Ron flexed his prison sculpted bicep. On it rippled and pulsed an intricate celtic cross tattoo done in somber blacks, his family had spent the summer vacation in America in Mississippi and had learned all about white power. They didn't know that it was okay to be racist in America and when the field trip had finally ended Ron came back to Hogwarts a very changed young man. He no longer wore his robes, opting instead for tight fitting boot cut Wrangler jeans, with tan "Tim's", a kelly green John Deer hat and a sweat and dip stained white wife beater. Eventually, to Snape's dismay, the look caught on and Redneck Revivialism became big at Hogwarts (think Silly Bands) in the months following the school trip to America. But that's putting the cart before the horse.
"Wow," Harry gasped, walking into McDonalds, it was his first time in a real American Mcdonalds and he couldn't believe his senses, not a one of them. He was so blessed to have gotten to go on the field trip and no be paralyzed that sneak dissing bitch Kraug. "Geez," he muttered, "you think you know somebody," and that was when he saw her.
A vision in glinting red. Her skin cool ivory. She lounged on the great wood piano at the corner of the dining hall and slipped off it smooth as silk. A large metal microphone cluthced in her red painted grasp. Harry had entered with Luna and Padma flanking his sides but he felt as though the enchanting woman now lilting her way toward the trio of mesmerized britons had eyes only for him. And what eyes she had. Like chunks of hot coal blazing in the throes of passion.
"Welcome to Mcdonalds," she said, her voice whispery and soft, barely regerstering on the discreetly placed speakers lining the walls. Luna harumphed while the dazzling woman trail a thin white finger down Harry's chin, then neck, chest, stomach, oh dear.
"I-Fries, I want fries please," Harry managed.
Luna and Padma declined to dine and stalked off to an empty table near the door under a polished chrome chandelier. Tasteful black and white photos of famous celebrity's eating chicken nuggets lined the walls.
To Harry's bewilderment the vuloptious singer began to twin her silken fingers about his brushy mop of dark brown pubes. His hair was black as night up top yet for some reason his pubes were brown. It was his eighteenth birthday.
She fiercely grasped his hard cock in her hand quiet suddenly and Harry came in self defense spattering her face adn sequined dress. No big deal," she smiled and brushed the hot salty jizz off her shoulder straps with a handful of her dark ebony hair. Then she broke into a crooning falseto and resumed her post atop the piano. Eventually Harry's fries were brought out to him and he joined the now mysteriously sulky Padma and Luna at their quiet corner table.
"The world sure is a crazy place," he said, a prayer, almost, then he tucked into the best meal of his life. Eventually someone with a warm towelette came and mopped up his near crusty jeans for him. On the way out Padma lasciviously slipped a tip into the buxom singers cleavage and copped a feel in the process.