared to say that Narcissa wouldn't be up until teatime. Draco and I toured the house one floor at a time. We made a rough sketch of each floor, indicating suitable bedrooms, meeting rooms, and storage rooms. We noticed a lot of broken items strewn around. We decided Draco's mum needed to relax.

After tea, Draco and I insisted that Narcissa rest in the study while the elves looked for the letters that had been sent about who would be attending the New Year meeting at the Manor. Narcissa perked up when we entered the study. The walls were covered by photographs of the Snitch-Birds. I knew they had to be professional photos to catch the Snitch-Bird movements. The Snitch-Birds had gone back to Germany at the end of the summer, but they had served their purpose. Draco had begun the Autumn Term in peak condition, and the Slytherin Quidditch Team had beaten all its opponents within a matter of minutes. The scores against Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw had been 170 to 20, 170 to 10, and 160 to 0. The Slytherins, being a realistic House, knew this couldn't last. The other Seekers were gaining; there was an element of luck in catching the Snitch; and Draco's going for a NEWT in a laboratory science was taking its toll. Nevertheless, Draco had given his Team and his House a commanding lead.

Now, Draco's mum was showing us the photographs and reminiscing about the birds. "Remember little Frederick. Here's sweet Lillith. She led me on the wildest chases."

Draco and I looked at each other, nodded our heads, and let Draco's mum take us on a tour. She was smiling, taking us by the hand, and leading us from photograph to photograph. Draco and I left her in the study while we prepared the Manor for the guests.

Draco inventoried the household provisions of food and drink, and I levitated stuff into the storage rooms. By lunch, the elves, as only house elves can, had examined every scrap of paper in the house and had found the letters. There were seven letters, each stating that the writer and some of his friends would like to convene at the Malfoy Manor. Draco and I let Narcissa prepare the return letters asking the particulars. We decided we needed a margin of error in case Narcissa had destroyed some of the letters. Draco, guess what, had found some interesting brews for lunch. After a good lunch, we returned to inventorying and levitating, feeling much better. By afternoon tea, Draco had discovered some more brews for the two of us, and he needed his mum's advice on several brandies. After sampling all of them and delivering her opinion, Narcissa decided that a short nap would be okay. Trust Draco to come through in a crisis.

Draco and I knew that the Christmas holidays were originally pagan and the popular culture nicety-nice was out of place. For the evening meal, we had the elves cook a suckling pig on a rotating spit over charcoal. Draco had located the ceremonial wine. We would eat outside, and all plates would be several layers of butcher paper. For utensils, Narcissa offered us an exquisite collection of Malfoy family daggers. If nothing else, in this time of social disharmony and national stress, as a beacon to the world, we aristocrats would demonstrate true Holiday Spirit.

Occasionally I saw a melancholy shadow pass over Draco. I knew what it was. Barbara and Shelly weren't there. And there were some nice pagan rituals the three of them could have enjoyed, too.

It took some time for its effect to permeate our lives, but my reaction to the family daggers was a turning point. Previously, Narcissa had been disappointed by my indifferent attitude towards jewels and fine clothes. Was I a lower class nit? I, however, had wanted to handle all the daggers, asked if there were more of them, and listened to the history of every one of them. Narcissa decided that I wasn't a peacock, dandy aristocrat ... the type that lived off the Malfoy fortune. Narcissa got it into her head that I was a simple-living, courteous, blood-thirsty aristocrat ... the type of aristocrat that had made the Malfoy position and fortune. Narcissa had me pegged as a deadly gentleman who was kind to his lady. By the time we had examined all the daggers, Narcissa's eyes were shining.

As I was about to go to bed that evening, I decided to take a chance. I knocked on the door between our bedrooms. Narcissa said I could come in. I found her sitting in front of one of those dressing mirrors. Who knows why? She didn't use much makeup. She motioned for me to sit beside her.

"I'm sorry about this morning," I said.

"It was my fault," she said.

That didn't give me any information. She could think it was her fault because she was exhausted. She could think it was her fault because she didn't care for me anymore. I put my arm across her shoulders, half expecting her to bite it off.

"Are you okay?" I said.

I waited.

"Are you still mad at me?" she asked.

That answered my questions. I told her that I wasn't mad at her this morning. Really, I wasn't. Okay, yes, I was disappointed. I wanted her to stay with me tonight. I really did want her to, yes. A little later she was curled up around me and asleep. I lay there frustrated, but happy.

* * *

Narcissa, astride her broom, was approaching a green glade where Hermann would make love to her ... if she made it that far. Her knickers were slick, and she was sliding off her broomstick. Looking back, Hermann was falling behind. She was hurrying to the glade. Looking back, a death's-head was gaining on her. She heard herself squeak. She was racing to the glade. Looking back, Hermann was falling behind. She tried to hold on to the broom. The death's-head was upon her. She was sliding off her broom.

Narcissa awoke, clutching at Hermann.

She noticed she had one hand around his cock. This is so symbolic it's embarrassing, she thought, as she recalled her nightmare and moved her hand.

It was her mildest nightmare since Draco had left for school, and she had been sleeping soundly until the bad dream. Draco and Hermann being here is good for me, she thought. Hermann and I can't immediately jump back into the sack after being apart for six months, even though that's what we tried to do. She stroked the hair of her son's friend. She wondered if he was still mad at her ... or maybe he hadn't been mad at her.

I awoke to Narcissa running her hand through my hair. I was a bit wary this time. I was thinking Narcissa had layers and layers of defenses. She nestled into me and smiled as she felt my erection grow. She had her hand on me, and then she had her mouth on me. Her tongue was licking me wet.

It felt comfortable that she was my friend's mother. I knew she was a loving person who took care of those close to her. But my mix of feelings was uncomfortable. I wanted to take care of her. I wanted to provide her with her daily dose of warm fuzzies. I wanted to take her and possess her. I wanted to enjoy the incredible sex that this woman could give me ... that she could give me because we liked each other.

My friend's mother stretched out next to me and opened her legs for me. With her hand guiding me, I savored the feel of her flesh parting as I entered her. I watched her face as she felt me enter her. I held her and kissed her and reassured her. I'll accept you, I thought, as her defenses went down. I'll take you, I thought, as she nibbled on me and began moving. I told my friend's mother I wanted her. I embraced her slithering soul. I listened to the delicate sounds of her coupling. I listened to my friend's mother sigh as she yielded to the affection, the intimacy, and the sex. I listened to my friend's mother whimper as she surrendered to the affection, the intimacy, and the sex of her deadly gentleman who was kind to his lady. I felt the butterfly flutters of my friend's mother as she let out a soft, moaning sigh and then slowly went limp. I held her close enough to feel her pounding heart.

It wasn't sweetness after that. Hermann thanked all the gods Narcissa had a cunt. He would have gone crazy if he couldn't fuck her.

Hermann rolled over, raised her feet towards the ceiling, and watched his prick slide in and out of her. Sensory deprived Narcissa reached up, pulled him close, and wrapped herself around him. She wanted him in her arms and between her legs. She was ever so glad she had a cunt because she wanted Hermann to fuck her. She wanted to feel every move he made. She wanted to experience her vagina stimulating his erect penis into ejaculating.

But it was not to be.

Narcissa was briefly surprised to discover she was not going to be betrayed by her animal instincts, but by petty, rational thoughts: He had been a good friend to her son ... he had returned ... he had taken care of her. She moaned and moved with the urge to procreate with him. The next she knew, Hermann lay gasping on top of her as her contractions squeezed out his limp prick. Her vagina must have stimulated his erect penis into ejaculating sometime during her frenzied coupling. She held him close enough to feel his heart pounding.

Well, that was okay, we thought, passing out in each others' arms.

Later that night, the demons returned for Narcissa. She was sleeping fitfully: tossing and turning, clutching me and then huddling on her side of the bed. When she was clutching me and half awake, I performed a fractured, English version of a lullaby and goodnight kiss my mother used on my sister. I hummed and then sang:

"Help all good witches

To get their wishes,

And never to weep

As they fall asleep."

I stroked her hair as the ancient magic worked its spell.

That's me, Hermann: mediocre at sex, good at nursery rhymes.

* * *

"Good morning, Debby," I said to the house-elf. It was eight-too-early in the morning. Draco was getting up, and Debby had coffee for me. I reluctantly untangled myself from Narcissa, shaved, showered, and joined Draco for breakfast.

Draco returned to inventory. The elves and I had become efficient at transporting, and we were quickly clearing all the rooms. Draco and I were having a beer for morning tea when Narcissa appeared.

"Honestly!" she said.

Draco and I chuckled at that word and asked her what she expected from students on holiday.

"Irresponsible behavior?" she asked us. She informed us that, like a proper lady, she would wait until lunch and then have Champagne. Draco had found some decent Champagne, hadn't he, she asked with mock anxiety.

It was half an hour before afternoon tea. The elves and I had everything moved to the storerooms. It was now a matter of deciding what to do with the empty rooms, but we couldn't make those decisions before we had the guest list. I went looking for Narcissa and found her in an upper room where she was looking out over the lake. We watched as Draco, also taking a break, walked down to the lake. I was standing behind her when she moved back into me.

Draco wandered around the shoreline of his lake.

My hands wandered around the outline of Draco's mum.

Draco found his lake lovely.

I found Draco's mum lovely.

Draco's lake rested its head against the foothills.

Draco's mum rested her head against the window sill.

Draco's lake spread out before him with its inviting wetness.

Draco's mum spread out before me with her inviting wetness.

Draco reached down and found a rock.

I reached down and found Draco's mum.

Draco enjoyed the smooth feel of his rock.

I enjoyed the smooth feel of Draco's mum.

Draco admired the shape of his rock that he had uncovered.

I admired the shape of Draco's mum that I had uncovered.

The rock moved across Draco's lovely lake before plunging into its liquid interior.

My rock moved across Draco's lovely mum before plunging into her liquid interior.

Draco's lake opened for his rock. It slid in without effort.

Draco's mum opened for my rock. It slid in without effort.

"Skip, skip, skip," went his rock. "Splash," went Draco's lake.

"Slish, slish, slish," went my rock. "Ahhhh," went Draco's mum.

Draco enjoyed every second of every long skip of the rocks into his lake's wet deep.

I enjoyed every second of every long plunge of my rock into his mum's wet deep.

Draco's lake was giving him incredible pleasure as his rocks slithered into it.

Draco's mum was giving me incredible pleasure as my rock slithered into her.

Draco's lake whispered that it was his.

Draco's mum whispered that she was mine.

Draco's lake was busy as his rocks caressed it and reached its secret places.

Draco's mum was busy as my rock caressed her and reached her secret places.

Draco's lake lost control. Draco's lake writhed on his penetrating rocks.

Draco's mum lost control. Draco's mum writhed on my penetrating rock.

When Draco was finished, the lake rippled for a while and was still. The breeze sighed over it.

When I finished, Draco's mum rippled for a while and was still. Draco's mum sighed.

I had the better deal. The lake returned to being a lake. Narcissa returned to my arms. I returned to my senses. I had lost perspective with the sheer joy of having Narcissa. Narcissa was young for a witch. While I was in her I had wild thoughts about Narcissa and me making another Narcissa. I would give Draco a stepsister. He would be almost an uncle to her. The barrier wasn't the age difference. It was the class difference.

Narcissa and I walked down to the study for tea with Narcissa glowing. I was continually amazed that Draco suspected nothing. It would be different when Theodore and Janice Nott arrived. Theodore would recognize a cat whose cream was being licked. Not to mention Janice.

Some letters had returned from our coming guests. Narcissa read one of them and laughed. Draco and I gave her an inquisitive look.

"Mr. Kurmin will be here with five guests," said Narcissa, "but three of them wish to remain anonymous. Ha. The three anonymous guests are Writhal, Selumkin, and Chyman. They're goblin executives in the goblin bank."

I committed the names to memory as the talk turned to constructing a chart that would list every guest and his or her arrival and departure times. In addition, we had to prepare meeting rooms for the seven or eight different groups.

Finally we returned to our rooms to clean up and prepare for some holiday festivities. Once behind closed doors, I reassured Narcissa that she had been wonderful this afternoon. I held her in my arms and stroked her hair while she purred.

Primitive societies have drums and tribal dances, and the Durmstrang Boys' Dorm was no exception. Narcissa, Draco, and I weren't an exception either. We chose a flat spot of lawn near the house, built a small fire, summoned the house-elves to be a rhythm section, and performed the elementary circle dance taught to all first-year Durmstrang boys. At Durmstrang, we boys danced till exhaustion every Friday after sundown. We had survived another week. After several rounds of the circle dance, Narcissa and Draco demanded I perform a kata. I said any piece of wood would be sufficient, but Narcissa insisted on a real blade. Did they have a katana? Of course. Did they have a bokken? They had everything. I chose the bokken, returned to the spot of lawn, and performed three kata. Narcissa bit her lower lip and pressed her thighs together. I had unknowingly reinforced her notion that I was a lethal gentleman. After several more rounds of the circle dance, we released the elves to prepare the shish kabob skewers. Draco and I built a bed of coals for the shish kabob and fetched the butcher paper and daggers. We would continue our faithful observance of the holiday. It's hard to tell with elves, but they appeared to relish the whole affair. The primitive rituals touched something deep in their psyche.

After dinner, Narcissa wanted to retire early. I managed another brandy with Draco before pleading exhaustion. I wanted to touch something deep in Narcissa's psyche.

When I entered the Master Bedroom, Narcissa was sitting on the bed wearing just a bathrobe. She was impatient. "I've been waiting for you."

I sat beside her, put my arm around her, and said, "Didn't you think I would try to get here as quickly as I could?"

"Draco and I had a brandy and watched the stars," I told her.

She put her head on my shoulder and said she liked it that Draco and I had some time together.

"We've been busy. None of us has had much time to see each other," I said.

She put her arms around me. This is unbelievable, I thought. I'm playing a scene from a domestic comedy on television. The family is squabbling over the holiday because they can't spend time together since they have to get the house ready for guests they don't want. What's the resolution? Ah, I remember. Hubby-san rinses wife-san off and eats her, thereby restoring 'Wa' to the household. No, wait, that was late night Japanese telly. What was the Disney Channel resolution? Some wholesome family entertainment. Perhaps if I combined the two?

"Would you like a bubble bath?" I asked Narcissa.

"We are smoky," said Narcissa. "You and your dancing around the fire."

Narcissa's defensive layers were falling away as I continued to be affectionate and gentle with her. The intimacy, the loss of control, the need for affection, it all shattered Narcissa's desperate, solitary independence. In the tub, I let her know I was fond of her and that she was an elegant and attractive lady. Narcissa was radiant as I led her back to bed, but she was still hesitant. Once in bed we lay side by side as I rubbed her temples and ran my hands through her hair, slowly calming her. Finally she accepted my affection, and she was a participating partner, returning all my attention and showing me and telling me where she wanted to be held and caressed. When Narcissa was obviously excited, I nibbled my way down her.

Narcissa did a lady-like parting of her legs to let Hermann nibble his way up one thigh and then the other. She jumped a bit and cried out like a true lady when he parted her folds and applied his tongue. She sighed and performed lady-like squirming while he took her to a nice place. She continued her nice lady-like sighs and wiggles as the nice place became very nice. Then she became very lady-like as she held his head and pressed into him as the nice place became extremely nice. Soon she was performing extremely lady-like writhing and moaning as the nice place became divinely nice. Finally, she was having her divinely lady-like cries and spasms as the nice place became a place of ecstasy.

I stretched out on my back beside Narcissa and coaxed her over to me. I wanted more from her. How much dare I ask for?

"I think you should fuck me," I whispered to her.

Oh, yes, sweetheart, she thought. Let me show you what you mean to me. I can lavish attention on you, she thought ... covering his mouth, his nose, his eyes with kisses ... kissing her way down his chest ... noticing the tremendous erection he always got when he gave her an orgasm ... grabbing it and kissing it.

Easy, girl, he thought.

His erection got even harder as she practically devoured it. Oh, she thought. I can do what feels good to him. I can enjoy the ultimate selfishness ... giving pleasure to my lover ... capturing my partner with ecstasy.

I can be naughty.

Like my warm mouth, sweetie? Like my wet tongue? I know someplace even better. Let me put your cock at the entrance to my furry slit. Oh, that's nice. Like some warm, wet twat, honey?

Do you really like it that I'm a mature woman? Do you like watching me as I turn into a little girl? You do, don't you? Watch me, honey. Do you like it when I gasp and moan and rub my clit against you and squirm on your cock? Do you like my thighs squeezing you? Look into my adoring eyes, sweetie.

Want to watch me just fuck my little heart out for you?

I want more contact. Do you like how my breasts feel? Hold me. Oh, that feels good. It's too nice. I'm going to romp on you until you can't stand it, sweetie ... until your poor little pecker squirts, honey ... until you pump me full of goop, darling.

Narcissa was aware of her increasingly intense moves. She had her arms wrapped around him. Narcissa was sweating and grunting and thrashing. She was squeezing him with her thighs. She was crying out his name.

His English witch was coiled around him, and she was in rut. Blimey.

Narcissa lifted herself on her elbows to look at Hermann. She smiled: Watch me fuck, darling. There was a choked sob. He looked into his lover's beautiful face as her entire body gripped him in a series of contractions.

She felt him grab her in primal possession and squirt into her. Oh, yes, she thought.

"I did fuck you, didn't I?" she gasped.

"Yes," he said.

She caught her breath, hopped out of bed, hopped in the shower, and hopped back under the covers. He straggled after her into the shower and stumbled back to bed. He's getting bedraggled from taking care of me, she thought. I need to watch over him better. I want to cuddle him.

"Goodnight, Hermann," she said, snuggling around him.

"Goodnight, Narcissa," he said, happy with his loving lady, falling asleep in her arms.

* * *

It was early morning when I woke to Narcissa nuzzling me and slithering on top of me. At first I thought she was getting really demanding. That was okay. In fact, I liked it. I would try to keep her happy. Then I remembered that we were all leaving this morning. She was conforming to the primitive ritual of farewell sex. My preference was to sleep another hour and then hike up Narcissa's skirt and have her on the table between the coffee and croissants. The original breakfast of champions. Might shock Draco, though.

Earlier, Debby, the house-elf, delivering clean clothes, saw her mistress, with the agony of departure in her eyes, looking at Hermann. Debby felt weak as she saw Narcissa run her fingers through Hermann's hair, as she heard the soft murmurs of Narcissa nuzzling Hermann, and as she watched the silk nightgown move with Narcissa's writhing. Debby gazed transfixed as Narcissa enjoyed Hermann hands moving over her ... stroking her, cupping her, rubbing her, squeezing her, pleasuring her, exciting her, comforting her, claiming her. Debby caught her breath as Narcissa rolled onto her back, her nightgown sliding up, her thighs opening to reveal and offer her charms. The primal streak in elves, the streak that knew Narcissa wasn't offering just sex but herself to Hermann, welled up in Debby as Hermann entered Narcissa, as Hermann entered and possessed Narcissa.

Debby watched in reverence as Hermann performed the primeval ritual.

Debby was captured by the beauty ... the bottom of Narcissa's feet, the vee shape of Narcissa's thighs, the inviting roundness of Narcissa's hips, the crack between her mistress's hips, the pink pucker of her mistress's bum ... Hermann's shaft moving in her mistress causing a flow out of her, down her crack, over her pucker, and onto the sheet. To Debby, it was sheer, breath-taking beauty, enhanced by the adoring face and soft sighs of her mistress. Debby was entranced by Hermann's adoration of her mistress ... a consuming adoration that held her mistress captive, a patient adoration that slowly engulfed her mistress until the physical and emotional intensity was nearly painful, a demanding adoration that brought her mistress into sweaty, grunting, writhing, mindless ecstasy. Debby gasped with her mistress as her mistress's toes curled, her thighs clenched, and her pucker contracted. Her mistress's juices flowed out past Hermann's shaft, down her crack, over her pucker, and onto to the sheet. Debby was struck with awe at the sublime scene. Debby had trouble catching her breath.

Debby watched as Hermann pulled out of Narcissa, and Narcissa arranged herself on her knees with her head cradled in her arms.

Debby grew excited.

"She's your witch. She's your witch," Debby silently screamed. "You own her. You own her. Mount her. Put it in her wet cunt. Slop her up. She wants you. Take her. Make love to your witch. Make her happy. Take her. Fuck her. Screw her. Take her. Do her. Take her."

Debby the house-elf was no longer completely rational.

Debby was dancing as Narcissa moaned and pushed herself against Hermann.

Debby was hopping from one foot to another as Narcissa lost control and gyrated on Hermann's prick

Debby moaned and gaped as Narcissa moaned and grabbed the sheets, as Narcissa creamed and grabbed Hermann, as his loving Narcissa smiled like sweet cream.

"Whoo. Whee. Whoo," went Debby, doing back flips, as Narcissa's whole being was wracked with intense pleasure, as Narcissa caressed Hermann's prick with her soft, liquid convulsions.

That's what house-elves liked to see.

Debby sighed to herself as Hermann laid Narcissa on her back and prepared Narcissa for entry.

That morning Debby had seen Narcissa snap at Hermann for carefully labeling the boxes according to which room they had come from. Hermann had replied that his experience with warehouses taught him that such knowledge was always useful, and Narcissa had snapped back that he was wasting time. That evening Debby had heard Narcissa snap at Hermann because of his arrangement of meat and vegetables on the skewers. Debby knew that, deep inside, Narcissa was no longer in control of her emotions.

Now, with the bottom of her feet and herself presented, Hermann touched Narcissa deep inside. Debby was transported with reverential ecstasy as the two of them became lost in the ceremony.

Debby deemed Hermann too gentle, not demanding enough, not rough enough; but her mistress was content, hence, Debby was content.

A physically exhausted and emotionally drained elf was satisfied to see her mistress sprawl across her wizard, give him an affectionate hug and kiss, and sigh contentedly on top of him.

Later that morning, Debby watched Hermann leave for a London hotel room and Narcissa and Draco leave to visit relatives in France. Narcissa and Draco were there to bid Hermann farewell and good luck. Narcissa insisted that Draco check the cellar doors and windows one more time. As Draco disappeared, Debby saw Narcissa grab Hermann in a tight embrace and watched Hermann hold Narcissa and try to comfort her. Narcissa only released Hermann when Debby heard him promise, on his wizard's honor, to return.

* * *

The hotel was the same hotel I used last summer, but I had a much smaller room since the holidays were a busy diplomatic season. At the hotel were messages from Penelope. She had to change meeting me from noon to two o'clock. The holiday season was busy for retailers, too. I sent a return message to Penelope. I thought of sleeping the time away. I had been working hard; I had been missing sleep; and I was already missing Narcissa. I looked out my window at dreary London. It would be better to get killed at the Weasleys than to spend the holidays alone in London. I slept till one and then took a long hot soak. Penelope arrived shortly after two.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Hermann, but it's been frantic for the holidays and I've had so much to do. I'm doing inventory now for some of the stores ... more than just bookkeeping. Those books your mum brought me are a real help. Isn't your mum nice? She and your father spent a whole week helping me. The stores think I helped them make more money this year. I haven't had time to do anything for a week. My flat's a mess, and it's going to be embarrassing to take you there. I think I have undies strewn around the place. I've been nibbling all morning. Your mum warned me about holidays. Everyone liked her, and we visited all the stores I work for. I'm glad you're here. I've been so lonesome. Have you had lunch, or were you waiting for me? Can we talk here? This is a smaller room, but it's still a very good hotel. Do you have a girlfriend yet? I'll bet there are lots of pretty ones at Hogwarts. Promise me you'll close your eyes when we go to my place because I think I left my knickers in the sink and a bra on the table. It's probably too late to see a flick, and I really liked the one we saw last summer. I'm so glad you're coming with me to the Weasleys. I'm really tired of going everywhere alone."

Being familiar with Penelope, I had offered her a comfortable chair and a cup of tea, and I was letting her wind herself down.

"It's terrible of me to carry on like this, and I never do this to people, but you're so comfortable to talk to, and I think I could tell you anything and you wouldn't mind."

"It's nice listening to you," I said. For some reason, it was. Perhaps it was the thought that the usually composed Penelope would relax around me.

"I haven't had lunch yet," I said. "Is there anything that you fancy?"

Penelope didn't know whether she was hungry or not. I wondered aloud if she was tense from overwork. She didn't know but said I could feel her shoulder muscles to find out. I told her she was very tense and needed a massage. She wanted to do it properly and lay face down on the bed since the room was too small for a couch. I started to rub her back, but she decided it would be better if she took her blouse and bra off. I turned my back. She accused me of spying on her in the mirror. I told her I wasn't, but that I would close my eyes if it made her feel better. Then she was in front of me telling me that I really did have my eyes closed. Didn't I want to look at her? I said I would be a gentleman this time and peek the next time. She agreed. It was a deal.

Halfway through the massage, when she was more relaxed, I told her that the evening at the Weasleys might be tense. I described the corridor confrontation with Ron Weasley and company. She thought it was a good story. Since we were trading stories, she told me she wasn't really a virgin. She and Percy had lost control during a snogging session in the Prefect's bath. I remarked that was three years ago. She agreed it had been a long time. We went to the hotel's casual dining room, which didn't mind at all that we had a salad with our afternoon tea. Penelope said I may as well keep her company at her flat while she showered and dressed for the Weasleys.

* * *

Some time later at the Weasleys, as dinner was ending, as Molly and Fleur were handing out dessert, Bill and Charlie, who were sitting across from Penelope and me, were talking to Penelope about her work.

"His mum gave me lots of help," said a slightly tipsy Penelope to Bill and Charlie, putting her arm around me.

"Mrs. Busch is a bookkeeper?" Molly Weasley asked, as most of the table glowered at me.

Bill and Charlie seemed mildly amused. Slightly tipsy Penelope nodded yes as she laid her head on my shoulder. Bill and Charlie seemed even more amused.

"She's an accountant," I told everyone, thinking that if Penelope didn't move I was going to die happy ... sooner rather than later.

Everyone looked puzzled.

"It's a mundane profession," I said.

I talked about tax laws, interest rates, and building depreciation. Mr. Weasley listened with rapt attention. Mundane social structure was even more complicated than their gadgets.

"Your mother's a ... a mundane?" asked Hermione, like a brave Gryffindor.

Penelope sat straight up and nodded a tipsy yes to everyone.

"Yes," I said.

I gave them the story of my father meeting the mundane accountant, swearing her to secrecy about wizardry, and letting her handle the financial side of the potion business.

"Didn't you spend part of last summer at the Malfoys?" asked Charlie.

I knew where that question was going. I told them about potion patents, the arguments with Draco, and my mother visiting Mrs. Malfoy. I ended the story by saying, "It didn't bother my mother at all that Mrs. Malfoy's a witch."

Bill, Charlie, and the two twins thought that was hilarious. Hermione laughed despite herself. Penelope was smiling proudly. I could hear everyone else's brain cells rub together. Did this mean I was partly evil, or did this mean I wasn't completely evil?

I had been looking over the people at the party, trying to decide if anyone there was trustworthy. I had decided that they were all trustworthy, but I was concerned about their discretion. Other than Penelope, only Bill and Charlie seemed self contained enough for the spy business. I couldn't figure out how a dragon master could help, possibly because of my lack of imagination. I could see how someone working at the goblin bank could help, but I couldn't see his trusting me. Mr. Weasley might know someone suitable and trustworthy, but I couldn't figure out how to approach him on the matter.

From their conversation, I decided the current Ministry Head was not sound. From their glances and occasional reticence, I deduced that everyone there, except Penelope, was a member of some clandestine group. That made recruiting a spy almost impossible. They would all want to share their knowledge with the rest of the group. A secret organization to fight evil and a spy network are two different things.

Since I wasn't going to do any recruiting, I joined wholeheartedly in the card game. I stayed with apple juice and tea, even though everyone else was getting merrily tipsy. Given the provocations of Penelope, Ron, the Malfoys, and Durmstrang, I could see the fun-loving Weasley brothers merrily enticing a tipsy wizard into some trap. Someone would find my body during the spring thaw. It didn't help that merrily tipsy Penelope had her hands all over me when she asked to borrow my cloak. Penelope, Ginny, Hermione, and Fleur wanted to go for a walk. The other card players merrily watched handsome Penelope stride out the door wearing Durmstrang and then gave me a tipsy glare. I agreed with their assessment. Penelope, with her charm, competence, and understated beauty, would be my pick of the four.

After the girls returned from their walk, Penelope slumped into a chair in the corner. I quit the card game to check how she was. She said she was tired and wanted to go home, even though it was early in the evening. We made our goodbyes and left. When we reached her apartment, however, Penelope had recovered and wanted me to stay for a brandy or something else if I didn't want a brandy. She had noticed my abstinence at the Weasleys. I opted for orange juice if she had it. She brought two orange juices, had me sit on the couch, and sat down beside me.

"It's not my fault Percy doesn't visit his family," said Penelope. "If his own mother can't convince him to come home for Christmas, I don't see what I can do about it. Percy wouldn't even leave the Ministry to take me someplace. I told him we could do anything. We didn't have to see his family. He hasn't even seen my flat."

I agreed that it was unfortunate that Percy and his family weren't speaking to each other.

"And they could have been a lot nicer to you," continued Penelope. "I brought you as a friend because your mum helped me a lot. Hermione said you were making Transfiguration her best class, and Ginny said you hadn't ever hurt anyone or even been unkind to anyone at school. You did insult Ron, but you apologized and said you didn't mean it. Molly absolutely loved the present your family gave her for a Yule gift."

I said that they were a close-knit group and probably slow to accept strangers. My mother had deduced, from talking to Penelope, that a gift from our family to Mrs. Weasley would be taken as a gift from my family to everyone.

"What's wrong with Durmstrang?" said Penelope. "Everyone likes your mother and she went there. No, she didn't go there, did she? But your father went there, and your mother married your father."

I told Penelope that her logic was impeccable and her conclusions sound.

As she talked, Penelope had moved closer and closer to me on the couch. I coaxed her into my lap. This is one reason, I thought, that people at the Weasleys had not been "a lot nicer" to me.

Penelope then felt badly about her outburst. I told her that everyone there had been glad to see her. The family felt bad about Percy and had hoped that she, by some miracle, would appear with him. They were just disappointed that I wasn't Percy. It had made the evening stressful for her, but she had visited them, and she had been very nice to all of them. She had done all the right things. I told her it was perfectly normal to tell me how she felt.

I almost told her that it was perfectly normal that she felt good in my lap. Or was it good that she felt perfectly normal in my lap?

"Hermann, Mum says you're very understanding ... She says you ... you accept people as they are."

"That was considerate of your mum."

"Would you mind ... would you mind if ... if I was a little different."

I had no idea how to handle this, except thinking that I had better say something reassuring.

"I doubt if you're doing anything really bad." Boy, was that lame.

There wasn't any response from Penelope. I would have to try again. "We're all different. If I can't accept some little quirk that you have, then I'm a poor friend."

"This ... this is more than a little quirk."

I finally thought of something to say. "Are you hurting anybody?"

"No."

"Then I should be able to accept it."

Penelope made me promise not to laugh or get angry, retrieved a box of photographs from a hidden place, and showed me the first one.

It was a bondage photo of a lady in lingerie spread-eagled on a bed.

Penelope could have given me a hint about what was coming. I had to absorb this information and make some mental adjustments before I stumbled out, "Okay ... good photo ... she's not my type ... but good photo."

I gave Penelope a reassuring hug and said, "What else do you have?"

Penelope gave me a questioning look. I nodded that I was okay with this.

I wanted Penelope to show me the rest of the photographs to give me time to think. My best moment was when I realized this didn't tell me much about Penelope. Penelope might find the photos stimulating without wishing to do any such thing herself. Penelope might belong to some hardcore bondage club.

I went fishing for information. "Which photos are your favorites?"

Penelope must have taken the question for both interest and approval. She climbed back into my lap, gave me a smile and hug, and cheerfully searched through the stack for the best ones.

"Have you ever done this?" she asked me.

"No," I said. "Have you done much of this?"

Penelope hadn't tried anything yet, was just thinking about it, and didn't have a real boyfriend anyway.

"Unless you count as a boyfriend," she told me.

I told Penelope that was fine with me.

"Really?" she said.

"It's not late yet," said Penelope, "and it's Christmas Eve. Why don't you stay and have a brandy with me? You don't mind a brandy, do you? We can get comfortable. I can get you something besides a brandy if you'd rather. We can build a fire in the fireplace. I should have done that earlier. It will be nice and cozy. I've got some biscuits here, too. Just the two of us. I can open the Yule gift from your family tonight. Or I can wait until tomorrow. I can spend Christmas with you, can't I? Do you mind staying?"

"I'd love to stay," I said.

"We can build a fire, have brandy and biscuits, and spend Christmas together," I added as Penny bounced over to the fireplace.

Soon, Penny had a regular nest for us of fire, rug, pillows, brandy, and biscuits ... and her photographs. The analytical Ravenclaw had decided the most basic technique was the wrists tied together above the lady's head. She crossed her wrists above her head to show me what she meant.

Penny looked at me intently. "We can practice it ... if it doesn't bother you."

Penny was helping me get comfortable. She took off my blazer, then my tie. She admired the feel of the silk tie.

She was petting it and wrapping it around her wrists. "This feels great."

Hold it girl, I was thinking, that's my paisley, my one and only tie for festive occasions. I imagined it getting all rumpled and crumpled and twisty. Penny had a dreamy look in her eyes as she imagined the same things.

We decided we couldn't practice with Penny holding her arms above her head. It was tiring. It also meant no brandy or biscuits for Penny. It also meant no cuddling for a loveable wizard, I grumbled to myself. Girls get their priorities mixed up.

Penny arranged a broom handle and a mop handle in an x shape. I applied my wand to the paisley and I had it, right on the x cross, a triumph, a masterpiece. It was a perfect Windsor knot, complete with dimple. Earlier this evening it had taken me fifteen minutes to get that knot with dimple before going to the Weasleys. Penny gave me a 'when you've finished playing around' look. Ravenclaw witches focus on the task at hand.

While I tried getting a more suitable knot for the occasion, my scholastic sweetie summed up what she had read about bondage. There had to be a 'release word' that let the couple know that one of them wanted to stop. Bondage scenarios were negotiated and planned in advance, and it was an activity for established couples who trusted each other. It was 'playtime' for them, like a private masquerade party ... home theater with sex.

Penny was not happy with my progress. She went to get her own wand.

"This isn't fair," I complained. "Girls get lots of practice with bows and ties, laces, needles and thread."

"Afraid of competition?" said Penny unsympathetically.

We worked on getting a good tie complete with an instant release word.

"Yes, yes," said Penny as we started having some success.

"Oh no," wailed Penny as my paisley became one snarled mess.

"We almost had it! We nearly got it!" said Penny.

Penny was having a great time. I was ready to go back to my hotel room. It was clear to me that Penny was only interested in the bondage technique and that I was superfluous. I decided to be a 'nice boy' and stay until Penny and I had the bondage technique perfected, and then like all 'nice boys' who had been used I would simply leave and not come back. Thus resolved, I forgot about making advances to Penny, I quit complimenting her, and I concentrated on the bondage technique. The sooner I got out of this hell the better. Thus resolved and focused, my spells began to crack and snap. To describe myself as an irritated NEWT candidate in Charms is not modest, but it was accurate. At the periphery of my awareness, I noticed that Penny was first impressed and then alarmed. What did I care about that? She didn't care about me. The wood of the broom and mop handles was beginning to crack and splinter as I applied bindings that no witch could ever escape, that no counter spell could ever release.

"Hermann ... Hermann," I heard a quiet voice say.

"Hermann ... You're scaring me."

I returned to some semblance of rationality. Part of my mind told me that I had ruined it with Penny. I had revealed myself as a monster out of control, someone who could never be trusted. Another part of my mind told me that since Penny regarded me as a 'nice boy,' it didn't make any difference. Most of my mind, however, was sad. Penny, a nice person, had been having fun on Christmas Eve and I had spoiled everything.

"I'm sorry Penny," I said. "I ruined everything by overdoing it."

"You might feel better if I left," I said, thinking Penny couldn't want to be with me after what she had just seen.

"Why?" said Penny.

"You said you wanted to stay," said Penny, nearly in tears.

"I do want to stay," I said "but I've behaved very badly."

"You haven't done anything," said Penny, "except get a bunch of splinters in your paisley tie."

"Is that what you're upset about?" said Penny angrily. "Your dumb paisley tie?"

"I'm upset about the bindings I've been doing. I'm an out of control monster," I confessed.

"If you're upset about it, then you're not a monster," said Penny. "Besides, all you did was splinter some wood. You didn't do anything to a person. Is that what you're worried about? Doing that to a person?"

"Yes," I said, taking an easy way out.

"No," I said, being more honest than I wanted to be.

Penny tentatively put a hand on my shoulder.

"It's okay," I said. "It's over. All that's left is the embarrassment."

"Do you want to talk about it?" said Penny.

"Maybe later. I'm too embarrassed now."

Had I ruined the evening! I'd had a childish temper tantrum for no reason. I had doubly ruined everything. First, I lashed out for no good reason, and then, instead of shrugging it off, I had a massive guilt attack. Unstable Hermann.

"You feel very tense," said Penny. "I should give you a massage."

Pause.

"Hm," said Penny. "I let you give me a massage, but you don't want a massage to relax."

"Would it make you feel better if I let you?" I asked.

"Yes."

She returned with a duvet. "Lie down on this. And take your shirt off."

A few minutes later Penny asked about my visit to the Malfoys. Later she asked why I was upset. She was quiet a while. Finally, she said, "Exhausted from school, you arrive at the Malfoys. At the Malfoys you work hard to get their house ready for guests, and you cope with Mrs. Malfoy who was falling apart. This morning you arrive in London to help me recover from a hectic holiday season. This evening you went to the Weasleys where you were nice to everyone even though they treated you like a Death Eater. After the Weasleys, you consoled me because I had a rough evening with them. After that you were understanding about my fetish and were helping me cope with it while I ignored you. Finally, you were uncooperative because you felt like you were being used. Then you felt guilty because you weren't perfect."

She kissed me and said, "I'm so glad you talked to me about it."

I was relaxed enough from the massage and happy enough to be in Penny's good graces that I didn't protest her interpretation of events. This was a warning. If I lost control like this at the Malfoys next week, I could be dead, dead from torture after betraying people who trusted me and who would soon be dead themselves. I was an immature student playing spy.

The part of my mind that was still here reminded me that it was time to behave in a mature and responsible manner. I needed the practice. The here-and-now was a person who was treating me well. I rolled over on my back and thanked Penny for her kind description of my behavior.

Penny put two more logs on the fire. "It's warm in here," she said as she took off her blouse.

She was hovering over me and softly kissing me. I was holding her.

How can I break the news to Penny that our first time might not be a great experience? I wondered.

"I hear it takes a while to get used to sex," said Penny.

There are advantages to smart women.

"I've heard the same thing," I said. "They say the big problem is that boys are very eager, but girls take longer."

"Do you have any ideas?" asked Penny. "How come I talk to you like this? I don't talk to anyone else like this."

"I'll try to go slow," I said. "Maybe you can have a lot of fun before I ... before I ..."

"Before you put your prick in me," said Penny. "There I go again. How can I talk like this?"

"It's really a good thing," I said. "I like it that you talk to me."

"Honestly?" asked Penny.

"Yes," I said. "It feels like we're a couple. We'll tell each other what we want. Only, I'm shyer than you are. I'm not sure I'm as brave as you are."

"What do you want now?" asked Penny.

"Well ... you can tell me how far you feel like going by undressing," I said. "If you want me to kiss your breasts, you can take your bra off, and ..."

"There," said Penny taking her bra off.

"Okay ... and you can tell me you want me to admire your legs and put my hands on your thighs by taking your skirt off."

"There," said Penny taking her skirt off.

"Uh ... your shoes and socks," I said.

"You want to play with my toes?" asked Penny.

"I didn't think it would go quite this fast," I said.

"I get it," said Penny taking her shoes and socks off. "I take off my knickers when I want your prick in me."

"Not quite ... not so fast on that one," I said.

"You're right. I want your prick in me right now, but we should wait."

"Is there something you would like first?" I asked, trying to be suggestive. I wondered if being suggestive with Penny was a lost cause. Perhaps I should say 'do this and now do that.'

"What would you like?" asked Penny.

"Come over here, under the cloak," I said.

"This is warm. It's a nice cloak," said Penny.

I ran my fingers through Penelope's hair. "I don't do much with my hair," she said. I told her it didn't need much. I told her it was very attractive. "That feels good," she said as I stroked her hair and her temples. I kissed her on her forehead. She put her arms around me. I kissed her eyes, her nose, her lips. "You're very sweet," she said. "Do you really like me?" I nuzzled her collarbone and neck and whispered that she was a lovely lady. "I don't think I'm very pretty," she confessed. I told her she was quite lovely, and I liked holding her. "I wish I had a fuller figure." I nuzzled my way down to her breast. "I'm not very busty," she sighed, running her hands through my hair. "I feel like I'm not offering you very much," she said.

I had to do something about Penny's self-perception. "I know," I told her. "Why don't we gift wrap you?"

Yes, Penny had ribbons left over from her Yule Time gift wrapping. We decked her out. Blue-green fit her best, and we used it discreetly in her hair and around her wrists. The greedy recipient would tear off everything else: a small, red bow for her navel, a silver ribbon for her breasts, and a wide yellow ribbon with a gold bow that replaced her knickers. She was pleased that she was my best present ever. She was even more beautiful unwrapped. And now she had a Yule Time song in her heart.

Come she told me and see your new queen

A nubile queen to see with gifts she will bring

Her finest gifts she brings to give to her king

To lay before her king the queen she will give

The queen she will be, the queen she will give

So to honor him and give him her love

When she comes

Pretty lady, you see what I have

I am a poor boy too, too poor for the queen

I have no gift to bring except for my drum

That's fit to give the queen who has her own drum

Has her own drum, I have a drum

Shall I play for you the best that I can

On your drum

Then she nodded and gave me her drum

Her hips and thighs kept time, the beat of her drum

I played my drum for her, I played on her drum

I played my best for her, my queen with her drum

Queen with her drum, me and my drum

Then she smiled at me and came with her drum

Me and my drum

We went to bed with Penny falling asleep on her pillow on her half of the bed ... prim and proper Penny.

"Goodnight, Hermann."

"Goodnight, Penny."

* * *

I awoke the next morning to find Penny fully dressed and offering me coffee, oranges, croissants, and yogurt.

"You have to show me the spy stuff this morning," she said. "We have dinner with my family this evening. Do you think we can go watch another one of those fun movies this afternoon?"

She paused. "I hope that's okay with you," she added. Another pause. "I bought coffee for you."

Penny was definitely from the business side of the Ravenclaws. I took a few sips of coffee.

"Thanks. It's good coffee. You know, it's okay to kiss your boyfriend in the morning."

She leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek.

"That's not bad," I said, "but I wanted something more affectionate. You're safe. I'm not going to ravish you right now."

After a few tries, Penny managed a girlfriend type of kiss.

"You were wonderful last night," I told her.

She blushed. "Was I okay?"

"Wonderful," I assured her.

The morning was spent on business stuff and spy stuff.

"Your mother and father were great, absolutely wonderful," said Penny. "Your mother explained the business and legal part of bookkeeping and accounting to the shopkeepers. Your father mostly sat there and listened, except he was wearing this blazer with the Durmstrang insignia on it. I think if your mother and I had been there alone, the shopkeepers would have tried to get pushy, but your mother kept pausing to get a nod of approval from your father, and the shopkeepers kept looking at that Durmstrang insignia. Ye gods, he's intimidating, isn't he?"

"Depends," I said. "He could have hexed all their bits off in the blink of an eye, but he's always been kind to his family even when he was suffering from extreme potion poisoning. My mother adores him."

"I noticed that," said Penny.

Shortly after she met my father, my mother decided he was a wizard in chemistry. Her later discovery that he was a real wizard wasn't as significant. She realized that raising wizard kids would be difficult, but she thought her wizard was worth it.

"Tell me what else happened," I said.

"We drew up some contracts about secrecy and nondisclosure. We sealed them with spells. The shopkeepers wanted punitive spells, but your mother insisted that revelation spells were sufficient, and she was backed by your father."

"Anything else?" I asked.

"Yes. Your father said the shopkeepers had hired cheap wizards and the spells were weak. He offered to break them for me if I liked. Your mother said we should let them stand for a while so that I would adopt the mannerisms of adhering to a strict code."

"That's my powerful father and foresightful mother," I said.

"They both mentioned that you could break the spells."

"It runs in the family. There's a standing joke that my father and I would make good Dark Wizards. The spells are Charms. We can do Charms."

I examined the spells on the contracts. They would be easy to break, but the goal was to break them in such a way that no one would ever know they were broken, and to add spells that no one would detect that revealed if anyone became suspicious and checked the original spells.

We turned to the spy business.

I gave Penny the same talk I gave her mother with the same result. One new addition was a spell developed for searching files developed by the German spy wizards. An agent, posing as a Durmstrang administrator, had shown it to me at Hogwarts. It was a Charm, and I felt chagrined that I had not developed it. "They told me that would be your reaction," the agent told me.

There was the assurance that Penny and her mother could quit any time they felt like it. In fact, if they ever felt too much stress, we advised them to quit. Also, refuge, complete with a new identity and training for a new profession, was available to them in Germany. Penny scoffed at this, but I emphasized that it could be a life saver, and it was a standing offer.

I did not warn Penny or her mother or myself about the most important factor: how much blood would soon be on our hands. I had no idea myself. May the gods forgive us.

It was lunch time, and of course, reasonable and rational Penny wanted a salad. Over a cucumber, I told Penny there was an excellent chance of seeing a good flick. It was Christmas, and the art cinemas would be offering counter-culture. I was right, and we saw Maltese Falcon and bought reproductions of the original posters.

That evening we showed up on the Clearwaters doorstep with Penny holding my hand. Penny insisted that we be seated next to each other at the table, and she kept eating tidbits from my plate. We talked for a while after dinner with Penny sitting on the floor beside my chair. It puzzled her younger brother, amused her mother, and infuriated her father.

* * *

Penny had been deep in thought most of the day and evening. Well, the spy business deserved a lot of thought with its risks, deceptions, and methods. When we returned to her flat, she announced she had something but didn't know what I would think about it. I sat on the couch with my arm around her, told her I would listen to anything, and prepared myself to discuss espionage.

"It's a great bondage scene," she said. "I've been thinking about what to do all day."

"Okay," I said.

I remembered that I had completely failed Penny's mum. Penny's mum had wanted to be an unfaithful wife with a spicy affair to enliven her marriage. I had ruined everything by romancing her, with the possibility of alienation of affection.

"I'll be a thief," said Penny. "You catch me and tie me up, but I offer you anything if you'll let me go."

"You'll need something to steal," I said in sudden erotic inspiration. "What about a famous piece of erotic art. Give me some paper, and I'll sketch you as you pose."

We decided that the most erotic possibility was Penny in her lingerie. I had her strike a number of suggestive poses, before I found the right one. Penny wanted to see what I had produced.

"It's a stick figure with two round dots on its chest and a filled-in triangle on its hips," said Penny, sounding disappointed.

"It's Surrealism," I said defensively. "It's worth a lot of money."

"I'll hide it in the clothes cupboard where no one will ever find it," I said. "I'm a world famous dealer in erotica, and I know how to do this."

I opened a drawer of Penny's cupboard. "Um ... I'll hide it under my valuable collection of knickers," I said.

"Is that your merchandise?" asked Penny, looking over my shoulder into her clothes cupboard. "Kinky customers."

Penny got dressed, we turned out the lights, and Penny furtively entered the bedroom, searching for the world's most valuable erotic sketch. I had Penny on the bed with her wrists tied over her head quicker than you could say 'abnormal psychology.'

"Let me loose. Let me loose." As she fought the bonds desperately, her skirt budged half way up her thighs.

"You're a thief, my dear, and you've been caught. I must admit you're a lovely thief."

"What are you going to do with me? Let me go, and I swear I'll never come back or steal anything from you."

"It's too late for that," I said, "although I might let you loose if you do something for me."

"What's that?" asked Penny.

"Well, you're very pretty."

"Not that," said Penny.

Penny struggled against her bonds, thrashing around until she was flushed and her long skirt had moved high enough for her knickers to show.

"I can always call the constables, and you can go to prison if you'd rather."

"Don't do that. Please. What do you want me to do?"

"Not much," I said as I passed my hands over her breasts. Even through the bra and blouse, I could see her nipples become erect.

"Filthy beast!" she hissed.

"Quite," I said unbuttoning her shirt. My hands barely touched her silk bra as I cupped her breasts and tweaked her nipples. As I continued the teasing, her breathing became heavier, and Penny tried to push her breasts against my hands, but I continued the provocative teasing.

"What's your name, lovely?" I asked.

"Penny."

"You have nice breasts, Penny." I continued the gentle caressing. "I dream about cute breasts like this. They're just the right size. They're kissable."

"Would you like me to kiss your breasts, Penny?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"I want you to kiss my breasts."

Penny moaned as my mouth and tongue finally released the tension that had built up from the teasing. I moved to kissing her lips. Penny was frantically pushing her tongue into my mouth. She's supposed to be resisting more than this, I thought. Oh, well, amateur theater.

I broke away to admire Penny sprawled on the bed. I ran a finger from her knee to her knickers ... first one leg, then the other. Penny looked at me, and parted her thighs.

"You have nice legs, Penny. I like your figure."

"I don't have much of a figure," said Penny sadly.

"Nonsense. You're athletic. You drive men wild."

"I bet you're pretty. I want to see all of you."

Penny bit her lower lip, pressed her legs together, and turned away from me. "No, not that."

"Yes, yes, that's what I want. That's what you have to do. Tell me I can take your knickers off and admire you."

Penny lay on her back staring at the ceiling with her legs slightly parted. "Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, you can take my knickers off and look at me."

I pushed Penny's skirt up and then slowly pulled her knickers down.

Penelope had her legs pressed together. Hermann pulled her knees up, and his gaze traveled slowly from her knees up the length of her thighs to her furry center. She blushed and felt warm. She tried to look away, but she found herself fascinated, found herself watching the person who was going to take her.

Hermann's look took in her entire body ... the face he had told her was intelligent and kind ... her shoulders he had told her were handsome ... her breasts he had said were perfect ... her hips he had said were just right ... her legs he had told her were perfectly lovely. He began spreading her knees. She tried to resist, but she felt weakness seeping through her, and she watched as he parted her legs. She knew his gaze was traveling up her opening thighs to her sex. She felt a sinking sensation as she realized her sex was wet and waiting for him.

Hermann moved up between her legs before they were fully parted. He was nestled between her warm, firm thighs. She tried not to, but she gently pressed her thighs against him. He felt good between them. She tried to fight down the thought that she was glad he was between them.

The end of his cock parted her. She gasped. He pulled out and then parted her again. She moaned and her juice ran out and made the end of his cock slick. Something deep within her made her struggle, even though it was a weak struggle. He lightly pressed his cock against her, and as she writhed, his cock sank deeper and deeper into her. She cried out at the feeling of her flesh being parted. She was trying to resist. She was trying to pull him in deeper with her legs. He continued to sink slowly into her as she moaned.

When he was all the way in, he looked into her shining, pretty eyes. There was a low moan, and she was still for a second. His cock felt her wet quivers. She looked at him. There was another moan. His wet cock felt her hard spasms.

As her spasms subsided, she became soft, and her thighs relaxed and parted. He watched her become softly lovely, and he watched her shapely thighs part. Lovely. Her eyes shone. Full access, he thought.

The bound and penetrated girl awaited her fate ... the next event. When it arrived, her wrists writhed, her heart moaned, her being slopped, and her spirit soared. Penelope's hips rocked. Her feet rose towards the ceiling. Her soul sang.

All in joy went my love riding

And with him rode my heart

Into the waiting dawn

My fine love crouched near and willing

The open girl lay before

Sweeter be this than dappled dreams

The swift dear breasts

The soft wet dawn

His hard red buck at a white junction

My joyful sigh sang before

At my hips went my love riding

Riding the soft sigh down

Into the wet new dawn

Two white legs spread wide and eager

The open portal lay before

Softer be they than whispered sighs

My open thighs

My slick wet thighs

His hard shaft at a soft valley

The hungry arrow flies below

Nestled in me went my love riding

Riding the arrow down

Into the warm wet dawn

My fine love crouched low and smiling

My sheer joy rose before

Rising with joy for his true joy

His sleek soft girl

His warm soft girl

Two white legs spread wide and eager

The lucky hunter safe within

All in joy went my love riding

And with him rode my heart

Into the waiting dawn

My fine love now still and smiling

My heart was pierced within

I spoke the release word. Penny wrapped her arms around me.

And to think, I had originally planned an exciting evening where I took Penny doggy style.

I talked prim and proper Penny into cuddling me while she slept. It wasn't difficult because she was a happy lady. She even decided that I had said the release word out of concern for her, and that was sweet. She was thinking that she might like bondage once every week or two. And on the holidays! Was I sincere when I said I liked her figure and found her irresistible?

There'll be no strings to bind your hands

Not if my love can find your heart

I was thinking there were advantages to Penny's hobby. We wouldn't have to suffer the unresolved sexual tension in popular entertainment. We could complete the implied, but denied, resolution of the kidnap victim who lusts after her abductor, the boss and secretary flirting with each other, and all those damsels in distress. While everyone else was frustrated, we could re-enact the scene and consummate the built up tension. I reassured Penny, most sincerely, that her figure was my ideal, and I reassured Penny, most sincerely, that I found her intelligence and class absolutely irresistible.

It was true.

_______________________________________________

(*) Shameful mangling of 'Little Drummer Boy' by Davis, Onorati, and Simeone

(**) Shameless parody of 'All in green went my love riding' by e. e. cummings.

(***) A version of 'Angel of the Morning' originally by Chip Taylor