Dark Pre-Match Mind Games pt 1

You were woken by the sound of an abrupt knock before Professor Snape entered the room and barked, “UP!”

With a jolt, you grabbed your wand off your nightstand and brushed open the curtain around your four poster bed. Across from you, Draco peered out from his. “Is something wrong, professor?”

“I was informed late last night that Lucius Malfoy would be attending today’s match.” He accepted your invitation? Your roommate seemed equally surprised by his father’s unexpected visit. “Since I will be spending the morning awaiting the arrival of the elder Malfoy, I thought the two of you should share in that joy.”

He said ‘joy’, but his grumpy demeanor and snark told you he meant the opposite, it seemed your Head of House was now tasked with playing host to the prolific member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors.

“Draco, you will be permitted to join us in the faculty tower for the match.” The younger Malfoy’s eyes widened at the prospect of watching the match with his father and godfather. And Headmaster Dumbledore too, if you recalled his claim from breakfast yesterday that he’d be personally attending the match. The Slytherin Head of House rounded on you. “And you, Lucius Malfoy told me that he would be accepting your invitation after I informed him of your recent innovation in Potions.”

That told you two things. One: Professor Snape initiated the Floo Call to inform the Slytherin Alumni of your academic accomplishment, most likely at your benefactor’s request. Two: Despite appearances to the contrary, Lucius Malfoy wasn’t coming to Hogwarts to watch you play Quidditch. You created a new cosmetic potion… Lucius Malfoy owned an apothecary that SOLD remedies and cosmetic potions. Gaunt’s Magic Mole Remover was the real reason for your introduction to your highly opportunistic and business-minded benefactor.

“Make yourselves presentable,” the Potions professor ordered, then turned and left your dorm room with a swish of his black robes.

“Tempus!” 7:02. To Professor Snape’s credit, he waited until exactly seven to burst into your room and wake you. And while you still had nearly four hours until the start of the match… there was no possible way you could go back to sleep after learning of Lucius Malfoy’s impending visit. “Grand. Now I’m antsy.” You stepped out of bed and canceled the Alarm Charm you set for half-seven. “I think I’ll go for a walk on the grounds to clear my head.”

“Wait!” Draco called out as he climbed out of his bed, “I’ll come with you.”

It seemed you weren’t the only one worked up about Lucius Malfoy’s visit. The benefit of taking an early morning walk with Draco Malfoy was that he could ‘prep’ you for your official introduction to his father. The problem was, Draco’s normal morning routine usually took him twenty minutes. But if he was preparing to meet his father, then you could tack on an extra ten minutes so he could ensure his appearance was immaculate.

“Alright,” you agreed. “Meet me in the common room at half-seven and we’ll go from there.”

You took a shower last night after practice and were due to take another after the match. But you didn’t know if you would be meeting Lucius Malfoy before or after the match. If it was after the match, then you had an excuse for looking like a mess. In fact, if you didn’t look like a mess following a grueling Quidditch match, then it would come across like you weren’t trying hard enough. But if you were going to meet him before the match, which seemed likely given Professor Snape’s instructions to ‘make yourselves presentable’, then you didn’t want to smell like you just rolled out of bed. You resolved to take a short one, it would give you a fresh, clean scent and setting your hair was always easier when it was wet and washed.

Ten minutes later, you were back in your room smelling of Irish Spring soap as you changed into your Irish National Team Quidditch robes. Draco was still in the bathroom taking his much more thorough shower.

Lucius Malfoy was interested in your prowess in Potions, but you gave your only sample of the newly invented potion - Gaunt’s Magical Mole Remover - to Evanora Rowle to cure the mole that inspired it. If you wanted to show off your innovations in Potions, then you’d have to use something else.

You grabbed your remaining vials of Topical Bruise Remover. Carrying them around would appear practical given you were playing in a Quidditch match today. Two vials of the regular recipe and one and a half vials of your custom blend of fast-acting Lightning Bruise Remover. You used some of the latter yesterday to clear the bruise Lysandra Yaxley left on your neck, but given the small size of the hickey, you still had over half a vial left. The Lightning Bruise Remover was stuffed in your left boot and the regular Topical Bruise Remover went in your right boot. Having both for a comparison would show that you had been innovating with Potions all year.

Since you didn’t know if you would be coming back to your dorm room, you also grabbed your House Point Ledger and your Omnioculars. The ledger was tucked inside your jumper and the ‘Omnis’ were hung around your neck. You intended to pass them off to someone so they could keep a record of your saves. Those counted as points you were preventing Ravenclaw from scoring and you definitely wanted to keep a personal record of them.

At seven twenty, you left your room and sat in the common room near a window looking out into the lake to await your roommate.

You were only sitting out there for a couple minutes before Millicent poked her head out from the girls’ hallway. “Oh, good. You’re up. The girls and I have a surprise for you. Daphne’s gonna be disappointed that we were too late to catch you in your snake pajamas. I’m just relieved that we don’t have to hunt you down again. Wait there. I’ll be back with the others.”

Millicent disappeared back down the girls’ hallway and you heard her knocking on doors and calling through them, “He’s in the common room. Come on.”

You heard two doors open and shut, then quiet whispering before all four of the first year Slytherin girls emerged from their hallway. A smile stretched across your face when you saw the ‘surprise’... they were all wearing matching green and silver jumpers… the same kind worn by the Slytherin Quidditch team.

“Morning,” you greeted them as they crossed the common room. “Nice to see the Slytherin spirit.”

“It’s more than Slytherin spirit,” Pansy insisted, then called out at the halfway point. “And TURN!”

The emerald-clad quartet all turned around to reveal shining silver letters going across their backs. On the far left, Tracey’s short blonde hair hung loose and covered the top half of the name ‘GAUNT’. Beside her, three inches up, Daphne’s long dark hair was braided and tied at the bottom with a green ribbon and had been thrown over the front of her shoulder to fully reveal the name ‘GAUNT’ going across her back. On her other side, four inches up, Millicent brushed her thick brown hair to the side to reveal the name ‘GAUNT’ going across her back. Finally, five inches down, on the far right, Pansy’s short black bob did nothing to hide the name ‘GAUNT’ going across her back.

“You’re representing our house and our year so we’re all rooting for you today,” Parkinson announced as she and her ‘gang’ of Slytherin girls turned back around.

“We also have a special present for our favorite pervert,” Daphne added as she revealed the white box she was holding in front of her.

“I’m not a–” you started to protest, but Tracey cut you off.

“Name one other first year who has a collection of girls’ knickers.”

You felt like naming the two girls who started your collection… but decided against it as you glanced around and were pleased to see that the common room was empty. The highly anticipated Quidditch match was the biggest event of the day and it didn’t start until eleven, so everyone was enjoying a weekend lie-in.

They reached you and Daphne presented you with her ‘mystery box’. It was a flat square, a foot long on each side and four inches high. A simple green ribbon was wrapped around it and tied with a bow. “What is it?”

“Incentive,” she replied with an eager glint in her icy blue eyes.

You slid the ribbon off - rather than untie it - and lifted the lid. It was empty. You were expecting something in the mystery box, so that was definitely unexpected. “Erm… it’s empty.”

“Now it is,” Daphne agreed as she hiked up the side of her skirt, grabbed a green waistband, and tugged her knickers down. She shimmed and stepped out of them, then plucked them off the floor, and placed them in your empty box. They were made of fine quality silk and were the same shade of shamrock green as your Irish Quidditch robes. “That’s one.”

“Here’s two…” You looked to the side to see Tracey step out of her knickers, having tugged hers down while you were occupied watching Daphne. She placed her pale green and shamrock-printed cotton knickers on top of Daphne’s. “Glad there’s only one more Slytherin match after this.”

“Never thought I’d go through so many knickers,” Millicent confessed as she stepped out of a pair of forest green jockey shorts, folded them in half, and added them to the pile in your box. “That’s three.”

Finally, Pansy added her own silky dark green knickers to the offering. “They’re PINE green.” Pansy Parkinson’s pine-green panties. You’d give her that one since there weren’t many shades of green that started with the letter P.

Daphne abruptly YANKED the box out of your hands, her partner in crime grabbed the lid and placed it on top, then snagged the ribbon and slid it back on.

“Now you know what’s in it,” Greengrass grinned with dancing, impish, icy blue eyes, “Incentive. If Slytherin wins the match today… you get the box back. However, for every goal you let in… we’ll remove someone’s knickers at random. If Ravenclaw scores four times… and Slytherin still wins… all you’ll get is an empty box again. If you don’t let anything in, then you’ll get the full box.”

You smiled in amusement, “Alright, I’ll admit that’s very clever. Thank you.” Daphne beamed and looked exceptionally pleased with herself.

Tracey chimed in, “So when we’re sitting at the front of the Slytherin tower wearing our Gaunt jumpers, skirts, Warming Charms, and shadow shrouds… remember that we all put our knickers on the line because we want to see you and Slytherin win.”

Millicent added, “I’m gonna need a refresher on that Warming Charm so I don’t freeze my bits off.”

“And remember!” Pansy insisted on getting the last word in, “The incentive box might have been Daphne’s idea, but the Gaunt jumpers were mine! So don’t be stingy with the celebratory snogging!”

You glanced toward the boys’ hallway, still no sign of Draco. You stepped closer and lowered your voice to a whisper, “I don’t know if that’s the best idea. My alarm was set for half-seven. The reason I’m already up is because Professor Snape woke us at seven to inform us that Lucius Malfoy would be attending today’s match.” Pansy’s eyes went wide in shock, “If you still want to get in with their family… then rumors of you and I snogging should never reach Lucius Malfoy’s ears. The best way to avoid that is to not do it while he’s here.”

Parkinson’s face went pale, “I… I can’t see Lucius Malfoy dressed like this!” She was so flustered that she started to pull off her ‘Gaunt’ jumper right there. You were quick to note that pulling up the jumper caused the shirt she was wearing under it to ride up, exposing her taut belly and ‘innie’ navel. As much as you wanted to see more of the girl, you felt obligated to intervene and stave off the panic attack you caused.

“Parkinson!” you lunged forward and grabbed her shoulders, staring her directly in the eyes. “Calm down. It’s a Quidditch match. You’re wearing appropriate Quidditch apparel. I appreciate your support today, but all you really need to do is change the name on the back. Doing ‘MALFOY’ would seem like pandering, especially if Draco isn’t playing, so your best option is to swap ‘GAUNT’ for a more generic ‘SLYTHERIN’.”

“I… I… right… I can do that…” Pansy realised as she slowly calmed down.

You smiled, “And since your knickers are already in the incentive box… we can forgo your usual favor fee and say this one was me trying to be nice and keep my housemate from being embarrassed.”

She surprised you when she threw her arms around you for a tight hug, and whispered in your ear, “Thank you!” Before hurriedly disengaging and rushing back to her room.

“Millie, go help her,” you advised, “Once she’s sorted, she can help you with that Warming Charm.”

“Yeah… alright,” Millicent agreed as she trudged after her roommate.

You turned into a surprise peck on the cheek from Daphne, “Felt like it,” she stated with a smile, “By the way…” She reached up and toyed with a loose lock of dark hair and brushed it behind her ear. “…Pansy may no longer be interested… but I’m still keen on her idea of celebratory snogging.”

You smiled and eyed the gift in her hands, “Come for the incentive box. Stay for the snogging. Sounds like a plan.”

She smiled back.

“Eh-hem,” Tracey cleared her throat, “Sorry to break things up between Daphne and Freddie. But does this mean Draco’s father accepted your invitation?”

The new nickname from the Scooby-Doo fan wasn’t lost on you. The Mystery Inc gang were an ensemble cast of colorful characters. But most of the show’s humor came from Shaggy and Scooby’s interactions with the monster-of-the-day. And while you were happy to laugh at Shaggy’s antics, being compared to him didn’t cast you in a favorable light. If you were going to be dubbed with a Scooby-Doo nickname, it was better to be the plucky leader who drove the van, came up with the plan to trap the villain (that often didn’t work), and usually did the unmasking once the ‘monster’ was caught. As opposed to the lanky, cowardly hippie who snacked on dog treats. Also, you still weren’t a fan of large dogs after your encounter with Fluffy.

The most important aspect of the comparison to Fred was when he issued his command to “Split up, gang!” Freddie usually paired off with Daphne, so you took the new nickname as ‘Velma’s’ coded blessing to pursue her best friend. Not that Daphne would hear anything otherwise. The debut of Dancing Daphne yesterday on top of all the time she spent stalking you showed that the girl very clearly fancied you. Might as well see what came of it. You needed a snogging partner if you were going to make progress in the Hogwarts Broom Closet Club, and with Daphne (and Velma, because you learned your lesson back in November about not including Tracey) helping you look for clues, you should make some fair progress.

“Yes,” you confirmed, “Professor Snape informed me that Mr. Malfoy’s more interested in my recent innovation in Potionmaking than seeing me play Keeper. I’m out here waiting for Draco so we can go for an early morning walk. We both have the same motive. I want to pick his brain for the proper protocol when it comes to meeting his father so I don’t embarrass myself, and he likely wants to prepare me so I won’t embarrass him.”

“In that case, you’d be best off heading for the front of the school,” Daphne suggested, “Most of the early risers will be heading back to the Great Hall for breakfast. If you want to have a private discussion and face less foot traffic, head to the front.”

You nodded, “Good idea. I’ll likely do that.” You grabbed your Omnis, removed the strap from your neck, and offered them to her. “Here. I know you have your stalking binoculars and Velma has her charmed glasses, but I won’t be needing these during the match. Feel free to use them and save anything interesting.” You thought briefly about giving her your ledger, but had an idea for someone else to give it to. Someone who already had his own set of Omnioculars.

A door closed, and there he was, “I’m ready.”

Truthfully, Draco didn’t look too far off from how he normally did. But you knew he spent extra time ensuring that his hair was and would remain immaculate. He also opted to wear his Irish Quidditch robes. But unlike yours, which you left out from last night’s practice, his light green uniform was freshly laundered by one of the Hogwarts House Elves since last night was most likely your last practice until spring… unless the unthinkable happened and you lost the match against Ravenclaw, causing Flint to call an emergency practice to yell at everyone again like he did following the loss to Gryffindor back in November.

“I’ll do everything in my power to prevent that from happening,” you vowed, it wasn’t just a box of knickers riding on this. Your reputation, your standing with your house, and your perception by your benefactor were all on the line.

“Do you have your Omnis?” you asked your roommate.

He stopped, “Why would I need those for a walk on the grounds?”

“It makes sense to head to breakfast after,” you reasoned, “and I’m not sure if we’ll have a chance to come back to the common room before the match. I have a hunch that Professor Snape woke us up as early and told us to make ourselves presentable because your father intends to arrive early. That way we can discuss business while I’m still fresh and not exhausted from a Quidditch match that could go on for hours.”

“That’s… a good point,” he realised. “Hold on.” He vanished back into your room.

“He looks more like Freddie than I do,” you pointed out to Tracey.

“None of us look like our character,” the short girl with charmed glasses was quick to respond, “No one has the right hair colour. Freddie’s usually cheery and well-intentioned. He didn’t even acknowledge Daphne and me. What’s more important than a superficial resemblance is that you act more like Fred Jones than him.”

“Jones,” Draco injected himself into the conversation that he didn’t fully realise was about him as he returned with his ‘better’ Omnioculars. “Isn’t that the tall black girl in Hufflepuff?”

“See?” Tracey said simply.

“Different Jones,” you stated, but could clearly picture the tall, kinky-haired girl who sat on the other side of the room during Charms class. “No relation to the magical Jones family.”

“You know it’s a common surname if it’s shared by muggles,” Malfoy remarked and failed to notice Davis’ bristling. But all it took was a light hand on her shoulder from Greengrass and the veiled hostility drained out of the affronted half-blood’s face. Daphne was the key to Tracey’s survival in the Hogwarts house where those with the purest blood carried the most clout.

You decided to do your part and remove Draco from the room. “Time to go.” You brushed your fingertips against the back of Daphne’s low hand that was holding the incentive box as you stepped past her. “See you both at breakfast.” Then you left the common room with your roommate.

“Gaunt jumpers?” he asked once the door closed behind you. After Tracey pointed it out, you noted that the pureblood Malfoy hadn’t acknowledged either of the witches wearing the jumpers in question. Did he think they were lesser? If that was how the son acted, it said something about the father who raised him.

“All the girls are wearing a green Slytherin jumper,” you informed him. Instead of heading for the usual staircase up from the dungeons, you followed Daphne’s advice and turned the other way, continuing through the dungeons towards the front of the school. “It was Parkinson’s idea. Although, hers has a more generic ‘Slytherin’ on the back.” He didn’t need to know about Daphne’s gift. “Still, I appreciate the support ahead of such a big match.” You glanced at him, knowing how much his father meant to him and how much he wanted to impress the man, “When your father comes, I assume you want to tell him about how you beat Higgs to the Snitch last night on my Nimbus Two Thousand. Do you want me to save that as a story for you to tell him while you’re watching the match together? Would you rather I tell him so it doesn’t sound like boasting? Or - a potential third option - I could bring it up, then hack off, and leave you to recount it in detail.”

“The third one, I suppose.” Draco decided. Offering to set up the story of the Reserve Seeker’s victory over the Starting Seeker was an easy way to show that while Lucius Malfoy was coming to meet you, you weren’t going to leave Draco Malfoy as an afterthought and were happy to get on the same page and make him look good in front of the father he idolised.

“I have a favor to ask you,” you informed him as you climbed the steps out the dungeons that led to the middle of the castle. Upon reaching the top, you pulled out your ledger. “Would you keep a tally of my saves today? I thought about giving it to Millicent or Daphne… but if I did that, then I’d have four nosy witches combing through my ledger instead of taking the tally.” Whereas, if Draco decided to comb through your ledger, he’d be doing it beside his father in the faculty tower and Lucius Malfoy would see your earnings. “I know you’d normally scout Parkin… but she’s a seventh year and we won’t be playing her next year. Jessica Mateo’s a sixth year, Roger Davies is a third year, and Jeremy Stretton a second year. I reckon that’ll likely be the same Chaser line we face next year. Statistics like how many shots each of them took at the hoops and which hoop they favoured could be extremely useful.”

“There are probably Ravenclaws who make note of that during every match,” Draco pointed out.

“Yes,” you agreed, “But that’s precisely why I’m asking a Slytherin to do it. And why I’m asking you and not Greengrass or Bulstrode. You have a better mind for Quidditch strategy. I have a limited perspective while I’m in the thick of things, but you’ll have a good view of the entire pitch from the faculty tower at mid-pitch. If you notice a trend in one of the Chasers that’s worth noting, jot it down on the next page.”

“Alright. I can do it.” You saw his gray eyes shift when he realised the hidden value of undertaking this task. Displaying your personal ledger in front of his father while providing a valuable service would show that he gained your confidence.

After passing off your ledger, you continued through the castle, past the stairs and headed towards the front. You briefly thought about veering off and going to visit Iago and Ulysses in the Owlery instead, but decided to hold your course for the front entrance and avoid looking at the pitch until it was time for the match.

You exited the castle and stepped out into the front courtyard. You posed this as a walk on the grounds, headed over to the wall overlooking the lake to pick Draco’s brain. “So,” you prompted your companion, “If I’m to meet your father, is there a set way I should address him? I wouldn’t want to come across as uncultured. He’s on the Hogwarts Board of Governors. Should I call him ‘governor’?”

“Only as a title,” the Malfoy heir informed you, “Governor Malfoy. Never just ‘governor’. It sounds too much like ‘Guv’nor’ and would make you seem low class. You can call him Mr. Malfoy, or ‘sir’. Don’t call him ‘Lucius’. It’s too familiar. Only use it to address him by his full name. You’re better than most at addressing the teachers by their professor titles. Speak to him like you would another person in a position of authority and you should pass muster.”

You nodded and accepted the new information, but now that you had gotten the ball rolling, your roommate was quick to offer more advice.

“Don’t try to shake his hand,” he warned you. “If he deems you worthy, he’ll offer his. If you offer yours before then, he won’t accept it, and you’ll end up looking like a fool.”

You blinked as this lesson in Malfoy family etiquette added a new layer of context to Harry Potter’s public rejection of the Malfoy heir’s offered hand of friendship. That was why Harry Potter went from prospective friend to hated rival so quickly. Draco deemed Harry Potter ‘worthy’, but Potter spurned him, and Malfoy was made to look like a fool… and not in the privacy of a train compartment with only a handful of witnesses, but in public before the sorting with all the other first years looking on.

Even now, Draco’s ears took on a pink tint as he too thought back to the incident of the first of September.

Because you were standing with your back to the lake, facing the castle, you saw the door open before Malfoy did and quickly recognised the sixth year Ravenclaw as she stepped out into the front courtyard.

“Look, Draco, it’s an early bird,” you announced. He pivoted and spun to stand beside you and face Jessica Mateo. Ravenclaw’s veteran Chaser was wearing a snug, long-sleeved athletic top that was split vertically down the middle with one blue side, one black, and inverted sleeves. Her bottoms looked like black joggers with blue stripes going down each leg. “Morning, Mateo!”

She stood at five-foot-nine, a full six inches taller than you. The athletic gear clung to her toned figure with a zipper running down the middle of her top between the blue and black sections that reached her waist. The snug material meant, unlike with uniforms, you could see the exact shape and size of her breasts. They sat high and proud on her chest. Half the size of Gemma’s large Quaffles, but about the same as a similarly-sized Lysandra. The main difference was the width at the Ravenclaw Chaser’s chest, which came from muscle tone that Sandra didn’t have.

The bottom of her one-piece athletic jumpsuit clung to her legs much like the top did with her chest and resembled black joggers with blue lines going down the outside of each leg. Unlike Gemma Farley or Evanora Rowle, who flared outward at the waist to rounded, curvy hips, Mateo’s hips were notably leaner. Her lower curves were the prominent, bulging muscles in her thighs, built-up from running regularly. Further down, were similarly well-defined calves.

Never had the phrase ‘fit bird’ felt more appropriate.

She was sizing both of you up too… and drew her wand. Draco fumbled for his own wand, but you didn’t bother. Two first years against a sixth year? It would be over before it started. Which was why you placed a hand on his arm to stay his hand and prevent something from starting.

“Didn’t realise we were playing Ireland today,” Mateo remarked.

“We needed something green,” you stated, “It was between Ireland and Wales. Draco’s an Aiden Lynch fan… so we went with Ireland. I’ll likely find my new Slytherin uniform waiting for me in the changing room.”

“Bet that’s the first thing you two pureblood brats ever had to earn,” she goaded you, then smirked in challenge, “And it seems one of you got impatient.”

You didn’t rise to the bait, but Draco nearly did, and you stayed his arm again. “Don’t. If she attacks us first, then she’ll be a sixth year who’s afraid of two first years. She wants you to cast the first spell, then she’ll have grounds to defend herself. She’ll knock your spell back, fling us into the lake, and claim it was self defense.”

Mateo’s smirk grew into a smile. The ‘lake’ bit hadn’t been a part of her plan, but she seemed taken with the idea. “Look who’s full of fun ideas! Come on, boys, not so keen on a morning swim?”

Draco paled as he looked over his shoulder at the cold Scottish lake behind you. He lowered his wand.

The Ravenclaw witch’s smile thinned into a grin as she eyed you with interest. “Ireland, huh? I thought you’d be pulling for England. A little birdie told me you’re a Blythe Parkin fan.” Was that confirmation from someone who knew Skye Parkin that Blythe WAS going to play Seeker for England in the next Quidditch World Cup?

You didn’t know how she knew that or who ‘the little birdie’ was, but your adoration of Blythe Parkin and the Tutshill Tornados was hardly a secret and Ravenclaws were known for their intelligence, so you didn’t let her unexpected knowledge ruffle your non-existent feathers. “Don’t be daft. If I showed up for practice wearing England’s red gear or sky blue like the Tornados… Flint would intentionally mistake me for a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw and do to me what he plans to do to you on the pitch today.”

“Don’t tip her off!” Draco scolded you.

Mateo rolled her eyes, “Oh, yeah, the racist, sexist, blood purist gunning for the black half-blood witch… I’d have to be blind not to see that obvious ploy coming. It’s not like he does that every time we play each other. But what he refuses to learn is that you can’t hit what you can’t catch.” You expressed a similar concern during your lunchtime encounter with Flint yesterday.

“Half-blood,” Draco scoffed, “Her only magical blood comes from her mud–” You elbowed him to cut off the slur, you could tell that this girl would take issue with it, “–ggleborn father.”

“The most important part to me are her Quidditch skills…” Then you lowered your voice to give a warning, “And what this second generation witch can do with that wand if you insult her father. Let’s try and stay dry, shall we? Watch how it’s done. You can ruffle a Ravneclaw’s feathers without resorting to petty insults.”

“Oh, this’ll be rich,” Mateo scoffed.

You grinned at her, “And as for you, Flint’s fortunate he’ll have me waiting on the other side of the pitch this time. I’ll catch everything you throw my way. You may have played Flint before, but you’ve never played me.” You took a step closer. “I think it’s only fair to warn you that I’ll be ‘gunning’ for you too. Not for the same reasons Flint is, but to prove that I deserve to be out there. Jessica Mateo… not only am I going to shut you out today… I’m going to ensure that Ravenclaw leaves with that goose egg I promised you at breakfast yesterday.”

She folded her arms across her chest, her wand held loosely in her grip, “You wish.”

You shook your head and with growing confidence took another step closer, “I don’t waste my time wishing for the future. If I want something to happen… I make it happen. Here. In the present.”

Mateo smirked, “Not the best thing to claim two days after your housemate’s been poisoned. Is that what this is? An ambush? Are Flint and Farley waiting around the bend to jump me? We all know the Gaunt style is taking out the competition ahead of time.”

“Wrong,” you replied as your hackles rose as you took another two steps closer, “Minus two points from Ravenclaw for not paying attention. I had nothing to do with Bletchley being poisoned. And was publicly cleared of doing it.”

“The grimy little first year didn’t want to get his hands dirty,” Mateo came at you again with a fierce glare. Maybe it was the ‘minus two points’ thing? Much like Hermione Granger, Ravenclaws prided themselves on their intelligence and hated to be told they were wrong. And no one liked losing House Points. “So you got someone else to do your dirty work. Someone older. Someone ruthless. Someone perfectly willing to poison a fellow Slytherin so you can get ahead. How am I doing? Getting close?”

Yes, she was. But you didn’t want her to know that, so you threw out a tangent. Three steps closer. “You mean the same kind of ruthless person who would jinx a Nimbus Two Thousand in front of a pitch full of witnesses? Yeah, I got blamed for that one too. Some annoying Gryffindors jumped to the conclusion that Professor Snape was doing it and that I’m his accomplice. They, like you, are wrong. Another two points from Ravenclaw for poor deductive reasoning. Like I said, I had nothing to do with it. That’s not my style.”

“Oh, yeah? If I’m four points in the hole, then why don’t you tell me the right answer?” she challenged. Acknowledging her figurative point less meant it WAS bothering her. “What is your style?”

Another four steps closer and you were standing directly in front of her. “I don’t want to take you out ahead of the match. I want to beat you publicly… on the pitch… with everyone watching. Make a proper spectacle of it. You’re good… one of Hogwarts’ best Chasers… but if I beat you, then I’ll prove to everyone that I’m better. When I’m done with you, no one will be asking ‘Who poisoned Miles Bletchley?’ Instead, they’ll be asking ‘Why wasn’t Marvolo Gaunt the Slytherin Keeper from the start?’ That’s why I’m ‘gunning’ for you, Mateo. Validation. If I shut you out, and do what no Keeper has done before, everyone will recognise that I’m the best Keeper to come along in years.”

“No wonder you’re in Slytherin,” she responded, “Ambitious… or rather arrogant to the point of delusion. But I’m not here to cater to your delusions, so don’t bet on that validation working out for you.”

“Bet?” you repeated the word as an idea struck you, “If you’re so confident… and if being publicly humiliated by first year isn’t enough… then why don’t we make a side bet?” You already had an incentive box full of knickers riding on this shutout. “A wager between us. I win if I do as I claim and shut you out today. You win if you score.”

“Look… kid…” she said with an obvious glance down at you to emphasise your (at least) four-year age difference and your six-inch height difference, “You’re putting me off my morning run. How’s this? We’ll race down to the castle gate and back. The path weaves, but it’s exactly three kilometers. That’s one-point-eight-six miles for you wizards. I’ll give you a five-minute head start. Your friend can even time it. If you beat me back to the castle… I’ll agree to whatever side bet you’d like. If you can’t beat me… or if you can’t finish and give up midway through… shove off and don’t bother me during my morning run again.”

You briefly thought back to the day you outran the entire Slytherin Quidditch team… you were propelled by fear and the effort exhausted you.

“Do you take me for a fool?” you asked and pointedly eyed her prominent thigh muscles. “Because trying to beat you would be a fool’s errand. You have longer legs than I do, more experience running, and you know the course. I’m not going to risk exhausting myself hours before the biggest opportunity of my life. Besides, Draco’s father is coming to watch the match and I need to look presentable to meet him if he shows up early.”

“Then stop wasting my time,” she said, as she moved to step by you, but you shifted and stepped in front of her, barring her path. She gave a growl of irritation.

“Hold on, I have a counteroffer!” you proposed, “Since you’ll be running anyway, we’ll bet on your time. What’s your normal path for your morning run?”

“I was planning on doing my usual 5k,” she said. “Down to the gate… cut across to the edge of the lake… and back along the shore. The double doors of the carriage storehouse - down below where your little friend’s standing - are my finish line. That’s exactly five kilometers - three-point-one miles.”

You looked over at your roommate, “Draco, I haven’t taken the path all the way down and back. How long does it take to walk to the castle gate?”

“About thirty minutes down,” he answered, “Thirty-five minutes up since it’s uphill.”

A good running pace seemed like half that. Fifteen minutes down to the gate, which she said was three kilometers. That was three-fifths of the full run. Another ten minutes to account for the other two-fifths would make it twenty-five.

You grinned, “Twenty minutes.”

She grinned back. Uh oh. Maybe there was more to that five minute head start than you thought? “Alright, twenty minutes. But when I beat that time… I get to give the little pureblood brat - you, not the other one - a spanking.”

Your eyes went wide, “You want to spank me?”

“Surprised? Your friend Farley loves giving spankings. I’d say an arrogant little tosser like you has it coming.”

You thought it over. Mateo seemed confident about beating your proposed time of twenty minutes. You’d been flying-tackled by Flint. A slap on the bum wouldn’t be too painful by comparison. If she really let you have it, you had vials of Topical Bruise Remover in your boots, so you wouldn’t have to worry about any lingering discomfort while you were sitting on your broom.

Taking a spanking from your opponent would be more embarrassing than painful, especially with Draco watching and judging. But this bet wasn’t as important as the Quidditch match later. If spanking you was an incentive to make her run fast enough so she’d be the one overexerting and exhausting herself ahead of an extremely important Quidditch match… then it would be in your best interest to make her run as fast as possible.

“I’m willing to put my faux-Irish arse on the line,” you replied, “But I have terms. Draco will be watching with his Omnis. You are to stay on the path the entire time, otherwise you forfeit.”

“That defeats the purpose of doing a timed 5k,” she said, “The only reason I’ll detour is if I get jumped, then the bet is canceled.”

You nodded, “If you succeed… the spanking takes place immediately after.” When she was tired. “Since you’re - as you said - four points in the hole… you get four slaps if you return before twenty minutes.” She frowned at the small number, “And if that’s not enough, then for added incentive, you’ll get an additional slap for every additional minute. You go up to five if you beat nineteen minutes, six for eighteen, seven for seventeen and so on. If you want it to be a thorough spanking, then run fast.”

She stared at you skeptically, “You’re really willing to let me spank you when I win?”

“I am,” you confirmed, “But I heard that ‘when’, so there’s a catch.” Your eyes flicked down to the blue and black athletic gear. You didn’t see any obvious lines of clothing underneath it. “Are you wearing a shirt under that kit?”

“No, just a sports bra.”

You grinned and met her eyes again, “I want it. Since I’m putting my arse on the line, then you have to ante up and put your bra on the line to match.”

“You want… my bra?” she questioned in a tone that mirrored yours when you repeated her request to spank you.

“That’s the catch,” you explained, “For added difficulty, you have to run with your zipper all the way down and no bra on. I’ve seen Gemma run. The bouncing and the blast of cold air hitting your chest should slow you down, so if you can’t beat twenty minutes… then I get to keep your bra. That’s the wager. My arse against your bra, and it all comes down to your speed.” You smiled and extended your hand to her, “Do we have a deal?”

Mateo tilted her head and eyed you like a strange animal speaking for the first time. “You’re a weird kid.”

You grinned, “One of a kind!”

She smirked, “Probably a good thing.” She shook your hand to make the bet official.

You watched with high anticipation as she brought her fingers to the toggle of her zipper, and slowly drew it down. Her collar split as the blue side went one way and the black side went the other, revealing a stretch of smooth, chocolate-brown skin between them. The teeth of the zipper spread, revealing a black bra with a curved U-shape top that - unfortunately - covered most of her boobs with only a hint of the upper swell of the two pressed-together mounds peeking out from above the top line. The black material had an odd sheen to it.

As much as you wanted to keep staring at her bra-clad breasts through the inch-wide gap, the zipper continued its journey down and you were eager to follow it. The bra ended in a straight line going below the bottom of her breasts, and you were once again staring at smooth brown skin… wait… not completely smooth. There was a clear, defined line running down her stomach, splitting it into two clear segments.

“YOU HAVE ABS!” you exclaimed.

“Heh! Jealous?” she taunted you as the zipper reached the bottom and revealed the dark sunken ring of her navel. You got a brief glimpse at Parkinson’s belly back in the common room, but this was WAY better! The top of the zipper spread to two-inches wide and revealed more of the shiny black bra. “If you stare any harder, your eyes might pop out of your skull.”

“I don’t normally get this close to an AMAZON!” You tore your eyes up to her face in time to see her give you a strange look and a half-smile that seemed to be a mix of flattered, surprised, and amused. “And, I’m eager to see how you get that bra off.”

Mateo’s half-smile turned into a full, amused smile, “With magic, of course.” The Ravenclaw sixth year pointed her wand at the middle of her bra, then cast, “Ravunclaspus!” The back of the bra split as the sleek black garment came flying out from the opening of her undone zipper with the severed shoulder straps and split back flapping behind it like a bird’s wings. The bird-bra landed in her hand and the back sealed itself back together, leaving it whole again.

And then you looked up…

HOLY HERA!

Through the opened zipper, you spied the outer sides of two full, round, chocolate mounds, which had seemingly GROWN with the removal of her bra. These were a full size larger than Sandra’s! Still not as big as Gemma’s, but a glorious sight to see. Your eager eyes took in the full forbidden valley; from the top where the twin brown orbs jutted out from below her collar, pressed together at the middle, then came apart in a round curve as they sat proudly on her chest. This was the best view you’d ever had of any girl’s boobs and it was MAJESTIC!

“Lookit him leering!” you heard her tease you, but your eyes remained trapped in her cleavage. “If I took down the top, I bet your head would explode!”

You fought down your blush and, with a herculean amount of effort, dragged your eyes up to meet hers. “Try it!” you challenged her, as you folded your arms behind your back and tipped your chin up at her more than it already was. “Then Slytherin would be down two Keepers! I dare you!”

“Not this time!” she retorted, her tone more airy and light than before as she tossed you her bra.

You caught it, and bantered back, ”Next time then?”

“Oh, my God… the first year’s flirting with me!” she exclaimed, “Show the little snake some cleavage and he starts hissing an entirely different tune.”

You shrugged, as your eyes dipped back down into the forbidden valley. The expanded size of her breasts worked in favor of your ‘bouncing’ sabotage. “I’m honest enough to admit I appreciate what I’m seeing! Sorry, Mateo, you got screwed! This view is already worth a few slaps on the bum!”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes… seemingly in amusement, “Save me from this kid!” She sighed, “What time have you got?”

You drew your wand, “Tempus!” 7:56

The Ravenclaw flicked her own wand, “Give your wand an extra clockwise twist, and use the incantation, ‘Tempus Secondus’.”

You did as you were told, “Tempus Secondus!” 7:56:06… 7:56:07… 7:56:08… Now it was showing seconds!

“Right, it makes sense to start at eight,” she reasoned, “We’ll hear the clock tower bells ring from here. Keep that running for the last five minutes. I want to know the exact time I finish.” She grinned, “Wanna see something neat?”

You had no idea what she was going to show you, but you were happy to keep looking, “Erm… sure?”

She pointed her wand down and tapped the blue lines running down her black joggers with both hands, then dragged her fingers up, “Raise.” The legs of her tight black pants began to rise, passing her prominent calves, sliding over her knees, and then revealed a pair of POWERFUL toned thighs with defined muscles as the pants turned into short shorts.

“Getting serious, are we?” you asked, your eyes trailed downward as you admired the Chaser’s bare legs.

“If it’s to spank a cheeky little bugger like you… then I’m whipping out the big guns. Now go stand with your little friend. He looks **** to talk to you and I don’t want you leering down my top while I’m stretching.”

“I can assure you,” as you admired her toned legs. “With this new development, I will most definitely NOT be staring at your top half while you’re stretching.” You still snuck one last look at her undone top, clutched her bra in your hand, and turned away. It was cold in Scotland during early February and you were grateful to have the Warming Charm on your Ireland Quidditch robes. Perhaps Mateo was counting on the speed from her run to keep her warm?

Draco did indeed look like he wanted to talk to you. His eyes were practically popping out of their sockets.

“Yes?” you asked as you walked over.

“What are you doing?!” he hissed.

“Wearing her down,” you lowered your voice to match his volume.

“You offered to let that… her,” he said with a wary glance behind you, “spank you!”

“Technically, she requested it, and I agreed,” you pointed out, as you turned around and were greeted by an amazing view of Mateo’s toned bum as the long-legged Ravenclaw stretched one bare leg up onto the far wall of the courtyard. You made note of how the calf muscle at the back of the low legs bulged as she leaned forward and pressed herself against her raised leg. “If she wants to do it badly enough, and get some extra licks in, then she’ll run as fast as she can. Now, instead of me running myself into the ground, she’s the one exerting herself with strenuous exercise three hours before our important match.”

Mateo switched legs.

“Do you want to lose?”

“Not particularly,” you admitted, “But losing here could help us win the match later. We both agree that’s more important, right?” You assumed he nodded, because you certainly weren’t looking at him. “Slytherins are supposed to be resourceful. I’m putting my arse on the line to help us achieve victory. What are you willing to do to help Slytherin win a Quidditch match?” He didn’t immediately answer, “And besides, even if I lose… which is likely… I’d still say I’m coming out ahead. Because I got a gander at that beautiful bird’s boobs.”

Mateo took her leg down, and folded her leg behind her as she bent it upward and grabbed her ankle..You tilted your head to admire the new definition in her thigh as she flexed.

Your roommate lowered his voice further, “Does this mean you like black girls?”

“Draco,” you chided with a shake of your head, “That witch’s body should be carved into marble and displayed in a museum. I don’t care what colour she is. She could be periwinkle with polka dots, and I’d still admire her form.”

The Amazon switched legs.

“How’s your morning been so far?” you asked before he could respond, “Mine’s going swimmingly.” You grinned at a thought, “In fact, at this point, she could actually blast us into the lake and I’d still call it a good morning.”

“You could use it,” he muttered.

You looked at your wand, the green numbers of the time spell were still on display, 7:59:03… 7:59:04… “Mateo! Less than a minute!”

She dropped her leg, and then hopped in place while swinging her arms to limber up, which made you wish you could see from the other side. Her dark brown ponytail, bobbed as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

The Ravenclaw runner walked to the middle of the courtyard and centered herself at the start of the trail. She shifted to lean forward with her feet shoulder-width apart, and her front foot ahead. Her arms hung loose at her sides as the time counted down.

Inspiration struck! You ran past her out of the courtyard, and veered off of the main trail onto the one that split off and went down around the wall. You waved your wand to display the glowing green numbers as you stood a safe distance ahead of her. 7:59:56… 7:59:57… 7:59:58… 7:59:59…

The bells in the clock tower rang at exactly eight and Mateo lunged out of the courtyard. You desperately wished you had Draco’s Omnioculars as she surged towards you. Her chest heaved and her boobs tried valiantly to escape from her undone top, but they sabotaged each other and collided, which caused them to drop back down with gratuitous jiggle. The Ravenclaw’s knockers kept heaving and knocking against each other as she raced past you.

You turned around to watch. She was running downhill, and was soon at her full, long stride with her front leg extended out in front of her and her rear leg flying up from behind. Midway through it almost looked like the Ravenclaw witch was FLYING! You admired her backside as she turned down the trail towards Hogsmeade and soon disappeared around a bend.

Draco had his Omnis raised and was watching from the slightly higher vantage point of the courtyard. You trekked back to join him, “I will pay you a galleon if you save a close up of her running back along the lake shore.”

“I don’t need your money,” he scoffed.

“So you’ll do it for free then?” you replied.

“Was going to do it anyway,” he insisted.

“And you’ll share, right?” you requested.

“Might as well,” he said, “you’re the reason her bra’s off.”

Speaking of Mateo’s bra… you took a moment to study it. Despite the unclasping charm used to remove it, the back and straps of the bra were solid. There was no clasp, which meant Mateo pulled it on over her head. The material was strange. It was smooth, but heavier than silk, and notably stretchy.

“What even is this?” you wondered as you sank your fingers into the strange material that had just been in contact with the girl’s breasts.

“Spandex.”

You both turned to see Artemis Fawley standing at the castle door in her blue Ravenclaw Quidditch robes. Her thick brown hair reminded you of Granger, but unlike the bushy-haired first year, Artemis Fawley’s hair was tamed to make it look like it was meant to have extra volume. Between the thick, feathery, brown mane, and the round glasses over her eyes, the sixth year Keeper vaguely resembled a barn owl.

The Ravenclaw ‘owl’ continued to share her knowledge of ‘spandex’ as she crossed the courtyard and made her way over to you, “It’s a synthetic, muggle-made material spun from plastic fibers. It’s known for its elasticity and is great for holding a girl in place during vigorous movement.”

Now that she was standing within four feet of you, you noted from her curvy figure that Fawley had A LOT more to hold in place. Mateo had proven herself to be surprisingly chesty after she removed her spandex sports bra, but even unbound she still wasn’t as big as Gemma. Fawley’s bosom, on the other hand, WAS.

“Good morning, boys!” the Ravenclaw Keeper chirped, “What brings you out here so early?”

“We originally came out for some air,” you answered, then indicated Draco and his Omnioculars, “But now it seems we’ve taken up bird watching.”

She giggled, “You’re funny.”

It was merely a quip. You weren’t actively trying to be funny… but then why did your cheeks heat up at the curvy sixth year acknowledging it?

“Good morning, Draco,” Fawley called past you, “How are you? You’re looking immaculate today.”

Immaculate was your word, or perhaps that’s what Draco was going for?

“Fine,” he responded as he lowered his Omnis and looked over at her. “My father’s coming to Hogwarts to watch the match today.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” Fawley replied with an honest smile. “You’ll be able to watch it together!”

He nodded, “I’ll be joining him and Professor Snape in the faculty tower.”

She smiled, “I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself. That’s one of the best views of the pitch.” The rival Keeper turned her attention to you, “And how are you feeling today, Marvolo? Think you’re ready? Are you nervous at all?”

You shrugged one shoulder, “Would you believe me if I said I’m more nervous about meeting Lucius Malfoy than playing in the match?”

“It makes perfect sense to me,” Fawley assured you, “You’ve been training since the new term started. And now you have your broom. You’re prepared to play Quidditch. The audience with Lucius Malfoy is an unexpected surprise and he carries with him a lofty reputation.” She smiled at Draco, “Ah, I see! You brought Marvolo out here so you could coach him and ensure he was prepared to meet your father! That’s so nice of you, Draco!”

“Erm… yes,” he said, as his cheeks went pink. You found his blush amusing. Did Draco fancy Fawley? She was an attractive pureblood from a Sacred family line. Or was this just the effect Artemis Fawley had on people?

She contrasted sharply with the other sixth year witch on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Mateo was tall, powerful, and athletic - and started off decidedly NOT-friendly and borderline hostile. Fawley carried a friendly air around her and didn’t come across as physically imposing as her sixth year teammate. Instead, she was curvy and similar in height to Gemma. It was a familiar height, so it didn’t feel uncomfortable to have the sixth year standing next to you. Mateo’s body was hard and toned while Fawley looked soft and squeezable. Not that you were planning to squeeze her. Complicated as your feelings were for Gemma at the moment, she made it clear that she wasn’t a Fawley fan.

Tracey pointed out back in the common room that Draco hadn’t acknowledged her and Daphne, but looking back, neither of them greeted him either. Maybe he was snubbing them, or maybe he felt slighted? Fawley skillfully bypassed that pitfall and showcased superior social skills by actively engaging Draco and drawing him into the conversation.

Sandra and Nora said at the Ravenclaw vs Hufflepuff match that Artesmis Fawley was nice to everyone. Even Slytherins. It turned out, ‘everyone’ also included Draco Malfoy, which he seemed to appreciate.

“Perhaps you boys can help me with something,” Fawley suggested, “I’m trying to think of a good gift for Miles.”

“Miles?” Draco asked before you could.

The blue-eyed Ravenclaw with round spectacles blinked owlishly, “Miles Bletchley. Your Quidditch teammate in the Hospital Wing.”

“Oh.” Malfoy’s cheeks flushed, this time in embarrassment. He hastily raised the Omnioculars and went back to staring after Mateo.

“We usually just call him Bletchley,” you defended your yearmate who saved you from making the same faux pas. “It’s what’s written on the back of his uniform.”

Fawley didn’t dwell on it, “I imagine he’s devastated at not being able to play today. Left alone in the Hospital Wing while the rest of the school watches the match. I don’t want him to feel like he’s been forgotten.”

“I reckon he’ll be wary about what he drinks for a while,” you reasoned. It was something you thought of after you learned the truth of what happened. “I’d get him something to drink from. Something he can fill himself with a unique design, making it difficult to cast a Switching Spell on.”

“Like a flask!” The Ravenclaw chirped, “How wonderfully practical! I’ll see what I can find. And when I give it to him, I’ll say it’s from both of us - his fellow Keepers - since it was your idea.”

You eyed your ‘fellow’ Keeper. “You don’t think I’m the one who put him there?”

“Oh, no! Of course not!” she insisted, her blue eyes shining with sincerity behind her round glasses, “When a first year jumps on a table and throws a bezoar, he tends to catch the eye. I saw the genuine look of shock on your face when you saw whose life you saved. You had no idea up until that very moment. I know you had nothing to do with Miles being poisoned.”

“Tell that to Mateo,” you advise.

“I have,” she assured you.

“Ah,” you said as a new realisation dawned, “so she was having a go at me.”

Fawley tilted her head slightly to the side, then reached out and tapped the back of your hand, “That leads me to wonder. How did you manage to coax Jessica out of her favorite spandex compression bra?”

“Well, she came out and we were going at it a bit,” you recounted since you had time to kill and Mateo would likely tell her yearmate anyway, “I reminded her that I intended to shut her out today, she said ‘don’t bet on that’, and that inspired the idea to make a side bet. I declined her initial offer to run with her because that would’ve been a severely lopsided contest, and I came back with a counteroffer of betting on how fast she completes her run. I gave her the challenge of twenty minutes.”

“I hope you didn’t bet anything you aren’t willing to lose,” Fawley warned you, “Jessica averages eighteen minutes for her Hogwarts 5k.”

“Yes, she seemed very casual about that time limit,” you acknowledged, “Which is where the bra came in. To make it more of a challenge, I said she had to run without her bra and with her outfit unzipped.” You cast a quick glance at Fawley’s larger chest, “I’m sure you, of all people, would understand the strategy there, so if your Chaser fails to make it back before the time limit... I get to keep her favorite bra.” You paused at a sudden thought. “Of course, I’m realising now that by claiming her bra as my desired prize… I forgot about my initial objective of placing a wager on the match.”

Since your time with Mateo’s bra was limited, you shifted it and searched for a tag to see what size those surprisingly large breasts were.

“34C,” Fawley informed you. “You could try going double or nothing.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, “I hear you’re more interested in knickers, anyway.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “How do you know that?”

Her blue eyes gleamed behind her glasses, “A little birdie told me.”

That was the same thing Mateo said. Only this wasn’t something that was common knowledge like your fondness for Blythe Parkin and the Tornados. This ‘birdie’ chirped secret information in the Ravenclaws’ ears. Your collection was something you actively kept a secret. “Well, tell that birdie to keep her big beak shut.” The informant had to be a girl, right? Your collection consisted of undergarments from eight witches, so the rat had to be one of them. “I don’t share anything about that subject for the sake of the girls involved, so she shouldn’t either.”

Draco didn’t know what you were referring to, so he injected himself back into the conversation, “You should’ve seen his face when Mateo unzipped. They went from almost fighting to openly flirting.”

“Draco…” you warned him, then defended yourself, “I was admiring her form. It’s obvious she puts a lot of effort into her conditioning.”

“He said ‘her body should be carved into marble and displayed in a museum’!” he continued. Mimicking other people’s embarrassing moments to others was one of Draco Malfoy’s favorite pastimes. You took the heckling in stride, knowing he was trying to impress Fawley, but you were now wary of the witch in question.

“Awww!” Fawley cooed, “I’ll tell her you said that! Girls like compliments. Jessica’s never been shy about her body. Although, some unpleasant people call her ‘mannish’.”

“After what I’ve seen, ‘mannish’ is the last word on my mind,” you insisted.

“He called her an Amazon!” Draco added.

Fawley giggled, which - judging by Draco’s smile - was his desired result. “Jessica doesn’t wear much at her muggle gym either,” she imparted, “Or when she goes to the beach on holiday.” The Ravenclaw glanced past you, “How’s she doing, Draco?”

“She’s nearly at the gate,” he reported.

You flicked your wand and gave it an extra clockwise twist, “Tempus Secondus!” 8:10:32… 8:10:33… 8:10:34…

“Oh, wow,” Fawley observed the green numbers displayed by your wand, “She’s making good time! The first part is longer, but she runs it faster than the second part because it’s downhill.” Nearly two miles in ten-and-a-half minutes. That was way faster than you estimated. Fawley eyed you, “And what could you have possibly offered her to inspire such an aggressive pace?”

“I put my arse on the line against her bra,” you stated.

“He agreed to let her spank him if she makes it!” Draco ‘helpfully’ added.

Fawley stared hard at you, the airy quality in her voice was suddenly gone, “Do you think that’s wise?”

“That’s what she wanted,” you replied, “She’s really motivated to spank a pureblood. I think agreeing to it is what changed her tune on me.”

“I’m more concerned how others will react upon hearing about this,” Fawley stated, “Gemma, in particular. She has claimed you as her first year and learning that Jessica spanked you will incite her. She doesn’t like people touching things that she deems as ‘hers’.”

“I’m not a thing,” you insisted, “I’m my own first year, and it’s my arse. She has no say over what I do with it.”

“Then perhaps… it would be ideal… if we kept this arrangement between the four of us?” Fawley suggested.

She was offering to keep the embarrassing punishment a secret? She wouldn’t have to twist your arm not to tell people about it. But given her ready source of information, you were concerned about her end.

“You’re the one who has little birdies whispering Slytherin secrets in your ears,” you pointed out, “And Mateo seems like she’d be eager to crow about spanking a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. I can avoid telling Gemma, but can you keep your end quiet and seal any leaks?”

“I can,” Fawley confirmed with a calm confidence.

As one, you both turned to survey your Slytherin teammate, who you both knew would otherwise be the first to mock and belittle someone.

“What about you, Draco?” Fawley prompted, “He seems set on it. But if this spanking thing were to get out… it could harm your friend’s reputation.”

“That’s what I was trying to warn him about!” Malfoy insisted. Was he? How unexpectedly nice. “He was caught up in gawking.” You were both gawking. And he was the one still using the Omnioculars.

You smirked, “He says he’ll do it, in exchange for a hug from you.”

“What!?” Draco sputtered.

“Done!” Fawley agreed.

“WHAT!?” he squawked.

Two seconds later, Draco Malfoy was staring at you in wide-eyed, pink-faced shock as Artemis Fawley hugged him. It was a full body hug that saw the Ravenclaw’s large, prominent chest squashed against him. You grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

“Thank you for keeping our confidence, Draco,” Fawley concluded before she released him. She was now standing between you, but rather than step away, the Ravenclaw moved back and lifted herself so she was perched on the courtyard wall. “We should see Jessica running back along the shore soon.”

Draco climbed up and sat beside her. You shrugged and joined them in sitting on the wall.

“So,” Fawley prompted with a casual kick of her legs, “I heard someone joined a certain club yesterday.” She really did know all the best gossip.

“What club?” Malfoy asked.

“I was told it was a secret club,” you stated, “With private meetings being held behind closed doors.” Fawley giggled and you eyed her skeptically, “Which makes me wonder how you know and why you’re talking about it so openly?”

“Me? I’m Club President,” Fawley informed you. There was a president? “I like to know who’s playing the game. Sometimes I help people along.” Maybe that’s why she was so popular? Nice to everyone. “As for how I know… Lysandra was loudly bragging yesterday about how she got both you and Blaise back-to-back.”

“What game?” Draco demanded.

“Ask Parkinson,” you advised. “I told Millie and they’re roommates… so there’s a chance she told her.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“Do you like blokes?”

“What? NO!”

“I’d enjoy seeing that!” Fawley chirped.

You ignored her, “Then trust me, you’re much better off being inducted into the club by a witch. Or you can do what Blaise and I did and step into a broom closet with Lysandra Yaxley… and she’ll tell everyone about it after.” He didn’t seem keen on it. “Or perhaps Madam President would induct you if you asked nicely?”

“…” He stared at her.

“…” She stared back with a silent smile.

His face flushed as he turned and busied himself with his Omnis again.

About a minute later, he called out, “She’s reached the shore!”

“That means she has a little less than a mile left,” Fawley stated. There must have been a lot of weaving on the trail down to Hogsmeade if it was nearly two miles while the straight path back alongside the lake was only a mile.

You checked the time again, 8:12:17… 8:12:18… 8:12:19… This did not bode well for your bum.

But just because Draco could see Mateo running along the lake from a mile away with his Omnioculars, didn’t mean you and Fawley could. It was another minute before you spotted the speck running along the shore and a minute further before you could make out any detail.

“Oh my!” Fawley gasped, “She is bursting out of her kit!”

You grinned as an opportune idea formed, “Oi, Draco, let me have a look.”

“What?” He turned and you made a pointed glance at Fawley with your eyes. Draco Malfoy was socially aware enough to realise that ogling a girl’s breasts in front of her best friend was in poor form. Especially if you were actively trying to impress said best friend.

“Come on, mate,” you encouraged him, “I’m about to get my arse beat. At least let me enjoy the view beforehand!”

Very reluctantly, he responded, “Fine…”

You then did him a favor, as you hopped off of the wall and came to him to take his Omnis, ‘forcing’ him to slide closer to Fawley as you hopped into his vacated spot, then spun to the side so you were sitting cross-legged on the wall facing the incoming witch. You set her sports bra in your lap, and cast the upgraded Time-Telling Charm a final time. “Tempus Secondus!” 8:15:04… 8:15:05… 8:15:06…

Mateo requested that you keep the timer going for the final five minutes, that time was now. Much like with a Light-Making Charm, you channeled a trickle of magic through your wand to sustain the spell. You raised the Omnioculars and focused them on the approaching Chaser, who was now a half mile away.

There she was in all her amazing Amazon glory! She wasn’t in a full sprint, but running with a long, powerful stride that caused her thighs to flex and carried her across a much greater distance than your legs could. Her wand was gripped in her right hand as her arms pumped steadily at her side. You noted that the handle had an emphasised grip that made it especially easy to keep hold of while running. The wand chooses the wizard… or, in this case, the exceptionally athletic witch. There was a sheen of sweat on her forehead, and running down her exposed chest that caused her exposed skin to shine in the morning sunlight.

And then, of course, there were her breasts. The two-inch gap at the top of her jumpsuit had been **** to a wider six-inch gap by her heaving chest. If Mateo had attempted to pull her kit closed at any point, it hadn’t held and now she was ignoring her exposure in favor of a strong finish. Half of those large, C-Cup mounds were hanging from the opening, shaking, bouncing, and knocking against each other as she ran.

You brought your view closer and focused on the blue side of her split top, noting the impression of a nipple standing out against the blue fabric on the far side of the zipper’s teeth. There was already a constant gust of cold air blowing in her exposed cleavage, but with no bra for cover, the fabric was rubbing directly against the runner’s raised nub with every long stride. That was a recipe for a pair of extra stiff nipples.

The same nub didn’t stand out as much on the black side due to the darker colour fabric. But because she was holding her wand in her right arm, it was pumping at a slightly different manner than her left one, and that resulted in the black side of her top opening at more of an angle. You adjusted the Omnioculars and closed in further… THERE! Peeking out among the teeth of the zipper you spotted a patch of dark flesh several shades darker than the milk chocolate breasts around it. Hello, areola! We have a visual!

The outer edge of the dark-skinned witch’s areolas showed that it was significantly bigger than the pink rings that surrounded your nipples. It was like comparing a copper knut with a silver sickle, with the copper coin able to fit within the inner circle of the silver one while the outer ring was wide enough to surround the knut on all sides.

You pressed save and kept the Omnis trained on the witch’s bouncing chest. The rest of her right nipple made several valiant attempts at escaping from her open top, but the teeth of the zipper, and the regular collisions with her other breast were enough to keep the stiff nub contained.

“Marvolo, hold out your wand so we can all see it,” Fawley advised.

You did as instructed, holding Draco’s Omnioculars with your left hand while holding your wand with the other so both the observers behind you and the approaching runner could all see the glowing green numbers on display.

That’s when Mateo spotted you. You tore your gaze off her chest and raised it to her face in time to see her dark brown eyes IGNITE! Her face schooled itself into a look of fierce determination. “RAAH!” The Ravenclaw crowed and PUSHED as she broke into a full sprint for the end of her run. Her feet pounded the dirt as she took off and it looked like she was FLYING again! She reached the end of the lake shore, leapt up onto the incline, and ran up the bank toward the raised path running past the courtyard.

It was when she leapt onto the incline that it finally happened. Her chest leapt with her while her open top slipped the other way… and her large dark nipple burst free from the black side of her top! This was no sickle, it was GALLEON-sized! With a dark, almost black, colour that made it stand out from the dark brown hill surrounding it. A thick, prominent point rose at the center of the dark ring.

Your first boob! And it was AMAZING!

“HRK!” Behind you, Draco made a strangled **** noise while Fawley gasped, “OH MY!”

Amazons were fierce female warriors, as strong as they were beautiful! They wouldn’t care about flashing a tit during a fight. If their opponent was stupid enough to get distracted, they’d use it to their advantage and seize victory. Mateo proved her Amazon status by paying her exposure no mind and refusing to let it hinder her. She kept sprinting, her face a fixed mask of unyielding determination. Mateo’s exposed tit jiggled and shook as she sprinted below you and past the double doors marking her finish line.

You felt your stomach twist because, for the first time, you felt SCARED to face such an athletic and highly motivated witch on the Quidditch pitch.

“SIXTEEN FORTY-FOUR!” Fawley shouted after her.

Mateo let out a whoop as she reached the end of the path and punched the air. She finally tugged her top closed before she turned around and called up to you, “Marvolo Gaunt! Come face your reckoning!”

Well, that was ominous. She broke seventeen minutes. That meant seven spanks were awaiting you.

Fawley claimed Mateo’s usual time for a 5k run averaged eighteen minutes. It seemed the prospect of spanking you was enough to motivate the determined young woman to set a new personal best, well over a full minute faster than her usual range, so she could earn herself that lucky seventh slap.

You turned to see Malfoy and Fawley eying you expectantly, both waiting to see what you’d do. This was the part where Draco, whose surname translated to ‘bad faith’ would try to welch on the wager so he could save face and avoid an embarrassing spanking. You wouldn’t do that, and instead handed him back his Omnis.

“We shook on it,” you stated, “She’s earned it. I had my fun at her expense… now it’s her turn to have hers at mine.”

You plucked Mateo’s spandex sports bra off of your lap, tucked your wand away, and slid off the wall, then followed the path around the bend, and down the slope to meet her. The six-inch height difference between you felt like a full foot as you approached. She stood fall and proud, with a wide smile as she reveled in her accomplishment. Her sweat-soaked skin shone in the morning sunlight. Her top had been pulled back to the original two-inch gap, giving a view of her glistening cleavage and defined abs. The impression of her stiff nipples stood out against the blue and black fabric. But it was her eyes that were most unnerving, they were wild, and as you drew closer you saw that her pupils had dilated during the final stage of her intense run. Seeing her like that made you nervous for your bum.

“Congratulations,” you praised her, “You vastly exceeded my expectations. Here I was thinking that making you run with your tits out would slow you down, but it seems that - combined with the prospect of spanking me - only motivated you to run faster and set a new personal best.”

You tossed her bra to her, she didn’t put it back on, but you watched her stuff it inside her kit and stick it in her waistband. She ran her fingers down the short blue stripe on the outside of her shorts, and said, “Drop.” And the black shorts ‘dropped’ down her long legs and became joggers again.

“Come, Draco,” Fawley called out above you, “I’ll induct you into the club.”

“Wha…!?” he gasped.

“That way,” Mateo’s Ravenclaw ‘wing girl’ continued, “if anyone asks what happened… we can honestly tell them ‘we didn’t see anything’ and it can remain a secret between them.” They both climbed off the wall, but Fawley poked her head back over it, “Oh, and Jessica, be sure to use the spell, and not your hand. If you physically strike him, it will set off the alert, and you’ll have a prefect here faster than you can say ‘green-eyed monster’.”

You owed her a thank you for running interference, “Thanks, Fawley!”

“Artemis,” she corrected.

“I’m sticking with Fawley,” you insisted.

“Suit yourself,” she said, then led Draco away.

You were left alone with Mateo, “Let’s get this over with.” You walked over to the large double doors of the carriage storehouse and braced yourself against them. You looked back and watched her walk up behind you.

“You’re not gonna try and worm your way out of it?” she asked.

“I can’t say you didn’t earn it,” you admitted, “Fawley suggested going double or nothing, but I doubt you’d agree to a new bet unless I live up to my end of this one.”

“That’s a good call,” she replied.

You spun around to face her, “But before we start… I feel compelled to ask… this ‘spanking a pureblood’ thing… it’s not entirely about me… is it?”

Her expression shifted, “I’ll admit, it started off as a way to knock a bratty pureblood down a few pegs.”

“But…?” you prompted, “We’ve only just met. You barely know me. Painful as it may be for my ego to admit, but I don’t think your feelings for me are what motivated you to set a new personal speed record just so you could get an extra slap in.“

She sighed, “Look… I’ve been taking shit since I got here. My dad warned me that I’d be facing next level bigotry if I came to Hogwarts. And I know what he meant now. I’ve had to deal with wizards judging me for my blood, my skin, and my sex for over five years. Some don’t. But most of the ones who do are from your house.” And according to Fawley, they also called her ‘mannish’ too, which seemed absurd. “And you… you’re basically the poster child for Slytherin blood purity. You’re everything I’m not… a pureblood white boy, and an actual descendant of the chief blood purist. Maybe you’re a little more colorblind than people like your blonde friend, but I still put you in place of everyone who has ever said I can’t do something because of things that are beyond my control.”

You nodded, she’d had a rough go of it, “For what it’s worth… I admire you for your resilience, your talent, your Amazonian physique, and your incredible athletic ability.”

Mateo shook her head, “Now you’re just trying to flatter me by picking things I’m proud of so I’ll go easy on you.”

“That may be an underlying ulterior motive,” you confessed, “But my feelings of admiration are genuine.” You grinned, “And I can prove it!”

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

You took her wandless hand in yours, “Would the lady allow me to bestow upon her a token of my admiration? Consider it a reward for putting on such a stellar performance and vastly exceeding my expectations. In Slytherin, we call it… a ParselSnog.”

Her eyes went wide in shock, “You want to snog me?”

“Only if you’re interested,” you said, “In a normal kiss, you’re supposed to put your feelings into it. Using Parseltongue, I can do that literally, and make you feel what I feel in the form of a pleasant tingle. If you think I’m only blowing smoke up your arse, then accept my token of admiration, and feel for yourself that it’s genuine.”

“…” she stared silently at you.

“Come on,” you goaded the Ravenclaw, “You can’t tell me you’re not curious. I bet your best friend - Miss President of the Broom Closet Club - hasn’t snogged a Parselmouth before. If you’re not interested… that’s fine. We’ve really only just met. No hard feelings. But if I’ve piqued your Ravenclaw curiosity and you do want to try it, then I request that we do it now, because I reckon I won’t feel much like snogging you after you bruise my bottom.”

“You do realise that your famous blood purist ancestor would be rolling over in his grave if he heard of you using his special talent to snog someone like me.”

“Sounds like a reason for rather than against,” you replied, “Because if he has a problem with strong witches, then I have a problem with him.”

She shook her head, “I have to keep reminding myself you’re only fourteen. Your flirt game is surprisingly advanced for a first year. Never had someone come onto me as hard as you have. Usually, Artemis is the one getting this kind of attention.”

“I suppose I have different taste than most blokes,” you reasoned, then shrugged and looked her over to emphasise the height difference between you, “I’ll grow eventually, but what I lack in size, I make up for in charisma!”

“Guess that makes you the Anti-Flint,” she decided, “He’s nearly twice your size, but not half as fun to banter with. If you were two years older, I’d say you were trying to get in my pants.”

Your eyes went wide, “IS THAT AN OPTION!?”

She laughed and shot you down, “Absolutely not, cheeky little bastard.”

You shrugged, “At least I know where I stand. Snog, then?”

“You know, in the muggle world that would be illegal,” she pointed out. That was your confirmation that the sixth year hadn’t had her nineteenth birthday yet.

“But we’re not IN the muggle world,” you countered, “We’re at Hogwarts, a school for magic. You’re eighteen, and I’m fourteen, according to magical society’s laws, that means we’re both underage, so it’s okay. Look, the ParselSnog is meant to be a reward… a prize for setting a new personal record… a token of my genuine admiration… a good thing. If you’re not interested, don’t make excuses, just say so, and I’ll drop it. I’m not going to twist your arm, that’d ruin it and make it less special.”

Her expression shifted, as if she made up her mind based on what you just said, “Alright, fine, let’s see what you’re made of, short stuff. Lay one on me.”

You stepped forward, grabbed her sides for support, then pushed yourself up onto your toes. The six–inch-taller Ravenclaw craned her neck down so she could meet your lips with hers. You kept the initial kiss light and friendly, but she obviously knew a ParselSnog involved the use of tongue, and you soon swept your tongue against her lips. She parted them, and you slipped inside, then thought of your admiration for her form, her determination, her Amazonian spirit, and yes… even the amazing breast that popped during her final sprint. You concentrated on those feelings and hissed as you swept your tongue against her. §KiiiiSSSSssssSSSS§

“MMMHHH!” Mateo moaned in response and her wild, dilated eyes went wide in shock as the jolt of magical ‘admiration’ hit her. Your hold on her sides slipped around to her back as she surged forward and slammed you back into the door.

“UGH!” you groaned into her mouth as you were lodged between a solid oak wall and a hard-bodied Chaser who was suddenly intent on DEVOURING you. The point of the snog was to calm her down and take some of the sting out of her strikes, so you employed the same Parseltongue calming technique you used on Yaxley and Rowle in the Owlery. §Calm§ The pressure lessened as she started squirming against you, so you did it again. §Calm§ Her eyes returned to normal and were no longer wild and dilated. §Calm§

“Mmmmmn…” Her moan was more subdued as she pushed back, shifted to adjust her position, and widened her stance. The tall girl’s knees pressed against the outside of your thighs to the point where she was practically straddling you against the door. This brought the six-inch-taller girl down to your level and made her easier to snog.

Since she was no longer smothering you, you swept your tongue against hers, and fed her another appreciative kiss. §Kiiiissssssss!§ Her chest was mashed against yours, but - thankfully - her pelvis wasn’t. You ran your hands along her back and idly toyed with her ponytail as you swirled your tongue around hers and sent her a final jolt. §Kiiiissssssss!§ You pecked her on the lips one last time, and disengaged.

“And that, my dear Mateo, is a ParselSnog.” you announced, “Congratulations on a new personal best.”

“Mmm…” she smiled at you, “Can I get another one of those when I break it and set a new record?”

“Erm… we’ll see,” you answered.

“Fair enough,” she relented. She pressed her hands into the door and used them to push herself off you and back to her feet.

Your brain FROZE.

Maybe it happened while she surged forward while you were clinging to her sides… maybe it happened while she was rubbing against you… but her unzipped top had come open, and now the teeth of the zipper were on the outside of her bust. Staring you in the face was not one, but BOTH of Jessica Mateo’s amazing, mouth-watering, milk chocolate C-Cup tits in ALL their majestic glory!

“What’s with the face?” you heard Mateo ask, but you didn’t dare tear your eyes away. The sight of the Ravenclaw Chaser’s Quaffles dangling in front of you BURNED itself into your permanent memory as the first pair of real life boobs you’d ever been fortunate enough to lay your eyes upon. “Oh… huh. I guess your head didn’t explode after all.”

You thanked the heavens above, both for the glorious sight and for the lingering effects of the induced calm, because you were pretty sure she would have reacted poorly and slugged you otherwise.

Still cool as a cucumber, Mateo tucked her treasures away, then grabbed the toggle of her zipper and drew it all the way up to her collar. With the curtain closed and the show over, you blinked as your mental faculties restarted. “Let’s call that ‘an accident’.” Accident. Right. Because if you pulled her top open, it hadn’t been intentional, and there was no way she flashed you on purpose, right? “What’s the matter? First time seeing a black girl’s tits?”

You found your voice, “First time seeing any girl’s tits, so… erm… thank you for that very happy accident.”

“Huh… I thought Farley would’ve shown you hers,” Mateo mused, “There’s a rumor that she flashed you her tits back in September and you’ve been ensnared ever since.” You spotted Gemma’s skimpy black knickers back in September, but not her tits. The Ravenclaws’ informant in the Slytherin dungeons hadn’t been privy to what took place during your closed-door tutoring session right, and only supplied their own speculation. Not Gemma then. But you remembered Yaxley poking her head in during your closed-door tutoring session on the Knockback Jinx. “I was thinking that mine might’ve broken the wicked bitch’s spell.”

“No, I haven’t seen hers,” you insisted, “You’re my first, and now I’ll remember this morning for a long, long time.”

“Great, now I get to be the star of a pervy first year’s spank bank,” she remarked.

“Erm… is this a trap?” you asked warily, “would you be more or less angry if I said yes?”

She shrugged and gave a mellow smile, “You’ve got this exceptionally rare ‘honest Slytherin’ vibe going for you. That’s kinda doing it for me.”

“Okay… in that case…” you decided to be honest and see what came of it, “Yes, Mateo, you are going to be the featured player in my spank bank theater, and will be running topless through my dreams for the foreseeable future.”

“Heh… little perv,” she said with a chuckle, “It’s a good thing you’re cute.” The clock tower chimed a single time, signaling it was half-eight. She blinked and remembered why you were here. “Right… this has been an amusing detour, but I need to get back on schedule. Let’s do this… no more stalling, no more distractions… turn around and take your licks like a man.”

Best to do this while she was still feeling mellow. You turned and braced yourself against the door, then closed your eyes, and pictured the Amazon’s amazing tits in your mind’s eye.

Either Mateo wasn’t used to using the Spanking Spell… or her exhaustion from her run combined with the induced calm from your snog took some of the sting out of her strikes… or she was intentionally holding back… OR you were so enraptured by the precious memory of your first real life pair of tits that it numbed you to everything around you… because you barely felt the seven strikes as she swatted your cheeks.

“And that’s seven,” she concluded.

You turned to face her, leaning back against the door and barely feeling a sting. “So… wanna double the bet for the match later?”

“You really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?” she taunted, “What’s that? Eight swats if I score, and an additional two for every goal after? I’ll tell you what, I’ll trade you those first eight strikes for another one of those snogs. Because, after all your rubbish about leaving Ravenclaw with a ‘goose egg’, the pain from your shattered pride will be worse than any spanking.”

“Works for me,” then you made a pointed glance down at her crotch, “For my end, are you wearing spandex underwear too?”

A smile slowly spread across her face, and she let out a cackle of laughter, “Hah! Aahaha!” She leaned in close and whispered, “They’re called spanks.”

You laughed in return, “Then it seems I’ll be taking your spanks after the match either way.” You offered her your hand, she smiled and shook it to make your follow-up bet official.

And that was when you betrayed her.

“But just remember,” you prompted as you locked your gaze with hers and sent a pulse of magic to your eyes, “Whenever I stop you from scoring, you’re going to imagine ME spanking you in front of everyone.”

You felt bad about it, because you genuinely LIKED her. But you told yourself back in the common room that you’d do anything to prevent Slytherin from losing to Ravenclaw. After seeing what Jessica Mateo was capable of when she pushed herself, you knew you’d need an extra edge if you wanted to keep your promise and shut her out.

The compulsion was a tiny seed, planted in the back of her mind, and it was entirely contingent on you performing well and blocking her shots. With each save, she’d imagine a phantom swat on the bum, and the seed would take root, sprout, and grow until it was a thick weed with a stranglehold over the Ravenclaw’s brain. The embarrassing mental image of a public spanking from a first year would make her flustered, throw her off, and give you the advantage so you could deliver on your promises, validate your position on the team in front of the entire school, win a bet, and collect a big box of incentive.

Mateo blinked, then laughed it off like your compulsion was merely more trash talk. “In your dreams, kid! Don’t forget, you’re starting off seven points in the hole. You need to make seven saves just to break even!”

“Oh, I’ll do more than break even, Mateo,” you assured her, “Today, you’ll be the one taking the embarrassing public spanking, not me. That’s no brag, consider it a prophecy set to be fulfilled with you at the center of it! ”

She shook her head, “If you play Keeper half as well as you run your mouth, I might actually start to be concerned. Looks like today I’ll be defying Fate, exposing a false prophet, and leaving the cheeky little bugger with a cracked goose egg all over his face!”

---

Marvolo Gaunt House Point Ledger

Current Total: +140

Points awarded by: SS, RH, QQ, CB

---

And since the Light Branch has the Vaunted Gaunted list… to make things more special here on the Dark Branch, may I present to you the grand debut of…

*Gaunt’s Garment Gallery*

Pansy Parkinson: 3 - pink, purple, periwinkle fine silk (Pending: pine green)

Daphne Greengrass: 3 - mint green, pale blue, seagreen fine silk (Pending: shamrock green)

*’Tied’ entries are listed in the order they’re received. Daphne was the one who started the collection and gave Gaunt his first knickers, but Pansy was the first to give him a second and a third.*

Tracey Davis: 2 - white plain cotton, green and white stripes cotton (Pending: shamrock print)

Millicent Bulstrode: 2 - white plain cotton, jade jockey shorts (Pending: forest green jockeys)

Evanora Rowle: 2 - silver thong, emerald green thong

Hermione Granger 1 - pink plain cotton

Gemma Farley: 1 - black skimpy fine cotton

Lysandra Yaxley: 1 - black lacy lingerie

Jessica Mateo: 0 - (Pending: black spandex sports bra and spanks)