Jerry stood before the specially enchanted fitting mirror while Katherine, acting like the most professional of stylists, meticulously adjusted every detail of his suit.
Holding a measuring tape, her sharp eyes checked the length of the cuffs, the arch of the shoulders, and the tightness of the waist. Occasionally, she would lean down, her touch gentle yet firm as she smoothed out the tiniest of wrinkles.
"Take the waist in another inch here," she whispered to the goblin tailor beside her, her fingertips resting lightly on Jerry's side. "And the collar—it needs to hug the neck more closely to accentuate his posture."
Jerry cooperated silently, feeling the subtle, electric tingle whenever Katherine's soft fingertips grazed his skin.
The dark grey formal suit was woven from the finest tribute satin and magical silk. Under the lights, it shimmered with a low-key yet luxurious luster. The cut was clean and sharp, perfectly outlining his growing, slender frame. Although he was still just a boy, not yet fully shed of his childishness, wearing this suit instantly gave him a calmness and nobility that his peers could hardly hope to match.
The upcoming Thanksgiving banquet was indeed of the highest caliber.
Rumor had it that aside from the high-ranking officials of the Ministry of Magic, the powerful generals of the Frontline Legion, and renowned independent wizards, even princes and princesses from various European royal families possessing magical talent would be in attendance. Not to mention the carefully cultivated young elites of the major families—the scions of the Pure-blood houses would all be present.
This was far more than a simple social gathering; it was a display of power and hierarchy belonging truly to "their own kind."
The Rosier family had once been a guest of honor at such occasions; the glory of their golden age still echoed in memory. However, the family's fall had caused the surname "Rosier" to vanish from these top-tier banquets for years.
Now, Jerry was making a strong return. Relying on his own abilities, he was gradually restoring the family's prestige. Naturally, he couldn't allow anyone to pick out the slightest flaw in his attire or etiquette during this crucial debut. This wasn't just a matter of face; it was a key step in whether the Rosier family could re-enter the core circle of the wizarding world.
Katherine understood this deeply. She knew this suit wasn't just clothing; it was Jerry's "battle armor" and his ticket in. Wearing it meant more than just returning; it was a declaration to high wizarding society in a brand-new posture: Rosier is back, and he will reclaim the summit in a way that cannot be ignored.
"Good. This fit is perfect."
Katherine patted Jerry's shoulder with satisfaction. That light touch seemed to carry a current, making Jerry's body tremble slightly.
She took a few steps back, creating distance to survey the boy in the mirror, scrutinizing him from head to toe. Shedding the greenness of the Hogwarts uniform, he radiated a mature and restrained aura that formed a strange contrast with his actual age.
Just as Katherine finished admiring Jerry's new look and was about to give a few more instructions, Jerry suddenly spun around.
He didn't speak. With a smile that was childish yet full of possessiveness, he threw his arms open and hugged Katherine, who was much taller than him.
Katherine let out a gasp as her body was instantly lifted off the ground by his sudden burst of strength. Jerry's seemingly thin boyish frame exploded with surprising power as he grabbed her voluptuous waist and spun her around excitedly in the small fitting room.
Katherine let out a short, sexy squeal. Her long legs kicked out, tracing a graceful arc in the air. Her skirt flew up, and her soft, heavy breasts jiggled violently in front of his forehead due to the centrifugal force, the fabric rustling softly against itself.
The goblin tailor responsible for recording the measurements—a skinny, brown-skinned creature—had been meticulously making notes on parchment. Looking up at this scene, his large, owl-like eyes showed no surprise. Goblins were always tactful. He skillfully packed away his parchment and quill, bowed lightly, and silently slipped out of the fitting room, thoughtfully closing the door behind him to leave all the space and privacy to this special "master and servant" pair.
After being set down, Katherine was breathing a bit heavily. A faint blush rose on her cheeks, and her green eyes held a mix of reproach and tenderness from being teased.
Katherine reached out, gently cupping Jerry's face. She leaned forward, unceremoniously pressing her bountiful breasts directly onto his face.
The immense softness and warmth, accompanied by the unique girlish scent of her body, instantly swallowed Jerry's entire face. He was practically buried in Katherine's cleavage, able to feel the warm, rapid beating of her heart within her chest. That suffocating sensation, wrapped in carnal desire and female pheromones, made Jerry's breath hitch, yet he felt incomparably satisfied.
"My little pervert Master!"
Katherine's voice was low and soft, like a siren's lure. Her full lips grazed over his hair, and her fingers stroked the back of his head gently, carrying a hint of warning and indulgence. "You have to control yourself. I heard there will be many beautiful girls attending this banquet, some of whom are famous beauties from great families. Don't get dazzled by them. If you do, I won't be the only one getting angry..."
There was a meaningful implication in Katherine's voice. As she spoke, her soft breasts trembled gently against Jerry's face with the vibration of her chest. Warm and elastic, they rubbed against his tender skin—a silent invitation, and a declaration of territory.
Jerry felt suffocated by this voluptuous tenderness. The heavy jealousy and possessiveness in Katherine's words acted like a catalyst, thoroughly igniting the wildfire in his heart.
Jerry jerked his head up but kept his face buried in her magnificent bosom. Through the soft satin dress and Katherine's thin bra, he opened his mouth and, with the brute force and dominance unique to a growing boy, bit down directly on her nipple through the fabric.
"Ngh!"
Katherine's body shuddered violently, an unsuppressible moan spilling from her throat.
This bite was more impactful than any words. Although separated by layers of clothing, the strength of Jerry's teeth, the force of the bite, and the precise aggression made her feel a numbing current shoot from her chest through her entire body instantly.
"What's wrong?" Jerry mumbled, his voice muffled against her chest, carrying a bit of childish playfulness. "Is my little kitten jealous?"
His tongue and lips didn't idle. Under his rough teeth, he greedily gnawed and kneaded the softening tip through the fabric. The saliva from his wet mouth soaked the cloth, moistening the sensitive nub and bringing a strange, sweet, and itchy sensation.
Katherine's breathing became even more rapid. Her face burned crimson, her eyes glazing over. Her legs turned to jelly from the sudden, intense stimulation, forcing her to lean against the padded wall of the fitting room.
Her chest heaved violently with her rapid breaths, rubbing against Jerry's cheek, causing him to bury himself deeper.
Katherine could feel that familiar, scorching meat-root. Even separated by two layers of clothing, it pressed straight and hard against her lower abdomen. The heavy, terrifying presence made her own nether regions gush with a wetness born of desire.
"Little kitten!"
Jerry suddenly lifted his head. His boyish face, still retaining a bit of baby fat, now wore a wicked, triumphant grin.
As he spoke, he released her, taking a step back to give Katherine a moment to breathe. Then, he fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a small ebony box carved with intricate magical runes.
Katherine's gaze followed his every move, her misty eyes filled with confusion and thoughts scrambled by lingering lust. She didn't understand what her little pervert master was doing; the tingling sensation of being bitten still lingered on her chest.
"Originally, I planned to give you these things after you officially joined the Ministry of Magic or went to the Frontline Legion!" Jerry said to Katherine with a grin, his voice clear with youth yet underscored by undeniable maturity. "But after thinking it over, I felt I should give them to you early. You are the most important person to me!"
Saying this, he deftly opened the ebony box.
Click!
A faint mechanical sound clicked, and the lid popped open, revealing the neatly arranged, packed magical jewelry inside.
Strong waves of magical power instantly filled the fitting room. Brilliant lights of various colors spilled from the box, illuminating Katherine's already flushed cheeks, making them look even more magnificent.
These were no ordinary accessories. Necklaces etched with mysterious runes, earrings inlaid with shimmering gems, exquisite bracelets... without exception, they all radiated powerful, restrained magic.
"I forged these magical accessories myself, and they are extremely powerful!" Jerry's tone held a hint of pride and showing off. He stepped forward, gently handing the box to Katherine, his eyes burning and firm. "I think these things will definitely help you, especially in getting a good ranking in the Standard Wizarding Tests."
Katherine's gaze was first drawn to the gorgeous and powerful jewelry. As she listened to Jerry, her green eyes gradually moistened. Tears of emotion blurred her vision as she stared at the creations that condensed the boy's effort and magic.
She knew this wasn't just a gift; it was Jerry's trust and deep reliance on her.
However, as her tears filled her eyes and her vision blurred, her gaze suddenly locked onto one "accessory" in particular. Katherine's body trembled, her fingertips twitching.
It was an extremely provocative thong, woven from the finest moonlight silk, thin as a cicada's wing and almost transparent. At the crotch area, a gem smaller than a fingernail, glowing with a ghostly green light, was meticulously inlaid—like the eye of some mysterious creature.
It exuded a blushing, teasing aura, utterly out of place among the other dignified magical jewelry.
Katherine's breathing quickened again—this time, a mix of shock and embarrassed amusement. She extended her slender fingertips, as if touching something scalding, and quickly picked the thong out of the box. Her teary eyes glared at Jerry, filled with accusation and indescribably complex emotions.
"Little pervert master... you little bastard!" Katherine's voice carried a tearful laugh—the娇嗔 (coquettish anger) of someone thoroughly teased by this little pervert yet helpless to resist.
However, immediately after, the rebellion sparked by shame spread through Katherine's heart like wildfire.
"Well? Do you like it?" Jerry wore a wicked grin. "Want to try it on? This is a fitting room, isn't it?"
A dangerous, seductive light suddenly flashed in Katherine's eyes.
"Try it, then."
Katherine slowly raised her hands. First, she undid her robes, letting them slide to her feet like falling leaves. Then, slowly and elegantly, she removed her meticulously tailored underwear. Her movements were graceful and full of sexual suggestion. Her erect, voluptuous curves appeared and disappeared in the dim light of the fitting room; the air seemed to freeze instantly.
In mere seconds, Katherine was completely naked, exposed to Jerry without concealment.
Her snowy skin, her rich, full curves, and the highly mounded, honey-colored secret forest—carrying the enticing fragrance of a girl who had just matured into a woman—completely swallowed Jerry's gaze.
Katherine's naked body turned slowly before Jerry. She took two diamond nipple pasties, the size of fingernails, from the box. With a teasing posture, she faced the air, using her fingertips to gently rub her nipples. Then, right in front of Jerry, with suffocating slowness, she pasted them onto her two enticing, crimson fruits.
The diamonds glittered with a bewitching light under the magical lamps, forming an extreme contrast with her fleshy skin.
Next, with the proud demeanor of a queen inspecting her domain, Katherine put on the exquisite and powerful magical accessories Jerry had prepared for her, one by one. The necklaces wound around her slender neck, bracelets encircled her delicate wrists, and earrings swayed gently by her ears.
When she pulled the moonlight silk thong up her legs with supreme seduction, the ghostly green magic stone landed precisely atop her secret forest, emitting a soul-stealing, eerie glow. The fabric, thin as wings, could barely hide the honey-colored depths beneath; instead, it added a looming, fatal allure.
Just as she completed the outfit, with a deliberate look of indulgence in Katherine's eyes, a powerful wave of magic burst from her body.
On her smooth skin, fine brown fur suddenly emerged. Then, a long, flexible Civet tail, carrying a hint of wild charm, grew slowly from the end of her tailbone. It swayed behind her, flicking gently with a soft swish.
At this moment, Katherine was a goddess draped in luxurious jewelry from the waist up, and a curvaceous monster wearing a kinky thong from the waist down.
"Meow~!"
A soft purr, filled with teasing intent, spilled from deep within Katherine's throat, carrying the laziness and wildness unique to felines.
Then, her waist softened. With the swift and elegant posture of a predator, she pounced on Jerry, pushing him directly onto the soft carpet of the fitting room.
Before Jerry could even cry out, he was completely pinned by Katherine's heavy body.
She imprisoned Jerry beneath her. Her soft, elastic chest pressed tightly against him, the two sparkling diamond pasties imprinting onto him, bringing a cold, tingling sensation.
Katherine's enchanting face, wearing a trace of vengeful playfulness and unbearable desire, moved gently toward Jerry's lower body.
Through his suit trousers, Katherine used her wet, hot lips to carefully—and with a hint of aggression—trace the massive shape of Jerry, which hadn't yet fully engorged. The wet heat transmitted through the fabric and her skillful teasing caused a huge rush of heat to shoot straight to Jerry's brain. The "meat root" below began to swell and heat up at an alarming rate.
"Hiss..."
Jerry sucked in a cold breath, his body stiffening instantly.
He could clearly feel Katherine's tongue tip swirling around his most fragile, most sensitive tip through the soft fabric, accompanied by wet, hot fluid. That numbness opened every pore on his body. An unprecedented pleasure, wrapped in boyish shyness and the thrill of being conquered, swept through him instantly.
"Wait... Katherine."
Jerry suddenly reached out and grabbed Katherine's Civet tail.
The tail had become thicker and more elastic as her desire rose. Now stopped by Jerry, it twitched unwillingly in the air, making a soft swish.
Her movements interrupted, Katherine looked up in confusion. Her eyes, full of desire, held a trace of bewilderment after being burned by the fire of lust. Her bright red lips parted slightly, panting rapidly, waiting for Jerry's next move.
Jerry didn't answer directly. He stared intensely into Katherine's eyes.
Although his slightly immature body was completely suppressed by Katherine's mature, full carcass, Jerry's eyes were filled with the controlling desire of a superior.
Jerry slowly lifted his head, meeting Katherine's invitingly parted red lips, and kissed her fiercely.
This forceful taking, which also carried a sweet breath, instantly turned Katherine's body soft, leaving only passive compliance and acceptance.
Katherine melted into a pool of spring water under Jerry's kiss, lying bonelessly on top of him. Her long Civet tail subconsciously wrapped around Jerry's waist, rubbing against his trousers, venting the anxiety and desire unique to felines that could not be satisfied.
After the kiss, Jerry pulled back slightly. His lips held a satisfied and triumphant smile, his eyes so deep they seemed ready to swallow Katherine whole.
"Focus on your exams first!"
Jerry's voice carried a hoarseness and oppression unique to a teenage boy. The sound seemed to possess magic, instantly dispelling the last mist of desire in Katherine's mind.
He reached out and patted the full breast covered by the diamond pasty twice, gently, as if patting a naughty pet.
"I'll be waiting for you to come back with a top ranking!"
In another equally luxurious and exquisite haute couture salon, the faint fragrance of roses and irises filled the air.
Cassiopeia sat on a gilded chaise lounge, gazing lovingly at her daughter, Isabella, who stood before the fitting mirror not far away.
In her eyes, Isabella was like a flawless, soul-stealing jewel, radiant and glowing. Every movement exuded innate nobility and elegance.
Isabella's long hair fell like a waterfall, resting softly on her slender shoulders. She wore an emerald-green floor-length gown that had yet to be fully fitted, highlighting her snow-white skin and lithe waist.
However, Isabella's expression at this moment seemed utterly bored.
Her long fingers idly flicked through the dazzling array of magnificent clothes in the wardrobe before her. Each piece was from the hands of a top designer, priceless, yet none seemed to truly spark her interest.
Isabella picked a few carelessly, her eyelids drooping as she stifled a small yawn. Her full, red lips parted gently, revealing a weariness that did not belong to her age.
"My darling, why so listless?"
Cassiopeia chuckled lightly as she stood up, walking slowly to Isabella's side. She reached out and gently hugged her daughter's slender waist, pulling her into her embrace.
Her warm breath brushed past Isabella's sensitive earlobe, carrying an intimacy only a mother and daughter could share. "There will be many talented young men at this Thanksgiving party. If you don't dress up properly, how will you hook their souls?"
As Cassiopeia listed examples, her words were full of expectations and hints for Isabella. She mentioned several young heirs of prominent Pure-blood families. Their lineage, talent, and even handsome looks met all the standards for choosing a husband in wizarding society.
However, Isabella had zero interest in this.
She waved her hand, her exquisite fingers tracing a lazy arc in the air, directly closing the heavy, carved wardrobe doors in front of her.
Bang!
The soft sound startled the seamstress organizing fabrics nearby. She cast a worried look, but Isabella didn't care.
She was tired of cookie-cutter gowns and boring socializing. What she yearned for was excitement and rebellion.
With her thought, the wardrobe's magic was reactivated.
When it opened again, hanging inside were no longer dignified gowns, but various daring styles, light materials, and even revealing lingerie.
Lace cutouts, wrapped silk, translucent gauze... every piece was filled with extreme temptation.
In that instant, Isabella's eyes lit up.
The lazy expression was swept away, replaced by a sharp excitement full of desire for exploration.
"Tch, just a bunch of Pure-blood retards. What's there to look forward to?"
Isabella pouted, a flicker of youthful rebellion and disdain in her expression, yet her fingers involuntarily, and with a hint of playfulness, danced among the tempting lingerie.
"Not really interested," she said, even as she plucked piece after piece from the rack, tossing them casually into the empty wicker basket beside her.
There was a set of transparent black lace, the cutouts cleverly avoiding the vital points yet outlining the intimate contours in a tantalizing tease. There was a silver metal thong held together by mere threads, looking like sacrificial attire from some ancient ritual. And a bra made of tassels and pearls that whispered with every movement, promising a unique sensory experience.
Isabella even picked out a pure white silk corset with matching shorts. The corset was designed to push the breasts up to the collarbone, revealing deep, half-sphere cleavage, while the shorts perfectly traced the line of her buttocks.
Cassiopeia's eyes narrowed slightly, harboring a depth that was hard to fathom.
Slowly, she pressed her daughter down onto the soft chaise lounge. The action carried a hint of playfulness but was filled with the strength of an adult woman.
Caught off guard, Isabella fell back into the cushions, her world spinning. A flicker of rebellious challenge lit her eyes, mixed with a daughter's petulance at being tackled by her mother.
"Mother!"
"My little rascal," Cassiopeia murmured, her warm, humid breath fanning over Isabella's face. "Usually, you turn your nose up at such things. What made you... change your nature today?"
Cassiopeia's long, sharp nails gently scraped up and down Isabella's bare calf. The itch carried a secret thrill, causing Isabella's leg muscles to tense reflexively.
"Did you... take a fancy to someone? Hmm?" Cassiopeia's eyes tilted up slightly, carrying a queenly majesty and a mother's teasing amusement. "Otherwise, why choose such extremely revealing underwear? Who are you planning to wear them for?"
Cassiopeia's voice dropped to a low rasp, layered with hidden meanings. Her slender fingertip, glowing with faint magic, traced circles on Isabella's flat stomach before finally resting on the edge of her panties, right above the fuzzy triangular zone.
"Mmh... ah..."
A low moan, intense and immediate, escaped Isabella's lips as her delicate body shuddered. That mere feather-light touch brought forth a fountain-like reaction.
Cassiopeia's fingertip had barely brushed the edge of the thin moonlight-silk thong when she felt the damp warmth beneath. The moisture soaked through the fabric, thin as a cicada's wing, carrying the rich fragrance unique to a young girl.
Cassiopeia's gaze sharpened instantly. She knew exactly what this meant.
"Don't... don't touch..."
Isabella arched her back, her long, slender legs instinctively trying to close, to clamp shut, but her mother's body pinned her down firmly, leaving her legs to kick futilely in the air. The tearful plea was a result of the unbearable pleasure brought by Cassiopeia's touch, not true resistance.
Cassiopeia's eyes, filled with a desire for control, now held a wicked smile. She leaned down, her hot breath dusting Isabella's ear, her tone ambiguous and teasing. "Oh? Now you know how to be shy? Then tell me, who is it?"
Under Cassiopeia's relentless questioning, Isabella finally crumbled under her mother's amused gaze. Her face burned red, her voice barely a whisper. "...It's Jerry."
The name hung in the silence for a moment.
Cassiopeia froze, then a meaningful light flashed in her deep eyes. She didn't show displeasure as she might have in the past; she didn't even raise an eyebrow. Years ago, she might have stopped this immediately—the Rosier name had been mud after their fall.
But now... Jerry's talent, methods, ambition, and rapidly accumulating power made it clear to Cassiopeia that this boy would likely become the most dazzling new noble in the wizarding world for years to come. He held more potential than many heirs of old Pure-blood families who had escaped the purge.
Instead of anger, a small smile touched Cassiopeia's lips. She pinched Isabella's burning cheek. "So, it's that little guy... You have good taste."
Isabella, humiliated by her mother's reaction, sat up abruptly. Looking down, she saw a large wet patch on the expensive cashmere sofa beneath her. The dark stain glistened ambiguously under the lights, and the faint scent of her arousal filled the air. She bit her lip, wishing the floor would swallow her whole.
But in the next second, Isabella pounced. Like a bristling kitten, she dove into her mother's arms, wrapping her hands around Cassiopeia's waist and pinning her down.
"You brat, you—!"
Before Cassiopeia could finish, she was caught off guard by her daughter's sudden offensive. Isabella's hand, fueled by revenge, slid directly under her mother's skirt. Her fingers found the familiar soft spot with precision and pressed hard against the thin silk panties.
"Ngh!"
Cassiopeia's body jerked, a short, suppressed moan escaping her throat. She instinctively clamped her legs together, but this only trapped Isabella's fingers more tightly. A gush of warm liquid soaked the expensive silk instantly, trickling down her inner thigh with a faint sizzling wet sound.
"You little wretch... daring to make a move on your mother?" Cassiopeia panted, a husky laugh in her voice. She didn't push Isabella away; instead, she opened her legs slightly, allowing the mischievous fingers easier access.
Isabella looked up, her face red as a ripe apple, but her eyes shone with triumphant stubbornness and provocation.
"Who told you to bully me just now..." Isabella bit her lip, her voice soft and娇 (coquettish), yet carrying a ruthless edge. With a gentle hook of her finger, a wet squelch echoed.
Cassiopeia arched her back, her full hips instinctively rising to meet the touch, her breasts heaving violently within her tight dress. She grabbed Isabella's wrist—not to stop her, but to guide her deeper.
"Mother... you're so wet here..." Isabella blew softly into her mother's ear.
"I... how could I lose to a little girl like you..." Cassiopeia whispered defiantly, though her confidence crumbled with every deep thrust of Isabella's fingers. She lifted her hips high, actively meeting the invasion, clamping down on the two intruding fingers as if to swallow them whole.
Isabella smirked in triumph. She leaned down and bit one of her mother's nipples through the dress, grinding it gently with her teeth.
"Ah!"
Cassiopeia arched violently, letting out a high-pitched cry. Fluid splattered onto Isabella's hand and thoroughly soaked the sofa. Cassiopeia collapsed, panting heavily, her eyes hazy as she looked at her daughter. Her voice was hoarse but held a grudging smile. "Damn girl... this time... I admit defeat..."
The large wet stain on the sofa hadn't dried, and the heavy scent of their arousal lingered in the air. Isabella withdrew her fingers, trailing glistening threads of fluid. Blushing, she wiped her hand casually on her mother's skirt before curling into Cassiopeia's arms like a satiated cat.
Cassiopeia chuckled and swatted her daughter's bottom lightly. It wasn't hard, but Isabella flinched with a hiss.
"Alright, you little villain, enough acting spoiled." Cassiopeia's voice returned to its usual composure and authority. She sat up, smoothing her skirt, and covered the stain on the sofa with a silk scarf. "Get up. Let me help you finish choosing your gowns. A banquet this important can't be handled with just one outfit."
She took Isabella's hand and led her to the massive magical wardrobe. The doors opened automatically, revealing rows of magnificent gowns glowing under magic lights. With a tap of her finger, several floated out, hovering in the air.
"Gentlemen have it easy; one or two suits are enough," Cassiopeia said, selecting an emerald velvet evening gown embroidered with silver ivy. "But we ladies are different. One for the opening dance, one for dinner, another for the post-midnight free dance. And spares for important conversations or photos. Jewelry, hair accessories, gloves, shawls—everything must match perfectly to dominate the room at every stage."
She held the emerald gown against Isabella, nodding in satisfaction, then summoned a deep burgundy satin dress with bold cutouts at the chest and waist, and a slit reaching the thigh.
"This one is for the opening dance. It will stun everyone when you spin." Cassiopeia stroked the fabric, her tone calm but certain. "Burgundy suits your skin, and emerald will outshine the jewels of those old matrons. After midnight, switch to this."
She pulled out a pure white chiffon gown, almost sheer at the shoulders and back, held together by delicate diamond chains. A thin silver chain encircled the waist, its pendant dangling below the hip line, swaying with every step.
"Save this for last. Pure white is the most memorable, especially under the brightest lights of midnight."
Isabella looked at the floating gowns, genuine interest finally sparking in her eyes. She touched the slit of the burgundy dress, imagining Jerry's gaze on her as she walked through the crowd, and couldn't help but smile.
Cassiopeia watched her daughter and sighed softly, pulling her close. "I don't have much objection to you choosing Jerry as a husband, and neither will your father. The boy is undeniably a potential powerhouse."
She paused, stroking Isabella's hair, her tone carrying a meaningful warning. "But you must be clear—many have their eyes on your bloodline. As the eldest and our only daughter, you perfectly inherited the excellent bloodlines of both your father and me. Because of this, you are a prime target for certain Pure-blood families. The Thanksgiving party is just the beginning. More people will reach out to you, openly or in secret."
Cassiopeia tilted her head, her gaze piercing through the mirror as if seeing the schemes and struggles hidden behind the smiles and finery of the coming feast.
"You may become a prize to be fought over. It will be up to you to choose." She looked down at Isabella, her voice gentle but unyielding. "Will you protect that brat Jerry and help him stand firm? Or... on a larger chessboard, will you choose an ally who can take our family further?"
Cassiopeia didn't force the issue. She smiled and tapped her daughter's nose. "I'll only remind you of one thing: whoever you choose, make them pay a sufficient price. My daughter is not someone to be taken easily."
Isabella looked up at her mother, a flicker of stubbornness and hidden girlish affection in her eyes. She didn't answer immediately, just hugged Cassiopeia's waist and buried her face in her neck. "I know... I'll choose for myself."
Cassiopeia chuckled, patting her daughter's back, her gaze returning to the row of gorgeous gowns. "Then let's pick the clothes first. On the night of the party, you must be so beautiful that no one can look away. Only then will you be qualified... to choose the future you want."
Professor McGonagall had abandoned her signature emerald robes today for a deep purple fitted shirt, the top two buttons undone to reveal dazzlingly white skin beneath her collarbones.
Amelia wore a black Execution Department uniform jacket, belted tightly to accentuate her bust and hips. Floating before them were a dozen gowns, ranging from conservative blue to daring, low-cut numbers.
"Minerva, look at this one," Amelia said, hooking a finger around a burgundy satin evening gown. The V-neck plunged almost to the navel, the back a web of crossing straps. "Wear this, and you'll make those old fossils drop their dentures."
McGonagall raised an eyebrow, holding the dress against herself. The mirror reflected her perky breasts wrapped tightly in fabric, cleavage deep enough to hold a wand. She huffed. "Forget it! Many of my students might be there. Better not to be too flashy. People will talk."
"Dare they?" Amelia laughed boldly, hugging McGonagall from behind. She rested her chin on McGonagall's shoulder, her hands sliding up to cup the heavy, snowy peaks through the shirt, fingers deliberately rubbing the nipples.
McGonagall stiffened but didn't push her away. Instead, she leaned back, pressing her bottom against Amelia's stomach.
Amelia's fingers grew bolder, unbuttoning the third button and slipping her hand inside. Her palm pressed against the warm breast, fingers pinching the hardening nipple with a twist.
"Hiss—Amelia!" McGonagall gasped, her warning lacking any real heat. She grabbed Amelia's wrist, not to stop her, but to guide her into rubbing harder. "This is a public place."
"Public places are exciting," Amelia whispered against her ear, licking McGonagall's earlobe. Her other hand slid under McGonagall's skirt, up her inner thigh, quickly finding the soaked fabric at the edge of her panties.
McGonagall instinctively clamped her legs, trapping Amelia's hand deeper. Amelia hooked a finger, pulling the panty edge aside.
Squelch!
The wet sound was distinct in the quiet fitting room. McGonagall bit her lip, leaning forward against the mirror to keep from collapsing.
"Look at you! Seems that brat hasn't spared the rod on you," Amelia rasped, her fingers speeding up, thumb grinding the swollen clitoris. "So serious in class, yet in private, you drip at a touch."
McGonagall, breathless from the assault, pushed her hips back to meet the thrusts, each impact making a soft slap.
"Don't rush, I haven't shown you the good stuff yet." Struggling, she pulled a small crystal petri dish from her dragon-hide bag. Inside, a thick, milky white liquid shimmered under the magic light.
"This is 'White Caviar' I just acquired," McGonagall said with a meaningful smile, holding it up to Amelia. "Fresh, still warm."
Amelia's eyes lit up. She took the dish, opened it, and dipped a finger in to taste. "Thick... very thick. The taste is pure."
She tilted her head back and poured the rest into her mouth, her throat working as she gulped it down. A trail of white spilled from her lips, sliding down her chin to her neck.
"Delicious... get more next time."
McGonagall chuckled, wiping the residue from Amelia's lip and letting her lick it clean. The wet tongue wrapping around her finger sent a jolt of electricity through her.
Sensing Amelia wasn't fully calmed, she picked her up and placed her on the velvet sofa, sitting beside her to adjust her disheveled collar.
After the play, calm returned to the fitting room, though the scent of desire lingered. McGonagall coughed lightly, bringing the topic back on track, her eyes probing. "Amelia, seriously. Why haven't you given Jerry the Crystal Golem license yet? Is there... a problem?" Her tone held concern.
Amelia leaned back lazily, legs crossed, her skirt in disarray revealing white thighs. She smoothed her messy brown hair, a meaningful smile on her lips.
"No problem. But—" she drawled, eyes playful like a cat with a mouse, "I am holding it back. It won't be that easy for the kid to get it immediately."
McGonagall tensed, wary. She knew her friend too well; Amelia was never simple. She knew how insatiable Amelia could be, bordering on pathological. When someone as powerful as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had designs, it wasn't something ordinary people could withstand.
"What are you planning?" McGonagall frowned, tone sharp. She sensed Amelia's intentions weren't entirely benign.
Amelia didn't answer immediately. She stroked her flat stomach with long, dark-nailed fingers, her gaze softening with a hidden sorrow and longing. She looked past the salon, into the distance.
"Minerva," she whispered, voice stripped of its usual strength, revealing a fragile femininity. "It's the same topic. I just... want a child."
Silence fell again. The air seemed to freeze.
McGonagall's expression grew complex. She knew Amelia's desperation for an heir—as the last of her line, the burden of continuing the Bones bloodline rested on her. She knew Amelia had tried failed potions, rituals, years of hope turning to disappointment. These were thorns in her heart.
But alongside sympathy, McGonagall's eyes held a lingering vigilance. Because Amelia wanting a child was true. But whose child? That was the key.
"That's right! It's Jerry!"