A/N: Third voyage on the SS Lewd.
Chapter Nex: Cho Chang Has Got It Going On
Thank you, Ron.
The trudge back to the changing room wasn't exactly an easy one thanks to Harry's Quidditch robes clinging to him like a second skin and his broom, usually light, feeling like a two-ton metal pipe in his grip, but he made it nonetheless, the burden on his fatigued muscles all but drowned out by the sight before him.
In all honesty, ever since beating her in his third year, Harry never thought he would get the chance to meet Cho Chang on the Quidditch field again. Admittedly, she wasn't a bad player, nor a bad Seeker, even if some had felt negatively toward her 'side-along' tactic of following Harry all throughout their match, but as someone who enjoyed the sport like he enjoyed breathing, it left Harry wondering what her true skills were.
And today, he found out. Cho was damned good on a broom and was privy to a slew of maneuvers and techniques that she wasted no time in pummeling him with. She flowed like the wind, looking just as at home in the sky as Harry often felt, and so it annoyed him somewhat, seeing her this way, knowing this is what she was capable of and that all he got during their one match last year was a shoddy game of cat-and-mouse. Well, their latest battle for sky supremacy more than made up it.
Thank you, Ron.
Now, why was Harry thanking his friend? Because it was only through Ron's persistent urging that drove him to confront Cho about their last lackluster Quidditch match. When Ron suggested they have a proper rematch, after having to listen to Harry bring up that match with a sigh of what could have been for the millionth time, Harry quickly dismissed the idea. Sure, a rematch was a stellar idea in his mind but he was quite positive Cho did not feel the same; she probably hadn't given it a single thought afterwards. So, imagine his surprise when he gathered the nerve to approach Cho only to find that she felt the exact same way. As with him, that match had been on her mind off and on for numerous months, and several times she had to stop herself from marching up to Harry and demanding they have a proper match, just as he had done.
Almost immediately after, the date was set, permission was granted, and the two of them held a Seeker VS Seeker match with a time limit of three hours.
Harry had won, but nowhere near as methodically and neither chased the other this time around. Cho didn't tail Harry and Harry was barely privy to Cho's whereabouts half the time, only catching sight of her when she zipped by, an arm stretched out and fingers reaching for a fast-fleeing glint of gold. It was exactly the match he had been craving since the beginning, a harrowing, no-holds barred aerial fight for supremacy. As a Ravenclaw, Cho held true to her House by employing a staggering level of clarity and wit concerning the tactics she used both for sighting the Snitch and against her opponent, while Harry and his Gryffindor valor shined most in his daredevil maneuvers and unwillingness to pull out of dives that Cho deemed too dangerous.
Thank you, Ron.
And today, also thanks to Ron and his brilliant suggestion, he was less than a few paces behind the long-haired beauty, keeping just far enough away so that the ends of her whipping hair just managed to flick his nose. He could hear the sounds of her talking, she was still pumped, still feeling the adrenaline—as was he—but his concentration wasn't on her animated point-by-point replay of the match they had just completed, but on her choice of attire.
Underneath her Ravenclaw Quidditch robe she was wearing a pair of black, form-fitting bike shorts and a tank-top drenched in her sweat. The mindset behind the attire was 'less-is-more' for an aerodynamic advantage, one that Harry took great pleasure in playfully mocking earlier.
"I just don't know if this should be classified as a legal 'win' for you, Harry," she was saying nonchalantly as they marched into the Gryffindor changing room. "I mean, you've got a Firebolt, you know? Top-of-line, high quality stuff right there—and me with my bargain bin Comet 260…Hardly seems like a fair romp, right?"
Harry gave an amused chuckle. "Nice try," he said, and Cho sucked her teeth. "Just now, the way you moved in the air, I'dda thought you were part hippogriff. I'm faster, sure, but where tactic is involved? That's all you."
Cho gave a reluctant grunt of agreement as she unloaded her Quidditch robe into a bundle on the floor and threw herself down on one of the benches, arms folded and legs together at the knees. She was pouting, a hue of red illuminating her otherwise pale cheeks.
The smile on Harry's face could not have been any bigger. His robe joined hers in the pile and for a few moments, he simply stared at the blushing Ravenclaw. "We can just not do this, Cho," he offered, disappearing around the corner, only to reappear seconds later with a chair that he placed in front of her. He stood behind it with a grin. "That is an option, you know."
Furiously, Cho shook her head, sending those damp locks of her flying, and she began to unravel somewhat, placing her hands on her knees with a slow and steady exhale. When she finally looked up at Harry, he saw that those beetle black pupils of hers were alit with a determined fire, the same kind he saw right before their rematch.
"No, no, it's…we made a deal, Harry," she said forcefully, trying to put on a brave face. It was admirable, and more than a little cute. "And a deal's a deal. You caught the snitch first so…so you win the bet."
The bet was another surprising little add-on for Harry. When he came to challenge Cho, all he had in mind was a simple rematch, so much so that that first words out of his mouth when he found her amidst her usual gaggle of friends wasn't the standard jittery "H-hey, how are you?" but instead a forceful, "Oi, Cho! That last Quidditch match we had was total bollocks. We need to do it again, the proper way. How about a rematch?" There was never any intention of adding a stipulation but Cho was apparently so keen to get this match off the ground that she wagered that the winner gets to do whatever to the loser for one hour.
Anything, Harry repeated to himself as he slowly sank into his chair. It was amazing how all the daydreaming and all the mid-lesson fantasies could conjure up the most amazing landscapes for stuff he already knew would never come to pass, but now that he was faced with the possibility that, hey, some of it could come true right now, none of what he had previously imagined came to the forefront. Like the hamster running the wheel of his mind had suddenly fallen asleep.
"Ahem."
Cho had coughed awkwardly into her hand and it was only then Harry realized he had slipped into a daze staring right at her.
"W-well, before we begin, I…I guess I'll go get washed up and—"
"No."
Caught in a humorous half-standing, half-sitting position, Cho froze, shifting her eyes to fix Harry with a look of slight trepidation. "I—what do you mean 'no'?" she questioned slowly. "We just finished playing Quidditch, Harry, I'm all sweaty, I need to get out of these soaked—"
"No," said Harry again, just as firmly, and his gaze moved from Cho's face to the spot she was attempting to rise from and back again with a clear unspoken indicator. He watched as the blush on her face deepened to reds yet discovered by man and she sank back down, refusing to meet his eye.
"Oh, really now, you can't be serious…" Cho began with a little bit of a whine to her tone, which did nothing to Harry but cause his jaw to tighten, "I thought that…well, I thought you would want to take this, um…elsewhere?"
Whoa.
Harry's mind ground to a halt.
What did that mean? She thought he would want to take what elsewhere? At the moment, Cho was having an incredibly difficult time looking at Harry, choosing instead to gaze at their tangle of robes then up toward the ceiling, all while her foot tapped to some jittery rhythm. The confusion only lasted for a few more seconds when it hit Harry like a Bludger to the back of the head.
So. Cho already had an inkling about what he might want during his one hour….Guess it didn't take the mind of a Ravenclaw to figure that out. She was a girl and he was a boy with an unprecedented hour of 'do whatever you want' privilege. What else would come to mind, a game of wizard chess, best three out of five? Still, to think she was so ready for something like this to happen…and with him. Did that mean she liked him as more than just friends? Harry didn't want to set himself up for the big fall but he couldn't help but wonder if maybe she did like him like he liked her….
"Well?" pressed Cho when it seemed as though Harry had mentally jumped ship yet again. "I didn't really expect you to win b-but—what's done is done, and, you know…it's not like I don't know…."
"Know what?" Harry queried without really catching her words.
"That you, erm…that you…." She pointed to her chest then at Harry a few times, still refusing to even so much as glance at him. "That."
For some odd unexplainable reason, Harry was feeling more brave than he had ever felt in his life, and he could hazard a guess as to why. The full ramifications of the power he held was finally starting to hit home, finally starting to marinate good and proper. For the next hour, he had Cho under his control; whatever he asked, the girl he heavily fancied would have to do, like a far more legal version of the Imperio curse. To that end, he knew exactly what Cho was referring to but a part of him, a part of him that was highly enjoying her situation, wanted to hear her say it, to watch as she got the words out.
"That what? What is that, exactly?" There was no helping the grin spreading through Harry's lips when Cho twitched, finally fixing him with a cutting glare.
"Y-you know full well what I'm talking about, Harry!" she blustered.
"Do I? Nope, don't rightly think I do," he responded with an easy shrug. "You're the smart Ravenclaw, aren't you? Why don't you tell me, help jog my memory, yeah?"
Cho's cheeks blew out in a childish pout but the perimeters of their bet compelled her to obey and she inhaled, still frowning. "Thatyoulikme," she rushed.
Harry blinked. "I'm sorry, come again?"
Her glare deepened.
"Hey, it sounded like someone hit you with a tongue-tying jinx," said Harry. "I want you to say it again, slower."
Cho's lips were nothing but a thin line, possibly wanting to say a slew of other things besides what she was ordered to. And that notion pleased Harry. "It's not like I don't know that…that you…."
When she paused, it wasn't because she was having trouble speaking the words anymore…it was because of the sudden revelation that lit up her face, that left her mouth hanging open for a few tense moments. And then she was smirking, an action that effectively wiped Harry's face clear as marble. Those alluringly slanted eyes of hers only narrowed further, though not with the same disdain as earlier, rather with intrigue, and her form seemed to relax considerably.
In the span of four blinks and a shift in posture, Harry suddenly felt like she had somehow turned the tables on him when he wasn't even aware there had been a table in the first place.
She flipped a lock of her slick hair over her shoulder, never once breaking the eye contact she had been too embarrassed to make just seconds ago. "I said, it's pretty obvious that you like me, Harry." Her words this time were clear, precise, and Harry's stomach flipped at her coy smile. "I've noticed it, you know. All the times you stared at me for just these unnaturally long times, peeping at me whenever we passed in the hallways and such…why, I used to think you figured me ghastly in the face," she revealed somewhat moodily.
Without a moments hesitation, Harry opened his mouth to vigorously assure her that he thought the complete opposite—"I didn't think that at all! I actually think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen!" is what he burned to say, the words lining up perfectly on his tongue. Then he abruptly snapped his lips shut. No…he couldn't say that…more like, he shouldn't. That hamster was awake now, running furiously in its wheel, turning the cogs in his mind—and he knew what Cho was doing.
This was a play for dominance, that's what he was getting…that's what Cho was attempting. A smart girl from Ravenclaw, of course she would try something like this. Regardless of if Harry was the bet winner, if she could be the one holding the reins—if she could be the one who wielded that power—then, theoretically, it would be like Harry never won in the first place.
And he couldn't let that happen.
"No, not a fright," Harry mused, covering for his suddenly urgent expression by swatting at his arm like he had been bitten. He made a show about flicking off what wasn't there and fixed Cho with a challenging grin. "Though a couple times you did have a few ink smudges here and there, surprised your friends didn't tell you."
It was funny, how Cho's brow seemed to furrow just a little, no doubt pondering why he hadn't fold like a deck of cards as she expected, but she recovered nicely enough. "They probably didn't tell me because there was never anything on my face, Harry. You could've just said something sooner, couldn't you?" She leaned forward, bringing her and that coquettish smile close. "Who knows what all we might have been able to—nnm!"
Harry only had about forty-five minutes left of his hour and while hearing Cho talk was pretty great in its own right–her voice was naturally soothing to him–there was far more he wanted to do, and so when she angled toward him in an obvious tempt at getting him to back down, he met her halfway instead, catching those pink lips against his for a kiss that was both quick and silencing. When she shot back, nearly flipping herself off the bench, there was nothing but abstract shock in her eyes.
"H-Harry!" she blustered, a hand to her mouth. "You—you can't just—"
"Course I can," he corrected coolly before she could finish. "I can just whatever I want for the next forty-five minutes. I won, remember?"
That truth did nothing to staunch the crimson flooding Cho's face. Her facade was cracked, probably beyond repair, and she huffed, hunching her shoulders together.
"W-well…that is true—but—but still! You c-could have done it a little more…." She trailed off with a sideways glance, fidgeting.
"A little more…what?" pressed Harry with genuine intrigue.
"Oh, honestly…." Those eyes, those resplendently dark eyes of hers, rolled. "A little more romantically!" she stressed.
"More…romantic? Are you serious?" It was almost enough to make Harry laugh as he pretended to check his bare wrist for the time. "Hmm, yeah, look at that, don't see romance fittin' in here, Cho. As a matter of fact, why're we talking? Stand up and turn around for me."
If the words hadn't left his own lips, Harry would have never thought himself capable of such authority—he would have made Professor McGonagall smile with that tone—and even more remarkably, on command, Cho stood without a word, that quirky grin returning
"Yes, master Harry," said Cho teasingly, completing the order and swiftly turning.
The aroma that slammed into Harry's nose set fire to his nostrils in the best way possible when he found himself eye level with Cho's delectably apple-shaped posterior. In all the two years Harry had spent ogling Cho Chang from around corners and across the halls whenever fate shined bright enough to bring them together, he had never paid much attention to her figure, too intent on capturing that beatific face of hers in the picture frame of his mind, but now….She was the very image of lithe, petite yet thick enough that her tank top and bike shorts squeezed in all the right places, bringing her curves into greater focus; it was something Harry would have never been attuned toward had his summer not been so eventful. Now, as his pupils artfully traced the width of her hips, what drew his attention the most was what her shorts were adamantly trying to contain: that ass.
By the grace of Merlin above, Cho's shorts were made of this sheer mesh material, probably sweat-wicking if Harry had to guess, and most definitely see-through. He could feel a bit of his soul trying its hardest to escape into the great beyond the longer he stared, eyes widening at the twin mounds of her rump, pressed tight together by the stretching fabric of her shorts. There was no denying the muscle there, and it jiggled softly as she fidgeted in place, shifting and bouncing; Harry didn't realize he was biting into his lip until he had finished following the deep divide of her crack down to its end and back up again. A fine layer of sweat had her rear gleaming like a beacon and he was being helplessly drawn to it, his nostrils widening subconsciously. She was very fragrant, powerfully so, to the point where even when he exhaled, her personal scent still prevailed over all else, and he drank it down like butterbeer; the faintly sour hints of her sweat, whatever tropical perfume she had sprayed herself with….
"Um…what're you doing back there?" he heard her ask hesitantly. "Is there…is there something on my shorts or—"
"Take off your left shoe," Harry suddenly whispered, nearly against her, and Cho shuddered.
"H-hey, not so close to that place," she cautioned fretfully, "we only just finished with our match and I…I might not be smelling at my best…."
Like hell you aren't, Harry thought furiously, inhaling until his chest expanded, until her scent began to awaken his lower half in the most wonderful way. It was dangerous, he already knew it was…giving into his carnal desires this early, but to fight it was so much worse; to not take advantage of this shapely rear and all its glory was simply not an option. He had won, he had earned this…and he would enjoy it.
"Your left shoe," he repeated throatily, calling upon all the strength he possessed to remain where he was.
There was no end to the confusion when Cho responded with, "My…my shoe? Why?" but when Harry remained silent, it was loud enough to convey his unspoken answer and Cho sighed, with another roll of her eyes if he had to guess. The moment she began to bend over, unknowingly taking Harry's breath as she went, he beheld the jostling motion she sent her ass into, the stretching of her shorts, and suddenly he was drawing in wisps of another smell. It was far more pungent than the others, more captivating in the way it swirled about his nose and set fire to his brain.
God, that bitter musk…it was almost humid, definitely her own personal brew, the culmination of her ass having sat for hours on a chair during lessons, on a broom during their rematch, and then mixed with the beads of sweat still sliding down between those plump cheeks. Harry felt lightheaded, hardly aware that Cho was muttering something under her breath as she fussed with her shoelaces—whatever she was saying didn't matter, nothing did, really, except the aroma drawing him in closer and closer, like a beckoning finger underneath his chin.
"EEP!"
When Harry's lips met the supple curve of her right cheek, the surprised cry that left Cho was heaven to his ears. In that instant, the taste of her drenched shorts, the flavor of her warm, soft, salty flesh—all of it sparked against Harry's tastebuds and brought him to the point of thirsting for more. A bridge of saliva connected his mouth to her trembling rear when he pulled back, dazed and chest pumping. Truthfully, he had missed his mark by quite a large margin as he had been aiming to dive into her expansive crack but he veered off course when he closed his eyes, landing on her cheek instead. Still, going by the enamored expression on his face, no one could say Harry was upset he had misjudged.
Silent for the most part, Cho kept still, possibly in wait to see if Harry would make another move, before deeming it safe to glance over her shoulder. "You…H-Harry, you just kissed my bum," she said, regarding Harry as if seeing him right for the first time.
Figuring there was little else he could do, Harry slowly nodded. "Yeah, I, uh…yup. That—that just happened…."
"But…it's my bum, Harry!" Cho said incredulously.
A twitch took Harry's eyebrow as he once more nodded.
"But it's…why, though? We only just got done with our match, it's all sweaty, innit?" she said slowly, and Harry did not miss how her eyes slid from his painfully constricted expression to further down.
"It is, y-yeah…."
Down, much further down, her gaze traveled. "Doesn't it, like, I dunno…smell a bit?"
A terse grunt proceeded whatever Harry was going to say, a reaction to the particularly strong throb that rattled his groin. He instantly regretted having let that slip when something like realization caused Cho's eyes, now landing on a spot between his legs, to sparkle roguishly, though she didn't comment. It seemed this crafty Ravenclaw was not going to let anything escape her keen observation, Harry figured, firming his jaw.
"Your shoe, Cho, I said—" he began, with an honest attempt at sounding stern but Cho suddenly shifted her weight and his lips fumbled when her backside bounced.
"I'm getting it, I'm getting it…these darn laces—tied 'em a bit too tight," she grunted, bending back over in another attempt. "Hang on, just gotta…."
There was no earthly way that untangling a pair of shoe laces should have required as much movement as Cho was putting forth, even if they had been magically knotted together, but Harry didn't question it. He didn't bother wondering anything, thought was wasted here—he only needed his eyes, only needed to be able to watch and take in every bounce and wobble her twin mounds swayed into. Whenever she shifted her weight, whenever her hips tilted, Harry's breath hitched in tune to the way her ass responded…and he suddenly realized, her movements weren't the jerky gestures of someone sincerely struggling, no…her rump sashayed smoothly, with elegance, gliding side to side in front of his face, sometimes close enough for him to catch the barest of whiffs of her scent.
Thank you, Ron.
No matter how hard he attempted to inhale, Harry was only able to draw in the smallest wisps of her backside, and it was beginning to drive him mad, this obvious teasing—his nostrils burned to be buried in her intoxicating musk. Worse than having to wait for Professor McGonagall to finished inspecting his Firebolt and return it, every time that slick fabric brushed the tip of his nose, he wanted to drag his tongue over the surface, to gather as much of her taste as he possibly—
"Got it!" Cho finally exclaimed after what felt like hours and her ass gave the most happiest bounce, causing a few extra trickles of sweat to cascade over its natural curve. The smell of her spiked accordingly, grew thicker, filled with more of that mouth-watering bitterness that flared Harry's nostrils; it was filthy, he knew it was, to be partaking of her most shameful area in such a way, but there was nothing he could do to stop himself. Just knowing it was her ass he was sniffing so doggedly, and with such admiration, set fire to his libido.
And maybe…just maybe Cho was privy to that as well, because when she turned around, shoe in hand, she was sporting the most regal of smirks, glancing down her nose at him like a Queen might to her lowly subject. He could see it in her eyes, that control, the hubris…and it tantalized Harry more than he would ever admit, to be subjected to such a snide stare, like he was good for nothing more than being mercilessly teased by her lithe body.
The blush in Cho's cheeks was paramount, almost radiant, and her chest heaved a bit faster than normal. Harry knew she was feeling it, that power…he knew she had realized the abnormally strong pull she had on him, that her everything enticed him to the point of stunned silence. She knew, and she was enjoying every second his eyes drank in her visage, but she was bound by the rules of their bet to follow his orders, not the other way around, or else Harry could only assume she would have started making demands of her own.
"Well?" she pushed softly, sinking back down to take a seat. Her shoe dangled off a finger. "What now, Mr. Potter?"
Exactly when Cho had managed to flip the tables on Harry when he was the one holding all the cards would forever elude him, but after a few seconds tense concentration, he managed to meet her mocking question with a firm jaw.
"Put your foot on my knee," Harry ordered, and he immediately kicked himself. That came out nowhere near as authoritative as he had expected it to; his voice had trembled near the end, downright squeaked.
What he expected Cho to do was give him a perplexed look, the same kind as when he told her to take off her shoe. He expected her to think she had heard wrong and ask for a repeat. He expected all that and was ready and waiting with a curt response to tilt the odds back into his favor. The words were on his lips, primed to launch—
"If that's what you want," she said easily with that same debonair smirk.
—so it was a little disorientating for Harry to be left with nothing but held breath and a dropped jaw when Cho leaned back on her hands and began to slowly lift one of her slender legs; he could something brushing against his shin as she dragged it up…and up…until the heel of her bare foot was exactly where he had commanded it to be.
There was nothing that could have prepared Harry for when she scrunched her toes, uttering a soft coo of relief; there was no way he could have prepared for the violent way his groin sprang to life at the mere contact her foot made against him. The softness of her flesh, that prominent arch…all of it leading up to her dainty toes, slick with sweat and her nails painted the deep blue and bronze colors of Ravenclaw.
Now that's just damned unfair. And it clearly was, nothing more than a carefully calculated attempt at throwing Harry further off course. There was not a single shred of doubt in his sputtering mind why Cho had been sorted into Ravenclaw—she really was every bit as quick-witted and clever as the house required of its students—but fortunately, Harry more than lived up to his house's reputation, too. He was Gryffindor-bred, he possessed the strength; he was valiant and unbending and sturdy—
"Surprise boop."
"Wuh?"
—traits that melted away into a puddle of absolute mud when Cho tapped his bottom lip with her big toe.
If Harry had to pinpoint the exact moment when his mind imploded like a black hole, it would have been the instant the aroma around Cho's foot infiltrated his nostrils. Thick and overpowering, the effluence drifting from the toes just at his lips ignited Harry's lust in the worst way; it was as sour and potent as the sweat layering her foot suggested, but there were also the most mystifying undertones of a musky sweetness, possibly the natural smell of her foot before the days activities took over. Quite frankly, if he were honest, it disgusted him…it disgusted him how every deep inhale he stole off her toes only served to further pitch the tent in his pants. His exhales were short, almost desperate, barely depleting his lungs before filling them again with that intoxicating scent in a method that was quickly giving him a headache, but he didn't stop; he only switched to exhaling through his mouth in an all too similar doggish pant.
Ripples of an unexpected pleasure were radiating up Cho's spine in response to every one of Harry's heated exhales against her, that blush from earlier deepening into shades unknown as she grunted, clutching the edge of the bench to keep still.
"H-Harry, wait—that…it t-tickles," she squirmed, nibbling on the knuckle of one of her fingers.
Even if Harry did care that his ministrations were tickling her, he would sooner gift-wrap his Firebolt and give it to Malfoy than stop, and his ears were graced with the erotic sound of Cho gasping when he pressed his lips to the ball of her foot, kissing it ever so gently. The flesh there was enticingly soft, well taken of despite the slightly heady smell winding its way deeper up his nostrils, and Harry delighted in her groans, figuring he must have happened upon one of her more sensitive spots.
So he purposefully pressed harder, damn near vindictively, and lifted a hand to palm the curve of her heel when she jolted, her leg beginning to draw itself back. No, Harry firmly decided…she wasn't allowed to get away, and after a futile little tug that went nowhere, Cho seemed to reach the same conclusion, that this was her punishment she would just have to endure it.
He blew a soft burst of wind over her arch.
"Mmmnh…"
And followed that with a quick, suckling kiss to the ball of her foot.
"A-ahhn…."
Each and every utterance that Harry managed to draw out of Cho missed his ears completely and struck him in the groin. The tip of his feverishly huffing nose was only just barely brushing against the underside of her toes, causing them to scrunch and twitch; he was all but drunk off the sickly sweet pheromones clinging to her flesh, that he could just about taste on his lips. The urge to unleash his tongue on the five flexing toes dominating his vision was so strong that he growled against.
Fight it, he commanded himself. Chest out, Harry, you have to fight–
A single chain of restraint popped as easily as a rubber band and Harry dragged his bottom lip from the heel of her moist foot, over that alluring arch, all the way up to her big toe, giving it a playful flick that drew a hissing groan from the witch in his grasp.
"Harry!" It was gasped out, her tone pleading and desperate all at once, but all of Harry's senses had been shorted out, including his hearing, under the zest that his tongue was sampling as it slowly glided over his bottom lip.
It didn't bring to mind anything he had ever tasted before—which made an absurd amount of sense as this was the first time he had ever 'lipped' a foot—but that didn't stop his mind from cycling through a cavalcade of flavors in an attempt at nailing it. It didn't quite overpower his tastebuds like it did his sense of smell; in that aspect the taste was saltier, and very much addicting, he could feel a wave of saliva building in the aftermath, a craving to drag his tongue over, around, and through each of her delicate little toes.
"I…I can't believe you just did that, Harry," Cho uttered past her finger, wincing, "you actually like the smell of my feet…."
That was such an obvious observation that Harry didn't deem it necessary of a response, choosing instead to bring his lips to the top of her wiggling toes, merely enjoying the softness there and the mellow aroma her scrunching released.
"They…but they can't possibly smell that good, right? I just—mmmph—I…I only just pulled my shoes off, they must stink!" she tried to argue valiantly, but her words only served to fuel Harry's lust.
Of course her foot smelled, it was a pretty omniscient kind of aroma, the kind that would have likely had Harry wrapped around Cho's finger if he weren't constantly reminding himself that he had won this moment through a bet and that time was limited. He didn't have the luxury to enjoy her in all the ways like he wanted, he didn't have time to lavish her succulent foot with his tongue, he didn't have time to know what it would feel like to suckle all that bittersweet sweat off her toes—
"But…you like that, isn't that right, Harry?"
Harry's crotch tingled before his mind could fully comprehend what had been said. Then he swallowed, quite audibly. That sudden shift in tone, the bravado lacing her words—no, no, no, there could be none of that, she wasn't allowed to—
"No, more like…you love it, don't you?" Cho pressed, lowering her finger and flashing the top of Harry's bushy head a snarky grin. "The softness of my toes…how they smell so pungent—I bet you even adore the arch in my foot…am I right?"
Every beat of Harry's heart caused a visible tremor to rock his frozen form. There was nothing, not a single utterance from Cho's lips that he could honestly dispute, and that left him in a very telling silence. When Cho giggled, Harry's face burned.
"You attacked my poor, little toes without mercy," she mused softly, flexing her foot and causing Harry to stiffen. "Do they really smell that good? I can't imagine they do, Harry…they're all sweaty…but they are nice and slender, wouldn't you say? And the nail polish–good choice, hm?"
It really was a downright splendid choice yet speech was beyond Harry at the moment; he was transfixed on the sensual way Cho was wiggling her toes…so slow and rhythmic, occasionally brushing his lips.
"I bet it's taking every once of your Gryffindor-strong will not to simply drag that hungry tongue of yours over every inch of my foot….You're hooked on this naughty scent of mine, aren't you?" She paused to take a prolonged inhale, slowly expanding her chest, and Harry felt his groin transcend from mere rigid to absolute diamond. "Mmmmyeah, that's my feet, alright…just a little sour, just a little sweet—like a piece of candy!" She giggled. "Are my feet your candy, Harry?"
For all the ways the heady taste of her foot seemed to titillate his tastebuds into salivating for even a drop more, it would have be a downright lie to say otherwise but Harry was much too enamored over the way Cho had taken in the turgid smell of her own foot, and apparently enjoyed it on a sensual level. At first, Harry was sure that was a move done on the fly, just because, but then he saw Cho's grin. It was that damned grin that was partly responsible for the illegal theft of Harry's soul. Smug didn't even begin to describe it, there was an overbearing amount of ill-gotten victory there, and Harry knew why. The control that he had been fighting to keep in his grasp had all but evaporated; he might as well have donned a collar and given Cho the leash.
As he sat on the edge of his seat, gripping her aloft foot by the heel and deeply taking in the perfume drifting into his nostrils like his lungs might collapse without it, he knew there was no way on earth he could salvage this situation and a certain part of him was wondering why he was even trying to in the first place.
Because it's the principal of the thing, Harry thought vehemently, subconsciously using his thumb to massage little circles into Cho's heel. I won the bet, I won this hour, it should be me calling the shots, not the other way arou—
"—if you wanted, Harry, it'd… I wouldn't mind…."
What grabbed Harry's attention wasn't that Cho had spoken, because not even the aroma from her foot was properly reaching him through his mental war, it was the returned hesitancy in her tone, and the way she pensively averted her gaze like she was unsure of herself….
And there it was, the opening Harry needed to swing the tides of dominance back into his court. He immediately dragged one last tantalizing sniff off her, noting the way she winced, and straightened his back, brow furrowed with faux confusion. What she was okay with him doing didn't matter, he just had to stretch this moment long enough to turn down whatever it was.
"Wouldn't mind me doing…what?" Harry asked with some clawing modicum of authority.
"I wouldn't mind if you wanted to lick all the sweat from between my toes."
"Oh, that's good because I was sure thinking about it," Harry responded on natural instinct, almost relieved by her admission, and it wasn't until well into the growing, domineering smirk on Cho's face that Harry realized his mistake.
Worse than any wrong answer he had ever given in Potions, Harry knew his stray utterance had just collapsed whatever bridge of dominance he'd been hoping to build; it crumbled into nothing under this conniving witch's smile, never to be attempted again and, oddly…Harry felt capsized by a strange wave of relief. This tug-of-war for superiority wasn't really doing much for his levels of enjoyment, always having one section of his mind devoted to making sure Cho hadn't/didn't one-up him, constantly bringing himself from the cusp of pleasure whenever he noticed something deviously sinister in her face, in her eyes.
The struggle was beyond exhausting. So what if he had won the bet? The quidditch victory—being what he ultimately cared about—that had been his reward, right? So, where was the harm in sharing the spoils of his win with Cho? After all, judging by the fire igniting her cheeks and the almost mewling way Cho was dragging her big toe over his bottom lip, it was all too clear she was enjoying his ravenous infatuation over her. The mental rope Harry had been gripping all this time, that he'd been struggling to keep firmly in his grasp…it was almost cathartic, letting it slip from his frayed and worn fingers.
In response, confusion slid its way over Cho's elegant features—possibly due to the way Harry deigned to meet her demeaning sneer with an utterly peaceful gaze, or maybe it was how he softly began to nuzzle his lips against the arch of her trembling foot—though it only lasted for a second until that good old Ravenclaw comprehension quickly sank in and she gave an excited gasp of rapture.
The change in atmosphere almost gave Harry whiplash when the witch of his dreams withdrew her foot from his hold, slowly, teasingly, purposefully wiggling her toes against his fingers. Shivers raced the length of Harry's spine, the disappointment at the loss of her feet all but bowled over by a peaking anticipation as Cho stood, placing a hand on her hip.
"My feet are too precious for you, Harry, don't you think?" she purred and Harry followed her lead by giving a half-hearted shrug, finding her whole demeanor shift highly amusing. He would have never pegged her for the dominant type but she seemed to flow into the mold with a practiced ease. "Look at the Boy Who Lived, all the challenges you've overcome—even facing You-Know-Who… and yet…."
When she twirled around, those ebony tresses fanning out sensationally, Harry was once again acquainted with her ass, now thoroughly on display through her drenched shorts. The time she had spent sitting down had not calmed the aroma around her rump by any degree; in fact, it only seemed to have strengthened to the point where Harry barely had to inhale to find himself whisked away on a cloud of her natural perfume.
"You can't overcome this ass, can you?"
The honest answer was "of course" but Harry felt that would disturb the vibe Cho was going for and he was extremely curious where she was going with this, just as his fingers were curiously tapping their way up the back of her thigh. As close as he was to those softly swaying twin globes, almost within smothering distance, Harry could see the way her shorts were struggling to contain all that ass. Cho was far thicker than he had previously given her credit for; he was intensely drawn to the way the hem of her shorts sank into the flesh of her inner thigh. He didn't know what that was called, he only knew he wanted to trace it with his tongue….
"Honestly, Harry… pay attention when I talk."
The way Cho suddenly slammed her hands flat against the bench before her and dropped into a squat immediately got his attention, and his head followed her movement so swiftly that his neck cracked in protest. He barely had time to register the pain when Cho arched her back, glancing back over her shoulder and fixing him with a coquettish smirk that very nearly stopped his heart; that was all the time he had to brace himself before that long-haired witch rose with purpose, firmly sandwiching Harry's face between her moist and fragrant cheeks.
The speed at which Harry's trouser snake snapped to attention, he almost thought someone had commanded it through parseltongue. A groan of pleasure rose quick in his throat, his eyes rolled in the darkness that Cho's intensely squeezing crack provided, and suddenly, Harry was gripping her firmly by the thighs, his fingers sinking into that plush softness while he made an effort to push his face in deeper, further, letting his nose lead him blindly into her sinful canyon. He could feel her tensing with his every nudge, could hear the lusty pants escaping her lips, but control was something Harry no longer possessed; he could feel her sweat, he could taste that salty tang through her shorts as it dotted his tongue; his nostrils hurt, they were practically squashed closed due to the vice-grip she had him in but that didn't stop the Boy Who Lived from inhaling as hard as he could, more to gather as much of her intoxicating effluence as possible than to satisfy his lungs burning need for air.
So this… this is how I die….
Harry exhaled a steamy, haggard breath against her shorts–barely managing to endure the rattling shivers that raced up her legs as a result of his desperate breathing–only to inhale with such force that Cho lifted up onto her tippy-toes, a surprised squeak leaving the shuddering witch.
"Mmmmn… s-so forceful… Harry, you nasty pervert," Cho uttered throatily, playfully jostling her posterior. "I can't–mmph… I can't imagine it smells pleasant back there b-but my God… y-yes, get in there–show me your devotion!"
Cho's legs were spreading at a teasingly slow pace, she was arching her back even further to hike up her rear so Harry could have more room to do as she ordered–
Yeah, this is how I die… and I'm more than okay with that, Harry thought comfortably.
"Well, color me strange but I'm definitely not okay with that, Harry. Who would be my best mate if you bit it? Neville? Nope."
At the sound of Ron's voice, Harry's eyelids fluttered open, whereupon he was immediately blinded by the morning light flooding in through the common room windows. Gone was the musky warmth found between Cho Chang's rotund cheeks, gone was the feeling of euphoria, the heavenly sound of her groans, the feel of her milky thighs in his grasp–all of it, gone. Except for the very stiff, very painful throbbing in his pants. For a moment, as disappointment began to wash over him in droves, Harry simply remained still, hunched over one of the common room tables covered in crumpled pieces of parchment paper, quills, research books, and an overturned ink bottle that was incessantly dripping onto the carpet. Never before, not since being accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had waking up been such a dreadful occurrence for Harry, to the point where he actively tried squeezing his eyes shut in a futile attempt at going back to that wonderful moment.
I don't believe this.
He had been so close, literally and figuratively… How could that have been a dream when it had all felt so real? Her body crushed against his… being absolutely smothered by her ass… the taste of her sweat… filling his lungs with her dizzying pheromones….
"You alright there, Harry?"
Again, like a knife to his brain, Ron's voice penetrated Harry's mind, bringing him to a place he didn't want to be: reality. That meant he had never challenged Cho to a rematch, that he had never beaten her and won their bet and gotten his reward….
None of it happened, not even a single second… Damn it, Ron.
Coming to terms with that was more sobering than it had any right to be and it took a fair bit of effort for Harry to growl out a throaty "No" to Ron's insipid question.
Like a zombie rising from the grave, Harry sat up, doing an admirable job at keeping the utter dismay from his face. Across from him, Ron was still in his nighttime things so it was fair to assume that classes were at least a couple hours away, unless Ron had reached a level of uncaring previously unheard of; he was in the process of laying out some of the homework he hadn't finished from the night before, a night that was slowly but surely piecing itself back together into a cohesive memory.
"Tergeo," Ron muttered with his wand drawn and pointed at the mess on the carpet. Once he had clumsily siphoned up a good portion of the spilled ink, enough so that no one would look twice, he offered a supercilious little sniff, purposefully avoiding Harry's eye. "So. How'd it go last night?"
That was a very good question, and not simply because Harry couldn't fully remember, but because he was now sharply aware of the fact that his pajama bottoms were moist and sticky. Specifically the crotch area.
"What in the...?"
His dream about Cho Chang had been extremely arousing, sure, but there was no way it accounted for an explosion like this, with what looked like someone had spilled a glass of water in his lap….
"Ummm, you know, I, uh….It was alright, I guess?" Shrugging, Harry tried to keep his face as normal as possible to keep Ron's attention above the table. "Why, did something, er, happen?"
Now turning pages in a book that had nothing to do with the current paper he was working on, Ron's brow furrowed with annoyance. "I dunno, ain't that what you're supposed to be telling me, mate?"
Harry cleared his throat, the mess in his lap starting to feel wholly uncomfortable and cold. "And, uh, what am I supposed to be telling you exactly…?" he whispered for entirely no reason. The common room was empty, there was no one around and yet he couldn't help but feel they were discussing something that went against Hogwarts rules.
Now realizing that his assignment paper and book didn't match whatsoever, Ron sucked his teeth, tossed aside his copy of 'Taming Magical Beasts for the Magically Beastly' , and picked up a thicker tome, opening it to a random page. "Come on, you know… when I left after Hermione came in? You guys stayed down here an awfully long time, didn't you? You never came upstairs at least…."
Harry blinked.
"Hermione…? What're you—whoa... no way..."
An immediate spark of interest lit up Ron's face and his eyes finally zeroed in on Harry. "N-no way…? No way, what? Was I right?" He was leaning closer with an excited grin. "Did… did something happen?"
Honestly, Harry hadn't even heard his friend. It was all coming back to him, like watching a movie reel of previous events flow over the landscape of his mind, filling in the blanks. "No way," he repeated breathlessly, "there's no way–"
Even with his heart beginning to hammer between his ears, Harry caught the muffled footfalls of someone strolling into the common room and both he and Ron looked up to see Hermione, wearing an oversized t-shirt with the Gryffindor coat of arms emblazoned over the front that came down to her knees, leaving whatever she might have been wearing underneath, if anything, up in the air. She was scratching her hip and yawning vociferously behind a hand, seemingly oblivious to the two boys gawking at her as she approached, wordlessly flicking the book Ron was using out of his hand and replacing it with one that actually pertained to what he was working on.
"If you're going to work, might as well work with the right tools." She ruffled his mop of red hair, leaving him slack-jawed and speechless, then turned to Harry with a serene smile that only served to make her entire face shine with a sleepy kind of allure. There was definitely something 'pleased' about this stunning witch, almost as if she were basking in the afterglow of something wonderful.
And now that Harry fully remembered the night before, he had a pretty good idea as to what it might be.
"Thank you, Ron," he uttered aloud.
"Huh?" Ron glanced around in confusion underneath Hermione's hand. "What'd I do?"
A/N: And that's all for the HP universe, I think, unless inspiration strikes again. Thinking about maybe Queen Tyr'ahnee or Mrs Incredible next...