The Seducer System (Harry Potter)

Chapter 24. Roleplay

We're tied with Durmstrang for first place, scoring 80 points—perfect 10s from the five judges, plus the extra 30 points for obtaining the bell. Beauxbatons, on the other hand, are running last with 76 points. The other four judges deducted a point each for killing the dragon unnecessarily. Headmistress Maxime had seemed vexed by their decision, but hadn't tried to argue with an irate Dumbledore.

Contrary to them, I was mesmerised by Teresa's performance. I would have given her a perfect score for the way she leapt hundreds of feet into the air and slashed through the dragon with a single strike. It was like something straight out of a fantasy novel—the strongest knight beheading a mighty beast with casual ease. Luckily for me, I'm not an awestruck judge, so I can benefit from her loss.

"You should go see dad." Iris reminds us again as we descend the stands.

Mum purses her lips but stays silent. Rose is uncharacteristically sombre, clutching the golden egg we won in the tournament. Being the oldest, she has the most memories of him out of the three of us. I'm not sure if that makes her more likely to forgive him or hate him.

"He knows where we live," Rose murmurs. "If he wants to see us, he'll come himself. I'm not going to search for him."

Mum doesn't say it outright, but the pat on Rose's back is a clear indication that she thinks Rose made the 'correct' choice. I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. Honestly, Mum has no reason to feel threatened by Dad. We all love her. We all know how hard she worked for us while he fucked off around the globe. We wouldn't pick him over her—not even in our worst nightmares.

Iris' brow furrows, disgruntled with the outcome. "I get it, but he was here to see you perform. I don't think it's unreasonable for you to at least go and greet him."

Before Rose can argue back, I interrupt. "Fine. I'll go see him, if he's still there. Want to come with me?" I offer my hand.

Iris smiles and takes it, while Rose declines. "Katie and Leanne are waiting for me. Maybe some other time."

I drag Iris away and let her lead me to where she thinks dad is. I don't really care about him, to be honest. I agreed because I didn't want my sisters to quarrel. And there was indeed a chance that it could happen. Better to nip it in the bud instead of watching the show like a bystander.

I squeeze her hand, our fingers interlaced, savouring this brief moment of intimacy. She quirks an eyebrow and shakes her head at my suggestive look. If we weren't in public, I'd have yanked her closer by now. But since we are, we maintain a torturous gap between us. This hand-holding may already be too much for the general populace. Most siblings aren't this affectionate, after all.

Moving through the crowd is difficult, doubly so because I'm in my red battle robes, easily recognisable as Hogwarts champion. We've already been stopped many times by friends and acquaintances to compliment on my amazing skills. And at each interception, Iris' displeasure rises. Not only does she dislike crowds, they're also delaying us. I hide my smile at her cute, pinched mien, but do hurry along.

She abruptly stops, dropping my hand, her face twisted in a show of confusion. "He was… there."

The seat she is pointing to is empty. I twine our fingers again and give her palm a sympathetic squeeze. "He must've gone home, then. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll pop up again."

"But he should have waited for us. How can he show up after years and then vanish without meeting you?" Iris snarls, growing angrier by the second. "That's irresponsible and downright thoughtless. He owes us an explanation, not another disappearing act."

"I know. But that's nothing new, is it? He was always like that." I sigh, joining the trail of my fellow students as we climb down the stands and head towards the castle.

Her shoulders slump and her eyes well up slightly. "I thought this time would be different. The way he fought Mum for me made me think that he was finally going to change. Argh! I'm such a moron for falling for that. I hate him."

I ignore the gossiping students, cast a silencing ward for privacy, and wrap my arm around her, pulling her against my side. "Forget about him. That's the best thing you can do. How about we go to my place? It'll take your mind off things."

"Why do you have to say it like that?" she grumbles. "You sound like a drunk moron in a bar trying to flirt."

I chuckle, silently cursing that we're in public. I really want to kiss her right now. "I have books, little one. Thousands of books. Won't you come with me, just for a little while?"

"Now you sound like a creep luring a kid with candy," she mutters, but there's an exasperated smile on her face, and she seems to have forgotten about Dad. I'll count that as a win.

"I didn't hear a 'no'." I smack a kiss on her cheek, more playful than lustful. Still, I catch a couple of weird looks sent my way. This is normal affectionate sibling interactions, you prude tards. What are you staring at?

Iris elbows me hard, making me wince. "Not in public, moron!"

"It was just a cheek kiss." I defend myself, as we enter the castle grounds.

"It was nearly on my neck," she hisses, mortified at being the centre of attention. Conveniently, she hides her face in my chest, sidling up even closer. Ah, I can breathe the familiar scent of hers. It's both nostalgic and alluring. I wouldn't mind burying my mouth between her legs to taste her more natural aroma. And unlike other sexual acts, she seems to like that one the best. So she wouldn't mind.

"Sorry," I say, shelving my thoughts for a more appropriate setting, and follow the Gryffindor crowd as the students part to go their separate ways.

She peers at me darkly before huffing. "You're not. Whatever. Let's go to the mansion."

"Should we find the nearest broom closet to create the door?"

Her murderous expression is highly amusing.

~xXxXx~

I'm not surprised to find raucous celebrations in the common room. What shocks me is that my housemates actually waited until after dinner to start. That unprecedented patience and foresight is praiseworthy.

Booze and children-friendly drinks flow around like water. Radio blares a weird album of songs, a hellish mix of jazz and rock that makes it hard to tell whether it's still a celebration or a chaotic nightmare. I consider stepping back through the portrait of The Fat Lady and escape. But Rose shoves me forward and we're swarmed by the piranhas. The number of headpats and backpats quickly becomes annoying. It must show, because they snicker and continue aggressively congratulating me. Somehow, we get away. I nod at Rose and break off to approach Hermione while she moves towards her two best friends. Yes, Leanne has managed to infiltrate the common room again. At this point, I don't even care to act like a good Prefect.

As expected of Hermione, she's tucked away in an armchair in the corner, a book open on her lap. But this time, she's not alone. Parvati and Lavender are on either side, invading her personal space, likely irritating her.

"Hello, ladies," I greet them, ignoring Hermione's 'save me' look.

"Harry!" Parvati perks up. "We were just talking about you."

"All good things I hope." I barely squeeze into the generous space they leave for me, pressed on either side by my best friend and potential girlfriend. I like it. I mean, who would dislike getting squished between two beautiful girls? Their soft, warm bodies are a treat to feel up, and their pleasant perfumes make the experience so much better.

Parvati giggles, unbothered by how close we're sitting. "Hermione's been reading up on the tournament. We were trying to guess what the second task might be—and who you're taking to the Yule Ball."

…

At my blank expression, Hermione sighs. "The Yule Ball is an event held when the three schools come together. Champions are expected to choose dates and open the dance. You'll need to find a partner."

That's… terrifying. Who will I even choose? I'd like to take Iris just because she would skip the entire event if I'm not with her. But I don't think that decision will be welcomed by my girlfriends.

I could also have Rose as my date since she's already my partner in the tournament, but again, it would be weird to bring my sister when I'm seeing multiple girls. If I weren't dating, it would've been explainable. The poor sod couldn't find a girl and had to fall back on his siblings. But that won't fly when there are so many options. Hermione, Katie, maybe even Parvati if our upcoming date goes well. Hell, I'm sure more girls will try to ask me out now that they've seen me trouncing a dragon. The problem here is that I have too many options and can choose only one girl. It would leave the unchosen disappointed. And I don't think my [Anomaly] perk will come in clutch this time. While it does allow girls to share me, they still have brains and can assume the girl I'll take to the ball is my favourite.

"So Harry? Who will be the lucky girl?" Parvati grins, apparently reading my mind. "Don't worry, there are no wrong answers."

The way Hermione is watching me, I'm sure there are only wrong answers.

"I don't even know how to dance." I lie and reluctantly empty my heavenly seat. "I'll probably skip it if I can. Don't want to make a fool of myself in front of everyone."

Hermione's downcast expression is enough to stir a twinge of guilt in me. But it's better that she feels disappointed about that than to think she's not my first choice.

"I can teach you, Harry. We still have a month. I'm sure I'll have you doing tango by then." Lavender's dry suggestion is very unwelcome. I glare at her, but she simply gives me an innocent smile.

"I'll think about it." I manage a small, tight smile, taking a step back, lending my arm to Hermione. "If you're done reading, how about we go for a walk?"

She brightens immediately and grabs onto my hand, leaving her book with the giggling girls, following me like an excited puppy. Everyone here knows what the 'walk' entails.

I've really neglected her these past few days. I'll try not to let this happen again. Just because I got the attention of the most beautiful woman doesn't mean it's okay to forget her. She's my best friend, after all.

I catch Katie's dismayed expression out of the corner of my eye as she chats with Rose. She probably thinks I won't have time for her since I've picked Hermione tonight. She's mistaken. I've got more than enough stamina to handle both of them, one after the other. I'm fired up enough to take both girls to their limit—until they're completely spent. Her gaze stays locked on me even as she half-listens to her friends. When I flash her a cocky smile, she relaxes, smirking back at me.

Tonight, I'll be busy making up for ignoring them. First Hermione, and then Katie. Oh well, it will be a thoroughly enjoyable process. And I can celebrate with Mum tomorrow anyway.

I have all the time in the world.

~xXxXx~

Evans Mansion (Roleplay: The Bitchy Mother and the Arsehole Son)

Lily Potter comes to a halt before massive doors. She looks over her shoulder and realises how long the corridor was. But now that she's at the end of it, her confidence falters.

The double doors are twice as tall as hers, and they are made of lustrous metal, gleaming whenever light strikes at a particular angle. Intricate engravings display scenes that she cannot comprehend, and before she can even attempt to unravel them, the doors open inwards on their own.

Her heart jumps to her throat at the sudden movement, but she holds onto the mask of self-assurance and marches into the ballroom without hesitation. It gives her hopeless heart hope—this name Evans. If her son is using her maiden name for himself, that must mean he's still sweet on her.

She can use it to manipulate him and get what she needs.

The ballroom is gigantic. It stretches all the way up to the mansion's three-storied height. The floor is splendid art, interlocked white and golden tiles forming complicated designs. And the high ceiling ends in an incredible glass dome, letting in sunlight, making the floor sparkle as if it were some divine abode of gods.

Round tables line the two parallel walls, beneath massive windows that offer a view outside. But the orderly setup fades as she walks further in, the seating arrangement giving way to emptiness—the dance floor.

At the halfway point, a lone round table sits in the centre, right underneath the glass dome. And lounging in a chair behind it is her estranged son. He wears an expensive dress shirt with the top buttons open, exposing his muscular chest, and his feet are propped up on the table, flaunting equally pricey trousers and boots. His clothes alone could provide her family half a year's worth of funds.

Such an ostentatious prick.

She feels self-conscious about her drab clothing: a plain, grey gown that hides her bewitching figure, covering every inch of her skin from neck down. Yet, as she stops in front of the table, he runs his eyes over her in a way no decent son would. This was the reason why she chose such an unflattering dress—not that the rest of her wardrobe is of much better quality. The good days have been gone long enough that cheap clothings has become a new normal. It's only the sight of her son's opulent attire that reminds her of her own past splendour.

His ogling is nauseous, but she doesn't let it affect her visage.

"Son." She takes the chair opposite him without any permission. It's a small table, so there's not much distance between them. If she leant forward with her arms outstretched, she could give him a quick hug. Not that she's going to. The little shite will use that opportunity to make her even more uncomfortable.

"Mother." He smiles slyly, his eyes resting on her lips. She's glad she didn't put on any lipstick today. "It's been years since we last talked. What brings you here? Did you miss me so much that you had to drop by without any forewarning?"

She scoffs, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. "No. I just need your help. We need your help."

He sighs and shakes his head. "It hurts that my family is just like others, coming to me only when they need money."

She rolls her eyes. 'That's all what you're good for,' she wants to say, but she keeps it to herself. No matter how deviant her son is, no one can question his business skills. Just in a decade, he made his business bloom and has become the richest man in the country. She will give him respect where it's due. Though she may take credit for it too. He definitely did not get that business-mindset from James, that must mean he got it from her. He should be thankful.

"Your good-for-nothing father just went up and gambled everything while he was plastered. Now we don't have any money. All we have is the Potter Manor. And it's upkeep has drained us dry. We've been selling everything that we could part with, and have lasted an entire year. But it cannot go on like this. We have nothing to sell anymore. We need money to get back on our feet. James' salary is barely enough to put food on the table. We need more," she states, steepling her fingers and perching her chin upon it, shooting him an expectant look.

"You might need to get a job, then. Take that magnificent arse off the sofa and start working." His tone is humorous instead of sympathetic.

She doesn't even bat an eye at his vulgar comment, too used to it, unfortunately. It was, in fact, one of the main reasons he'd been booted from the family—the lewd, disrespectful bastard. "Severus is teaching Potions at Hogwarts," she says, her tone flat. "And if I can't have the job I actually want, I'm not about to waste my time on something that doesn't interest me."

He chuckles, pulling his feet off the table and leaning forward, elbows braced on the surface, mirroring her posture with his chin resting on his steepled fingers. "Can you really afford to be so picky?"

"Oh, I can. I've got a successful son who could solve all my problems with a snap of his fingers. Why should I stoop to doing a passionless job?" She narrows her eyes at him, and he meets her gaze, unflinching, challenging her right back.

His lips curl in displeasure. "You have a son? Didn't you banish him years ago?"

"The banishment can be rescinded if you're a good boy." She casually waves off his accusation.

"Let me get this straight. You show up at my house unannounced, make yourself comfortable like you own the place, don't bother apologising for throwing me out—and now you expect me to bail you out of your financial mess. That about right?"

She smiles, unfazed. "Yes."

"I'd love to know where you get this confidence from." His laugh is without humour. "Let me make it crystal clear: I won't give you a single knut. So, fuck off."

…

…

Lily blinks, taken aback. "Seriously?"

"Are you really that clueless?" He facepalms. "Why are you surprised? Why did you ever think I'd help you after you cut me off?"

"Because you're my son." She slams her hand on the draped table. "I birthed you. I fed you. I loved you. I cared for you all those years. How can you be so heartless? And you keep bringing up that we removed you from the family. But that was justified. You are a lustful monster who slept with his own sister. You're a weirdo who made my skin crawl with your hungry looks. You deserved it."

For the first time since she arrived, his calm facade cracks, and his face contorts in rage. "Rose and I did what we wanted—it was none of your business. If you're so relieved after tossing me out, then why the hell are you here begging? Go somewhere else! Get off my property before I call the Aurors!"

"Because you are my son, no matter what happened in the past. You are honorbound to help your family when they are on the brink of collapse. Do you not feel the natural instinct to help us? Are you that unnatural?" She talks down to him, trying to make him understand how foolish he's being.

"Merlin! You are shite at asking for help." He sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. "No one will help you with that attitude, certainly not me. Now can you please piss off?"

She scowls and bangs her hand on the table again. "Listen to your mother, Harry!"

His unimpressed gaze is infuriating. "That never worked on me. And it won't now. Now please get out."

His refusal opens a hollow pit in her stomach, and it takes monumental effort to cling onto her confidence. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. When she exhales, she peers at him with far truer feelings, with fear and resignation. "We are done for, Son. I'm really desperate. I'm sorry for what I said. But I need you. I wouldn't have come here if you weren't my last resort. Please, for the little love you bear for me and your father, help us."

A gentle look overcomes his impatience, and she resists a victorious grin. He's always been a softy when it comes to her. She should have played the desperate mother instead of a commanding parent from the start. Authority wouldn't help her here, but leveraging his affection for her just might.

"Fine, tell me how much you need." He sighs, rubbing his face.

"50,000 galleons."

…

…

"The fuck? What do you need that much for?" He barks, bewildered at the exorbitant amount.

She forces down her instinct to snap back and mumbles, "We've taken out various loans. We're buried in debt."

"I see," he replies slowly, with a tone so condescending he might as well be speaking to a brainless baboon. The insult grates on her, but she smothers her irritation, holding onto her role as the desperate mother.

In truth, there are no debts. They've been selling off whatever they can: jewellery, antiques, anything of value. If taking out a loan were an option, they'd have done it by now. But if she's going to wring money from him, she may as well go big and bleed him dry. Besides, she knows that 50,000 galleons is a drop in the ocean for him. Whatever. It's more than enough to keep her comfortable and restore their lavish lifestyle for a good, long while.

"Will you help us?" She edges closer, wishing she could cry at the moment. That would've probably convinced him instantly.

"I'll loan you the amount. But what will you offer as collateral? 50,000 is a substantial sum; I can't just throw it at you without security. How about you put up the Potter Manor?"

"No." Her response is sharp and immediate. They've already sold off most of their assets—that's how they avoided debt in the first place. But she won't risk the manor. It's the one thing she and James agreed would never be compromised. If Harry won't offer the money freely, she doesn't want it.

"So, what assurance do I get for helping you? What will I hold to offset the risk of you defaulting?" He throws his hands up, exasperated.

"In short? Our eternal gratitude and trust. We are your family."

…

…

His face goes blank, and he gestures to the door. "Please leave. You've wasted enough of my time."

The mask of the kind mother shatters, and she leaps to her feet, glaring at him. "You're absolutely useless. Go die in a ditch."

"Thank you. Right back at you," he sneers, his emerald eyes blazing with contempt. "If you're desperate for easy money, just go whore yourself out. I'm sure you can amass 50,000 galleons if you sold your cunt for a few hundred years."

She releases an angry cackle, her wand in her hand, glowing menacingly. "So that's what it's about, isn't it? Will you give me the money if I sleep with you, Son. Will you be my first customer if I prostitute myself?"

"Yes."

"Listen, you freak." She snarls, pointing her wand at him. "I'd rather get fucked by street dogs than let you near me."

"Kinky," he mocks.

With a growl, she hurls a hex at him, but he just tilts his head, letting it fly past him without even a flinch. For all his flaws, the little bastard has always been skilled at duelling.

"I hate you." She spins around, stomping out the way she came, seething with frustration. What had she been thinking? That time and distance would turn the unnatural little freak into something decent? Impossible. But the problem remains. They're out of money, and if she wants to recover her luxurious lifestyle, she'll have to find another way.

"Mother, take a seat. Let's try again," Harry calls out.

She halts and whirls around, glowering at him. "Do you still want to continue after all that has been said?"

He shrugs, waving his wand at the round table, vanishing it, so now there won't be any barrier between the two chairs. "Take a seat," he repeats. "We both dislike each other, but we are practical and smart enough to look past it and conduct our business."

Lily's chest expands with pride. Of course she's smart and practical. But hearing it from her son who happens to be the best businessman in the nation is more validating. With a huff, she elegantly drops into her chair and crosses her hands in her lap, regarding him curiously. "It's obvious that I'm desperate for money. What I don't understand is what you need from me? What's this business you're talking about?"

"You want money. And I want to admire your body. Wait, let me finish first," he raises his hands placatingly as she prepares to vacate her seat and flounce away in rage. "I know you hate me. You know I hate you. But I've always admired your beauty. You've always occupied the title of 'the most beautiful woman' in my mind."

"I'm your mother!" she exclaims.

"I know. And Rose was my sister," he quips. "It doesn't bother me."

"It bothers me!" She wishes the table was still there so she could slam her palm on it. "I'm not going to whore myself out for money."

"I'm not saying you have to." His arms are still raised in a pacifying gesture. "I won't touch you if that's what you want. All I want is to see."

"What?" She utters, baffled.

"You heard it. I know you're never going to let me touch and that's fine. I just want to see from afar. Now, let's get to business. I want to buy that gown from you. How much is it?" He nods at her grey dress.

'It's still whoring,' she wants to protest. He's providing money for her to strip. That's classic prostitution.

Maybe that's why he's being so indirect about it. Instead of buying her, he's purchasing her gown.

Her heart pounds against her ribs and her stomach churns in disgust. Still, she answers. "50 galleons."

It's a lie. She doesn't even remember the original cost. Though this cheap thing cannot be more than a galleon. But if she's going to compromise with her morals, she better get paid abundantly for it.

"I'll buy it for 1,000 galleons." He folds his arms behind his head, leering at her with a grin, his leg crossed over his knee.

All the hesitation evaporates from her. 1,000 galleons just to take off her gown? She'll be a fool not to pounce on it. It's not like it'll be something new. He has seen her in underwear countless times when they still lived together. And being in her underwear isn't that different from being in a swimsuit. Or so she tries to reason with that stubborn part of herself.

"I can stop whenever I want," she grouses, demanding to have the option of saying no if it gets out of hand.

"Of course. If I wanted to force myself on you, I'd have done it already."

She shudders. His assurance sounds more like a threat. And it's not just empty words. Being the richest man, she has no doubt he could get away with many things, including assaulting his own mother.

Slowly, she rises to her feet, ignoring her revulsion, preparing to str—

"No. Remain seated."

His command yanks her down like an anchor.

Harry smiles giddily, seeing through his mother's confident exterior. She's nervous. She's scared. He can practically smell her fear. But she'll come around if everything goes as planned. He finally has her in his reach—the hottest woman. He's not going to fuck it up. Her seduction needs to be slow and steady. Impatience can become his bane if he gives it free rein. He needs to be methodical and keep upping the reward.

He scoots his chair closer to hers. Now he can revel in the visual feast. "Unzip the gown and let it pool at your waist."

She doesn't realise how hot she looks whenever she sports that antagonising glare. Muttering something under her breath, she undoes the zip at her back and pulls out her arms from the long-sleeves. Harry takes it all in with painstaking attention: the way she has to arch her back to slip her arm behind herself, the slight crease on her forehead when she delicately shrugs off the sleeves, her bra-enwrapped breasts coming into focus, her pale skin turning ethereal from the sunlight filtering through the glass dome, and her exposed belly as the grey gown rolls down to her hips.

She is marvellous. From her crimson hair tied up in a bun to her hidden toes in her heels. She's marvellous.

Harry has been with many women, but no one can stir his loins like her. Her large round breasts are stifled by a plain white bra. And already, he's been mesmerised by the shape and size of her chest. If he were her husband, he would ask her to wear something more fancy. The ordinary underwear is blasphemy against her extraordinary tits.

Her embarrassed cough brings him out of his admiration, and he cannot help but feel an unprecedented warmth in his chest. She's always been a bitch, but now that she isn't flapping her mouth and is acting all shy, it's hard not to fall for her.

"You mind if I do the rest myself?" He aims his wand at the hem of her gown.

"Go ahead." She shrugs, back to her confident self. "Doesn't matter if I take it off myself or not. It's your gown anyway."

He trails his wand up slowly, and the hem rises along. Her smooth shins come into view, then her knees. "Spread your legs." She glares at his wording but does as she's told, adjusting a little and parting her knees, letting the gown slide up further. Her thick, milky thighs steal the air from his lungs. His mouth goes dry when her knickers are revealed. A small piece of cotton wedged between her legs. Unfortunately, they're plain too. At least it's black. And the very act of flipping up his mother's skirt to glimpse at the secret beneath is scandalous enough to be highly arousing.

In the end, he's presented with this image: a sexy redhead sitting stiffly in her chair with her gown bunched at her waist. Her bra-enwrapped large teats are exposed and so is her knickers-clad pussy. Her pale limbs are bare, from her fingers to her collarbone and from her hips to her ankles. She's breathtaking.

With a swipe of his wand, he cuts open the gown, the fabric falling on either side, taking away the last obstacle that clung to her knickers.

At her affronted gasp, he explains, "It's my gown. I can do whatever I want with it."

"Of course." She tugs the ruined gown out from under her, tossing it at him with a sharp, angry flick of her wrist, now left in nothing but her underwear.

Harry wets his lips as he feels a vibration in his crotch. Catching the damaged cloth, he presses it to his nose, ignoring her disturbed look. Her gown smells of her typical perfume and it's delightfully warm. But who cares for second hand warmth when he can get the direct heat if he plays his cards correctly?

Standing true to his words, he fishes out a bottomless pouch and tosses it to her. "1,000 galleons, as promised."

She opens the drawstring and thrusts her arm up to her elbow, shaking her hand, eliciting the clinking of coins. Harry's too busy ogling her swaying breasts to feel offended at her lack of trust.

"There are really galleons in it," she whispers in awe.

"I'm not a liar."

She titters, suddenly in a very good mood, shooting him a wry smile. "I'm not saying you are. It just sounds odd that someone will pay a thousand galleons just to see me in underwear. With this much, you can visit a brothel and sleep with every whore available."

"You're not a whore," he replies. "And you're not anyone ordinary. You're the best-looking woman I've ever seen. Just this view of you in underwear is more titillating than blowjobs from many women."

Her demeanour becomes just a tad softer. "Thank you, I suppose. Your obsession with me is terrifying but a little… flattering too."

"Now, you can say no, but I do have another offer. I want to buy your bra for 5,000 galleons."

He observes the internal battle on her face. She's annoyed by his daring, but she's also ecstatic to earn more money. 5,000 galleons is a big sum. And all she has to do is bare her chest. Greed and pride are at war. And since he's not treating her as whore but as his goddess, she cannot make the excuse of it being degrading to herself.

Fixing him with a cool gaze, she reaches behind her and unclips the bra. The tight fabric loosens, allowing her chest to breathe, allowing her curves to swell. The white bra slips from the downward slope of her breasts. It tumbles past her erect nipples and gathers on her thighs, exposing her to his ravenous eyes.

He gulps and stares.

Her breasts are large, large enough that 'large' doesn't encapsulate the true size. But they're not gigantic enough to be obscene. They're so enormous that his fingers could never hold the entirety of the round flesh. But they aren't monstrous enough to be the size of his head. The biggest compliment he could give her is that they're perky enough that the mass doesn't hang on her frame like saggy meatbags. They retain the alluring size and shape. The round patches of pink areolas finish off the look, covering the peaks of her hills. And her nipples are protruding outwards, small nubs that he'd love to suck on.

"Wow," he utters.

That gets him the bra slapped on his face.

He chuckles and lets it drop in his lap, where her torn gown is. "You don't know how to take a compliment, do you?"

"I'd rather not take compliments on my breasts from my son." She lays her hands on the armrests, trying her best not to look uncomfortable with her chest unveiled.

Harry is glad that she doesn't hide them. It would be a bummer to pay 5,000 galleons just for her to cross her arms over her chest.

"I take it this is your limit," he says, eyeing her knickers, hoping she would continue the game.

She taps her finger on her chin before rising from her seat. A step forward brings her too close to him. He can feel the heat wafting from her as she looks down at him. "How much?"

"10,000 galleons for your knickers."

A grimace is her only reaction. Then she turns around and bends down, her arse level with his face. Her hips move from side to side as she shimmies out of her underwear, her tight knickers slipping this way and that before they're past her shapely thighs and abruptly pool at her ankles. She even takes off her heels, kicking them to the side. Precious five seconds are given to him for appreciating her hairless orifices as she stays bent over.

Her voluptuous arse cheeks nearly lose him this long game as he almost forgets himself and grabs onto her flesh. At the last second, he withdraws his hands and keeps them restrained in his lap. When she stands upright and faces him again, he's smirking instead of panicking how close he was to fucking it up. She releases the knickers on his face and flops into her chair, letting them jiggle, sitting with her legs spread, showing no shame or anxiety. Though the blush on her cheeks clues him in that for all her bravado, she's embarrassed at being stark naked.

Taking the knickers off his face, he puts it in the growing pile on his lap.

"Your curiosity satisfied?" she asks, allowing him to gape at her pussy.

"Yes," he answers hoarsely, unable to take his eyes off her nether lips. It's a thin slit between her legs, her outer lips not too pronounced. He wishes he could grab her thighs and take a closer look. Though that will probably be too much for her.

"My money?"

Another bottomless pouch appears in his hand, and with a thought, he fills it with 15,000 galleons. He gets up and closes the tiny distance between them within a single stride. She doesn't cower and looks up at him with narrowed eyes.

"Here." He lets the pouch fall on her leg with a soft thump, his gaze lingering on her breasts. "I guess this is your final limit. I have bought every piece of clothing on your body. There's nothing left to buy."

"Correct." She grabs the two pouches totalling 16,000 galleons. It's not 50,000, but it's still too much just for getting nude. It's more than the yearly income of a rich, upper class family. He gave it away just to see her naked.

"It was good doing business with you." He extends his hand, and she takes it, letting him help her to her feet.

"Right." She stands near him, between the two chairs, under the light falling from the dome. They're close enough that their body heats mingle, that they breathe in the same air.

"I have a strange request. You'll be well compensated, of course." He raises his hand and pulls her hair free from the bun, the crimson locks cascading down her back in a neat stream.

"What is it?" Her tone is a curious mix of eagerness and apprehension.

Harry steps back slightly, catching her relieved sigh, and gestures at himself. "I want you to take my clothes. You can't go home like this, after all. For it, I'll give you another 10,000 galleons."

Her eyebrows arch and her lips twist in an amused smile. "You want to pay me to give me your clothes?"

"Yes."

She shakes her head. "Go ahead."

As she retakes her seat, Harry strips seductively. The removal of his shirt exposes his lean, muscular torso. The trousers reveal his toned legs. And the underwear frees his monster. Her gasp is loud and clear, echoing in the vast room. A reasonable response at seeing his cock. It's a girthy thing that hangs down like a third leg. It nearly reaches his knees. A single stroke causes his hefty thing to go rigid. It twitches and slowly rises up, pointing at her, like a wild predator.

"This should be it, I think. You won't go any further than this, I'm sure." He grins, throwing his clothes at her.

She swallows and nods. "You would be usually correct. But I'm willing to listen, at least. If it won't be too improper, I may agree to your demands. I'd be a fool not to take advantage of your generosity. The way we are going, I may actually get those 50,000 galleons."

"That's a pleasant surprise." He hums, eyeing her with a triumphant look. "I'm willing to part with 15,000 galleons, if you let me give you your chest and butt three squeezes."

She scowls now that they're talking about touching. But whereas earlier she'd have thrown a curse at him before fleeing, now she's actually considering it.

…

…

"Fine. Only three squeezes."

"Thank you. Please stand up."

There's reluctance on her face, and yet, she does as asked, standing with her arms at her sides, stiff and unyielding.

Her eyes gleam with lust and disdain, and when he presses his palm on her spine and forces her to thrust out her chest, she hisses something nasty. Smirking, he looks down at the breasts that juts out just for him. He lightly cups the heavenly mounds, his fingers doing their best to encompass the entirety of these globes. It's a fruitless task, of course. These tits are too big for his hands.

"Squeeze them already, dammit," she growls, squirming as his fingertips caress her flesh while the insides of his palms touch her pointy nipples. Not wanting to annoy her and give her the opportunity to cancel this dreamy event, he sinks his fingertips into the pillowy flesh. The tighter his grip grows, the more her nipples poke his palms. At one point, they upturn under the force, but he keeps squeezing harder. Her areolas mash against his skin, but he keeps on going. Only her pained gasp makes him stop, and he loosens his hold.

She doesn't meet his eyes and whispers at him to be done with it. Two more squeezes follow, where he repeats the same thing. By the end, there's precum on his cockhead and she's heaving for breath, her whole face red.

"Turn around and bend over," he commands.

With trembling hands, she clutches the armrests of her chair and bends down with her arse up in the air.

The effort it takes not to shove his cock up her cunt is indescribable. But he perseveres. He gets down on his knees and puts his open palms on her plump cheeks. Rubbing them along the expanse of her butt, he pushes his face closer to where he came from—her womanhood. His warm breath washes over her glistening entrance, making her tremble, her knees shaking.

"20,000 galleons for letting me kiss here." He nudges her flower.

"What? No!" she whispers, aghast.

"30,000 galleons. It's the final price."

"...Okay."

He cannot hold the laughter that bubbles out of him. This is the power of money. He holds onto her cheeks and trails kisses up her thick thighs. His wet lips leave damp spots on her skin. His fingers dig into her ample backside. And he uses that as a handhold as he makes his way up there.

She's silent for the first few minutes, but as he keeps lavishing her thighs with kisses and ignores the junction that is aching with need, she moves her arse and presses her pussy towards his mouth, telling him to get right to it. Eventually, he does, when her quiet complaints turn into audible whines.

He spreads her pussy and licks the bundle of nerves, jolting her, causing her to sway her arse to the tune of pleasure. He breathes in her womanly scent and laps at the tight opening, using his coarse tongue to do both—stimulate her nub and slither into her hot crevice.

This was easier than he thought. She didn't protest much when he jumped to cunnilingus from touching her butt. Then again, his mere touch is pleasurable, so it does make sense.

His eyes widen when she thrusts back her butt with force, nearly sending him tumbling, but he manages to hold onto her arse cheeks and keeps snogging her cunt, even as she convulses, even as she screams out her orgasm.

There's not much discharge, and the little that drips out, he laps it up. Her weak knees give in and she falls back. If he weren't ready, he'd be lying on the floor with her arse on his face. But he catches her in his arms and carries her to his chair, where he sits down with her in his lap. Her back is pressed against his chest, and his cock sticks out from between her legs.

He embraces her from behind and buries his face in her hair, his shaft twitching from the heat of her ravine. The press of her plump is arse is also to be noted.

She lays bonelessly against him for the moment, and when she stirs, he licks her ear and mumbles. "100,000 galleons if you ride me."

"I'm your mother." There's a healthy amount of disgust in her tone… but there's also convenient resignation. "And what about your father? Don't you feel bad for making me cheat on him?"

He isn't making her do anything. She has free will and can control her greed. Though he doesn't argue on that point. "He destroyed the family with his stupidity. He took away your comfortable lifestyle. It's because of him that you're forced to do this. I can't understand why you're still with him. You're so beautiful," he kneads her tit with one hand, "You're so smart and productive," he pushes the other hand between her legs, fingering her, "you're so much more. Leave him. Take all this money and start afresh. Do what you wanted to do when you were young. Live your life instead of cleaning his mess. You deserve it, mother."

She grabs his wrist and stops him from fingering her further. He winces, realising he has gone too far.

Leaving his lap, she glares at him with her hands on her hips.

Then she's straddling him, sitting on his monster cock. "Fine. For a better life, I can do the unthinkable. Today, I'm yours. And once we are done, all that money you promised will be mine."

He heaves a shuddering breath as she stands on her knees and grabs the girthy thing. Her fingers play with his sensitive glans as she lines it with her pussy. He's moaning and jerking beneath her as she caresses the bellend of his cock.

Then he feels the texture of silken skin swallowing him. His mouth snaps open in a silent O as she struggles to take all of it in one go. Her eyes are narrowed, her face is shadowed, and her crimson hair looks fiery as the sunlight falls on her through the glass dome. Her lips are pressed tight and her nose is scrunched. With a scream, she comes crashing down, slamming her arse on his lap, hitting her cervix to contain the monster.

Harry seizes her waist and gasps, her wet, hot insides clenching on his cock. She pants and her breasts rise and fall near his face. There's a sheen of sweat on her forehead as her open lips draw in all the air from the room.

Then she coils her arms around his neck and begins bouncing her arse. She jumps up and down, her face buried in his neck. All he can do is cling to her waist and let her take him for an unforgettable ride. And that's all what he does. He hangs onto her while she does all the work.

Her heat is addictive, and she's surprisingly tight. The slapping of their flesh soon lulls him into a weird trance, where all he can focus on is the repetitive movements. His head is empty. There's not a single coherent thought as she rides him. All of his five senses are focused on her: The way her tits jiggle, the scent of her perfume and sweat, the heat and the moisture of her insides, the keening moans she muffles on his neck, and the taste of her skin as he kisses any patch of skin he can reach.

Soon, she pulls away from his neck and throws back her head, leaning backwards as she bobs up and down. Now he cannot focus on anything but her breasts. They oscillate every time their hips collide, shaking, swaying from side to side.

He tips forward and captures one of her nipples. She murmurs in appreciation and amps up her pace. Swirling his tongue around the nub, he kisses and bites on it—he suckles on it.

Her sharp cry is followed by one mighty thrust. Then she quivers and slumps on him, her pussy walls clamping on his girth erratically. These chaotic movements push him off the edge too, and he gives a shallow thrust, creaming into her.

~xXxXx~

I pull her close as the roleplay ends, as we both let go of our characters.

Mum has strong kinks. Monster cocks and roleplays. I feel like a fool for ever thinking she was a pure, angelic woman. She's anything but that. The moment we crossed boundaries for the first time, she began showing me the depths of her hunger. Not that I'm complaining. The only woman able to beat her in depravity is probably my clone, Heather. And I love depraved things.

Also, Mum and Rose both know about the Evans Mansion. I didn't see the need to hide it from them since Iris is already aware. It makes me wonder if I should still buy a house in the outside world. While the mansion is nice, it's in a separate dimension. We probably should have something visitable.

"That was fun." She slides off my lap and stands before me. I give a quick glance at the fluids trickling down her thigh.

It so turns me on, knowing I'm spilling my seeds in one place that I shouldn't.

She giggles and kisses me after cupping my face. I kiss her back. While our characters hated each other and were never going to kiss, our real selves can.

With a wet pop, we pull away.

Then she gets down on all fours and throws a coy look over her shoulder.

The roleplay is over, but the sex is not.

A.N. Here are the gacha pulls that Harry got after bonking Rose and Lily in chapter 22.

Skill: [Kiss of Displacement] (Common)

— Allows the user to swap bodies with a partner through a kiss. Note: Your partner's seduction stat must be at 100% for this to work.

Item: [Anaesthetic Scalpel] (Uncommon)

— This scalpel's cuts are completely painless. A victim could have it buried in their back without noticing. It can deliver death without inflicting pain.

Item: [Divine Chariot] (Rare)

— A divine chariot that can traverse any terrain—whether it's bumpy roads, water, or even no roads at all. It can fly, sail through water, and even travel through space. Fancy going from the Alps to the Himalayas in a second? This is your ride, chump.

Item: [Broken Pen] (Trash)

— A pen that never works properly. Expect ink blots and frustration every time you try to write with it.

Item: [Enchanted Lute] (Common)

— This enchanted lute can sense the mood of the room and play a tune accordingly, creating the perfect atmosphere every time.

Item: [Blanket of Comfort] (Common)

— An enchanted blanket that's never too short or too long. It adjusts to fit as many people as necessary and can change temperature to keep you cosy or cool.

Item: [A Jar of Dirt] (Trash)

— It's a jar filled with dirt. Might help you escape Davy Jones. Might.

Item: [Ecchi Sketchy] (Trash)

— A sketchbook with unlimited anime porn. Flip through its pages to your heart's content, chump.

Skill: [Holy Light] (Legendary)

— Grants the user the ability to summon holy light, which debuffs demonic opponents by reducing their strength by 50%. It also inspires awe and reverence in allies. Prolonged exposure may cause allies to worship you as divine.

Item: [The Mirror] (Rare)

— A mirror that acts as a gateway to a reflection of the real world. The reflected world is an exact replica but without any sentient beings. Anything you do there has no consequences in the real world. Note: Each visit creates a new version of the world; the reflected world is not permanent.

Perk: [Authority] (Legendary)

— Any person whose level is less than half of yours is incapable of disobeying your commands.

Perk: [Dance Savant] (Uncommon)

— You know every form of dance in the multiverse, and your dance moves are mesmerising to watch. Shake those hips, chump.

Item: [Blank Ticket] (Common)

— A blank ticket that can transform into any type of ticket you need—whether it's for a movie, public transport, or anything else. Free rides, free shows, free life.