Scorpio Witch

And I first that is what I thought. I open the envelope to see the writing saying...

“Dear Roslyn Fairfield, you have been accepted into Hogwarts Witch Craft and Wizardry! Term will start on the first of Sept.." yada yada yada.

But here’s the real kicker I turn back to the envelope to see what else was in there and low and behold I found another letter but this time not with the same ‘happy’ writing from the first. It had a stern pen to it, I opened the page to see these very words…

“Dear Mrs. Fairfield, If you are receiving this letter then you have been accepted into the school of witchcraft and wizardry. You will have to start in your 5th year. I know you probably already assumed this, but I hope your parents have informed you of your upcoming “job” at the school. With our establishment sitting next to a hot spot of magic in the forbidden forest we over the summer have seen multiple monsters influenced by dark magic in the forest. The reason we need you is because we, the staff of Hogwarts, need someone who can safely and secretively take care of matters inside the forest without attracting attention from the ministry. I, headmaster Dumbledore put this note inside your letter. No other students will know of your engagements and only a handful of teaches will know as well. Please arrive at the school early in the morning on the 1st of September before the sorting ceremony so you can learn more of your job and the school. 

Also this letter will burn once you have finished reading. And also we have covered your expenses due to your willingness to help. Goodbye."

The exclusive letter I was graciously included in my Hogwarts welcome bundle was sent as an informational letter of my reason for going to the lovely school.

My family are what the ministry call ‘monster control’. They call when the job gets dirty aka it either deals with monsters, or illegal actions they can't partake in. In years past my families legacy was lead under a different name one I unfortunately cannot share at this moment. Although most of family went into hiding from the wizarding world due to back lash from the magical ministers around the world after our family was outlawed from ever helping wizarding kind.

Now that outlawing happened about five decades ago. But some of my family still takes commissions like my family, since my mom married and changed her name.

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Surrounded by all of my belongings the tall bell tower doors open with a loud creek. I look to see a tall figure with a long white beared and blue and gray robes on.

"Hello Mrs. Fairfield, I see you got my note. Come, come we have much to discuss." Says the man. I turn to grab my luggage then I stop when I hear, "Oh just leave that there we will get that sorted later."

I nodded and followed toward the man who I presumed to be the Headmaster Dumbledore.

We walk down the halls of the castle and I am taken aback from the shocking beauty of the whole place. It looked like something straight out of a dang picture book.

After a long while around and up the castle till we reach a statue of a griffin. Dumbledore at that moment spoke a password and suddenly stairs began to appear out of the wall. Once we follow the stair we reach to what I presumed to be his office.

"Sorry for the long walk we must have a secure place to discuss, but I would like to thank you for coming to the school early." Said Dumbledore.

"Oh it is no problem, also the walk was probably best for my jet lagged legs. If you don't mind me asking but what exactly are we discussing?" Aka Let's get this over with please so I can go to bed. I've been traveling for the last 24 hours.

"Yes, yes I can image the muggle transportation could cause some minor difficulties. But yes we need to discuss how you are going to help regulate the forest."

Dumbledore then proceeds to the near by table to collect what seems to be a compass that could easily fit in a pocket. The compass had a black and silver casing around it.

"This here is a port key to inside the Forbidden Forest. To activate the key you have to spin the dial of the compass and say the location you want to go to which will be the 'forbidden cabin'. The cabin is an old travelers stop but people have long stopped going through the forest."

Taking the compass in my hand I look at it and say, "you said in your letter that I need to keep this all a secret from my future classmates, correct?"

Dumbledore then replied with, "yes that is the plan, can you do that?"

Honestly it should be pretty simple considering no one will know me so I can honestly make up any story I need to get out of trouble.

"Yes I can, if anyone gives me trouble I presume I can talk to you about it?" Dumbledore nodded gently in response. "Great. Also one more question..." I referenced to my backpack that I kept with me, "I hope it's ok that I have an undetected extension charm on my bag, I leave my gear in here I hope it is okay that I keep it."

Now you're probably wondering what kind of gear I have in my mystery backpack. As I said earlier I will be taking care of rouge monsters such as, multiple books and documenting journals, about every ingredient needed for potion and toxin brewing, and a whole weaponry that could put the American Army to shame.

I saw Dumbledore considering for a moment. Then after a few seconds he said, "As long as you don't use anything inside the school and keep it secret that is fine. Now you are free to explore the school until this evening and here is your school uniform. Please come to dinner tonight at 10 till 7." He proceeded to take out black school robes with the emblem of the school on the chest.

I take the uniform from him and say, "Thank you sir, I'll be there."

Then I take my leave heading down the stone stairs to explore the school until it's time for the ceremony.

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I arrive at the Great Hall right at 6:49. As soon as I open the doors to the hall I was hit with the aroma of the dinner, light from the candles on the roof, and the colorful banners resting on the tables. Most of the tables were already full with students. I decide to wait by the door and soft of scope things out. I totally didn't stay at the door because I had zero clue where to go, no no.

At that moment I hear loud chatter coming from outside the hall I turn to see I stern woman leading what seems to be a hoard of children towards me. Great.

"First years quite down please. I am Professor McGonagall I teach transfiguration and I am also the head of griffindor house. I am about to lead you inside and we will start the sorting ceremony after you are sorted please then more to your houses table."

Right when Professor McGonagall opened the door she was taken aback in shock after she saw me. I was leaking through the door as she was talking so I guess she didn't notice me.

"Hello child aren't you supposed to be inside for the ceremony?" Asked the lady.

Listen I know Dumbledore didn't tell every one of my arrival but come on this is going to be a pain. "Hi yes my name is Roslyn Fairfield I am the new fifth year. Dumbledore told me to wait here at this time."

After I said that the Professor seemed to understand more now. "Ah yes, we will have to sort you at the end of the ceremony you may wait here till the end I will call you in when it's time." She said with a smile.

I nodded and said thank you to her. Then she opened the doors to the hall and walked in. As she walked the hoard of children followed her inside.

They started the ceremony after Dumbledore gave a speech introducing some of the Professors and welcoming everyone to the school. As the ceremony went on as a new student was sorted I heard cheers from different tables. And sometimes boo's from others.

Finally once all of the first years were sorted I didn't hear anything for a second then suddenly I heard my name announced. Oh gosh. I walk into the Great Hall with all eyes on me. Not one bit awkward if you ask me. Once I reach the seat at the front of the stage Dumbledore stated off by saying, "we have one last sorting to do before we end the night. This is Roslyn Fairfield and she will be starting school as a fifth year. Please welcome her into the school and help her if she needs it."

After his lovely little speech about me I feel something be placed on my head. Then it talked. "Hmmm, strong desire to learn, oh I see you have some personality, determined... maybe Ravenclaw? Or no... Slytherin? Hmm what do you think?"

No way this hat was asking me. From the giggles coming from the hall I could tell my face was explaining my confusion to the whole room. What did I sign up for again?

I whispered to the hat, "well if I have a say in it, I want to have fun while I'm here and maybe make some friends."

The hat took what I said into consideration for a few moments and out of nowhere it yelled, "well then it better be GRIFFINDOR!!"

I obviously knew where my house was because everyone was screaming and yelling for me as I made my way over to the table I was getting pats on the back and some girls led me towards a seat. A girl who looked my age introduced herself as Alice Fortescue, then I met Marlene McKinnon. They both seemed lovely as we started talking Dumbledore said, "you may begin the feast!" Then everyone started to dig into the food including me. Honestly some of the best food ever.

While I was taking with Marlene and Alice we were interrupted by a boy who moved he and his buddies directly in front of me and my new friends.

One of them had black hair and started off by introducing himself first. "Hey there, my name is Sirius Black. It's good to meet you." He finished that last part off with a wink.

A little thrown I said, "well hello hun, my name is Roslyn Fairfield it's good to meet you too." I said sticking out my hand. Sirius took my hand and shook it.

His other friend beside him turned to Alice and asked, "Hey where is Lily? I didn't see her on the train ride over here."

"James, she's at her prefect duties, I thought you would know that?" Alice said rolling her eyes. I had figured out who Lily was earlier because both Marlene and Alice said that Lily is going to be so excited when she meets me. Well I hope she is.

James then turns away from Alice and towards me then says, "yeah, yeah if only I was a prefect like Remus. Hello there my name is James Potter. We are all fifth years too, oh and this here is Peter Pettigrew."

The small boy who I assumed was Peter waved and smile sheepishly. I smiled back at him.

James continued with saying, "By the way, where did you move from?"

"Really I've been all over traveling but I moved from North America." I replied to James.

"Oh well that explains the accent then" Sirius adds in.

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After dinner I walk up to the griffindor common room with my newly made friends. James and Sirius are talk about some prank they are going to pull. Marlene, Alice, and I are taking about the dorm situation in the house. Which it sounds fine to me a few problems could come up with me using the port key but I'll figure something out. Speaking of troubling maybe I should've told the hat to put me in the house that was the closest to everything. The amount of stairs up to this place is ridiculous. We finally reach the top of the stairs and Sirius takes a second to talk to the painting.

"The password?" Asks the lady in the painting.

"Hippogriff, can you let us in?" says Sirius.

And the painting talked and moved back. What with this place and inanimate objects being able to talk and move?

Everyone piles through the walkway that the painting revealed.

From what I could see I saw a warm tone room with posters scattered everywhere along with books, blankets and seating. There was a large fire place with the Hogwarts crest in the top of it. Students were laughing and having fun before they had to go to bed.

I was so caught up with looking around the common room I wasn't looking where I was going and tripped on a step and started to feel the effects of gravity. Well there goes me ever being nonchalant. I closed my eyes bracing impact from the hard ground.

I hit the ground with a thud.

"Are you alright there?" says a voice from below me. Oh my goodness did I fall on someone. I open my eyes to see my fall was broken by a literal angle. He had brown hair with sparks of blonde scattered throughout his head, beautiful hazel eyes, and long deep scars decorating his face. He had a husky voice but goodness.

The sudden inhalation through your nose is probably louder than his confession, but no one seems to notice over the din of table conversation and clinking cutlery.

You swallow the mouthful of turkey and stuffing he’d caught you in the middle of chewing and clear your throat delicately, cutting off another bite-size piece of turkey with your knife and fork, ignoring the comment. Maybe a little smaller of a piece than you have been, so you don’t choke if he chooses to slink his way through another remark like that.

A wise decision, as once your fork is in your mouth, you hear that telltale accent murmuring something else. “Did you shave it all smooth for me again?”

You huff quietly, taking a sip of your wine, and speaking into the glass covertly, “I did nothing for you, Billy.”

“Tha’s alright, love. Didn’t care about it last time neither. I don’t mind a little safari through the jungle s’long as there’s a wild cat waitin’ for me through the bush, eh?”

Your eyes snap to him again, and he’s cool as a cucumber, an arm now draped over the back of your chair as he shovels mashed potatoes onto his fork and takes a casual bite.

“It’s a no, Billy,” you whisper sternly, sitting up in your chair. Your body tenses slightly when his fingers brush against the back of your neck in what could be an entirely innocuous move. But you know him better than that.

“Then why’re your little thighs squeezin’ so tight it’s like I got my head between ‘em sneakin’ an early dessert?”

You want to spit a cutting remark back at him. Growl in frustration. But how could you argue against that when the plush of your thighs, only half concealed by your dress, don’t have a whisper of air to speak of between them as your pussy clenches traitorously.

You can’t do this again with him. The first (and only) time had only been slightly on purpose. Last Thanksgiving.

Fuck him, you had shaved for him back then. You were less sure of yourself last year. More self-conscious and more eager to impress. You’d met him a handful of times in passing, him being a frequent contact of your father.

Billy…his eyes had always lingered on you. It had made you hot. Willing. An older man, nothing but trouble and chaos in his quirked smile and dark eyes. Last Thanksgiving had been your shot, and you’d taken it.

And fuck, did the bullet land precisely where you’d aimed it. You’d never fucked in your childhood bed before. You’d never fucked a man that much older than you. Both proved to be hotter than sin in both imagination and in practice.

But he didn’t call. Didn’t even text. And the next time you saw him, in discussion with your father out on the porch, Billy just offered you a swift, salacious wink and a gentle curl of his tongue when your father’s back was turned to him.

You’d partially expected him to conjure an excuse to follow you into the house, play your post-Thanksgiving dinner game again in your bedroom. But, again, he never came. By the time you left the house, he was gone.

Every time you’d seen him since, it had been more of the same. And you’d grown jaded with it over the past year. You’d resolved yourself to never giving into him again, if he ever did try his luck with you.

And here he is, trying his luck. And here you are, wet and dripping for it like a whore.

You promised yourself, you remind your pussy insistently. He isn’t good for you. Anyone would tell you that. Your father would scalp the both of you if he found out. Just. Leave. It.

“Well,” he announces to no one but you, or anyone in the adjoining seats as he stands, “I’m hittin’ the loo.”

His fingers blaze across the back of your neck, your shoulders as he departs from the table. He doesn’t look back at you as he rounds the corner out of the dining room.

He’s good. He’s really fucking goddamn frustratingly good.

You stare at your plate for another three minutes. You know, because your brain can’t seem to shove out the tick tick tick of your father’s grandfather clock in the corner.

He’s waiting.

You take a steadying breath and lie down your cutlery, excusing yourself politely and promising to be back promptly.

Your dress feels tighter, but you don’t think you’ve eaten enough yet for it to be the fault of the meal. Perhaps it just feels more suffocating. Harder to breathe. The cocktail dress is already tight, forming to your curves. You should’ve given more foresight to your attire, knowing that Billy would surely be here to torture you.

But you just hadn’t been sure. He hadn’t taken the bait since. He hadn’t even tried. How were you to know he was still thinking about…about your…wet little cunt as he’d so respectfully put it.

You check each bathroom in your father’s egregiously large house. Each restroom has been cracked open, no one inside. Until you head upstairs, to the one in the back. It’s closed. A slight shadow in the crack beneath the door. You take another resolute breath. Your hand rises to knock on the door at least three times, chickening out each time in succession.

On the fourth rise, the door simply creaks open without you making contact at all.

There he is, all dark eyes and dark hair and smug grin, his smile lines carved in full force, devastating you even through the minimal crack in the door. He opens it wide enough to tip his head against the door frame, scan you up and down with that look in his eyes and the smarm on his lips.

“There’s the girl,” he rasps quietly, stepping back just enough for you to slide through the gap.

Your ass presses against the marble of the counter, hands clamping onto the edge as Billy latches the door silently and twists the lock, his eyes plastered to your body in your dress as he’s practically pressed up against you. His patterned button up undone halfway down his chest, the button on his jeans popped.

He makes you feel severely overdressed, but his eyes don’t seem to mind.

“You chose the smallest bathroom in the house,” you whisper.

“I chose the furthest bathroom in the house.”

“Not sure why. Barely heard a peep from you in a year,” you remark bitterly, avoiding his gaze.

He cocks his head. “And you don’t find the cat ‘n mouse game the least bit exhilarating?” He asks, his hands laying on top of yours around the sink’s edge on either side of you.

“Not if the cat already caught the mouse,” you mutter defiantly, meeting his playful glint with your petulant glare.

“I’m sorry for keepin’ you waitin’, love. But innit just a little more fun this way?” He smirks, his mouth drifting to your jaw, planting a soft kiss, then another, as your heart begins to stutter in your chest. “The ‘will we, won’t we’ of it all?”

“Not much of a ‘will we, won’t we’ if you’re the one calling the shots, is it, Butcher?” You point out, a small, breathy moan escaping as he nips at your earlobe.

“I ain’t callin’ no shots. You came up here.”

“Because you knew I would follow,” you say breathlessly, a large hand creeping up your thigh and slowly rucking up your skirt.

“Oh, now, love. I don’t know anythin’ more than you do.”

“Bullshit,” you sigh out, your breath hitching at the end when his fingers brush over the cotton of your panties.

“Now, do I know an eager little slut when I see one? Sure. But I can’t be blamed for just settin’ a trap. It’s the mouse’s job to not…” his finger draws the gusset of your thong to the side and slips through your embarrassingly slick folds, “fall into said trap, eh?”

You gasp at his thick finger stroking through your sex, glancing off your already puffy clit, that goddamn cocky grin firmly in place as you buckle beneath a single finger.

An even smuttier smile wrinkles his eyes as he explores more between your lips. “You shaved, naughty girl.”

“S-shut up,” you dismiss sharply, because fuck him.

He wasn’t supposed to find that out. He wasn’t supposed to find out that you’d shaved for him, because he never should have asked if you had, for you to have to lie and tell him you hadn’t in the first place as a “fuck you”. Fuck him.

God, you need to fuck him.

“W-we need to make this quick. My father will n-notice we’re both gone,” you stutter through, your eyes rolling slightly as he slips inside you with ease, two fingers piercing you through with assured movement.

Billy’s lips graze your ear as he coos, “Bend over for me and it’ll go a right sight quicker.”

You moan as he crooks his fingers inside you. “Yeah, yeah, okay,” you exhale.

Billy smirks, pulling from your wet clutch and wrenching you around to face the counter, pushing firmly between your shoulders as your head lowers into the basin of the sink with nowhere else to go.

You should turn the faucet on. Shock yourself out of this trance that Billy has you under and go back to dinner. Forget you’ve ever had this man inside y—

His hands are shoving your skirt up over your ass, ripping your panties down your hips, and then again…there he is. Massive and imposing against your fluttering hole, just as you remember. Only last time…last time he’d ordered you to hold your legs, lift your head, and watch him stretch you open around him.

Filthy, filthy fucking old man. God, you need him.

“Deep breath in, little dove. ‘M sure you remember,” he instructs.

Fuck, do you remember.

And fuckall does a deep breath do for you when he’s mounting you like a bitch with a cock as thick as your fist.

Furthest bathroom was the right move. Because even with his hand smashed over your mouth, you’re terrified that your primal moans carry.

Everyone had been wine-drunk and passed out in their post-feast stupors last time. They’re all conscious and conversing now. Maybe they’ve already noticed the pair of you gone, the more crass family friends already concluding that you’re currently bent over a bathroom sink, your guts getting ran through by a man twice your age with your plate still half full of meticulously prepared food growing cold.

“That’s it,” he praises in your ear huskily, hips pistoning into you at an unforgiving pace. “That’s a cunt that knows how to take a beating, innit love?”

You squeal and scream, muffled significantly by his well-placed hand.

“Come on, scream loud enough for your daddy to hear it down there,” he grunts, clamping onto your shoulder with an iron grip. “While you’re at it, scream loud enough for your daddy that’s right ‘ere to hear ya.”

You sob into his hand, your pussy clenching and pulsing at his words. A desperate, shaking hand dives between your legs, rubbing at your clit as he slams into you from behind, pouring filth into your ear.

“That’s right, come on this cock. Such a tight little fuckin’ cunt. Make her squeeze a bit harder for me.”

You swear to god your eyes cross as your orgasm hits you at full speed, your own fingers spasming slightly as they scrub frantically at the sensitive nub and send your climax splintering through your body.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts out, his cock throbbing and raging inside your cunt as he chases down his own completion. “Get on your knees. Get on your fuckin’ knees,” he grits out, your cunt clenching around the absence of him as he pulls out.

Your brain hazy, you’re fairly certain that he puts you on your knees himself. You see his face collapse in pleasure, the divot between his brows deepening, an almost pained look in his eyes as he strokes his cock with rapid movements.

“Fuckin’ open,” he growls out in an unwavering demand, and your mouth drops open in obedience, tongue rolling out like a red carpet for him. The angry tip of him explodes across your taste buds, and reflex has you snapping your lips closed around the head as he spills himself into your mouth.

Your eyes fall closed with a shameless moan as you suck his spend straight from the tip, your hand thoughtlessly coming to cup his balls and massage as they pump you full of him.

“Fuck,” he curses, an edge of exhaustion in the word as he pulls his cock free of your lips and grips the counter to catch his weight. He gives a tight, breathless chuckle as he looks down at you, your tongue already proudly displaying what he’d given you. “Hungry bird, ain’t you, little dove.”

He taps the underside of your chin in silent instruction. You obey wordlessly, closing your mouth to swallow him down.

“Good girl,” he rasps out, running a thumb over your lips. “Still got most of your dinner waitin’ downstairs. Better not let on that you just got a bellyful of daddy’s dear ol’ friend, eh? Not lookin’ to lose both my heads.”

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Sequel (Well, Prequel) Here!