"Jerry's taste..."
As soon as Hermione's voice fell, she didn't give Jerry any time to react.
Hermione was like a female leopard pouncing on its prey, lunging forward abruptly.
She took a massive gulp of the beer on the table!
That face, which was still flushed with an unnatural crimson and looked somewhat youthful, was now filled with a certain resolute and almost fanatical craving. She reached out her hands, not to embrace, but with an irresistible force, she grabbed Jerry by the collar, pulling him violently toward her.
In the instant their bodies were about to collide, Hermione tilted her head up. With a posture almost like biting, she pressed her moist, soft lips dead onto Jerry's.
"Mmh!"
Jerry only had time to emit a muffled groan that was blocked in his throat.
The next second, Hermione's tongue, with an unquestionable dominance, pried open his teeth and drove straight in.
Hermione's movements were urgent and clumsy. Her tongue tip rampaged through his mouth with a reckless brashness, scouring every inch of territory within.
Immediately following, a stream of warm liquid gushed out from under the root of her tongue. She used her tongue to push it forcefully, all at once, into Jerry's mouth.
It was exactly that small mouthful of the richest mixture she hadn't completely swallowed just now, but had specifically kept in her mouth, warming it with her body temperature.
The malty aroma of the beer and the cloying sweetness of the honey filled Jerry's mouth completely at this moment in an even more domineering and direct way.
The liquid, with its viscous, stringy texture, assaulted Jerry's taste buds, wrapping around his tongue and sliding deep into his throat.
Jerry's body subconsciously wanted to resist, but Hermione seemed to have anticipated his reaction.
The hand Hermione used to grab Jerry's collar tightened even more, while her other hand pressed directly against the back of his head, using all her strength to deepen the kiss.
Hermione's tongue continued to wreak havoc in his mouth, entangling with his. She sucked forcefully at times and stirred violently at others, as if trying to brand her own flavor.
Her own scent, her everything, was being thoroughly seared into his body.
The slurp-slurp sounds of the kissing echoed throughout the quiet room.
Every time their lips met and parted, they drew out glistening, ambiguous silver threads, only to be crushed and swallowed again in the next, even deeper kiss.
Just as Jerry's throat moved instinctively, about to completely swallow that mouthful of liquid mixed with humiliation and strange stimulation, Hermione acted like a cunning young beast and suddenly changed her strategy.
The tongue that had been powerfully stirring in Jerry's mouth suddenly curled and hooked. The tip of her tongue pressed against his upper palate, forming a tiny encirclement.
Immediately after, Hermione's soft lips sucked hard. An irresistible suction force pulled that beer—which she had just passed over and hadn't yet fully slid down his throat—entirely back into her own mouth, not leaving a single drop.
This sudden, aggressive reclamation left Jerry completely stunned.
Hermione released him slightly, but her lips did not fully depart. She maintained an extremely close distance, their noses touching.
Her breath was rapid and hot, carrying the panting of someone who had just succeeded, spraying all over Jerry's face.
Hermione's lips appeared exceptionally red and full due to the intense, suction-filled kiss just now. They were stained with their combined fluids, glistening and emitting a sweet, yet salty and fishy scent.
She pouted her lips slightly, as if savoring something, and a satisfied, subtle swallowing sound came from her throat.
Only then did Hermione speak in a muddled, heavily nasal tone, almost pouting:
"This is my... beer!"
She extended her moist tongue tip and, whether intentionally or not, licked gently over Jerry's equally moist lips, taking away a silver thread.
"I won't... give it to you."
Katherine's figure was like a ghost, sliding silently into Jerry's dormitory.
She made no unnecessary noise. Even the sound of the wooden door opening and closing was controlled to a nearly undetectable level.
Just like a cat.
Katherine's movements were practiced and fluid; she had clearly traveled this route countless times.
Katherine held a plain wooden tray in her hands, on which sat only a glass of water and a piece of black bread that looked somewhat dry and hard—it was simple to the point of being crude.
Instead of walking toward the center of the fireplace, she went straight around to the side. She extended a slender finger and, on an unremarkable brick, tapped five times in a unique rhythm: three long and two short.
Next, Katherine leaned down, bringing her face close to the pitch-black, cold opening of the fireplace. In a voice audible only to herself, she softly recited an obscure and ancient incantation.
As Katherine's last syllable fell, the depths of the fireplace didn't ignite with a roaring flame like a normal Floo connection. Instead, in the dead silence, a layer of eerie, ghost-fire-like green light quietly bloomed.
The light was not hot. On the contrary, it carried a chill, illuminating the interior of the hearth like an entrance to the underworld.
Without any hesitation, Katherine stepped into that green light while holding the tray.
The world instantly twisted and spun before her eyes, and countless phantoms of fireplaces flashed by.
In the space of a single breath, the world-turning sensation came to an abrupt halt.
Air that was cold, damp, and mixed with the scent of lime and dust hit her face, replacing the warm dryness of the Hogwarts dormitory.
Katherine's feet stepped onto the cold obsidian floor, which was polished smooth as a mirror.
Katherine was now standing before a completely different fireplace—this one was built of massive, uncarved black stone, towering to the ceiling and carved with the ancient and hideous raven sigil of the Rosier family.
This was Blackfeather Castle, the secret realm passed down through generations of the Rosier family.
Katherine steadied the tray in her hands, ensuring not a drop of water was spilled during the teleportation.
Then, Katherine straightened her back and, without looking back, walked toward the deep, lightless corridor leading into the heart of the castle.
The corridors of Blackfeather Castle had no windows. The only light source was a magically lit, ghostly blue wall lamp appearing every long distance.
The light was dim, barely illuminating the path beneath her feet. It cast Katherine's long, flickering shadow onto the smooth obsidian floor.
Katherine's footsteps were very light. The clack, clack of her high-heeled leather boots on the stone floor sounded exceptionally clear in this deathly silent corridor, the echoes lingering.
The air was cold and damp, carrying a stale smell of mold, as if no living thing had set foot here for centuries.
Katherine's purpose in returning was, naturally, not to clean.
Although she was still nominally the sole maid of this castle, she now had a more important title: temporary jailer.
And within this massive, labyrinthine prison, only one prisoner was currently being held.
The Princess of the Forest Elves, who possessed the purest high-born bloodline and had just been "brought" back from the battlefield by Jerry—Elania.
Katherine stopped at a fork in the road and turned into an even narrower spiral staircase leading underground.
The air here grew increasingly cold. Finally, she stopped before a massive door cast from dark iron that looked incredibly heavy.
There was no keyhole on the door, only a square, palm-sized window at eye level, sealed from the outside by an iron plate of the same material.
Katherine extended her hand, clad in a white lace glove. Without making a sound, she extremely slowly pushed the iron plate to the side.
In an instant, the scene inside the cell was fully revealed to her eyes through that tiny window.
In the center of the cell, Elania was suspended in mid-air in a highly humiliating posture.
Two tough black ropes, made from the tendons of some unknown creature, hung from the ceiling. Their ends were connected to two iron shackles that just managed to lock around her wrists.
Elania's arms were pulled straight up over her head, the entire weight of her body supported by those two slender arms. This forced her full, lustrous breasts to thrust high upward, exposing her two tender red cherries unreservedly to the cold air.
Around Elania's neck was a black leather collar with a silver buckle. The collar wasn't wide, but it tightly gripped her long, graceful swan neck. Attached to it was a loose, thin chain that hung down over her chest, swaying slightly with Elania's faint breathing.
Her eyes were tightly bound by a black cloth strip, cutting off all her vision. Her body, from her neck to her toes, was stark naked.
Perhaps because she had fallen into a deep sleep, Elania's body was completely relaxed, presenting a helpless and soft posture.
Her silver-white hair, like a waterfall, flowed down her back and shoulders because of this posture. it spread out all the way to the scorched ground beneath her, forming a startling and sharp contrast with her snowy, delicate, and paper-thin skin.
Elania's legs were bound together at the ankles by another rope, then similarly hoisted up, though at a slightly lower height.
This posture made it impossible for her to close her legs. Those long, straight, and beautifully lined jade legs could only fall weakly to either side. Her most secret and fragile valley was thus left defenseless, wide open directly toward the door.
That mysterious garden, which had just shed its youthful green and still held a hint of pink, was clearly visible in the dim light, radiating a fatal temptation.
Katherine's gaze lingered on Elania's defenseless body for a moment, the corners of her mouth curling into an emotionless arc.
"Worthy of being an elf; her looks are truly beautiful."
She muttered softly to herself, her voice betraying neither admiration nor mockery.
Having said that, she withdrew her gaze, slid the iron plate of the small window shut again, and fished an ancient brass key covered in runes from her waist. She inserted it into an inconspicuous notch on the door.
With a light click, the heavy iron door opened a crack inward.
Katherine squeezed in sideways with the tray, then quickly locked the door from the inside.
Taking advantage of the moment, she didn't immediately approach the prisoner hanging in the air. Instead, she warily drew her wand from her sleeve, gripping it tightly and hiding it at her side.
Although Elania wore a mana-suppressing collar and appeared completely defenseless, Katherine knew well that the cunning and power of elves were not to be taken lightly.
Katherine walked with slow, steady steps until she was directly beneath Elania.
Observing from close range, she could feel the visual impact of that body even more.
The skin was so white it seemed to glow, so fine that not a single pore could be seen, like the finest suet white jade.
Because of the long duration of being suspended, her wrists and ankles had deep red marks from the ropes, creating a sharp contrast with her snowy skin and adding a touch of tragic beauty.
Katherine extended her free hand. Using her gloved fingertips, she lightly brushed over Elania's perky, rounded buttocks.
The touch was cool and elastic; the hand-feel was excellent.
The sleeping Elania seemed to sense something. Her body twisted unconsciously, and a faint, kitten-like whimper escaped her mouth.
Katherine's fingers paused for a moment before moving upward, finally landing upon the mysterious garden that was completely exposed by her spread legs.
Katherine used the pad of her finger to press gently against those soft petals, which still bore a hint of downy fuzz, and felt a moist warmth.
"Heh..."
Katherine let out an ambiguous chuckle, withdrew her hand, and placed the tray on the ground.
Then, Katherine walked to Elania's front. She reached out, pinched her small, delicate chin, and forced her to lift her face, which was covered by the black cloth.
Katherine's fingers continued to pinch Elania's chin, the pads of her fingers feeling the smooth, fine skin.
She stared at the black cloth covering the eyes, as if she could pierce through it to see the eyes beneath that were pretending to be closed.
"I know you're awake."
Katherine's voice was very soft, but it was like a steel needle quenched in ice, accurately piercing through Elania's disguise.
Katherine could feel that at the moment she spoke those words, the body in her hand, which had been maintaining a soft and relaxed posture, experienced an extremely subtle stiffening.
"Now, I will untie your hands and feet."
Katherine released her grip on the chin and began to unhurriedly stroke the leather collar around her neck, her fingertips circling the cold, thin chain. "This is your food. After you eat, you can move freely in this room."
"Don't get it too dirty."
"Otherwise!"
Katherine's voice paused. Her gaze swept over Elania's legs, which were forced apart by the suspension, and that unshielded valley.
"...You'll just have to keep hanging like that."
Having said that, Katherine wasted no more words.
She stepped back, and the wand held at her side was swept casually forward.
With that simple movement, two nearly invisible ripples of magic accurately struck the shackles binding Elania's wrists and ankles.
Click, click!
A few crisp sounds of metal snapping open sounded exceptionally harsh in the empty cell.
Losing all restraint and support, Elania's body was like a puppet with its strings cut, falling abruptly from mid-air.
Long hours of suspension had already caused poor blood circulation in Elania's limbs, leaving her muscles sour, numb, and weak. She could make no reaction to protect herself.
Thud!
A dull sound of flesh hitting the ground rang out.
Elania's soft body fell onto the cold, hard obsidian floor without any buffer.
In this wretched posture, Elania curled into a ball. Her waterfall-like silver hair was scattered messily, stained with the dust of the floor.
That heavy fall caused Elania to emit a groan of suppressed pain.
Elania lay curled on the ground. The sharp pain and numbness radiating through her entire body left her without even the strength to move a finger.
The cold floor stimulated her naked skin, causing Elania to shrink back involuntarily.
Katherine watched this with total indifference.
Katherine bent down and placed the tray containing the black bread and water gently on the floor not far from Elania's front.
Having done all this, Katherine turned and walked toward the door without looking back. The clack-clack of her high-heeled boots on the floor sounded like a cold declaration.
However, just as Katherine's hand was about to touch the door lock, her footsteps stopped.
Katherine stood in place, silent for a moment, seemingly lost in thought.
Then, Katherine let out an impatient "Tsk," turned around, and reached up to unbutton the high-quality, wide black robe she was wearing.
Katherine casually threw the robe, which still held some of her body heat, toward Elania, who was curled in a ball on the floor.
The soft fabric, like a black cloud, landed precisely on Elania, covering most of her naked skin.
"Make do with this for now." Katherine's voice held no particular emotion. "I'll bring you clothes next time I come."
She turned back again, and this time she didn't linger.
"When you're bored, you can think about how to escape." Her voice came from the direction of the door, carrying a trace of lingering provocation. "That way, I won't have to come every day to bring you food. It's a waste of time."
Clang!
The heavy iron door was heartlessly shut, completely isolating the last bit of light within the cell.
The world was plunged back into a deathly silent darkness.
A green glow flashed momentarily in the fireplace of Jerry's dormitory, and Katherine's figure manifested silently from within.
Katherine had just returned from the cold and damp Blackfeather Castle; she seemed to still carry the chill and dust of that ancient secret realm.
Just as Katherine steadied herself and prepared to habitually tidy her appearance, the wooden door to the dormitory was pushed open from the outside with a creak.
A staggering figure burst in, nearly face-planting onto the carpet.
Katherine's pupils constricted slightly, and she almost instinctively gripped her wand.
But when she saw the person's face clearly, her wariness vanished instantly, replaced by an extremely rare look of bewilderment.
It was Jerry.
However, this was a Jerry that Katherine had never seen before.
His back, which was usually forever straight, was now slightly hunched, and his steps were light and unsteady, as if he were walking on cotton.
Those eyes, which always flickered with shrewdness and calculation, were now covered in a layer of moisture, appearing somewhat misty and unfocused.
His cheeks were flushed with an abnormal crimson, and his breathing was much heavier than usual.
Most obvious was the inescapable, heavy scent on his person.
It was an extremely sweet, mellow aroma, as if countless amounts of honey and cream had been melted together and fermented into strong spirits.
The scent domineeringly occupied the air of the entire room, so intense it nearly made one feel drunk just by being near it.
Katherine recognized it immediately—it was a special beer produced from a unique small world, brewed using magical honeycombs and golden malt.
This kind of wine had a massive kick. A single glass was enough for an ordinary wizard to become dead drunk and unconscious.
And Jerry had clearly had far too much.
This was the first time Katherine had seen him drunk after being by his side for so long.
Gulp...
Jerry's Adam's apple moved; he seemed to let out a drunken hiccup.
Squinting, he took a few seconds to focus and see the figure standing by the fireplace clearly. Then, his mouth twitched into a somewhat silly smile.
Jerry walked up to Katherine and stopped.
A wave of heat mixed with alcohol and a cloying sweetness hit her as he breathed.
"It's..."
Jerry spoke, his voice muddled and heavily nasal, "It's the little kitten!"
After saying that, Jerry grinned, revealing a wide, defenseless smile—completely different from his usual cold, calculated grin.
This smile was clean and pure, like a child who had just received candy.
Immediately after, Jerry made a move that Katherine completely didn't expect.
He reached out his hand, movements slow and clumsy, as if trying to pet a real cat, and reached for the top of Katherine's head.
But he didn't reach her "cat head."
Instead, Jerry's entire body weight pressed unreservedly onto Katherine.
Because of the height difference, Jerry's entire face was buried into the soft, voluptuous fullness of her chest.
His firm nose bridge was deeply embedded into that startling elasticity through two layers of fabric, nearly swallowed whole.
Katherine's body went stiff for a moment.
Katherine could clearly feel that boyish, furry head nuzzling restlessly against her chest, like a kitten searching for the most comfortable sleeping position.
The soft strands of hair tickled Katherine's skin, bringing waves of indescribable itchiness.
His arms were wrapped tightly around Katherine's waist. Rather than a hug, it was more like the total dependency of a drowning person clinging to a piece of driftwood.
Katherine didn't push him away.
She simply endured it silently.
That body belonging to an eleven-year-old boy, still in development, was not actually that heavy.
But when that weight pressed against her, Katherine felt an unprecedented pressure.
It wasn't physical.
It was the weight of Jerry's surname—the weight of the ancient, dark Rosier family, a Death Eater lineage enough to make the entire magical world tremble.
This weight was currently manifested as this unreasonable, spoiled, and even slightly lecherous little master in her arms.
This pressure was undoubtedly a massive mountain for an eleven-year-old boy.
And as the person closest to him, what Katherine felt was the deepest shadow cast by that mountain.
"Mmh... soft..."
The boy in her arms let out a muddled sleep-talk moan, and the arms wrapped around Katherine's waist seemed to tighten a few more notches.
Jerry's cheek was still unsatisfiedly burrowing deeper into that softness, greedily absorbing the warmth and elasticity.
The hands wrapped around her waist also began to misbehave.
Initially, it was just an unconscious, security-seeking caress.
But soon, driven by his drunkenly amplified instincts, those hands slid down along the flexible curves of her waist.
Through a thin layer of fabric, Katherine could clearly feel those boyish hands, still holding a bit of childishness, fully covering her perky, rounded buttocks.
Jerry's palms weren't large, but they carried a scorching temperature inconsistent with his age.
The fabric was crumpled by his movements, clinging tightly to Katherine's body and outlining that shameful contour ever more clearly.
Katherine's body swayed slightly, but she didn't resist, nor did she speak to stop him. She simply endured it silently, allowing the drunk boy to take whatever he wanted from her.
"Katherine..."
Jerry's face was still buried in her chest, his voice coming out muffled, heavy with nasal congestion and a spoiled tone.
His hands were still wreaking havoc without regard for strength, even beginning to boldly explore deeper along the curve of the butt crack.
"...You smell so good."
Just as that restless little hand was about to touch the deeper forbidden zone, the kneading motion that still held some strength gradually slowed down. Finally, it stopped completely.
The hand simply rested limply against her buttock, moving no more.
A few seconds later, the sound of even, steady breathing came from against Katherine's chest.
He had fallen asleep.
The aftereffects of the alcohol had finally triumphed over that budding desire, dragging the energetic boy thoroughly into a deep dreamland.
Katherine looked down at the little master who still had his face buried deep in her chest, sleeping defenselessly. The corner of her mouth hooked into a helpless yet somewhat doting smile.
Katherine didn't immediately push him away. Instead, she maintained the posture of him hugging her tightly and, with extremely slow steps, moved bit by bit toward the bed.
Then, Katherine sat down slowly and carefully laid back.
Throughout the process, Katherine kept her body as steady as possible, for fear of waking the little guy who was sleeping so soundly.
Ultimately, Katherine lay flat on the soft, large bed.
And Jerry remained clung to her like a koala. His face rested against Katherine's soft, full right snowy peak, rising and falling slightly with Katherine's breathing.
His scorching nasal breath continuously baked the skin of Katherine's chest through the thin clothing.
Katherine reached out and gently stroked his soft black hair, her movements as tender as if she were handling a priceless treasure.
"Little pervert master!" Katherine leaned down, bringing her lips to his ear, and whispered in a breathy voice only the two could hear: "Goodnight."
Having said that, Katherine also closed her eyes, allowing the air—thick with a mix of boyish scent and the sweet aroma of Butterbeer—to envelope her.
The painting swung open with a creak to one side, revealing the dark hole behind it.
Hermione practically crawled in on all fours, her body tilting and nearly tripping over her own feet.
"My god, Hermione!"
"You're finally back!"
Two different voices, both carrying obvious concern, rang out simultaneously from the corner of the common room.
Hermione lifted her hazy, drunken eyes, trying hard to focus before she could see the two familiar faces by the fireplace, both etched with anxiety.
Harry and Ron were sitting on the most comfortable old sofa; they had clearly been waiting for her all along.
Seeing her enter, the two immediately bounced off the sofa and walked quickly toward her.
"Where have you been? We've been looking everywhere for you!"
Ron's voice was the loudest. As he reached Hermione, he immediately caught the inescapably thick, sweet wine scent on her person and couldn't help wrinkling his nose. "Merlin's beard, have you been drinking?"
Harry appeared more steady. He caught Hermione's teetering body, his brow furrowed as he looked with concern at her cheeks, which were flushed with an abnormal crimson. "Hermione, are you alright? What happened?"
"I... I'm fine..."
She extended a finger, waving it pointlessly in the air. "Just... spent a bit more time reading at the library... a bit, a bit tired..."
Even she felt the excuse was weak and powerless.
Ron clearly didn't believe a single word. He leaned in even closer, his expression becoming increasingly strange.
"This isn't the smell of Butterbeer... what is this?
It smells like honey syrup fell into a wine barrel... Hermione, where the hell did you go?"
Surrounded by her two best friends, staring at her with those scrutinizing eyes, Hermione's drunkenness seemed to fade slightly, replaced by a surge of guilt.
Her mind raced, trying to fabricate a more plausible lie, but the alcohol had turned her thoughts into mush.
Finally, Hermione could only lower her head and mutter in a small, almost petulant voice:
"I'm sleepy. I'm going to bed…"
With that, Hermione broke free from Harry's hand. Her steps were unsteady and crooked as she headed toward the stairs leading to the girls' dormitory.
Harry took a step forward, blocking her path, his voice filled with sincere concern.
"Hermione! Wait!
If something really happened, you can tell us. We are your friends."
"Yeah!" Ron's voice wasn't as gentle as Harry's. His suspicious gaze swept up and down Hermione's body. Finally, it fixed on the edge of her wizarding robe's pocket.
There, a corner of high-quality parchment had been exposed because of her previous movement.
"Reading books?
Does reading in the library earn you this?"
Before Hermione could even react to what Ron was saying, Ron reached out with an agility completely at odds with his usual lazy image. Fast as lightning, he snatched the parchment from her pocket.
"Hey!"
Hermione's protest was a beat too slow. She reached out to grab it back, but her alcohol-dulled body wouldn't obey. She only grasped at thin air and nearly fell over because of it.
Harry quickly steadied her, while Ron had already retreated two steps. By the dim light of the fireplace, he unfolded the parchment.
It was a Gringotts bank draft. On it, in the goblins' unique, elegant, and sharp handwriting, a number was clearly written.
"Two… two hundred…" Ron's voice stuttered from sheer shock. He looked up, staring at Hermione as if she were a total stranger.
"…An entire two hundred Gold Galleons!
Hermione, what the hell have you been doing?"
Harry's expression changed as well.
He held Hermione's arm, feeling her body's weakness, but his eyes were filled with confusion and an incredible, searching gaze.
Two hundred Gold Galleons—for a student, that was an astronomical sum. It was absolutely impossible to obtain that just by reading in the library.
The air in the common room seemed to freeze in that instant.
"Give it back to me!"
The alcohol seemed to grant Hermione a reckless courage she usually never possessed.
Hermione let out a low growl, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and a burst of surprising strength erupted from her body.
Hermione shoved Harry's hand away, lunged forward, and snatched the draft back from Ron.
Because she used too much force, the precious parchment was crumpled in her grip.
She squeezed the draft tightly in her palm, her chest heaving violently. Her eyes were sparkling from the alcohol and the emotional intensity, and a mist seemed to be forming within them.
"What right do you have to go through my things?"
Hermione's voice was sharp with anger, completely lacking her usual reason and calm.
"This is my private business! It has nothing to do with you!"
"Nothing to do with us?"
Ron was stunned by her roar, and then his own temper flared. His face turned beet-red, and his voice rose several notches.
"Hermione, we are your friends!
You come back in the middle of the night drunk as a skunk, carrying a massive amount of unexplained money. Of course we have the right to know what happened!
Have you been scammed by someone?"
"I haven't been scammed!" Hermione screamed back.
"This is… this is what I earned!"
"Earned?"
Harry stepped forward, his expression grave, his eyes full of disappointment.
"Hermione, tell us—what could you possibly do in one night to 'earn' two hundred Gold Galleons?"
"You're talking nonsense!"
Harry's words were like a sharp knife, accurately piercing Hermione's most sensitive nerve.
"Then explain it!"
Ron pressed her relentlessly. "Where did this money come from?
If you don't make it clear, how can we believe you?"
"I said, it's my private business!" Hermione stubbornly repeated the phrase. Her palm clutching the draft was covered in sweat. Her eyes began to dodge theirs, no longer daring to look Harry or Ron in the face.
She couldn't tell them.
"I don't want to talk to you anymore!"
Hermione finally ended the confrontation with a tearful scream.
She didn't want to explain, and she couldn't explain it anyway.
Hermione forcefully pushed Ron aside and stumbled away, practically fleeing toward the stairs of the girls' dormitory.
The spiral staircase slowly closed behind her, completely isolating her from her two best friends in two different worlds.
In the common room, only Harry and Ron remained. The air felt solidified.
The last spark in the fireplace finally died out in the heavy silence, leaving only a small pile of grey ash that still held a trace of warmth.
"What the hell is she up to?"
Ron was the first to break the silence. He slumped onto the soft sofa, his hands irritably clutching his flaming red hair.
"Two hundred Gold Galleons… has she gone mad?"
His voice was full of the disappointment and confusion of being lied to by a friend.
"And that look on her face… as if we were the bad guys! We're just worried about her!"
Harry didn't speak. He walked to the window, looking out at the dark silhouette of the Forbidden Forest, his brow deeply furrowed. He didn't wear his emotions on his face like Ron, but he was far more worried deep down.
This wasn't the Hermione he knew.
The Hermione he knew was sometimes a bit of a know-it-all and could be stubborn, but she was always rational, upright, and incredibly honest.
"She must be being threatened by someone," Harry finally said, his voice low and certain.
Ron blinked. "Threatened? Who would threaten her? And give her money?"
"I don't know!"
Harry turned around, his gaze sharp as he looked at Ron.
"But that's the only logical explanation. Hermione would never do anything against her principles for money. Unless… she didn't have a choice."
Harry's words were like a basin of cold water, dousing most of Ron's anger and replacing it with a sense of lingering fear and deeper concern.
"You mean… someone forced her to do something bad?"
Ron's voice sounded a bit dry.
"It's very likely." Harry walked over to Ron, his expression serious.
"It was a mistake for us to interrogate her like that just now. You can tell—she can't speak. The more we pressure her, the further we'll push her away."
Ron went silent. He thought back to Hermione's final tearful scream, and a wave of guilt washed over him.
"Then… then what should we do?"
"We have to help her." A look of unquestionable determination appeared in Harry's eyes.
"We can't ask her directly anymore. We have to find out for ourselves who is pulling the strings and what kind of trouble she's actually in."
He paused, his voice dropping even lower, as if making a vow:
"She's our best friend.
No matter what happened, we have to pull her out of this mess."
Katherine woke up.
She felt something wriggling on her body.
Opening her eyes, she saw the small, thin figure was Jerry.
His naked body shimmered with an ivory luster under the moonlight, forming a stark contrast with his hair.
His eyes were shockingly bright, staring at her with total focus.
Jerry's lips had just left her red nipple, leaving a wet, glistening circle of moisture.
Katherine's mind went blank for a moment. She even forgot to react, just staring dazed at the Jerry hovering over her.
Jerry seemed completely indifferent to her being awake; if anything, her gaze made him even more excited.
Jerry looked up, giving Katherine a smile that was both innocent and wicked, and then his body began to slowly move downward.
Jerry's skin, possessing the unique firmness of a youth, slid all the way from Katherine's soft breasts across her flat stomach, bringing a dense shiver that made her skin tingle.
Jerry propped his hands on either side of her, locking her firmly beneath him. His bright eyes never once left her face.
Finally, Jerry stopped between Katherine's legs.
Katherine felt her thighs being gently pushed apart by him with an irresistible force.
The cold air rushed into her most private territory, making her shrink back instinctively.
And then, Katherine felt it.
A scorching, hard object, its size completely inconsistent with his age, was pressing against the entrance of Katherine's wettest and softest valley with a brash, probing posture.
The tip of it was blunt and full, carrying a vigorous heat that almost threatened to burn her. It ground against Katherine's sensitive, already muddy entrance, stroke by stroke.
Jerry leaned down, his nose nearly touching hers. His breath was hot, and his voice carried a commanding, unquestionable pout:
"Katherine, little kitten… I want to go in."
Before the words had even faded, he sank his waist.
Katherine didn't refuse, and she didn't struggle.
Looking at the boy on top of her who seemed to be exerting quite an effort, there was no panic in her eyes—only a calm that bordered on fate.
It was as if she were lying here just to wait for this moment to arrive.
Katherine even used an extremely slow movement to spread her legs a bit wider, making it easier for Jerry to find the correct entrance.
That shockingly sized thing, with its blunt, full tip and scorching heat, ground against her already muddy entrance stroke by stroke, as if searching for the best angle of entry.
Jerry reached out with both hands, stroking her voluptuous, full buttocks, which shifted into various soft shapes beneath his palms.
Jerry suddenly thrust his waist upward with a violent lunge. That thick, long, and ferocious column overlapped with the wet valley at the center of her thighs.
"Ah…" Katherine's body went taut. A muffled moan, somewhere between pain and satisfaction, escaped her lips.
Katherine's body trembled to a visible degree, her legs stretching straight and stiff.
However, whether because Jerry's head was too large or Katherine's entrance was too tight, Jerry's full tip could only manage to squeeze in at the very top.
And even just that top was enough to make Katherine's body—one that had never been set foot in by a man—tremble with pain.
"Ohhh… Katherine… your inside is really so tight… it's squeezing my head so hard it feels like it might break… ohhh… do you want my thing that badly?
Truly a greedy little kitten… but Katherine… don't think this can make me submit… my methods are more than just this…"
"Hmm?"
Jerry suddenly felt the head that was tightly wrapped being washed over by waves of scorching, spasming warmth.
The inner walls of Katherine's passage were contracting violently. Every contraction felt like countless greedy little mouths, frantically sucking at his most sensitive tip.
Jerry let out a low growl, his hands gripping Katherine's voluptuous waist. He tried to exert force again to send himself completely into that ecstatic place that left him unable to stop.
However, the spasms within Katherine were simply too intense.
Those inner walls, tight to the extreme and constantly contracting and trembling, squeezed and rubbed him repeatedly with a force he could not resist at all.
Jerry hadn't even had time to make any substantial movements yet. He was simply at that narrow entrance, being washed over, wrapped, and sucked repeatedly by that sudden, flash-flood-like warmth of an orgasm.
An indescribable numbness, as if his soul were being drawn out, exploded from the deepest part of Jerry's body.
Jerry's back arched violently, his body giving a massive shudder. Waves of scorching, thick, and heavily musky stickiness could no longer be suppressed. In a spraying posture, it all poured out.
Because Jerry hadn't entered very deeply, most of this scorching liquid was sprayed against Katherine's still-intact barrier. It flowed outward along the stretched, red, and swollen entrance, mixing with her own love fluids that had overflowed from her orgasm.
The space between their tightly connected legs was turned into a muddy mess.
Katherine's body continued to tremble in small intervals.
The afterglow of the orgasm came in wave after wave, washing over every corner of her body.
Katherine's eyes were unfocused, her lips slightly parted, breathing unconsciously. The strange yet extreme pleasure deep within her left her mind a complete blank.
As for Jerry, after releasing himself, he seemed to have been drained of all his strength. He went completely limp, lying on top of Katherine, burying his face in her soft, milky-scented chest, gasping for breath.
Amidst the afterglow of extreme pleasure, Katherine's unfocused eyes slowly refocused.
Katherine looked down at Jerry, who was gasping against her chest like a little puppy. The corner of her mouth uncontrollably hooked upward into a triumphant arc.
Katherine knew that this young, little pervert master must be feeling both frustrated and exhausted right now.
A complex mix of maternal instinct, doting, and a victor's stance surged in her heart.
Katherine reached out, and with a nearly soothing gesture, she gently stroked Jerry's sweat-dampened hair. Her voice was as soft as a feather, but the irrepressible amusement in her words was like a tiny needle, accurately piercing the boy's fragile pride.
"Little pervert master!" she said softly, her fingers threading through his hair.
"The area ahead… we should wait until next time to explore it."
Jerry's gasping came to a sudden halt.
Jerry lifted his face from her soft breasts. His eyes still held the crimson flush of un-faded desire, but now, a fire of embarrassed rage had ignited within that redness.
Jerry keenly caught the hidden snicker in Katherine's words and the faint mockery beneath her gentle tone.
"Are you… laughing at me?"
His voice was a bit raspy with anger.
"No, little pervert master."
Katherine immediately pulled back the smile on her lips, trying to look perfectly innocent, but her slightly trembling shoulders betrayed her.
"You are!"
Jerry's rage was thoroughly ignited.
He suddenly straightened his still-weak waist. With one hand, using a punishing amount of force, he fiercely grabbed her right snowy peak, which was still standing tall and full.
"Ooh!" Katherine let out a muffled groan of pain.
Her voluptuous, soft peak was wantonly kneaded in his palm, squeezed into various undignified shapes.
With every forceful shake of his wrist, the snowy mound of flesh undulated violently up and down, triggering waves of heart-pounding milk-flesh.
"It seems… I've pampered you too much lately, Katherine."
While Jerry brutally played with her breast, he struggled to stretch out his other arm, fumbling around the drawer of the nightstand.
Jerry's body was still very youthful, and his strength had only just begun to recover; the movement looked a bit labored.
He fished something out of the drawer—a "toy" Jerry had prepared for her long ago.
It was a black, thick-textured rubber mask. What was most shameful about it was that in the center of the mask, a ball gag made from a pink silicone mold was embedded.
The shape of that ball gag was identical to the head of Jerry's own shockingly sized meat root.
"You… you ungrateful maid!"
Jerry placed the shameful prop beside Katherine's face, then leaned down and announced in a savage tone in her ear:
"As punishment, tomorrow… you will wear this to class!"
Katherine shook her head in panic, her tone softening as she tried to use coyness to slide by.
"No, little pervert master… I was wrong… I'll never do it again… please…"
A glint of cunning and allure flashed through Katherine's eyes.
Katherine stopped her useless struggling. With an incredible softness and submissiveness, she actively changed her posture.
She gently pushed against Jerry's shoulders, guiding him and making him lie face-up on the soft bed.
Then, Katherine herself slid out from beneath him like a slippery mermaid, kneeling by the bedside.
Katherine propped her hands on the mattress, her waist bending backward at a startling angle. Immediately after, her two voluptuous and long legs lifted lightly and steadily into the air. Just like that, she completed a perfect handstand by the bed.
Katherine's full breasts hung slightly downward due to gravity, presenting a dizzying, ripe fruit-like seductive shape.
In this inverted, completely incredible position, Katherine slowly brought her face close to the space between Jerry's legs.
Katherine's warm breath first sprayed gently over the meat root that was somewhat limp from having just released, making it twitch sensitively.
Then, her soft lips, carrying moist saliva, lightly took the flaccid tip into her mouth with a posture of extreme tenderness and devotion.
She didn't immediately begin to swallow; instead, she acted as if she were tasting a rare treasure. Using the tip of her tongue, she meticulously traced the outline of the head. With the soft inner walls of her mouth, she gently wrapped and rubbed the soft flesh that was already showing signs of awakening.
It was an unprecedented, ultimate form of service.
Jerry only felt a surge of uncontrollable heat in his lower abdomen.
He looked at this inverted, incredibly erotic scene—Katherine's submissive face and his own desire being raised by her lips, gradually lifting its head—an indescribable mix of conquest and the pleasure of being extremely gratified instantly washed away all his previous anger.
Katherine felt the change in him. She was no longer satisfied with just a taste. She opened her mouth and, at an extremely slow speed where every inch of skin could be felt being devoured, she swallowed the rapidly expanding, hardening meat root deeper and deeper into her throat.
Her throat was deep and very soft.
That massive giant object slid inch by inch into that warm, moist depth it had never known before without any obstruction, until the entire base was completely enveloped by her warm mouth.
Viewed from the side, this image presented a grotesque beauty filled with primal desire.
Jerry lay flat on the bed, his slender limbs spread out like a young king waiting to be sacrificed.
And Katherine, like a top-tier acrobat, had completely turned her world upside down with a perfect handstand.
Katherine's two long legs, pressed straight together, were like two ivory-carved artworks pointing directly at the ceiling under the cold moonlight.
Similarly, her full breasts hung slightly because of the handstand, swaying gently with her subtle movements and tracing two tempting arcs.
Connecting these two completely different postures was Katherine's throat, which began to contract and wriggle in a highly skilled, rhythmic pace.
With every swallow and contraction of Katherine's throat, her inverted body inevitably experienced a subtle swaying.
Those thick liquids—a mixture of the boy's essence and her own—that had previously flowed into the depths of Katherine's leg-bends due to the failed attempt, were now flowing restlessly and slowly downward under the influence of gravity.
They gathered into several milky-white, viscous threads, crawling along the smooth skin of Katherine's inner thighs. Under the cold moonlight, these liquids glowed with an ambiguous luster, as if tracing several clear map coordinates on her snowy skin.
One of the thickest streams of liquid followed the curve of Katherine's thigh, flowing across her flat, tight stomach, and then dripped onto the side of her full breast, which was inverted.
That cool and viscous sensation made Katherine's body give an unnoticeable shudder.
Jerry also saw this scene.
He watched how that white, cloudy liquid flowed from a place that should have been conquered to another spot he loved to play with, in such a peculiar way.
This image brought him a strong, strange visual sensation mixed with both shame and excitement.
"It seems… you really like my things, little kitten."
Jerry's voice carried a raspy, gratified laugh.
"You like them so much… you don't want to waste even a single drop; you want them all over your body."
Jerry's words stimulated Katherine, but even more so, they seemed to stimulate himself.
"Mmh… nhh…"
"In that case… I'll forgive you!"
The underground detention room at the British headquarters of the Ministry of Magic was far less gloomy and terrifying than Azkaban, yet it held another kind of suffocating coldness and oppression.
The walls were built of smooth obsidian treated with Anti-Apparition Charms, capable of absorbing most sound and light.
Cassandra was led by an expressionless Auror through a silent corridor, every step feeling as if she were stepping on her own rapidly beating heart.
Finally, the Auror stopped before an iron door fitted with runes.
He gave a light tap to the keyhole with his wand. The iron door slid open silently, revealing the small, crude single cell inside.
There was only a hard pallet bed and a ball of water suspended in mid-air.
And Orion was huddled in the corner of that hard bed.
He heard the sound of the door and snapped his head up.
In that instant, Cassandra's heart felt as if it were being fiercely gripped by an invisible hand.
Was this still her Orion, the one who was always spirited, well-dressed, and talked and laughed so easily in front of her?
The Ministry uniform on Orion's body was crumpled beyond recognition, his hair was a mess, and a ring of stubble had grown on his chin.
What broke her heart most were Orion's eyes—once always shining with confidence and warmth, they were now bloodshot, filled with terror, exhaustion, and the total collapse of being thoroughly defeated.
The moment he saw Cassandra, a final ray of hope suddenly erupted in Orion's glazed eyes.
Like a drowning man seeing a lifesaver, Orion scrambled off the bed, practically crawling to the transparent cell door composed of magic.
Orion's palm pressed against that cold energy barrier, his face also pressing tightly against it, trying to get closer to her.
Orion's lips trembled, and it took a long time before he could emit a broken plea:
"Cassandra, save me!"
This cry completely shattered the composure Cassandra had been forcing herself to maintain.
Tears instantly burst from Cassandra's eyes. Her throat felt as if it were blocked by something; she could only shake her head frantically, also pressing her hand against the barrier, her palm meeting his from a distance.
"They're going to judge me… they'll destroy everything I have…" Orion's speech was fast and frantic, carrying a neurotic panic. "I can't… I can't go to Azkaban!
Cassandra, listen to me, there's still a way… there's one more way!"
"Bail… I can be bailed out!" Orion said urgently. "I only need twenty thousand Gold Galleons! Cassand—dra, as long as you can provide twenty thousand Gold Galleons, I can apply for bail. Although… although the job at the Ministry is definitely gone, that doesn't matter!"
"I can go to the front lines!
They're fighting everywhere right now; they need people!
As long as I join the army and earn military merit at the front, I can wash away all the charges!
When that time comes, I'll definitely pay all the money back to you, I swear! I'll pay you back double! Cassandra… please, this is my only chance…"
Orion spoke incoherently, placing all his hope in the girl before him who loved him deeply.
He yearned for her to be like she was before.
As for Cassandra, the moment she heard the figure "twenty thousand Gold Galleons," her entire body froze.
The color drained completely from her face. Her already blurred, teary eyes lost their focus even further from the sheer shock.
Twenty thousand Gold Galleons…
That was an astronomical sum, enough to buy several shops in Diagon Alley.
A fortune that Cassandra might not be able to save even if she didn't eat or drink for decades.
One must know that the combined pension from both of Cassandra's parents, after they died in battle, only totaled seventeen thousand Gold Galleons.
Cassandra looked at the man in the cell with his contorted face and desperate pleading. For a moment, she felt the world spinning around her.