The Yule Ball

Treowe was late. That was inescapable, and yet her mind remained so calm. Hella would have liked to attribute it to all of the social manners and etiquette lessons that Treowe had been giving her these past few months, but more likely it had a lot more to do with the calming potion that she'd been provided with by one of his House Elves mere hours ago while she was still getting ready.

The effects of that potion were still rather obvious, given how calm she felt right now, even as she wondered vaguely where Treowe was, weighing the options in her head. Should she go looking for him? Was it worth it? If something was wrong, would she ever forgive herself for not being at his side when he needed her most? She considered these things with perfect, rational aplomb. No need to make a fuss, no need to worry all that much… just consider the options and make the best one laid out before her.

The thought of dancing with Treowe in front of everyone didn't even cause her heart to speed up, nor did it make her wet between her legs. Though, if he were here right now and asked, Hella knew that the calming draught wouldn't prevent her from happily taking him up on the offer of a roll in the hay. Absently brushing down the immaculate black dress she's wearing, Hella continues to just… smile slightly.

Her garments had gotten a great many double and triple takes as she made her way towards her destination this fine evening. They'd also gotten those DOING the double and triple takes their fair share of smacks, if the echoing slaps that had serenaded Hella on the way had been any indication. Treowe's sisters had come through magnificently for her, having her measurements taken just a couple days ago specifically for her dress, resulting in it fitting her recent growth just perfectly.

She felt at home in the amazing garment, and admittedly, she enjoyed the sense of power that came from wearing such a dress very much. No wonder Treowe had worn his dragonhide coat and armor beneath his Hogwarts Robes nigh-constantly since the First Task. In a set of clothing that one loved deeply, one could almost ignore the nagging irritant that was currently constantly in her ear.

"Ms. Potter! I MUST know who your partner for tonight will be! Where is he? Honestly, child, you should have walked here with him if nothing else!"

That nagging irritant had another name of course. Her Head of House and the Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall. She was also in charge of the Champions on this fine evening, meaning that the Transfiguration Professor was more than a little put-out that Hella still didn't seem to have a date. The older witch had been growing ever more frantic as time passed and he still didn't show up, despite Hella claiming she did in fact have a young man coming to be her date for the evening.

It was certainly getting worse now that most of the other Houses and both other Schools had arrived and already entered the Great Hall. That said…

"He is coming, Professor. Have patience. As it is, the Slytherin Champion isn't here yet either, so we couldn't enter even if my date HAD arrived."

Her calm response doesn't seem to do much to placate Minerva though. If anything, Hella would say that her Head of House seemed even more stressed out by the reminder that very little of House Slytherin had actually shown their faces by this point. Hella doesn't have time for McGonagall though. She hasn't had time for the old woman for months.

Shifting her attention away from the increasingly frustrated Deputy Headmistress, Hella takes the time to… mm, scope out the competition as one will. Meaning, she eyes her fellow Champions and their dates, that same small smile still on her face. Hermione was there with them tonight, despite not being a Champion. As Viktor Krum's plus one however, she looked… spectacular. Very un-Hermione like, with her hair sleek and shiny, done up in a bun. She was wearing this beautiful, shimmering, light-blue dress as well… perhaps not up to Hella's not-inconsiderable standards, but certainly cute.

And then there was Fleur Delacour in her own dress. But to be fair, when you're a veela, it's not the clothes that make you, now is it? Roger Davis, Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team, certainly didn't seem to think so. His eyes, glazed over and dull, were fixated completely on Fleur's absolutely gorgeous face. His brain very well might have been dripping out of his ears for all the good rational thought was doing him at this point.

Treowe had corrected Hella about the rather flawed knowledge provided to them by their educational system, especially when it pertained to their opponent from France. In point of fact, a veela fell into the same category as a succubus or a siren. Always female, only gave birth to daughters, and they were born full-blooded like their mothers. Veela had managed to develop a better reputation than their sisterly magical creatures via manipulation and wits, and the ability to hide their monstrous traits better.

"… Perhaps I shall just have to pick one of the unattached Gryffindor boys to be Ms. Potter's escort for the night…"

Hella's ears twitch as McGonagall's muttering reaches them. The woman is clearly speaking to herself, but before Hella can correct her and shut down that particular plan, House Slytherin FINALLY arrives, led by their own Head of House. Appearing with all the subtlety of a dark thunderstorm and looking about as pleasant as one, Snape stomps up, angry as all hell. Heh, and Hermione wondered why Hella hated the man. He was the epitome of a cliched bad guy in not just looks, but personality as well.

"Severus! Thank goodness you've finally arrived! We've been waiting for- MISTER MORTON! What in Merlin's name happened?!"

What started as an exclamation of relief becomes a screech of panic that causes its fair share of wincing from those around her as McGonagall finally lays eyes on the Slytherin Champion, the students and Snape moving aside to allow their Champion to pass. Hella found herself calmly noting that the calming draught she'd taken must have been stronger than she thought, because in the end, her only reaction to what she saw was the widening of her eyes. When compared to a gasping exclamation from Hermione and Fleur, as well as a likely Russian curse word from Krum, well… she was downright casual.

Treowe though… something had indeed happened to Treowe. There were horns, massive, great big curved ones growing out of his temples and curving up and over his head. The base of each one was roughly the size of his eye sockets. Said eyes rolled in almost perfect sync with Snape's at the Transfiguration Professor's exclamation. Though, Hella's gaze was drawn downwards to a flick of something beneath his coat, which went back and forth from one side of his legs to another.

Ah… he had a tail to go with the horns, how quaint. Snape drew in his breath, likely to say something caustic and vile to his counterpart, when a paper bird flies through the hallway and lands in McGonagall's hand, interrupting him as it unfolds itself into a letter. Minerva looks down startled, but then actually begins to read the note in silence, glancing between it and the Slytherin students, it and Treowe, and then it and finally Snape.

"There is nothing you nor Poppy can do about his… condition, then?"

Hella had never heard McGonagall sound so… desperate before. Honestly, it was kind of nice in a way. She hadn't even been this pleading minutes ago when House Slytherin had yet to arrive. Snape can't seem to appreciate it though, too angry and scowl-y and what not to do anything besides shake his head sharply.

"Not without keeping him in the Hospital Wing overnight, which would in turn force him to miss the Yule Ball. That would seem to be the intention of this… prank."

He practically sneered the last word out, and Hella absently wondered just who would be so stupid as to do such a thing. They were in big trouble if Snape ever got his hands on them. Meanwhile, her Head of House clearly had other things to think about. Sighing in defeat, McGonagall nods her head, resigned.

"Very well, we will just have to make do I suppose."

Taking on a more professional air, the Deputy Headmistress straightens up, looking down her nose at Treowe imperiously, as if she hadn't just shown a hallway full of students how desperate she was. Not that many of them would remember Minerva's moment of weakness for long, Hella couldn't help but think. Sheep, the lot of them. They would quickly forget that the imposing Gryffindor woman could be broken, fractured, even if temporarily. Hella wouldn't though.

"Mister Morton, which of these young ladies is to be your dance partner for the ball?"

Snape looks displeased for some reason, and Hella can just imagine that the question McGonagall has just asked was something he'd already asked as well. Treowe probably didn't give him any more of an answer then he gave Hella's Head of House now, instead stepping past the older witch and right up to Hella Potter. As the entire hallway goes completely still, Treowe bows at the waist with a flourish, surprisingly graceful despite the massive curved horns on his head.

"Heiress Potter, I thank you for accepting me as your escort and your dance partner to this Yule Ball. As promised, this will be a delightful and magical evening for the both of us. I am honored that you have allowed me to repay the debt House Morton owes to House Potter on this sacred night, and may it be the beginning of a fruitful relationship between our Houses."

The words are spoken as if by rote and declared somewhat coolly. He lacked the intimate tone that he usually used with her in private, sounding almost mechanical and robotic instead. But that didn't mean the rest of Slytherin, Snape, McGonagall, and their fellow Champions weren't utterly shocked by the declaration. Treowe finishes by kissing the back of Hella's hand, currently clad as it is in black, elbow-length gloves.

The small smile is still on her face, having never left for even a moment. Hella follows her part of the script admirably and to the letter. Once Treowe has let her go, she does not return the bow with a curtsy of her own. Instead, as they discussed and planned, Hella straightens up, and though Treowe is taller than her even now, it can't help but feel to both her and all around him that in that moment, she's looking down at him from a pedestal higher than any of them can reach. All poise and determination, Hella speaks clearly and concisely.

"Heir Morton, I graciously accept your offer to be my escort and dance partner to this Yule Ball. I expect you will live up to your promise this evening for the chance I have given you. I am grateful to see that there are still some of those who still remember the sacrifice that House Potter made for the protection of House Morton and all others. What relationship may grow between our Houses after this eve will largely depend on your actions tonight."

Her voice was similarly far cooler than it would have been if it were just the two of them, if they were in private. But then, if they were in private, this little act, these words… they would not be necessary, of course. But it was necessary, and as those around them look at her in a whole different light, Hella basks in the attention in a way she would have been incapable of only months prior. There were as many different expressions of emotion on the faces of those around them as there were witnesses.

Treowe pays them no mind though, so neither does Hella. Instead, she continues to look on imperiously as the Heir to House Morton extracts a flower head encased in glass from inside his coat, using his wand and a bit of magic to stick the corsage to her dress.

"Your namesake, Heiress Potter. The Hellebore flower in its black coloration, to match your ebony locks and dress."

It's clear that plenty have something they want to say but given the time and how late they are already, not even Snape and McGonagall get to say it. The former leads the Slytherin students into the Great Hall ahead of them, and Hella can only imagine how fast the news will travel. The Hogwarts rumor mill will no doubt spread the entire story to the rest of the school as well as their guests before they even enter the Great Hall.

Though, even in her calm state, Hella couldn't say she approved of the way both Snape and Fleur of all people stared at her flower. At first, they'd been angry, and that had been fine… but then there had come a thoughtful cunning, and Hella didn't like that. She didn't like it one bit. Luckily it ended when Snape had to lead House Slytherin inside, and when McGonagall began to line them up and placed Hella and Treowe at the back, away from Fleur's gaze, not seeming to know what to do with them.

As they prepared to walk into the Great Hall, Hella felt the very new sensation of a prehensile limb, a tail, stroking against her dress. Turning to look at Treowe, she pauses when he leans in to whisper in her ear.

"The orderly style of hair suits Granger, but not you, Hella. After all, you are not a tame lioness, nor would I want to make you one."

As the doors to the Great Hall open again, Hella's small smile has grown slightly, and her sleek, long black hair shifts into still-gorgeous curls, moving like a living extension of her spirit, of her soul.

-x-X-x-

The mask hiding his true feelings from the world barely holds up as Treowe Morton walks with Hella into the Great Hall, towards the table normally reserved for staff. Tonight, it would house the Champions and their dates, along with Dumbledore. Like Hella, Treowe had a calming draught running through his veins… but that didn't stop his leathery spaded tail from lashing about under his dragonhide coat and displaying his agitation.

Still, it was only limited to agitation instead of coursing fury thanks to the strength of the potion made by his eldest sister Leala, and Treowe knew that full well. He hadn't trusted neither his nor Hella's bodies not to react to one another during the ball, especially not while dancing in close proximity to one another. Of course, there would be some mockery if anyone found out he was using such a potion as a social crutch, but that was why he'd only entrusted the task of making them to his sister and delivering them to House Morton elves.

Regardless, now Treowe doubted anyone would bother checking for potion effects when his massive horns and the spaded tail were so much more attention grabbing. There was an irony to be had that the horns had grown from his head. In that third dragon game back in his previous life, he'd always rolled a Horned Giant when they were available, only to be disappointed by an even bigger one being added to your team as an NPC. Of course, there was also the fact that his family crest had horned Bicorns on it.

The occupants of the various tables they pass engage in plenty of gawking, pointing, whispering, muttering, and stifled laughter. Snape would likely be out for blood tonight once he got over finally discovering who Treowe's date was, and once he found the perpetrators, they would pay most dearly. Treowe hadn't been the only one cursed and hexed before the Ball, just the only one that Madam Pomphrey hadn't been able to fix in time.

He wasn't about to let them stop him from enjoying this evening. He certainly wasn't going to stand up Hella and leave her to the tender mercies of the fuckwits around her. Even with the calming draught, Treowe was at the end of his rope. It wasn't going to take much to send him over the edge at this poin- and Percy fucking Weasley had just pulled out the chair for Hella and seated her. Treowe freezes up briefly, just a second, in wide-eyed fury that even the calming draught can't hold back for that one moment.

The social snub, that he didn't expect Treowe to do it for her, the personal snub that he'd done so for Treowe's date, and the political snub from the brown nosing, ass kissing, suck-up all combined to make Percy Weasley the sole target of Treowe's not-inconsiderable ire for the evening. His fury came so hard and so fast that it went from blazing to freezing in an instant, the calming draught probably having something to do with that as well.

So Weasley wanted to sit at the table with those better than him? He wished to overstep his bounds by attending in place of his Ministry boss? Time to educate him on just how far out of reach he was from the game he was trying to play. Sitting beside Hella, Treowe looks around her to where Percy has seated himself and gives the red head a lifted brow.

"Mister Weatherby. Couldn't find a date for the Ball? How… unfortunate."

Percy stiffens at that, and his eyes flicker to Hella for a moment, like he thinks she's going to help him. But Hella is watching the exchange passively, not seeming inclined to take either side, though she and Treowe both knew who she was truly rooting for in that moment.

"… It's Weasley, Mister Morton. I-!"

"No, no. I quite clearly recall Mister Crouch speaking to us on Halloween Night, after the Goblet of Fire chose us as its Champions. How he couldn't stay the night, having left young Weatherby in charge, how he needed to get back as soon as possible. That's you, isn't it?"

Percy's face is almost as red as his hair now, and most of the table is looking at him.

"Yes, but-."

"Quite right. After all, there is already a Lord Weasley who acts as the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department over at the Ministry, isn't there? Surely if there was another Weasley employed at the Ministry, the other Department Heads would be able to remember such a name."

Percy's eyes are wide, and he looks like a deer in the headlights now, but Treowe isn't DONE yet.

"Further, if you were in fact Mister Weasley, wouldn't you have brought along a date of your own? If I recall correctly, Mister Weasley was engaged with a Penelope Clearwater most intimately last year. Heiress Potter, you likely remember her, she was our Head Girl the year previous."

At being so engaged, Hella finally speaks up… and lands solely on the side of her date.

"Yes, Heir Morton, I recall. She was petrified alongside my friend Hermione Granger the year prior to that too. I remember a Mister Weasley frequently visiting and staying at her bedside throughout my second year. I wonder what's happened to her after Hogwarts…"

Eager to get into Hella's good graces and clearly not socially astute enough to realize that she's already against him, Percy quickly speaks up.

"A-Ah, we started working at the Ministry together, Hella, but we worked in different departments, our career paths taking divergent turns. There were some difficulties of course, and we've split up since…"

Treowe's smile becomes positively vicious, as he feels pure triumphant even through the calming draught.

"What you mean to say is, it became politically disadvantageous for you to be dating a muggleborn, so you cut ties with her in order to advance your own career. I dare say you were sorted into the wrong house, Mister Weatherby."

Percy goes utterly stiff at the accusation, but he forgets to deny it, and that's really the final nail in the coffin. Everyone at the Head Table is looking at him, and though it's probably not truly all stares of condemnation and judgement, there's enough that the young man stands and quietly accuses himself, leaving the Great Hall entirely through one of the side doors.

Treowe watches him go, a slight smile on his face, even as food is served and the feast before the dancing begins in earnest. Of course, neither he nor Hella get much time to eat before the next idiot rears his ugly head. Unfortunately, this one is older and more intelligent, if not all that much wiser. Karkaroff, watching them both since they came in together and sat down side by side as each other's dates, scowls as he looks to Dumbledore and Not-Actually-Moody.

"So then, I suppose you've finally stopped trying to hide the obvious. That you ensorcelled the Goblet of Fire to give your school two Champions! They're very clearly working together, and I expect they have been the entire time! Where is the sense of fair play at Hogwarts, hm? Where is the balance? Hah, where is the security, if one of your TWO Champions was even allowed to be hexed the night of this very ball?!"

The Death Eater really had no grounds to be making accusations of cheating or the like. By this point, they'd all cheated in some way on the First Task, each Champion being told by someone about the dragons. But Treowe knew for a fact that working together as he and Hella had been doing, training together and planning out their individual efforts together, actually wasn't illegal. The people who had made the Triwizard Tournament so long ago just didn't expect anyone to DO it.

Regardless, Karkaroff most certainly wasn't Treowe's problem, so he left Dumbledore and the fake Mad-Eye Moody to smack the Durmstrang Headmaster down. Instead, the Morton Heir focused on the others at the table. Specifically, Madame Maxine, who remains rather quiet during Karkaroff's rant, taking the time to look over Hella's glass-covered corsage instead. Being French and Headmistress of Beauxbatons, Treowe wasn't all that surprised that she would know the language of lowers, just as Fleur clearly had.

In this case, the flower that Treowe had gifted Hella was a little bit of an in-joke. In flower language, it meant 'Lying Tongues'… and every part of the Hellebore flower was poisonous. The question then became, who was telling a lie, what was that lie, and who were they telling it to? Treowe knew that his Head of House had already come to the conclusion, as he was meant to, that Treowe was effectively USING Hella for his own gains.

It was exactly what Snape would prefer the truth to be, and what he would expect from one of his snakes. So of course, the Potions Professor didn't for a moment think that anything else might be the case, instead simply living in his own secure knowledge that he was clever enough to 'figure it out' so quickly. Now that they were all at the head table, Snape had given Treowe more than one barely-there nod of acknowledgment for what he thought was the young man's scheme.

But Maxime didn't know anything about that sort of thing, nor did Fleur. Their ignorance left them with broader minds, as it were, and they were capable of thinking outside of the box that Snape had unknowingly put himself in, left to ponder just what the Hellebore on Hella's breast was meant to imply and to whom.

Of course, Fleur didn't have nearly as much time to stare at Hella as her Headmistress did. She was too distracted with Hermione. It started with a comment from Hermione about how Hella and Treowe looked like they were straight out of the classic fairytale, Beauty and the Beast. Fleur couldn't let that slide, tittering from Hermione with a casual backhanded comment that was most certainly less about Hermione's 'innocence' and more about her ignorance of Magical History.

But to the surprise of anyone in earshot, Hermione gave as good as she got, smiling sweetly and complimenting Fleur's dress, before casually mentioning that she could 'hardly' see the adjustments the veela had had to make to fit into it. There were gouges in the table after that as Fleur's hands partially transformed into talons, and what followed were rapidly fired insults in French that shockingly for Fleur, were returned completely fluently by Hermione.

Their dates seemed at a loss of what to do as Hermione and Fleur spent the rest of the meal trading barbs from around the two men. Though, where Davis, weak-minded fool that he was simply couldn't keep up, Krum seemed rather happy to let his date shine on her chosen battlefield, seeing no reason to interfere.

When the dance was finally called, there were a certain level of relief as the contentious, caustic parties at the Head Table departed, moving from their seats to the dance floor and officially opening the Ball to everyone else with the first dance of the evening. Treowe was more than happy for the calming draught at that point, and he could tell as he looked into Hella's eyes that she was too.

Both of them were relaxed. Both of them were… chilly towards one another. It was, or at least should have been apparent to any of the observant people watching that they didn't seem as close as they could have been. The idea was to give off the vibe that Treowe was discharging a duty more than anything else, and that Hella was allowing him to do so.

To their credit, not all of the students of Hogwarts were complete idiots. While many just didn't get it, and there was plenty of derision and anger and the like… those Neanderthals mattered little. The people who did matter, Heirs to various Houses sans Malfoy, who was as much a buffoon as ever, came up as the night progressed with greetings of "Heiress Potter. Heir Morton." Such greetings were of course returned.

Then came the Gryffindors, as they switched partners to 'subtly' check up on her and keep watch on him. Treowe bore with that, having nothing to hide, and nothing to be all that worried about. They were fools, most of them, but they were also concerned friends… most of them. Once that was done, it was Hella's turn to do the same, and they switched partners with Hermione and Krum so that the Potter girl could dance with Victor and find out his intentions towards her friend.

That was fun for Treowe, mostly because he and Hermione mutually decided they could take a break from dancing during this time, going for refreshment and leading to the discovery that someone had spiked the open drinks with firewhisky. The polite conversation that followed grew a little tipsy by the time Hella and Krum finally came to find them, and then they got to get a little drunk too.

Though, none of them got quite as drunk as one Ronald Weasley. The Yule Ball ended on a rather high note when Treowe found himself getting to use his cranium, reinforced by the horns atop his head, to knock out a rather drunk, angry, slurring Ron as the red head tried to insult him, Hella, Granger, Krum, and even Longbottom, just because the poor boy had been dancing with Hella at the time.

That was about the time that Treowe began to feel Leala's potion wearing off, and a look at Hella told him she was experiencing the same thing. Time to go.

-x-X-x-

The advantages given by the potion that Leala had provided Treowe and Hella with were in turn balanced by the fact that, once the calming draught ran its course, their suppressed libidos and emotions would return with the speed and force of the Hogwarts Express barreling down the tracks with the brakes cut. Both could feel the effects of it running out, but luckily, Weasley's drunken interruption and subsequent silencing had been a rather opportune moment for them to excuse themselves from the Yule Ball.

Leaving out through the Hogwarts Courtyard, fairy lights gathered about them, seeming inexplicably drawn to them. Only inexplicable to those that lacked knowledge of Samhain rituals, though. There were fairies clinging to and riding on Treowe's horns, swinging about on his tail, and fluttering across his coat as the animated snake chased them along the fabric.

But it was nothing compared to how they lit up Hella as the two of them circled around the Castle to another entrance that wouldn't have so many prying eyes. Once back inside of Hogwarts proper, the two make a beeline for the Room of Requirement now that they're no longer being watched, the circuitous route they've taken hopefully doing enough to keep them from being followed to their ultimate, true destination.

The door had barely shut behind them before Treowe had Hella pinned up against it, furiously kissing her as his hands roamed across her body, clutching at her beautiful frame through the gorgeous black dress that his sisters had made for her. He probably would have fucked her right then and there up against the door if there wasn't an interruption a moment later not unlike a lion's roar.

Pulling back, both of them blush deeply, their stomachs growling in unison. Another side effect of the potion… when it finally wore off, it left them both ravenous. Oh sure, they'd had the feast at the Yule Ball, but then they'd spent what felt like an eternity but was really only hours dancing on the floor with each other and so many others.

His own stomach growls just as loudly as Hella's, and they stared into one another's eyes, both very conflicted. They were starving… but also horn as all fuck, and it was obvious they needed to eat. Decisions, decisions…

Minutes later, they've come to a compromise and figured out what they're doing. Their garments are of course fully discarded, and they both sit naked at the dining table, which is absolutely stacked with food. Not apart of course, but sitting together, in a single high-back chair that even has a hole in it for his newly made tail and the tailbone that comes with it.

Hella sits impaled on his lap, his dick piercing her cunt, which in turn milks his painfully hard schlong for a release as it shifts, squeezes, and rubs against him, reminding him that by this point, it basically owns his cock. Of course, they're also eating. Feeding one another, Treowe and Hella feast upon the meal provided to them from the leftovers of the night's festivities.

Neither shows any sign of decorum of politeness or 'appropriate behavior' any longer. Away from prying eyes, they thoroughly enjoy being able to finally let loose. And that means just being themselves, just being Treowe and Hella. Heir Morton and Heiress Potter have been stripped away with their clothes, and now… they're simply who they are and nothing more.

The first few minutes of their meal are filled with the two of them feasting but also moaning and groaning through mouthfuls of food as Treowe thrust up into her again and again, bouncing her jarringly on his cock. At the same time, while one hand fed Hella as she in turn fed him, the other remained on her chest, groping and squeezing her breasts one at a time, and constantly playing with her nipples.

It wasn't until after he came for the first time, flooding her womb with the excess of seed that had been building up since their last time together, days before the Ball, that Treowe felt like he could truly relax, his cum filling Hella's womb to the brim and then some, even as his cock remained hard and throbbing, pulsating deep within Hella's cunt.

Meanwhile, the ravenous Potter witch went through plates of food faster than he did releases, even as she climaxed several times while scarfing down delicious meals by the dozens. It would have been a scene of utter, disgusting debauchery to any watching, if any WERE capable of watching, but to Treowe, it was beautiful. Seeing Hella taking care of her health made him happy. And of course, satisfying both of their insatiable lusts ALSO made him very happy.

Eventually though, the eating came to an end, the two of them feeling rather bloated, with Hella doubly so thanks to her weighted, sloshing womb. Lifting her off of him produces an utter deluge of their mixed ejaculations, her pussy juices and his cum coating his cock and balls as Hella stands up and then turns around, swaying for a moment as her balance shifts from the added weight.

She was probably using her metamorphmagus ability to give her stomach and womb more room to fit everything in there, but that didn't mean she had her usual balance. Regardless, her eyes travel up and down his body for a moment, but they don't fixate on his messy cock like Treowe is somewhat expecting. Instead, they focus on his horns, and in an instant, the wizard knows what his lovely witch is thinking.

No words need to pass between them, in truth, Treowe has been thinking about the same exact thing for most of the night, ever since he'd been told by Pomphrey herself that the horns couldn't be easily removed. Reaching out, Treowe grabs Hella by the hips and then slides his hands around to her ass, gripping it roughly and picking her up. As he impales her on his cock once again, his dick returning to its favorite place inside of her pussy, Hella is reaching out as well…

The Heiress Potter grasps his horns as handholds, smirking wickedly as she looks down into his eyes and proceeds to use said handholds to pull herself up and down the shaft of his cock. She bounces on his length again and again, while Treowe gropes and squeezes her buttocks, enjoying her fat ass for all it's worth just as much as he enjoys her tightening, squeezing, rhythmically massaging insides as they milk him towards yet another release.

The fucking, now that there's no longer food involved, is a lot faster paced, a lot more aggressive than before. Hella rides him like a woman possessed, her eyes filled with lustful desire, her needs obvious in the way her pussy clenches down HARD around his cock every few bounces, moans leaving her throat signifying the orgasms she's experiencing at the end of his cock as it impales her womb again and again.

Then, he cums again, and Hella's eyes roll back in her head for a moment as she grips tightly at his horn, holding them quite closely. Treowe's own eyelids flutter as he groans, and his grip on Hella's delicious badonkadonk only tightens as well. They both tense up as his seed pumps into her once more, and then, as soon as he's done cumming, Hella is pulling off his cock and hopping out of his lap.

She moves so quickly that this newest mixture of their juices doesn't even get a chance to spray out onto his length, though it does immediately start to leak onto the Room of Requirement's floor when Hella falls to her knees between his legs and grabs hold of his VERY messy cock, stroking it a little bit and then leaning in to slap its wetly against one cheek.

"Heir Morton… I appreciated the way you defended my honor tonight… you were the perfect gentleman."

Her voice is husky, her tone seductive as her smoky gaze stares up at him. Treowe just smiles a little. She's just as beautiful right now, with her face getting more and more smeared by his cum, his cock resting against her cheek, as she was at the Yule Ball tonight. Reaching out and sliding his fingers through her untamed black locks, Treowe lets her know that.

"You're gorgeous, darling. So very, very gorgeous."

Hella blushes and sputters a bit at the compliment, scowling just a tad and pouting up at him. She'd been trying to play around a bit, but he hadn't reciprocated with an 'Heiress Potter'. Chuckling at her pout, but also swayed by it, Treowe lets out a sigh.

"Heiress Potter… how would you like to reward me?"

Now grinning, Hella gives Treowe's length a nice, long lick. She ends at the tip and pulls back for a moment to lick her own lips as she smirks at him.

"Mm, I thought you'd never ask."

Then, she descends on his cock with all the experience that the last few months of intimacy between the two of them has given her. While one hand remains around the base of Treowe's shaft, the other goes up under his length, taking his balls in her soft, gentle grip and massaging them even as she swallows the head of his cock in her mouth and then more, sliding her lips down Treowe's messy length, her tongue swirling to get every bit of their juices all the while.

It's safe to say that Hella has become a master at this art. They both very much enjoy practicing oral on one another after all, but Treowe couldn't deny that Hella was better at it then he was… and she thoroughly seemed to enjoy it as well. Swallowing him down her throat, the young woman doesn't even gag, managing to suppress that particular reflex as Treowe's length disappears deeper and deeper into her gullet.

She takes every last inch of his cock into her throat, her hand eventually leaving the base of his cock so that her lips can press into his crotch, suctioning down. All the while, those gorgeous green eyes of hers stare up at him. Treowe stares right back, his hand still laced in Hella's black hair. Finally, as she tries to hold it longer than she ever has before, Hella begins to choke a little. She gags as her swallowing technique eventually fails her.

At that point, she pulls back. Treowe lets her of course, the sensation of her massaging, swallowing throat around his cock as it leaves her esophagus just as pleasurable as the sensation of going down it. And once she's got just the head of his cock between her lips and is swirling her tongue around it… Hella goes back down again, swallowing it all, gulping and gobbling the massive rod of meat down as she begins to bob up and down his length.

Deep-throating his shaft, swirling her tongue around his tip and then writhing it along the underside as she goes deep again and again… it quickly becomes more than just a clean-up session. Her swallowing is more than just avoiding her gag reflex, she's also drinking down their juices and his constantly leaking precum. But she goes beyond that and begins to suck him off for another reason entirely.

Treowe is in no position to hold back. As Hella milks his cock with her throat, he simply lets out a groan, signaling when it finally arrives. His seed pumps into her mouth and though her cheeks chipmunk outwards adorably, not a single drop escapes the young witch's lips as she drinks and drinks and drinks. Hella swallows every last bit of Treowe's cum, and then goes down the entirety of his length one more time, all while never once ceasing in massaging his churning ball sack.

Once he's done cumming, she pulls back slowly, her tongue cleaning up any excess left over one last time, and finally, her lips popping off of his cockhead, leaving his cock glistening with saliva and nothing else. But he's still hard of course, and his member twitches as Hella leans away to look at it for a long moment, before giving him a wicked smile.

"Heir Morton… you're still so… happy to see me naked. Whatever AM I going to do with you?"

Up until this point, Treowe has been happy to let Hella remain in control of this night's fun. But there's only so many a wizard can take before he's provoked into taking charge. Given the glint in Hella's eye and the quirk in her mouth, Treowe suspected that she understood that quite well. He suspected that she actually was counting on it.

With a growl, Treowe pulls Hella up by the hair, but only for a moment. His hands move to her hips next as he rises from his chair, and the witch lets out a happy laugh, even as she hops into his arms eagerly. Carrying her over to the bed, Treowe spins her about and pins her to it face first. For a moment, Hella tries to get up onto her hands and knees, perhaps expecting him to take her from behind, doggystyle.

But Treowe has other plans. He pins her down and leans over her, leaving Hella completely prone as he spreads her ass cheeks wide and places his lubed-up saliva-covered prick against her back door. With one vicious thrust, he slams home, causing Hella to cry out in exquisite pleasure. After all, by this point, her asshole was well-trained to take his particular cock. Very well-trained indeed.

An idea strikes him, and Treowe brings his new tail to bear on Hella's cunt as well. They'd already played with the horns, might as well do this too. As Treowe butt-fucks his squealing lover into the bed they've fucked in so many times over the last few months, he also thrusts his prehensile spade tail up Hella's creampied cunt, DPing her from above as she clutches at the bedding beneath her, kicking her legs and squirming, but also moaning loudly and wantonly.

"D-Don't stop! Fuck me, you big BEAST! Fuck me!"

Treowe just snorts a little at the call back to Hermione's earlier comparison and gives Hella exactly what she wants. He fucks her, and he fucks her add, plowing her tight little asshole until it's not so tight anymore, tail-fucking her squeezing, gripping cunt through orgasm after orgasm. Finally, not able to hold back any longer, Treowe lets out a groan and pulls out of Hella at the last second, absolutely COATING the witch's back in cum. He covers her in the stuff, and she freezes for a moment before moaning wantonly under the shower of his seed.

Then, it's over… well, that bit is over. In truth, the night is just beginning, and Treowe knows this to be true when Hella rises from her position on the bed and smirks slightly, running a finger across the small of her back and coming away with cum that she slurps off it.

"You've gone and made a mess, Treowe. Now we're going to have to get cleaned up."

As if summoned by her words, but more accurately, summoned by her thoughts, the other half of the Room of Requirement transforms into a nice, large bath, complete with already warm water and all the soapy bubbles one could ask for. Hella giggles with delight as she races over, while Treowe follows at a slightly more sedate pace, but a happy smile on his face, nonetheless.

He loved magic. And truth be told? He was coming to well and truly love Hella Potter as well…

-x-X-x-

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