Second Chances [The Dudley Story] 30 - Pawn, Pub & Prisoners

Some time later, the clanking of the gold coins stopped. The entire office was covered in gold by then, filled so high that it came up to Dudley's knees. It was an absurd amount of wealth, money even more than what was in Harry's vault. 

"H-How dare you!" Dolores Umbridge screeched as she got up, hardly, struggling to find balance with so many coins making it hard. Her face was red, fuming, furious. "You—"

"Enough!" Dudley barked, voice tight with fury. "Harry, go check outside. Make sure no one’s about to walk in."

"W-What? Yes…" Harry woke up from that shocked daze and got up, eyes wide. He said nothing, asked nothing, and just left, each step a struggle as if walking through deep snow. But soon enough, Harry slid out of the partially opened room and shut it behind with a lot of hard work since some coins spilled out. 

Dolores stood up with the support of the table. "You! I’ll make you pay for this disrespect! How dare you! I am the undersecretary to the—"

But Dudley started moving towards her, and she shut her mouth. She felt threatened; he was far too tall, and she was already considered short for a woman. She looked around for her wand, but it was lost somewhere in the pool of coins. 

"Aaaargh!" Dolores groaned in pain, seeing and feeling the unimaginable happen. 

"Listen to me, you toad-faced bitch!" Dudley grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, forcing her gaze to meet his. "You don’t frighten me. You’ve got no say over me, no power. So wipe that smug look off your face before I do it for you."

"T-The Minister will… You—"

“Oh, what’s he going to do? Who do you think bankrolls all his precious little crusades for the so-called greater good of wizardkind? Who do you reckon handed me the keys to Diagon Alley? Dolores Umbridge, you’re a festering little toad croaking from a cracked bucket. You’ve no idea what the real world looks like. You’re nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

The woman tried to free her hair, but Dudley's grip only hardened on her. 

"Y-You will pay for this!"

"I already have, Dolores." He declared. "The MACUSA President just got reelected recently. She thanked me for her victory. The Delacours also gained footing in the French Ministry last week. Who do you think is bankrolling this whole game? Not you. You're too busy playing lapdog to people who'd see you crushed. You cling to scraps of influence while pretending the Dark Lord’s return is a minor inconvenience. You don’t fear him. Fine. But you should fear me—Fear my money!"

Dolores gulped and looked at the tall boy dominating her. Her eyes shivered. "W-What do you… want from me?"

Like the flip of a switch, her entire personality changed. From a woman of power to a woman ready to be a lapdog. That was her game. That was how she rose in power. She bowed to the mighty and roared at the weak. As soon as she realised the difference in status, she bowed to Dudley. 

"Hah!" Dudley released her hair and let her stand normally. "I could have stopped your transfer to Hogwarts the moment it was decided. But I allowed it. You know why I didn’t?”

She shook her head. 

"Because now you're standing here, in my domain, at my mercy. Miles away from the Ministry. A civilisation away from any help," Dudley said, and took out his wand. "You’re going to swear the Unbreakable Vow—loyalty, allegiance, all of it. To me."

"I… I will do no such thing."

"Oh? The toad still stands proud?" Dudley sneered at her face and pointed his wand at her. "Who do you think the Minister will choose if I told him that his precious prized toad disrespected the richest wizard in Britain's history. That his precious undersecretary tried to hex his greatest backer? That I can't fund his adventures anymore, not unless he dismisses Dolores Umbridge dishonorably."

"Utter nonsense. You and the Minister? Friends? He can’t stand the sight of you."

"And you actually buy that rubbish?" Dudley chuckled. "Once again, you reminded me of your subpar intelligence. Money doesn’t play fair—it’s all mine before the coin even hits the floor. Heads or tails, makes no difference. Choice is an illusion, Dolores. All roads lead to me, and only me."

Dolores's eyes darted left and right, her breath more of a gasp now. "W-What… What will you have me do… if I take the vow?"

"Nothing, really. You will sit within the Ministry and become my eyes and ears, and at times, my mouthpiece. I can influence Cornelius with money, but I can't put words into his mouth. You can do that, and you will. In return, you will receive wealth beyond your wildest dreams. And after Cornelius, I'll make you the next Minister. All you have to do is follow my guidance, get your act together, stop being a bitch, and for once, even if a farce, be likable."

"Y-You can't… You don't get to choose who becomes the Minister." Dolores argued, although highly tempted. 

"Oh, but I do, Dolores. You see, whoever controls the coin rather neatly controls the board. Wizards, Muggles, Purebloods—they’re queuing to open an account in my bank. Most of the old families already have. So when I say D&D Bank would do wonders with a certain Madam Umbridge in the office… tell me—who wouldn’t want to be on the winning side?"

As she heard that, connections started to form inside her head. Dots started to connect. She had followed the events of the Wizarding Britain for a while now. Once she thought of it all in one go, it all joined with Dudley Dursley. The man before her wasn't just the richest wizard in the country. He basically owned wizarding Britain. 

What was that power? What was that influence? What was that wealth? She shuddered to even imagine it. 

Sweat formed on her forehead. Her hand shivered. She was already a puppet; she knew that. But she was happy with it since it gave her power. But if her boss was also a puppet, then what was she? And now that the puppetmaster offered her a place. Would that not make her above her boss, the Minister? 

"W-What will the vow be?"

"Simple—You, Dolores Umbridge, will never act against the welfare of Dudley Dursley, be it physical, magical, financial, political, personal, or any other type that exists. You will follow Dudley Dursley's commands to the letter, and never disobey unless it is to benefit Dudley Dursley. And you’ll keep this between us and those bound by similar vows. Discretion is expected."

"Forgive me, but I-I do believe you haven’t quite said what you intend to do…?"

"You're only useful to me if you're in a position of power, Dolores. I don't need to make vows for that," Dudley replied with a cold, uninterested tone. "Now, make up your mind. What will it be?"

Dolores licked her lips, more than tempted. Who doesn't want power? Who doesn't want to rise high? That was her whole thing. It was her dream for years. She was ignored during her Hogwarts days. She was never the Prefect. She was never the Head Girl. She was never in the Slug Club. 

"I… I'll take the vow, Sir."

Dynamics were clear to Dolores. She was a master at realizing it. 

"Very well." Dudley nodded and looked at the wall clock. 

Knock! Knock!

"Enter." He permitted it. 

The door was pushed open, and Professor Vector walked inside with some struggle, thanks to the coins. She was still a Professor, albeit not as busy as she used to be. She passed Dudley the usual, sultry, mature smile and then eyed Dolores. 

"Professor Vector, please oversee my Unbreakable Vow with her," Dudley requested. 

"Of course, Mr. Dursley."

Soon, Dudley and Dolores Umbridge clasped hands, and Professor Vector tapped her wand. Dolores was made to take the vows, and Dudley didn't say much, just accepting her vows. He offered her nothing. He promised nothing. 

"Thank you, Professor Vector." Dudley nodded at the woman. 

Taking that as a sign, Professor Vector smiled and left the room. 

Dudley then grabbed the same duffle bag and opened it up wide. 

Wooosh!

All the coins that had spilled out magically fell back into the bag. Every single one of them. Though the entire office looked like a storm had passed through. 

"Reward," he noticed her greedy eyes. "Is earned, not gifted. You’ll have it—once you’re Minister. Until then, best to stick close and follow my lead. Reach out to Rita Skeeter at the Daily Prophet. Give her a nice little interview. Say you believe the Dark Lord’s back, and that it’s high time we started preparing."

"What?! B—"

"You are useless as you are now, Dolores. Forget about Cornelius—he’s powerless while you hold your post at Hogwarts. By the time you’re back at the Ministry, he’ll be long gone. What matters is that you return a hero, someone the people of wizarding Britain can trust. You want that, don’t you? To be the first high-ranking Ministry official openly backing the right side?"

Dolores gulped. That was like a fantasy to her. "Y-Yes, I would love that, Sir."

"Good, proceed with that. One more thing, stop acting vicious with the students. They'll be working in the Ministry under you someday. You don't want your juniors cursing you, do you? Act like a relaxed, laid-back, fun teacher. Show them some fun magic, something exciting, something you didn't get in your time at Hogwarts. Like what Lupin did with the Bogart, everyone liked that. Or maybe give them a go at the Patronus charm—useful bit of magic, especially with You-Know-Who’s lot running the dementors."

"But the Minist—"

"Do not doubt my knowledge, Dolores. Wealth grants access to things beyond your wildest thoughts. We’re done here now; unless I approach you privately, treat me like any other ordinary student.”

With that, Dudley turned around and walked out of the room, carrying the same duffle bag with him. As he came outside, he found Harry still standing there. 

"No need to fret about her anymore. She's been... domesticated."

Harry frowned, looking at the door and back at Dudley. "What did you do, Big D?"

"A touch of bait, a twist of tongue—just enough to stir the pot. Come on, bet dinner's on by now in the Great Hall."

####

Two days later,

"Now then, my lovely students, today we shall be learning about the Patronus Charm. Such a delicate, dazzling bit of magic—utterly harmless and rather charming, wouldn't you agree? Naturally, we shall be attempting it together. But first, we must attend to the theory, and understand just what it takes to perform such a marvel."

It felt uncomfortable seeing Dolores seeming so kind and welcoming. The woman seemed to have lost all her condescending attitude. She didn't seem fake, but genuinely kind that day. 

The students were confused. In the previous class of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw together, Hermione even asked a few questions and received clear responses from Dolores. Heck, Dolores even asked Harry to show the class what a Patronus charm looks like, and that it was possible for wizards of his age. 

Everyone wondered what had changed. Harry offhandedly told Ron that Dudley knocked some sense into her. From Ron, that word spread, and finally, it was the DADA class of Hufflepuff and Slytherin combined. 

"Did you fuck her?" asked Susan while seated beside him. 

"What? Ew… Fuck no… ugh." Dudley almost gagged, his imagination too good, sadly. "Like hell I'd look anywhere when I got your ass."

"That's right." Susan scoffed proudly. "But still, how did you do it?"

"A magician never reveals his secret."

And just like that, peace returned to Hogwarts. However, the real bomb had yet to drop. The next morning, the fresh copies of the Daily Prophet fell into the Great Hall during breakfast. Not many students had subscribed to it, but enough did for chaos to erupt. 

Big groups huddled together to read the article. In it was Dolores Umbridge's moving photo, her face looking serious. The article talked about the danger of the Dark Lord's return, the danger of Death Eaters still being out there. That the Death Eaters who got caught in that photograph with the Dark Lord still didn't have their entire family wealth and property confiscated. 

She named the likes of Malfoys, Carrow, Goyle, and Crabbe, declaring that even their young children studying in Hogwarts should be monitored. 

It was spicy and explosive. In an instant, she went from being hated to being acceptable. Even Slytherin students were scared of her due to her background. Not to mention, the Slytherins were scared of being associated with Draco and his gang, which was directly connected with Death Eaters through blood.

"Alright, you definitely fucked her." Susan was still suspicious of Dudley. 

"Agreed." Even Hannah was suspicious. 

Dudley rolled his eyes and pinched both their thighs under the table that he'd spread with his rather curious hands. 

"Dammit, girls. I know I'm a horny bastard, but I still have some standards."

"Pfft, yeah, sure." Susan scoffed with a taunting smile. 

"But it's one less headache now," Hannah added, feeling relaxed. "I thought she was going to ruin this year for us."

"Hah, not at all. You both can blow me right in front of her, or I could be doing you two right on her office table while she sits there, and she still won't say anything. Your dear Dudley's got it all covered."

That only made the two girls even more curious. 

####

Some things just couldn't be changed. They weren't under Dudley's control. 

Dumbledore's Army still happened. Harry was still having those dreams. Dudley didn't join it, however. Nor did he allow Hannah and Susan to join. He didn't want the two girls to join a mess that was, at that point, a chessboard for Dudley. 

Instead, he relished in the bodily delights. With Umbridge now tamed, his fifth year was proving to be even more calm than the others. He took daily dips in the Prefect's bath, always with Hannah and Susan with him. 

Days became weeks, and weeks became months. 

He also continued his arrangement with Daphne. He was sure now, she had a sort of kink for creampies, especially to hold his release between her soft, pink pussy lips for an extended amount of time. 

And honestly, he didn't mind. He rather enjoyed it. She wasn't just willing, but also very accommodating. He could have her on all fours, or bent against the table, or underneath him, and she was always willing, as long as he finished inside. 

Still, she was careful enough to keep hiding that secret. Though Dudley did use her to annoy Pansy Parkinson more. Calling Pansy broke and other things. Even Draco had broken up with Pansy since she had nothing of value anymore. Draco was broke himself, and he didn't need a broke girlfriend. 

At the same time, Dudley continued his Occlumency and Legilimency sessions with Hermione. It was awkward at first, but they soon became serious. No more sexual stuff, just simple training. Though he could swear he saw her biting her lips at times. 

As time went by, Christmas finally approached. 

And with that, a busy time for Dudley started. His meeting with the IWC's governing body was planned, set for two days before Christmas. He was honestly a little nervous, but not without a plan. 

In fact, Dudley had been planning for it from the day he changed D&D Capital to D&D Holdings. From the day he came back from America after meeting the MACUSA president. It took money, but more than that, it took some warmth. 

"Let's meet for Christmas at my place," he said to Susan and Hannah as they got off the train at King's Cross. "You can stay the night… if you want."

Susan grinned, and Hannah blushed. They knew exactly what would happen that night. And they were all for it. 

####

London, in a fancy pub somewhere near the Ministry. 

Thump-thump-thump!  

"Mmmmmh! Oh, yes! Yes, yes… Harder… Harder, Dudley!"

Dudley was panting like a beast. His trousers were bunched at his knees, his shirt wrinkled and forgotten, utterly naked from the waist down, hips slamming into the woman from behind.

Rosmerta, pushed over the pub’s polished mahogany table, was all bare. Not a single thread on her curvy, sweat-slick body. Her skin glowed under the chandelier's soft flicker; flushed, glistening. She was older, no doubt, but aged like fine wine grown potent with time; thick in all the right places, full of sinful experience. Her long, golden-blonde waves were a tousled halo, sticking to the sweat trailing down her back.

"Gah—You're… tight as ever, Rosmerta." Dudley rutted as hard as he could, just as the woman demanded. 

Her cunt welcomed every thrust like an old flame, greedy, dripping. His cock slammed into her with wet, obscene slaps, the sounds bouncing off the wooden walls. Her pussy sucked at him, slurping him deeper, trying to milk him even as he gave her everything. Her bosom was flattened over the table, breasts squashed beneath her as her toned legs held her steady on the floor. 

Dudley looked down, mesmerized by the way her ass bounced, his cock driving into her slick heat, his hand molding that plump, tanned rump like dough. He squeezed, slapped, and clawed. Addicted to the texture of it, the way it yielded and jiggled and resisted all at once.

And the ripples—every thrust sent shockwaves across her ass, down her thighs. He was obsessed with it.

"Mmmmh… Is that all you got? You were harder last time."

Dudley chuckled dangerously and raised his hand high. He looked at her face, flat sideways on the table, one eye looking at him, her thin lips grinning. 

Pa!

His palm met her ass with a sharp smack. Her cheeks bounced, jiggled wildly. 

The table groaned beneath them, the legs squealing across the floorboards.

He felt he was one lucky bastard. That day, a year ago, during the Hogsmeade weekend, he had nothing planned. But then, the older woman started flirting with him, and he flirted back. Then, she mockingly asked, 'Why? Interested in an old girl like me?' and sure enough, he replied, 'Oh, I am.'. 

The next thing he knew, he was fucking her against the table. 

Just as he was doing now. 

“Ohhh yesss… that’s right… you like this old cunt, don’t you?” Rosmerta moaned a throaty rasp of filth and pride, hips arching up to take more of him.

Dudley growled under his breath, cock twitching violently inside her. Her words, that little bit of self-deprecation wrapped in pure need, made his balls tighten. He gripped her ass harder, fingers digging into her flesh, knuckles whitening.

She was close. He could feel it in the way her pussy pulsed, how her thighs trembled and her breath came out in sharp, whimpering gasps. She was perfectly shaken and stirred by her favorite business partner. 

“Fuck—Ros…” he hissed, not slowing. He couldn’t. Her cunt was gripping him too tightly now, begging for it.

Pa!

Another slap. She yelped, then laughed breathlessly.

“Aaaahhh! Again—fuck, again!” She begged.

Pa!

“Ooooh! So close!” Her voice cracked around the moan.

Pa!

“Ummmmm~ Yessssss~” It dragged out of her like she was quickly unraveling.

She was bouncing now. Not just from his thrusts, but on her toes, heels lifting, legs trembling. Her ass slammed back into him, trying to match his rhythm, desperate for friction. The table beneath her squealed louder as her climax teased at the edge of her every breath.

And then, she broke.

“Oh—FUCK! Yes, YESSSS—!” she screamed, legs going stiff. Her toes curled against the floor like claws digging for grip. Her pussy clamped down hard, spasming around him, a gush of warm, sticky slick erupting around his shaft.

Her orgasm hit like a firestorm. Clear honey gushed around him, her cunt fluttering, wringing his cock as if trying to pull the spill from his balls by force. Her body jerked, eyes clenched, and her mouth hung open in a raw, breathless moan. 

Dudley didn’t stop.

He kept fucking her. Hard, deliberate–even as her pussy clenched violently around him in the pangs of orgasm. Her climax was like a vice, her slick, spasming cunt milking his cock with brutal pressure, but he welcomed it, groaning through gritted teeth.

“Fffuck…” 

Her muscles were still fluttering around him, locking down with every pulse of aftershock. He leaned forward, chest grazing her sweaty back, and grabbed a fistful of her messy blonde hair. He yanked gently. Enough to lift her head off the table, enough to bend her neck just the right angle so her spine arched, her ass lifting just that little bit higher.

Her whole body was still convulsing, still trembling from the orgasm that had ripped through her. And Dudley took it, used her. Her cunt was still twitching, still clinging, and he rammed her back onto his cock with each thrust like she was nothing more than a tool for his pleasure.

Pa!

He slapped her ass again with his free hand. The sound was like a crack of lightning, wet and raw. Her asscheeks bounced under the impact, glowing red from abuse.

“Don’t lie… Rosmerta. You like this more than anything… You like it, don’t you? A young, rich bastard painting your soaking cunt white. Hm?”

Dudley grunted as he picked up the pace again. The sounds were outrageous now; the slick churn of cock inside cunt, the meaty clap of hips against ass, the table’s tortured creak, and Rosmerta’s hoarse, endless “yes, yes, yes!” as she bounced on his cock like a woman starved of it.

He knew her. Knew what she needed. He didn’t always fuck this hard, most women couldn’t take it, but Rosmerta? Rosmerta thrived on it. She craved the roughness, the way he used her like a toy made just for him. She wanted to feel it in her thighs tomorrow, between her legs for days. She wanted to remember it.

And he gave it to her.

“Then have it… all of it.”

He gripped her hips, buried himself balls deep, and came with a guttural growl.

His cock spasmed, locked inside her clenching cunt, and then–released. Thick, hot cum surged into her, flooding her already soaking pussy. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking her, kept thrusting through the surge, through the oversensitivity, through the mess. His cock churned the cream inside her like a paddle in butterfat, making it froth, making it slosh. It spilled down her thighs, dripping in slow, sticky trails over her skin, some running all the way to her knees.

“So?” Dudley finally panted, amused as he fucked her with a slow, indulgent rhythm now. Hips rolling forward, cock sliding in and out of the overfilled cunt with wet, obscene squelches. “Any luck?”

Rosmerta giggled breathlessly, tossing her head back. “Ummm… In a rush?” 

She twisted to glance at him over her shoulder, lashes half-lowered, lips swollen from biting moans. “Already tired, Dudley? I thought young men had more drive.”

Pa!

Another slap. Her ass bounced like a ripe peach under his hand, glowing from the constant perversion.

Dudley finally pulled out with a wet squelch, his cock still rigid, flushed red, and gleaming with their mixed release. Without his girth plugging her stretched pussy, more of it gushed out, thick and musky, in slow, gloppy drips.

"Flip around." 

But Rosmerta didn’t obey.

Instead, she gave a wicked little shake of her hips, her cum-soaked ass jiggling in blatant invitation. Her arms reached behind, fingers clawing into her own asscheeks, spreading them wide with zero shame.

Her glistening cunt, still twitching, still dripping, was on full display. But that wasn’t all. She bared her back hole to him, wrinkled, flushed, pulsing faintly like it wanted to be touched.

"You sure you don't want to give it a go? You're a bit large, but… I think I can take you." She teased, grinning. 

Dudley’s smirk was slower. Lazier. Cruel.

“This one?”

He leaned forward and slid two fingers through the mess still leaking from her cunt, wetting them thoroughly. Then, brought the gleaming slick up to her back hole. He rubbed gently, coating the sensitive ring in their juices. 

She gasped as his fingertips circled there, and then watched as he pressed the wide, blunt head of his cock against her back door.

He didn’t push. Just held there, the hot, swollen tip stretching her open just a bit. Just enough for her to feel it. Tease her. Make her want it.

"Tempted…” he murmured close to her ear. 

“But that's a reward for later. In case your work pleases me." He pulled back again, seeing her shoulders slump in disappointment. "Turn around now."

Rosmerta let out a huff, somewhere between a moan and a scoff, and stood up in a fluid motion. Her body was still trembling, glistening with sweat and the aftermath of being fucked senseless, but she moved with practiced ease, like a woman used to taking cock and asking for more.

She turned around and lay back on the table, legs spread instinctively, her back arching just enough to showcase every curve. Her belly rose and fell with her heavy breath, soft, not flat, but smooth and warm like velvet under touch. A grown woman’s belly, made for fucking. 

Her breasts were a little saggy with age, gravity tugging at their weight, but they remained a perky, mouth-watering pair that begged to be touched. Light brown nipples crowned them like treats waiting to be licked, veined, freckled, sensitive.

"You sure are a sight to behold, Rosmerta. How the fuck are you single?"

She let out a throaty moan as he stepped between her legs. “Mmmmh… Oh, I love that cock sliding in me.”

Dudley didn’t waste time. He grabbed her legs, strong, long, toned from years behind a bar, and pushed them up flat against his chest. One foot to each side of his head, her pussy laid bare beneath him, still glistening from the flood of their previous climax. He drove back into her slowly at first, letting her feel the full stretch all over again.

“I… I just… never found… a good… young…” She gasped between his slow thrusts, “…sugar daddy like you before. Especially one so–ooohh… good in bed!”

Plap!

Dudley rammed in hard. One deep, merciless thrust that made her entire body jolt and her tits bounce. Balls-deep, all at once. He knew exactly what she was doing. Knew the tone, the words, the filth. She was winding him up, awakening that deliciously brutal streak in him, the one that wanted to own her. He liked that about her. She wasn’t shy. She wasn’t fragile. She was older, wicked, and insatiable.

“Huh… is that so?” he groaned, hips grinding slowly now, shaking side to side to let his cock smear itself along every fold, every slick, velvet inch inside her. “Didn’t know you even knew that word.”

"Oh, please, dear… enough Muggleborn girls visit the pub. Half of them come looking for some old, wealthy wizard… mmmh… but I… somehow trapped the best one."

Dudley raised an eyebrow. “Hah? Trapped me? Did you now?”

He let her legs drop open, wide and welcoming, before leaning down over her. His hands cupped her soft, freckled breasts, thumbs circling those stiff nipples. Then his mouth descended.

He suckled her. Like he was tasting aged wine, something rare and expensive and meant to be savored. His tongue flicked and curled, lips tugging gently, teeth scraping. 

She moaned so sweetly his cock twitched inside her. Her long legs locked around his waist, heels digging in as she pulled him in deeper.

“Mmmm… They… get stuck with an old wizard… with a cock barely standing and I…” She gasped as he rolled her nipple between his teeth, “…a handsome young man… with a wand made to tame witches. Oooooh… Yes! You like suckling them? Mmm… Too bad, can’t make ‘em swell.”

Creak! Creak! Creak!

The table screamed under them. Not just from Dudley’s thrusts, though they were deep and punishing now, but from Rosmerta’s locked legs pulling him into her, meeting every thrust with reckless, greedy force. 

Her pussy squelched with every movement, the sounds wet and delicious. He nibbled on her nipples while molding her breasts in his palms, squeezing like he wanted to reshape them to his pleasure.

She was infertile. He knew that. One of the reasons she’d never married, from what he’d gathered. And he didn’t care. That meant he could spill into her again and again without a second thought. Fill her up and fuck it deeper, as messy and raw as he liked.

Besides, she works for him now. He’d set her up with this new, swanky pub in London, free of charge. Her job? Keep her ears open. With the IWC headquarters so close and Ministry officials visiting in droves, it had become the perfect nest for secrets.

“Mmmm… Coming, coming… Oh, dear… I’m coming on your cock again… Ohhh… deeper… yes, yes!”

Rosmerta yelled in a cracked, desperate wail. Her spine arched high off the table, heels digging into Dudley’s back, thighs locked around his waist. Her pussy gripped him with a ferocity that felt almost punishing, clamping down around his cock as she shook violently. Her tits heaved upward, nipples brushing against his lips. 

Dudley didn’t miss a beat, his mouth latched onto one, then the other, suckling like a man starved, smothering his face in her flushed softness while his hips slammed into her soaked cunt.

And then she broke. Shattered.

Her orgasm crashed over her like a wave ripping through flesh and bone, a deep, body-ruining climax that blurred her vision and sent stars spiraling across the inside of her eyelids. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, only tremble and feel. 

Her entire body clamped down, jerking and writhing, cunt gushing in thick pulses, bursting around his cock in erratic spurts. Her mouth hung open in silent shock before the sound finally tore free. A raw, feral moan that echoed off the walls like a haunting.

“AaaAAHHhhhnn—!”

She clawed at his shoulders, then wrapped her arms tight around his head and dragged him closer to her face. Her legs squeezed his sides like she wanted to crush him. 

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Her tongue rolled into his mouth, kissing him with wet, hungry ferocity. Not gentle, but aggressive, dominant, desperate. Her lips smeared across his, spit slick and stringy.

“Mmmm… Nothing… beats… kissing my… sugar daddy…” she breathed, her voice shattered from moaning.

Dudley nearly laughed—almost. Fuck, who taught her that word?

And fuck if it didn’t make his balls twitch. Her need, her hunger, her filthy submission stirred something carnal in him. 

Her body was still jerking with aftershocks, her pussy still spasming around his cock. It felt like she was coming in waves—again and again, as if she couldn’t come down from such a high. Gritting her teeth, her muscles locking tight every few seconds as her molten slick poured out of her.

Clamp! Gush! Clamp! Gush!

She was broken. And he wasn’t done.

“Get down.” Dudley pulled back suddenly. 

She whimpered, still twitching, as he grabbed her hand and yanked her off the table.

Rosmerta dropped to her knees without hesitation, still dizzy, eyes glassy, legs trembling. She landed hard, thighs wide open, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her cunt still dripping, shiny and swollen from being pounded raw.

Dudley stepped forward, spreading his feet wide, towering over her, closer than needed. His heavy balls mushed softly against her cheek, swinging low and wet.

Then, he landed both hands on either side of her head. Firm and commanding.

“Open up… Nothing beats swallowing me either, right? Mmmm…”

She obeyed with a sighing moan, mouth wide open, tongue out, eyes fluttering as she submitted fully.

He slammed in.

Gluk-Gluk-Gluk!

He plunged in hard right away, fucking her throat like a piston, relentless and filthy. 

Her jaw stretched wide around his girth. Her mascara ran in streaks down her cheeks, mixing with drool and spit, making her look like the perfect mess.

The pub echoed with everything and more. The lewd slurping, the sloppy choking, the harsh grunts of a man using a throat like a cunt. 

Rosmerta didn’t flinch. She wrapped her hands around his thighs and grabbed his ass hard, nails digging into muscle, pulling him deeper every time.

“Mmmmmm—nghhhhhhh!” she gagged, choked, but didn’t stop.

Dudley’s moan was guttural. His thighs throbbed, that tunnel-like depth of her throat burned him inside. 

“Close! Ugh!”

And then he shoved in to the base. Balls deep, tilting her head up with the sheer force of his height. His sack slapped against her chin, heavy and pulsing, while the thick bulge of his cock throbbed visibly in her throat.

“Gaaaah! Fuck—drink it… like a good… barmaid, now… Your… yummy treat!”

He exploded. A thick, violent surge of cream flooded her throat. 

She gagged instantly, but he held her there. Her throat clenched, swallowed, swallowed again, trying to keep up. It was too much.

Her hands slapped his thighs. She pulled back with a wet pop, gasping for air, his cock springing free, soaked and twitching. Still leaking like a broken tap.

She immediately rubbed it over her flushed face, nuzzling the shaft, letting it smear hot globs across her cheeks and forehead, dragging his musk across her skin like war paint.

“Mmmmm…” she moaned dreamily, licking the spill off her lips, stretching thick strands between tongue and chin.

Dudley just stared.

She licked his cock clean, slow and devoted, then scooped the creamy mess from her own face and sucked it off her fingers. She didn’t miss a drop. Not even the ones in her lashes. By the time she was done, she looked perfect. As if nothing had happened at all.

Thud!

Rosmerta fell back, flat on the wooden flooring, gasping for breath. Dudley wasted no time and straddled her midriff, knees wide. He grabbed her tits and massaged his cock between them, slowly warming himself up for the night as he planned to stay with her until the next day's meeting. 

"So? What's the word?"

"Mmm… The word is…" She gazed at the tall, young man of twenty with hunger. "Victory… My girls… were too good. Those old boys were too weak under the charm."

"Hah!" Dudley chuckled, feeling blood rush downward already. "And the photos?"

"All magical, even used a Muggle video recorder. Ten copies each, all secured in your bank," she replied, caressing his hard chest. "You're one evil man, Big D."

"Not evil, just clever. I expect the IWC to be as corrupt as the Ministry. To get things done, sometimes you gotta throw away morals. If you dislike me for that, I wouldn't hate you."

"No, no, not at all. That only makes you all the more exciting—Bedroom—Ah!" 

Surprising the older woman, Dudley lifted her in a bridal carry and took her upstairs. Instead of the bedroom, he walked into the luxurious bath first. 

"I guess… I'll give you that reward early."

Rosmerta grinned, already imagining his hard pole invading her rear entrance. Filling her up so good. She was keen, hungry, obsessed with the young man's cock. His money, his mind, it all made her tits hard and cunt sore. 

More than a wizard who knew a thousand spells. 

She rather liked this one. A man who toyed with a thousand wizards instead. 

####

London, D&D Holdings Headquarters,

Narcissa was nervous. She never imagined she'd be that vulnerable, that anxious to hold onto that Muggle job. She used to be a proud, stoic woman, using her mind more than magic. But now, she was a mere office clerk, finally a regular employee with full salary and benefits.

Finally, she was able to barely manage her household. The massive Malfoy Manor required too much attention and maintenance. Even the house-elf, Dobby, once their own, was gone. But still, she felt it was better than those nights spent on the street.

She never wanted to return to that. Not now, when the hatred against Purebloods was on the rise. Although Lucius Malfoy was nowhere to be found, the Malfoy name was a regular in the papers, reminding all that she was married to a Death Eater. She had no one to talk to in the office building other than her direct superior, a Squib, Martha Rockwell.

She felt ashamed of wearing that wedding ring, but she kept it on, holding onto that memory of Lucius. She was focused and ready to sacrifice her mental peace and exhaust herself at work. She was ready to give up everything to give her son a good life.

But that day, she was more nervous. It was akin to her actual first day at work. Dudley Dursley had left Hogwarts for the Christmas holiday. Martha had informed her that Dudley had an important meeting with an organization called IWC. While Martha wasn't that aware of magical stuff, Narcissa understood it. So, she was handed the thick folder of papers and ordered to accompany Dudley Dursley as his secretary.

She didn't fear the young man, but she feared the power and wealth he held. It unnerved her how much he had gained in such a short span of life. The same age as her son, but standing on a far higher level than anyone else.

Over the months, she had truly come to understand the grand scale that was D&D Holdings. And that was only the Muggle business. She wasn't allowed to know about the magical side.

It's a simple job. I'm only to assist him with papers. I have trained for months for this. She told herself. 

Narcissa wasn't a working woman in the past. In fact, she had never worked a job in her entire life. Lucius Malfoy was rich enough to never need his wife to go out there and work for someone.

And now, she was working directly under the richest wizards in the country, if not the world. 

Quickly, Narcissa took out the small mirror that Martha had gifted her. She looked at herself, ensuring her face looked clear. Again and again, she had been reminded by her superior that looks mattered for secretaries.

Initially, she was doubtful. But then, she saw the secretaries of Edwin and other higher executives. The Muggle women were beautiful. So, she tried to dress like them: dark, thin stockings, a grey knee-length office skirt, and a white shirt. Hair made silky and beautifully left untied. Minimalistic makeup, yet beautiful.

But still, she had added a pearl necklace around her neck to look more formal. It made her feel less naked. It was embarrassing overall, having never been outside dressed like that, where her bodily curves were on such brazen display. Even worse, she was going to IWC, where other wizards would see her. Wizards who'd know her.

"Ma'am, we've arrived."

The spacious car finally stopped some blocks away from the IWC's hidden entrance. It was an upscale, Muggle cafe with massive glass windows. Right away, she noticed Dudley inside, seated at a table, dressed in formal wizard robes. 

There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I have to tolerate this until Draco finishes Hogwarts. 

Giving herself a pep talk, Narcissa grabbed the bag full of papers and left the company car. She walked, her dark heels knocking on the pavement. She could feel eyes directed at her, men's gaze. 

And from the looks of it, her boss' gaze was on her too, waving at her from inside. 

The worst has passed. I'm sure of it. 

With that in mind, she walked into the cafe. It was all empty except for Dudley and two people behind the counter, working. 

"Good morning, Mr. Dursley." Narcissa greeted him as trained. "These are the papers." 

His eyes… 

She felt frozen, seeing him unashamedly look at her, from her stocking-clad legs, to her skirt that clung to her hips, then her curving waist, noticeable in that fitting shirt, and then her swells, modestly covered. Finally, he looked up at her face and smiled back. 

While Dudley was tolerable. It horrified her that other wizards in IWC would leer at her in far more perverse ways. 

"Narcissa, while I very much treasure this attire and seriously, you look stunning, I think your clothes aren't suitable for the IWC meeting," he seriously stated. "This dress code is only for Muggle office space. You should get changed. I have no desire to humiliate you before those old fossils, not when you represent my name now." 

Without realizing, Narcissa felt her chest deflate, and her shoulders relaxed. For an unknown reason, a wave of warmth spread throughout her body. The young man, her boss, stopped looking threatening. 

"I… I apologize." 

"No need, we still have time. Use the bathroom, apparate home, and dress in something fitting for a witch. Best to keep it simple.”

That eased her beyond anything. Nodding, she rushed towards the bathroom. 

"Narcissa! You're forgetting something."

She looked back and stiffened, worried. "Yes?"

"The bag. Leave the papers, I need to read them."

"Of course, Mr. Dursley."

Nervousness, calm, and more emotions combined turned her into a mess. It was the worst feeling in the world to know your fate, your livelihood depending on another person's mood. She hated that feeling as it twisted her personality. It was hard to manage between being a stoic, noble, pureblood lady, which she had been all her life, and a simple office clerk. 

But still, it was a relief that Dudley was highly professional. Enough to care about her modesty. 

####

Since Cornelius was compromised by big money, Dumbledore wasn't persecuted by the Ministry for his outspoken belief that Voldemort had returned. Although Dumbledore was no longer the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, he was still the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. And Dudley had every intent to make use of that. 

Once Narcissa returned, dressed in a simple, regal, dark grey one-piece that covered her whole body except for her hands and face, they walked into the IWC building. 

Dudley, being famous, be it Muggles or wizards, they all looked at him. Then they looked at the beautiful, mature-looking blonde beauty walking behind him, holding a leather document case. 

"You will be seated right behind me, to the right," Dudley informed her of what was to come. “When I mention a document, pass the marked stack to the ICW staff. They’ll handle the rest. Don’t speak, even if someone addresses you directly. And don't look into Dumbledore's eyes, no matter what happens.”

"Understood, Mr. Dursley."

With that, they gained entry into the hidden building. It was a simple revolving door that allowed wizards entry to the magical side of the building without doing anything special. 

The lobby was grand, high. But having seen MACUSA headquarters, it didn't amaze him that much. He just walked over to the reception and gave his name. In no time, he was guided to the ICW's assembly hall. 

“Ah, you’re here,” Dumbledore greeted, with a solemn nod. “I fear I cannot say much, as I must preserve my neutrality. There will be forty members present today, representing various corners of the world. You shall be seated among us, as the matter at hand concerns you directly. When I call your name, you may speak. At the end, a straightforward vote shall be held—hands raised in plain view—to determine whether your petition is accepted or declined.”

Dudley nodded, expecting that much.

"Mrs. Malfoy." Dumbledore greeted Narcissa in the end. 

She just nodded her head without looking, without speaking. 

After that, Dumbledore walked away. Dudley was guided by an IWC clerk and taken to a massive round table in the center of the assembly hall. It was insanely massive, larger than the size of the entire Great Hall in Hogwarts. 

Around that huge table were cushioned chairs, countless of them. The middle of the table was covered in gigantic stacks of books, thousands perhaps. The books moved magically on their own, opening and closing. Nearly a thousand quills also hovered around the books, documenting something in them every now and then. 

Wait, how do I look beyond the books when the meeting starts?

When he looked up, he couldn't see the ceiling. Instead, there was bright blue sky, the same as outside. There were magical birds flying even. And then, around the edges of the assembly hall were tall visitor stands. 

Nonetheless, Dudley was guided to his chair. He sat down and waited with Narcissa right behind him. 

One by one, old wizards and witches started appearing and taking seats. But one thing was noticeable. They only took seats after they looked at Dudley and shared a greeting with a silent, distant nod. 

Feeling out of place as the only young man, Dudley chuckled. Heck, even Narcissa looked out of place as the assistants of other IWC members were also old fossils. 

Forty seats were eventually occupied. In the end, Dumbledore appeared. Not in a seat, but instead, the old man appeared in the middle of that giant circular table. The stack of books vanished, replaced by an empty stage as the center of the table became hollow. 

Dumbledore came up from underground, something akin to an elevator. 

Claps!

The ICW members clapped for the old man. Dumbledore's popularity was still strong. 

"Today, we are assembled for a matter of grave importance. A decision lies before us—one that may shape the very future of wizardkind. Imagine a wizarding world more tightly bound in economic kinship. A wizarding world that not only dwells alongside Muggles, but labours in harmony with them." Dumbledore gave his starting speech, his voice magically enhanced automatically. 

"...and thus, I believe, it is only right that we lend our full attention to young Mr. Dursley. For if one sets aside the matter of age, one cannot help but see the enormity of his contributions. Indeed, I dare say they surpass even my own. After all, a Dark Lord he vanquished afflicts every corner of our globe—the Dark Lord of poverty, of stifled potential and scarce opportunity. Mr. Dursley—you may speak. Seated."

Dudley nodded and looked at Narcissa behind with a side eye. "Hand them the result report."

He waited. The IWC clerk came over, took the papers, and then tapped his wand on them. The papers each flew and landed in front of the IWC members. 

"Thank you for your kind words, Professor," Dudley said and eyed the members. "If you'll look at the documents in front of you, the figure on the first line represents the number of wizards I currently employ across the globe. It’s estimated there are around two million wizards worldwide—though I suspect it's a touch higher. As it stands, my organization employs one hundred and fifty-six thousand. That’s approximately seven point eight percent of the global wizarding population.

"Could’ve hit ten by now, if a few governments hadn’t put a stop to it. Shame, really. I do wish more were like MACUSA—thanks to their forward thinking, the majority of my wizard employees, about eighty percent, hail from the U.S."

Dudley looked at the representative from America. The man smiled towards him and gave a deep nod. Clearly, the man was sent by the MACUSA president, and his vote was already decided in his favor. 

“Out of two million wizards, almost one and a half million are living just above the poverty line—what Muggles call minimum wage. It’s not a term used much in the magical world, but it fits. Last year, one-ninety wizards ended their lives because they couldn’t find work. A thousand died of hunger. More than ten thousand Muggleborns gave up on magic altogether and chose to live in the Muggle world, pursue education, and build careers. Only eight thousand wizards control ninety percent of the world’s magical wealth. I’m among them, yes—but unlike many, I didn’t inherit my share. They did.

“As you can see. The only way to be wealthy in the Wizarding World is to be born in wealth. Or be like me. But not all can be me. It's impractical. But being poor isn’t the only alternative. The world runs on buying things. Six billion Muggles all wanting the next best house, car, jacket, or gadget. The pie’s massive—so big that every wizard could take a slice and still not finish it.

"That is why I propose a general acceptance that as long as the Statute of Secrecy isn't broken, wizards are allowed to work in Muggle industries. Especially manufacturing and construction, where magic helps the most. Trust me, wizards across the world will thank you for generations for making the right decision today."

Dudley relaxed back then and waited for a second. 

"Ah, one more thing. If you turn the page, you’ll find the average salary of the wizards working under me.”

All the old fossils turned the page. And as expected, their eyes almost fell out of their sockets. 

They looked at Dudley, and then at the paper, as if unable to believe it. Some already started nodding, agreeing with Dudley. Some looked annoyed and unmoved. 

But Dudley had nothing to worry about. He had already played his cards while they were still setting up the table. He was aware that on that table, not all men and women were like Dumbledore. Some of them came from those eight thousand elite families. 

And for members of those families, control meant everything. As long as the wizards didn't have too many options. As long as the wizards remained dependent on the few rich families for survival, the control would remain. 

Wizarding World ran on a medieval structure.

Yet, those prestigious, elite wizards were no different from Muggles when it came to vices. Some liked to dominate, some liked to be dominated. Some liked to tie up, and some liked to be tied up. Some liked to be spat on, and some liked… worse. 

All sorts of vices existed. And the thing about the Muggle world was that there was someone for everyone. It was only a matter of price. 

Madam Rosmerta's new upscale pub in London was built for one thing only. Trap the corrupt wizards. Rosmerta, in return, got herself a free, expensive pub, Dudley's cock, and a lot of entertainment. 

Of course, the place was guarded by the Vanguards in secret. 

Slowly, not just the ICW, but the Ministry was also falling into the pit. And Dudley was all in for it. 

Scummy, yes. But very, very efficient. 

“A splendid speech, truly,” Dumbledore declared, eyes twinkling. Though he professed neutrality, the quiet pride in his tone betrayed him. It was clear he held Dudley in esteem, even if their philosophies didn’t always align. How much he truly knew of Dudley’s actions, however, remained unclear. "Since we have a great many other matters to discuss. Let us proceed with a vote. All in favor of passing the World Wizard Employment Act, raise hands."

It was slow. The old wizards and witches raised their hands one by one. A few were absurdly confident, like the British and American members. Some members thought a great deal; their faces appeared sweaty, their eyes glued to Dudley with a hint of fear. They had things to hide, after all. Vices that must never be known.

Out of forty, thirty-six members raised their hands in agreement. The remaining four who didn't raise their hands were truly pure, clean wizards who just didn't agree with Dudley's idea. To them, Dudley did nothing, only extending respect. 

"Being the final voice, I too cast my vote," Dumbledore said, lifting his hand with quiet finality. "Thus, the World Wizard Employment Act is hereby passed. Let the respective governing bodies of each nation attend to further regulation, as they see fit."

As the verdict was announced, hundreds, if not thousands, of sealed letters came out from the ground around where Dumbledore was sitting. They flew up like a massive colony of bats. They flew into the sky and disappeared, likely letters to various world jurisdictions, declaring IWC's decision. 

With that, Dudley got up from his seat. A lot of the old witches and wizards came up to him and shook hands. Some tried to chat with Narcissa, but only received silence and an icy gaze in return. 

Hours later, after finalizing everything, Dudley yawned and came out of the building. It was evening already. 

"Good work today, Narcissa," Dudley said. "I guess we'll be seeing each other for days now. A lot of work in the office. Real expansion will start now. Fuck, it's gonna be a pain in the ass to find magic-aware Muggles, Squibs and Muggleborn wizards inside all my Muggle companies."

Narcissa just followed Dudley, listening to him ramble about business. Though her eyes had a hint of respect now. The way those old witches and wizards treated Dudley far exceeded the stature her husband ever enjoyed. 

After all, those IWC members were amongst the finest wizards of their nations. Yet, she saw fear in some of their eyes. 

Old wizards in their seventies, eighties, fearing a mere twenty-year-old boy. She didn't know if it should scare her or impress her. 

She followed him into the luxurious company car and sat down beside him. He continued to speak, chat with the driver, who was a Squib. Somehow, Dudley knew the name of the man she didn't even bother to look at previously. She didn't even bother to ask his name. 

Yet, now that same man who looked threatening to her in the morning, smiled like a puppy and sang praises to Dudley. Talking about his grandkids, one of whom just got sorted into Hufflepuff that year. 

And then she looked at Dudley. He seemed genuinely interested in the conversation. He, the richest man and perhaps the most powerful in at least the entire country, didn't seem to care about status and class differences. He spoke with all the same way as that Squib. 

It baffled her. How does one even build a perspective like that? To not look at another with disdain, no matter the difference in class. 

"Narcissa…? Hey, you sleeping already?"

"Oh? Ah, forgive me, Mr. Dursley. I was… thinking." She woke up from that daze when she felt Dudley shake her shoulder. 

"Great! I was thinking too. Since it's getting late, let's grab some dinner. I know an Italian spot. Ever tried proper Italian cuisine? Old man, take us to Enzo’s, would you? He owes me a lifetime of meals for my help." Dudley ordered and relaxed back, really happy with the IWC result. 

"It's a three-Michelin-star restaurant, Narcissa. The owner's an old Italian Squib. Some Italian wizards connected with the Mafia wanted to take over his business. Hah! Moody loved torturing them once we caught them."

Narcissa was speechless. Finding herself falling deeper and deeper into a new world. One marked with bright colors and strange customs. It was still the wizarding world, but entirely different from what she knew. 

"Enzo? I know him. He was a regular at the Squib community meetings before I met you, Sir." The old Squib driver talked. "He lets me eat at his place once a month with my family."

"Just once? Man, what a cheapskate. Well, you can rub it in his face that your grandkid got into Hogwarts, not his."

"Oh, that, I will, Sir. ‘Till the last day I'm not in my grave."

"Haha!" Dudley laughed and stretched his feet, relaxing. He felt Narcissa's eyes on him and looked at her. "Careful, Narcissa. Can't have you throwing nonverbal curses at me now."

"N-No, I wasn't, Mr. Dursl—"

"It's alright, relax a bit. Office hours are over. Just call me Dudley now, I'm more used to that." Dudley nonchalantly said and tilted his head back, closing his eyes to relax. "I have nothing against you personally."

With that, silence fell between them. 

Dudley wasn't bothered that she might attack him. Even as that car moved, there were at least eighty Vanguard Group members protecting him. Some in the sky, some in the cars nearby, some already dotting the route he was taking. 

As for Narcissa, she was left a wordless mess. She felt immensely curious about Dudley.

The man she thought she'd hate for years to come. 

She found herself not hating him already. Somewhere, in a corner of her mind, she felt his rage and revenge were justified. In fact, she felt it was far more controlled than what Lucius would have done if he were in Dudley's place. 

Lucius would have killed Dudley and his mother as well after torturing them. 

But Dudley stopped once he'd taken his revenge financially. 

Sure, she somewhat knew. She could feel that Lucius' disappearance had something to do with him. But she didn't have the courage to ask him that. 

In the end, she copied Dudley and relaxed back, head tilted and eyes closed. 

####

At the same time, in Azkaban. 

Boom!

Amidst the rough storm, the wall of the magical prison shattered, blasted open. Faces, giggling, smiling, messy hair came out of the darkness, laughing towards the sky, towards the rain. 

"Heehee! At last, Rodolphus—we're free! FREE! The Dark Lord awaits! He’s been waiting, waiting—for US!"

"Steady yourself, Bellatrix," Rodolphus growled. "We’ve the waters to cross yet. The Dark Lord holds the Dementors, yes—but the guards remain, and they're not blind."

“Oh, let’s kill them! It’s nothing—we’ve got the wands, the power! Move, move! The Dark Lord awaits—we shall not fail him!”

CRACK!

BOOOM!

However, right then, thunder boomed in the sky. And out of nowhere, countless white masked men appeared flying in the sky, just standing in one place with their hands behind their backs. 

"W-What… Who are they?!" Antonin Dolohov exclaimed. "D-Did the Dark Lord send them?"

"Hehe, he must have." Bellatrix's eyes flashed with pride. "So many new toys… The Dark Lord cares for us."

However, the number of the dark leather-coat wearing, white masked men multiplied, exceeding five hundred. They covered the entire Azkaban in the sky. 

Then one of the masked men moved his hand and tapped his wand on his neck. 

"DEATH EATER FILTH! SURRENDER!"