The Price of Pride
Chapter 10. The Price of Pride
After leaving my sister and her two friends, I quickly find myself in an abandoned classroom.
Navigating through the Menu, I open the [Gacha Wheel] page.
I click on the [Roll] button beneath the white circle that pops into the centre of my vision, and use up the point gained from spanking Leanne.
Item Obtained: [Rias Gremory's Underwear] (Rarity: Trash)
— This is a fresh pair of underwear, just removed from Rias' nubile body. Do with it what you will, chump.
…
…
My eyes lock on the purple, lacy underwear that has materialised in my palm.
Who even is Rias Gremory? And why would I want to do anything with this mere piece of cloth? Am I meant to jerk off to it? I'm not that far gone to use a stranger's bra and knickers for pleasure though. I have Hermione and Iris for that. I have real girls to satiate myself.
Stifling a sigh, I throw it in my Vault, out of sight and out of mind.
It was quite a disappointing pull, obviously. Then again, the incident with Leanne was so random that I don't feel too annoyed.
Ignoring this unsatisfactory experience, I make my way towards the Great Hall.
Maybe the savoury food will be enough to help me forget this sour taste in my mouth.
~xXxXx~
During dinner, a sudden hush falls over the Gryffindor table. The 'reason' simply ignores the silence and elegantly perches herself beside me. Though the blush on her cheeks tells me that she isn't unaffected by my housemates' collective attention.
"May I sit here, please?" Astoria asks nervously, her soft voice seeming loud when everyone around us is dead quiet.
I smile at her. "Sure, go ahead, Tori."
"I hope I'm not disturbing anyone."
"Not at all, we're glad to have you."
As we start talking, my housemates relax and return to their own conversations, only occasionally glancing in our direction.
"Oi, why don't you introduce your pretty friend to us, mate?" Seamus speaks up from across the table, getting affirming nods from Dean and Ron. Even Hermione, sitting on my other side, is looking at Astoria curiously.
I pause for a moment, my spoon hovering over the soup, before continuing. "She is Astoria Greengrass, as you all know. We met while I was browsing the library. We became fast friends. And that's it."
"Little sister of the Daphne Greengrass, innit?" Seamus notes as if it isn't common knowledge, his eyes glazed like a lovesick fool as he steals glances at the Slytherin table where the said person is, staring back at us with furrowed brows.
When our gazes meet, she inclines her head.
I nod back with a small smile.
Daphne Greengrass
Level: 18
Beauty Tier: A
Seduction: 60%
Points Available: 5
I suppose saving her sister from a certain death was bound to boost her seduction. Great, now that she's not out of reach, I need to plan my approach.
Ron smacks Seamus on the back of his head. "Don't be a pig. You're making her uncomfortable."
And he's indeed right. Astoria is scowling, her eyes downcast, her lips pressed thin.
"Sorry, sorry." Seamus laughs it off, rubbing his head. "Didn't mean to make you jealous. You're attractive enough."
That gets him another smack.
I pat her head, mesmerised by the silkiness of her blonde hair. "Ignore him, Tori. He's a clown. And you are pretty, as pretty as your sister."
I'm not even lying. Not as sexy, but they're definitely equally pretty.
Turning a deaf ear to the clown's whining protest, I smile as she lightens up and leans into my touch. With the way things are going between us, I'll not be surprised if she lets me fuck her someday. But since she only has one point to offer, I can't bring myself to dedicate necessary time and energy in finishing her seduction. Not to mention, she is shy, I'll have to systematically chip away at her prudence before I can earn that point by plowing into her. And it's simply too much effort for a little reward. I better let it play out naturally while focusing on bigger fishes.
Suddenly, I feel a fiery glare coming from somewhere.
Oh look, Iris isn't thrilled about my new friend. Probably because I'm treating Astoria like a younger sister, making my grouchy princess feel territorial. Heh, it'll be fun seeing her being more aggressive and passionate in our next make-out session.
"So that's your type, huh? Thin and small, like a delicate doll." Lavender smirks, resting her chin on her steepled fingers, her sky-blue eyes glimmering with humour.
I return her smirk, swallowing a spoonful of soup before replying, "Not particularly. I appreciate buxom blondes just as much as petite ones, if not more."
"Is that so?" Her smirk widens. "I wonder where we can find a buxom blonde for you. Perhaps you already have someone in mind. Do you?"
"Perhaps." My lips twitch as I give her a blatant once-over, my eyes lingering on her renowned tits. The biggest pair in Gryffindor sixth year by quite a margin.
"Maybe we can find her together," she suggests, her tone growing huskier as she leans forward, her soft breasts pressing against the edge of the table. "How about we go on a search during the first Hogsmeade weekend?"
"I have a date with Katie that day. How about the second Hogsmeade weekend?"
She taps her chin, not breaking eye contact. "Fine. You have yourself a date."
"I didn't know we were talking about a date."
"We weren't? I can take it back if you want."
"Don't you dare."
I'm acutely aware of all the eyes on me, especially those of Astoria and Iris. Just because my perk allows me multiple partners doesn't mean it leaves the girls unaffected. Jealousy and insecurity will always be there. At least I don't have to come up with excuses for why I should have multiple girls. That would've been a pain in the arse.
[Anomaly]
— Women are fine with sharing you, allowing you to continue your conquest without facing the dreaded drama.
As it says, they are 'fine' with sharing me, not 'glad'.
"Good. Be prepared to have your world rocked then." With that, Lavender slinks away, adding an exaggerated sway to her hips, apparently done with dinner.
Parvati follows after her, taking her hand, giggling and whispering conspiratorially.
There, I've acquired another date.
Lavender Brown
Level: 17
Beauty Tier: A
Seduction: 30%
Points Available: 5
My friends shoot me either envious or impressed looks. And the girls I'm close with react as expected. Hermione remains unbothered, while Iris and Astoria are mildly irritated.
Oh well, they'll learn to accept it.
~xXxXx~
Next morning, I drag my sisters to an abandoned classroom.
"I didn't just find a chest full of gold. I even got a couple of supernatural powers when I touched that ancient, enchanted chest," I explain unceremoniously, sticking to the system-made lie.
They blink and regard me with disbelieving looks.
"Fine. This should help."
[Wings of Angel]
— You have white, angelic wings. It can be used to fly. That's it. It has no other purpose.
Something shimmers on my back, and suddenly, I have giant, bird-like wings flapping in the dusty room, forcing them to brace themselves as gales of wind slam into them, making them stumble, their clothes and hair fluttering. "I have become an angel, messenger of God, and I can grant any of your wishes. I repeat: any of your wishes."
…
…
"Bugger." Rose groans, palming her face. "I'm going to hell."
Iris, on the other hand, looks stricken, her eyes wide and her face pinched, but her words are calm and composed. "Are you really?"
"No, I'm just kidding." I snort at their sighs of relief. "But I can make your wishes come true. That's why I want you to think about what you want the most in your life.
"Today is 12th September. In one month, on 11th October to be more precise, I'll be able to give one of you your wish. That's why you will make a list of what you desire. We'll see if I'm really able to grant cataclysmic wishes or not. Immortality, divinity, power—there'll be no limits. Ask me to turn your wildest imagination into reality that day. I expect nothing less."
After securing their promise to keep this secret for my [Binder] perk, we leave for breakfast.
~xXxXx~
On Sunday, I end up in my mum's quarters. It is more spacious and luxurious than her room back home. Complete with a lounge, kitchen, en-suite bedroom, and balcony. All in all, it's a comfortable retreat—something a professor deserves for enduring snot-nosed brats.
Anyways, I'm here for a reason. Today, I'll be meeting Astoria's parents. Something that makes me both excited and apprehensive.
If my hunch is right, they'll be compensating me for taking away Astoria's blood curse. They wouldn't summon me just to express gratitude.
"You sure I don't need to come with you?" Mum asks for the third time in the past five minutes, her anxiety palpable.
"I'm sure," I say, rolling my eyes. "I doubt they'll try to harm me when it's known I'm visiting them. Besides, I cured their daughter's incurable disease. That has to count for something."
Yes, mum is in the know too. I just needed to shock her with my wings, like I did with my sisters.
"You don't understand," she sighs, pacing back and forth before the fireplace. "The Greengrass family is one of the most ancient in the Isles, second only to the Blacks. They wield nearly unlimited political and economical power. They can kill you on a mere whim and I'll be helpless to do anything legally. Plus, they were aligned with the Dark Lord during the war a decade ago. To the likes of them, muggle-borns and half-bloods are hardly considered people."
That certainly doesn't paint them in a good light.
Fortunately, my clones are currently out and about, training constantly. In the worst-case scenario, even if I'm killed, I won't truly die. My soul will simply transfer to one of my clones. That's why I'm not as concerned as my mum.
"I will be careful, mum." I intercept her 'pacing path' to stop her. "Just know that I have my ways to keep myself safe."
She pauses, her tense expression softening. "Good, that does alleviate most of my fear."
"Just believe in me," I reassure her, my hands finding her waist, the fabric of her robes whisper-thin beneath my touch. Leaning down, I press a lingering kiss on the corner of her mouth. "I'll come back without a scratch."
She smiles, a hint of red tinting her cheeks, not protesting about our closeness. "Right. And you also want to buy a new wand, don't you?"
"Yes. I've lost mine, and will need to visit Ollivander's after my meeting with the Greengrass family," I explain, drawing closer and enveloping her in my embrace.
She presses the side of her face against my chest, looping her own arms around my back. "I've gotten Dumbledore's permission for you. You may go to Diagon Alley. But you must return before the sundown."
"Alright," I say, one arm around her narrow waist while the other rubs up and down her spine, the delicate fabric of her robe almost making it feel like I'm caressing her bare skin. "And I forgot to tell you, but you're the best potions professor we've ever had. And it's not just my opinion, but everyone's."
I feel her smile against my chest. "Thanks, love. While I'm sad at Severus' passing, I'm grateful for this opportunity to fulfil my dream of becoming a teacher."
"And you're doing a great job at it," I add, planting a kiss on her crimson hair. My hand, the one wound around her waist, loosens slightly and slides down a bit.
It's not on her arse exactly, but neither is it coiled around her waist anymore, it's somewhere in between, just above the beginning of the swell of her plump behind.
She doesn't react, content in hugging me and nestling her face in my chest. But it soon comes to an end when the two blondes amble into the room.
I pull away, taking the opportunity to lightly brush my fingers down the shapely curve of my mum's rump, making her jolt and whip her head up at me.
At my apologetic look, she immediately relaxes, writing it off as a mistake.
"Tori, Greengrass." I turn and greet the newcomers with a smile.
Both sisters are dressed nicely.
Daphne is garbed in a dark-green, lacy gown, the type which seems to be custom-made to hug every inch of her glorious curves and make them pop. Even her long, blonde hair isn't done in a high ponytail like usual. No, it's twisted in an intricate French braid, flowing down her shoulder, reaching her stomach.
In contrast, Astoria has opted for a simple yet charming white summer dress. Its thin spaghetti straps bare her porcelain shoulders, and the airy fabric makes her look like some ethereal fae.
"Harry!"
"Evans."
By now, my mum has gotten over being 'accidentally' touched and smiles politely at them. "You can use the fireplace here."
Instead of expressing gratitude, all they offer are stiff nods.
Right, I almost forgot that both of them are Slytherins. And while not everyone there is a bigot, most of them are. Unfortunately, Astoria and Daphne seem to fall in that category. At least they're not vocal about their prejudicial beliefs. That would've been awkward to deal with.
It's surprising that Tori has become attached to me despite everything. Then again, I did save her life. Maybe I'm an exception in her eyes.
'Not like other mudbloods.'
I can't deny it—it does annoy me more than a little. If I hadn't healed Astoria's blood curse, she probably wouldn't have given me a second glance.
I better wrap this up before my mood plummets and gives rise to darker thoughts.
"Let's go," I say, heading over to the fireplace.
"Wait." Astoria grabs my arm. "I need you to know something before you go."
"Oh?" I raise my eyebrow.
She withdraws her hand momentarily before extending it again, palm down. "When my mother offers her hand like this," she explains, "don't shake it. Instead, take her hand and bow down to place a brief kiss on her knuckles."
"Tori, it's fine," Daphne interjects, embarrassment colouring her tone. "They'll make an exception this time."
At least someone here is self-aware.
"No, no. I want him to make a great first impression," Astoria insists, shaking her head and turning to give me pleading puppy-eyes.
It's strange to witness this side of her—unwittingly condescending yet surprisingly innocent in her intentions.
"Alright, madam," I comply, bowing slightly as I press a respectful kiss to the back of her hand.
"Good," Astoria responds with an excited smile, seemingly unaware of Daphne's embarrassment and my mum's growing annoyance.
It's fine. I can endure this for the reward that awaits me. I'm not that prideful to begin with.
"Anything else?" I inquire.
"Yes. When you meet my father, bow deeper. He likes that."
My smile widens, though the amusement is tinged with frustration. "How deep?"
She demonstrates, almost bending at ninety degrees.
Okay, it's not cute anymore. And I am that prideful, I realise, because I'm not bowing like that before anyone.
"Enough, children." Mum interrupts before I can say anything, her anger thinly veiled. "You better go. I have work to do."
"Right, let's go, Tori." Daphne yanks her into the fireplace, and they disappear in a burst of green flames.
She sighs, glaring at the flames. "Be careful. Their parents will be worse."
"Don't worry, Everything will be fine. What's the worst that can happen?" And then I use the floo too.
~xXxXx~
As I step out of the mantlepiece, I'm met with a sight of opulence and wealth so staggering that it leaves me speechless.
The walls, painted in alabaster, are embellished with intricate engravings of strange images and symbols, crafted in pure gold. They tower to an astonishing height, nearly three storeys tall, before converging into a dome-like ceiling. Suspended from that dome is a massive glass chandelier, imposing enough to potentially crush a crowd if it were to ever fall.
The tiles are also white, scrubbed clean enough to reflect everything. Adorning the lower section of the walls are rich paintings of aristocratic men and women, accompanied by various trophies. And the upper section of the walls is covered by satin drapes of various shades.
Everything here is prim and pristine.
The very air seems too expensive to breathe.
"Welcome to Greengrass Manor." A divine woman steps towards us with a smile.
She is clad in a dark-green, form-fitting, elegant-looking gown that is almost identical to Daphne's. But her curves are bigger and rounder, a sight that makes my mouth water. She doesn't just have a seductress' body but also the most breathtaking face I've ever seen: heart-shaped and perfectly proportional, framed with high cheekbones, a beautiful nose, and full supple lips that beg to be bruised everyday from kisses.
The corner of her mouth curves up at my reaction to her beauty, and she offers her hand. "Harry Potter, I presume."
Proserpina Greengrass
Level: 27
Beauty Tier: S
Seduction: 0%
Points Available: 10
I blink, absently taking her dainty hand in mine and bowing to press a kiss on her knuckles. "Actually, it's Harry Evans, not Potter."
Finally, I've found another S-tier woman. And if only beauties like these are given that rank then I understand why I haven't found anyone besides her and my mum.
Instantly, her demeanour changes. She pulls back her hand and wipes it with a handkerchief, glaring down at me. "Evans? That's not a pureblood name. But Astoria said you're the son of James Potter."
"I am, unfortunately," I utter, taken aback from her mood change. "But my parents are divorced and I've taken up my mother's name."
"Divorced?" She asks dubiously, glancing at Daphne.
"It's a muggle thing, where a married couple separate for good," she answers, glowering at Astoria, who looks sheepish and terrified.
"Muggle? Is he not a pureblood?" She actually spits on the floor. "Why would you invite it to our house?"
"Mother! He is half-blood." Astoria glides forward and takes her hands. "But he is also different from other mudbloods and half-bloods. He is the one who cured my sickness. He must be special. Please don't insult him."
"Fine, your father can deal with it." She sneers in my direction, again wiping her knuckles as if she might catch a disease. "But you mustn't lie, Astoria. You told us you'll be bringing a Potter. Come, tell me everything first. Daphne, keep an eye on it while I go check her and see if she is enthralled."
"Yes, mother."
Astoria shoots me an apologetic look before scampering after her mother.
Well, saying it's infuriating is putting it mildly. Perhaps I should kill them all and show why they shouldn't provoke this 'It'.
"I'm sorry, Evans." Daphne sighs, walking over to a plush sofa and sitting down on it.
I follow her lead and flop beside her. "Is your family really this cartoonishly bigoted?"
She chuckles, twirling her braid, leaning back against the armrest and facing me. "You can say that. My father is more rational, even if he believes the same thing as my mother. Astoria believes in pureblood supremacy too, I guess, but she isn't into violence and thinks we should live and let live."
"And what about you?" I ask, surprised that she is less prejudiced than her sister. I would've expected it to be the other way around.
"My parents' ideology has some truth to it." She starts, ignoring my unimpressed expression. "But I don't think purity of blood really matters. All that one needs is magic. If you have it, you're fine. Of course, I'm still better than you all since I have more culture and history. But, in the end, I don't really care. My best friend is a half-blood. It would be awkward interacting with her if I was like my family."
"I'm glad that you're not." I smile, my anger momentarily buried under wry amusement. "Most of the boys would've been disappointed if the 'prettiest girl' in our year turned out to be a filthy bigot."
She rolls her eyes, though her proud smile reveals she's flattered. "If all those boys suddenly disappeared, I might actually start tolerating muggles."
"Impossible."
"Exactly." She smirks.
"Draco must be different if you like him so much."
She scrunches her nose and shakes her head. "Don't. Just don't."
"Oh?"
"Let's just say that we have a mutual goal and a sword hanging at our necks. We are not friends, but reluctant partners."
"I see. If you ever need help, don't be shy and seek me. That's the least I can do for you after you stopped me from burning this house down."
She smiles softly and nods. "Thank you. But please don't think too bad of Tori. She is just the product of her upbringing, and she didn't have a half-blood friend to broaden her perspective. She will change for the better if you keep being her friend."
"I'll try." I lie, because this is it. I may fuck Astoria in future when I get the chance, and I may continue our friendship, but she'll never become someone dear to me, like Iris or Rose, or like Hermione.
It's because of her that I had to hear such demeaning things.
'It'.
Such a simple yet humiliating word. Proserpina doesn't even consider me as 'he'. She equates me with beasts. And hidden under Astoria's smiles and innocence is the same thing. If I hadn't saved her, I would've been a 'It' in her eyes too.
I clench my fist, my rage rising to surface now that I'm not distracted.
Proserpina returns at that moment, not even sparing me a glance. "Lead it to your father's study. He is waiting. Oh, and vanish that sofa."
"Evanesco." Daphne cringes, vanishing the expensive sofa just because I sat on it.
I walk after them with a blank smile. Mount Harry is on the cusp of explosion.
However bigoted, Proserpina does have an arse to kill for. If only she weren't such a dumb bitch.
As we hurry through hallways that are long and wide enough to be rooms, I wonder if this manor was built for giants. The sheer spaciousness of it all is mind-blowing. And I'm startled when we enter the main house, because the one where I floo-ed in was apparently just a minor wing.
If the grandeur of the earlier chamber was too much, then I don't have words to describe the excessive splendour I witness on the way. From gold, silver, gems to gigantic paintings, the walls are decorated with literal treasure. And chandeliers, countless chandeliers. Even the 'corridors' aren't spared, with glass chandeliers hanging at regular intervals.
At last, we stop before a ginormous double door.
It swings open, granting us entry.
I won't repeat myself, but just know that the office isn't lacking in extravagance either. The three sides are the same alabaster walls, but the entire wall on my left side is just a thick sheet of glass, giving a serene view of grassy plains with rocky mountains in the distance.
Seated in a high chair behind a transparent, glass table is a short, lean, dark-haired man. Dressed in expensive robes and sporting a neat moustache, he is… unimpressive. He wouldn't have looked out of place in a Ministry. But he isn't common rabble. No, he is one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the Wizarding World.
While his appearance isn't intimidating, his name surely is.
Damian Greengrass.
Damian Greengrass
Level: 26
Beauty Tier: D
Seduction: 0%
Points Available: 1
Astoria instructed me to bow to her father.
… Fuck her.
"Welcome, Mr. Evans, please take a seat," he says politely, nodding at the cushioned chair before the glass desk, opposite him.
I sink down in its comfort, my eyes following Proserpina as she goes to stand behind him with her hands on his backrest.
Daphne does the same, standing behind her father, beside her mother.
Three on one?
That's how this arrangement feels.
"Astoria said you wanted to talk to me. Has that changed now that you know I'm not a Potter?" My smile is still there, but my gleaming eyes contradicts my apparent feeling.
Mount Harry is frothing, seeking a release.
Daphne subtly signals me to calm down. But fuck her. I hate this house, I hate that divine, bitchy woman, and I hate this fucking chair.
Why is it so low-seated? Why do I have to look up as if I'm some inferior being admiring my God?
Am I an 'It'?
Damian smiles and shakes his head. "You may choose the Evans name, but you have the Potter's blood. But we're not here to discuss you. No, we are here because I need your service."
"Service?"
"You cured Astoria's blood curse, didn't you? And she told us that you can heal anything." He leans back in the high-chair and crosses his leg over the other. "I want that service."
Not even a fucking thank you for saving his daughter.
"I see. So you need me to cure something."
"Very astute of you."
His voice is friendly enough, but I can feel the sarcasm in my very bones.
He is looking down on me, isn't he? I am just an 'It' in his eyes, but he thinks he's clever enough to conceal that behind a polite veneer.
"Alright, but first let me show you something. It's very important."
He frowns but gestures at me to go ahead.
I stand up and walk over to the left wall that is made entirely of thick glass.
I check for the power source and feel it inside me. Every morning, I drink from the 'Vial of Duralumin' in case I won't have time to chug it down in an emergency. And drinking it in advance is a safe practice. It doesn't get digested and remains in my stomach for an entire day, waiting to be used. When it doesn't, it simply vanishes. Then I drink another vial, continuing the cycle.
Before me, after the glass, is a vast stretch of green plain. It is bordered by rocky mountains after a couple of miles.
I select the skill and use the power of duralumin, enhancing it by 100x.
"Watch carefully." I look over my shoulders at them, smiling blankly.
Daphne is confused and scared, Damian is intrigued, and Proserpina is annoyed and impatient.
…
"FUS RO DAH!"
And the world is unmade.
~xXxXx~
It happens in an instant.
The glass wall is simply atomised.
The shout thunders ahead, relentless, destroying everything in its path like a raging dragon.
The entire grassy plain is scorched, the very layer of the earth's crust peeled off by the overwhelming force, like flesh pulled from bones. The Manor itself isn't affected, but that only enhances the effect.
Everything before Harry Evans is simply unmade.
And the force isn't done yet. It keeps forging ahead, wrecking havoc like no spell can. Like no man can. Like no wizard can.
It collides with the rocky mountains after a couple of miles.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
And the mountains are no more.
Yet, the force keeps moving forward. Unrelenting.
~xXxXx~
Damian Greengrass
He is trembling, clutching the glass table as the monster turns around and approaches them.
No words come out, however much he tries.
"Get up. We are changing our seats."
He wants to protest, to scoff at it. But his body has its own mind.
Scurrying away from his high seat, he moves to the other side and sits down in the lesser chair.
"You know what I hate the most? Being looked down upon." The monster settles into the chair as if it's tailor-made for it. "Doubly so when it's done by inferior mongrels."
He keeps calm even when anger bubbles in his belly. Inferior mongrels? He is Damian Greengrass, the lord of a house that has stood for more than a thousand years.
But he is more scared than angry, so the silence works out in his favour.
"Tell me, mongrel, can your pure blood give you such power?"
He wants to answer, but his lips don't move, his throat doesn't open up.
"Obviously it cannot. A mongrel is a mongrel. We don't care about its breed. Well, now that you know your place, let's begin again. I heard you wanted to thank me for saving your daughter's life."
"Thank you." The words escape before his mind can register it.
"Good. Now I also heard you wanted me to cure someone."
He wets his mouth and nods. "My wife has difficulty conceiving after the birth of Astoria."
"I see." It turns its head towards his wife.
Proserpina and Daphne are still frozen, not having moved an inch when the monster took its seat, still standing behind the high chair.
"Will you help us, my lord?" Again, the words slip through, as if his body has its own consciousness, as if it's made for subservience.
The monster hums and shakes its head. "I hate this bitch. I'd rather tear her womb open and piss in it."
Proserpina whimpers.
Damian would've too. "My lord, please, forgive her."
"Well, she can earn that by crawling under the table and sucking me off. That should improve my mood. It generally does."
…
…
"Dear, do that please." He is ashamed to utter that, to force his wife into that.
He looks on as his wife reluctantly gets on all fours and crawls under the table.
How he wishes it wasn't made of glass, because he can see everything.
He can see how she unbuttons and pulls down its trousers and underwear. He can see how she strokes some hardness into the long, flaccid cock. He can even see how she licks the engorged head and swallows it.
And he can do nothing but keep on watching when the monster grabs her long, blonde hair and punches its cock through her gullet, making her gag and choke, filling her airway.
Seconds pass by, then it turns into a minute. And it keeps her face trapped against its groin.
"My lord! She will die."
The monster chuckles. "Can you imagine the headlines? The noble lady Proserpina Greengrass died by choking on a young man's dick. Maybe we should try that. I want to see if people will find it horrifying or amusing."
Damian grips the edge of the glass desk, feeling helpless as she convulses and beats her palm against its legs. He is scared that his wife would try to bite it, and that would only lead to her certain death.
"Harry, please," Daphne implores, her teary eyes pleading. "Let her go. We are sorry for insulting you."
The monster scowls and finally shoves Proserpina's face off its crotch. "Be thankful that Daphne knows how to be a good host."
His wife lies on her back under the table, her chest heaving for everyone to see, as she breathes in and out, her wheezing breaths echoing loudly.
"I'm in a good mood now, mongrel. Let's start haggling. First, I want 100,000 galleons every month for the rest of my life to cure your bitch."
"Done."
"Tch, you don't even know what is haggling. Whatever, your loss and my gain. Second, I want this bitch to serve as my maid for one year."
"My lord?"
"Yes, yes, I will definitely fuck and breed her, just to see if I actually cured her worthless womb."
"My lord!"
"Fine, I won't breed her, happy? Take it or leave it. Now that is called haggling."
He grits his teeth. Pimping out his wife to cure her womb hurts his pride. But some things are greater than pride, like legacy.
Alas, he never had a son to pass it on. Now that he is finally getting a chance, he cannot say no. Even his wife, who has snuck out from under the table and stands beside him, gives a tortured nod, abandoning her dignity and body for their shared goal.
They both wanted a son to carry their name and blood, and their daughters were useless in this regard. Well, they are useless in every regard.
"I accept."
"Great. Now give me a paper and pen."
He does so.
"Here, all three of you sign it."
I will not share whatever happened today with Harry Evans with anyone else in any way or form. I will rather kill myself before doing it. I also won't attempt to get back at him by any means possible, that includes harming his family and anything and everything that my mind conjures.
"Any problem?"
"No, my lord." Damian quickly signs his name, followed by his wife and daughter. The monster even summons Astoria to sign it.
"What happened here?" she asks, glancing at where once the glass wall was, gasping at the scope of destruction that stretches on for miles.
"Nothing, Tori." The monster smiles and waves her off.
"But—"
"Astoria, go!" Damian yells, banging his palm on the glass table.
His youngest flinches and scampers away.
"Now, bitch, come, at least get me off. Don't worry, I won't try to choke you on my dick… too much."
He looks on with a contrite face as his wife bounces her head in its lap, lapping and sucking at its length.
Once done tormenting them, it rises to its feet. "I'll cure her on my whim. So don't ask me when. And I better see 100,000 galleons in my bank by tomorrow."
"Yes, my lord."
"Good, I'm off then. It was a pleasure meeting you, mongrel, bitch, and Daphne."
The monster ducks under the fireplace and disappears in green flames.
Damian exhales and closes his eyes.
Today was the worst day.
At least no one was killed.