lightofdaye (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lightofdaye) wrote2020-01-09 07:18 pm
lightofdaye) wrote2020-01-09 07:18 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Indiscretions (Percy/Astoria)
Title: Indiscretions
Rating: R
Characters & Pairing:Percy Weasley/Astoria Malfoy
Word Count: ~4,700 words
Content: Infidelity, Corruption, Coercion, Epistolary, Fantasies (sex, spanking, blowjob, orgasm delay)
Disclaimer: The characters, settings and HP Franchise as a whole are owned by JKR and not by me. I make no profit from writing this piece of fanfiction.
Summary:Draco Malfoy wants to go to France so his wife has to get permission for a Portkey out of Percy Weasley. An affair in their own words.
A/n: Written for my dear friend![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tamlane /sportivetricks for the final edition of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
smutty_claus . It was pleasure to write for you and I was especially helped by your Tumblr likes post which reminded me of Percy's repression and your love of epistolary fic. Thanks to the incomparable torino10154 for support and beta reading.
Today, I think it is fair to say I have suffered a grave injustice. Although I do not like to speak ill of my colleagues or superiors at the Ministry, I cannot help but feel that my talents and hard works, of which I offered numerous proofs of in previous entries of this journal, have gone unrewarded.
In explanation for this extraordinary statement, I can only offer the fact that I had a private meeting with Mr Elias Jones, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, today. While our discussion was far ranging and constructive, he eventually came to the point, which is that I am not to be promoted to the position of his direct assistant and that Eloise Midgen, who it is fair to say is skilled at her job but has not nearly my experience, will be.
There are times when I wonder if it isn’t personal. That the higher ups in the Ministry in their wisdom have taken a set against me. Yet, I cannot think why, I have committed no oversights, no indiscretions, though I have been wrong on occasion; I think all my mistakes have been honest ones.
However it is not for me to speculate and I shall carry on with my duties to the best of my ability as I always have. Unfortunately for me, my stationary position in the office hierarchy means that my duties today included those that I feel most unsuited for (and Ms Midgen was most apt at, though now she will be excepted from them) that of the fortnightly public surgery we have. Which in essence means that all the public comes to my office and explain why they, in complete defiance of current legislation, deserve the use of a Portkey to take them wherever they might want to go.
Today the following applications were rejected: T. Boot, C. Carter, S&L Finnigan, A. Malfoy and W. Tycross.
A task which gives me no pleasure whatsoever, a fact that I can record in this journal for posterity.
I think a new record was set at work today. Though it is a dubious honour to bestow upon someone. Astoria Malfoy reapplied for her Portkey application on behalf of her and her husband, Draco (whom has been mentioned, albeit in passing, numerous times in this journal, and whose family has a long and fractious history with my own). I believe this to be the shortest interval between re-applications that I have seen in my tenure at the office.
I do not know what possessed her to do such a thing, and I find myself more than ordinarily irked by the presumption of her behaviour. It is true that in the past, the Ministry has been more than accommodating to her and her family. Even after the war, my illustrious brother-in-law’s testimony meant the elder members of the clan, Lucius and Narcissa, and her own husband escaped from their association with He Who Must Not Be Named and his Death Eaters with the merest slap on the wrist by way of consequence. At least by official consequence, the family have become such social pariahs that the aforementioned older couple have left the country entirely, finding the south of France more comfortable, I am told by office gossips, both in climate and in the acceptance of the locals.
By which circuitous route, I come to the point of the junior Mrs Malfoy’s application, her husband wishes a Portkey to visit his parents. This, of course, is quite out of the question. I patiently explained so to her: that no change had been made to recent Ministry Degree, that all Portkeys were restricted in use to only the most extreme situations, I even attempted to explain the reasoning of the act to her, though I was under no obligation to. That given the Muggles increasing interest in security in the last few years that it was unwise for people to appear in other countries with no record of how they got there.
Mrs Malfoy did not think this constituted an adequate reason to refuse her request. However it is my judgement that matters in such cases.
Dear Daphne,
The jumped-up Ministry official continues to refuse me. I’ve never had to ask anyone for something twice before. And to be refused both times! It is intolerable.
Any advice you have for handling government employees would be gratefully received. I know you will laugh and tell me ‘I told you so’ but this marriage thing is becoming stale, we need this change of scenery.
Your sister,
Astoria
For the third successive surgery, the Malfoy woman has come into my office and demanded, I write again, demanded a Portkey. I am at a loss to explain the woman’s behaviour and its inherent presumptuousness. The law has not changed, the substance of her application has not changed and yet she has come into my office fortnight after fortnight, expecting to be kowtowed to and obeyed.
Perhaps she is used to it. Woman sometimes are, especially when they have powerful husbands. Though in all honesty, Mrs Malfoy seems far more assured and used to it than the recency of her marriage would suggest. Perhaps it is her beauty, perhaps she has had men falling over themselves to do as she asked for a long time.
It would not surprise me. Astoria is a beautiful woman, not unlike my own Audrey. I say this not because of physical similarities: Audrey is quite tall and Astoria only of middling height. Audrey is a redhead, as is proper for a Weasley bride (though none of my brothers have followed suit). Astoria’s hair is a rich golden blonde. They have the same fine, proud bearing, excellent posture and poise.
But why am I writing about her appearance? I am not sure I have written half so much about a single person in this journal for sometime. And yet I am loathe to remove it.
Whatever the reason for her insistence and belief she can get her way, I have stood firm against Astoria’s demands.
I don’t believe it. I simply do not believe it. The woman is haunting my every move now. Not simply at work but outside when I am off duty. I was simply enjoying an evening out at a pub with Audrey and a few of my siblings and siblings-in-law. (Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and briefly Angelina, though she left earlier when George did not make a timely appearance) and there she was just hanging out nonchalantly at the bar.
It is a strange thing to see someone who hitherto you have only seen in one context, in a different one. Astoria seemed unreal and quite glamorous while out of the Ministry. The previous times I have seen her, I remarked on how prim and proper and poised she seemed. In this context though, she seemed bright and energetic, full of vigour. She’d kept her hair up when I saw her before. Now it was loose and hung past her shoulders; her clothing was loose casual wear as well, rather than robes. Our eyes met at one point and when they are not glaring at you for your disobliging nature, they are really quite pretty blue colour. Personally I prefer the minimal make up she had worn to my office, but the effect of the amount she was wearing out tonight was quite striking, those ruby red lips captured my attention for quite some time.
I do hope Audrey didn’t see me staring at another woman, that would be quite difficult to explain though it is all quite proper really, just someone from work, no harm in looking after all.
I have strange feeling that she wanted to talk to me. Yet I would no more bow to her demands out of the office as I would within. The Malfoys are notoriously rich; perhaps she meant to bribe me.
Dear Daphne,
I had a strange experience today. I saw Percy Weasley in a pub. Have you ever seen someone in a different context and had it completely change the way you see them? It was truly odd. He seemed human for a change.
Draco thinks we should try bribery, or else go over Mr Weasley’s head but this has given me a new idea on how to handle him.
Your sister,
Astoria
My day today started off very oddly. I awoke early and was moderately sweaty and also in a state of physical excitement. As best as I can recall though I was dreaming of being in the office. Perhaps it is no surprise that the dream featured Astoria Malfoy. It seems that she is the most frequent visitor to my office of late.
In the dream we were arguing much in the same way as we do in real life. Unlike in real life though the dress code of this dream office was entirely lacking. Astoria started out in a version of the outfit I saw her in on the Saturday prior and yet even that was soon discarded.
Perhaps that lipstick had more of an effect on me than I thought. Apparently this version of Astoria had decided the best way to get what she wanted was though seduction. It is immensely frustrating: although I have the image in my head of Astoria naked on her knees, with my hand in her blonde hair as she performed fellatio upon me seemingly with great eagerness, in the way of dreams there was no accompanying physical sensations, neither the feeling of her hair in my grip nor the sensation of her lips or tongue working upon my manhood.
I can think of no other reason for my continual arousal and thoughts of Mrs Malfoy than the after-effects of this inexplicable dream.
However, for the first time in a lengthy period, I find I am looking forward to the Ministry Open Office this week.
She came to my office again today. This was, of course, no surprise to me. What did surprise me was her attire and her demeanour during the visit. It was much more in keeping with how I saw her in that pub, or in the latter case, how I imagine she would have been if I had talked to her on that Saturday meeting.
She came dressed in low-cut robes, though the blouse underneath was perfectly respectable. With her hair down and well-conditioned, it would be hyperbole to say it was like spun gold and yet it would not be an excessive exaggeration either. In most respects her make-up was subdued apart from that same vibrantly red lipstick.
I feel like some of her was revealed but much was left only looking like it might be revealed; tantalising and yet frustrating at the same time.
So was it with her appearance, so was it with her manner. She seemed friendlier and approachable, apologising for repeatedly wasting my time with her endless requests and stating that it was only for her husband’s sake she did so. Yet she did not back away from the request entirely and still insisted upon submitting it while all the time hinting that if there was anyway that I could approve it, she would be most grateful for the help.
Most grateful. The way she said it cannot be put into writing. The word lascivious hardly does it credit, nor can I fully describe the smile she gave me, not the batting of her eyelashes.
I am not wholly unfamiliar with the idea of feminine wiles but neither could I say with complete confidence that they were being worked upon me. Nor am I certain what was being offered aside from that it most certainly not money.
The whole thing is so frustrating that I should like to take Mrs Malfoy over the desk and spank her. For being such a nuisance. Indeed I could think of little else after our meeting adjourned. Certainly Astoria draws attention to her behind; she has a sultry, sensuous, swaying walk that only accentuates that feature, though I admit I only noticed it today.
Perhaps she only put that sway there today, perhaps she knows exactly what I’m thinking. I think she’d like to be put in that position, bent over my desk, gripping one end of it while her end is raised on the other, exposed as I swat it over and over again.
Would she want it with her robes over her bum I wonder? That would cushion the blows at least. I can see myself hiking her robes up over her hips. What kind of knickers does she wear? Thin ones I should think , maybe translucent even. They wouldn’t help much but still I think I would take them down. Astoria has a fine complexion, utterly flawless as far I have been able to tell, lacking even the few freckles that Audrey has. What would happen to that complexion under a good spanking? It would go pink and then red, it would be uncomfortable, she would squirm and pant and moan, and yet I cannot help but imagine that arousal would accompany it, the engorgement of the vaginal regions, the wetness not just among her folds but streaking down the insides of her legs...
This entry has entirely got away from me. I did not mean to write this. The fantasies are as powerful now, perhaps more so than immediately after she left my presence. I leave this text unaltered only out of honesty to myself. And the fact thar I lock my journal with a spell of my own devising that nobody else could break.
Thank goodness for that.
There must be something wrong with me. It is the only thing I can conclude; the main symptoms seem to be a high temperature, a lack of sleep and a complete obsession with carnal knowledge of other another person’s spouse.
By which I mean I have slept barely at all this weekend for heated thoughts of shagging Astoria Malfoy. I feel like recording my fantasies has opened a floodgates of images and thought inside me that cannot be stopped. I can only continue to record them in the hopes that the cause and the cure are the same, like wrapping oneself in blankets to sweat out a fever.
How that does Astoria shag? I can picture her stretched out waiting for me in a bed, completely naked, her legs spread welcomingly as I climb on top of her. I can picture the look on her face as I slide into her, eyes shocked and wide. I can see myself thrusting, pounding into her, as her legs and arms wrap around me.
I can picture all of it and not believe any of it. Astoria is not that kind of willing, dutiful wife. She’s not Audrey.
Now, if I think about what Astoria wants, I am the one flat on my back in bed, with her crawling all over me. I can see the excitement in her eyes, see that ambiguous smile. She’d try to pin my wrists to the bed or else claw at my chest as she rode me, just as fast as she wants. She’d draw it out, rolling up hips slowly, making sure it’s good for her while I have to let her do whatever she wants.
That is surely what she wants. I wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.
Up against the wall, that’s the best way. She’s only a little thing, I could lift or charm her off the ground without a problem. Those pert breasts of hers would be against my chest, her firm arse, the subject of so many fantasies would fill my hands as I held her up. I could see her face as I take her hard and fast with no pretence at romance, nothing but fucking us both into a stupor.
It’s a perfect fantasy, one that results in my release at my own hand often, but the feelings all come back. I fear fantasies are not enough.
Something has to break. This situation has become completely intolerable. I cannot, not will not, cannot stop fantasising about another person’s wife. I have to do something about it as my own considerable willpower seems to be flagging.
Audrey has commented on the frequency and urgency of my ardour of late. She seemed pleased and not at all suspicious but that is not a situation that can last. She is a kind and faithful wife, everything I wanted in a spouse and for this infidelity to be revealed would destroy her.
And yet... And yet, it seems to me that it is the revelation of unfaithfulness that is the problem and not the unfaithfulness in and of itself. To be truthful, the kind of acts I have engaged in, in thought and writing if not reality, are faithless in and of themselves but not harmful to Audrey.
Indeed, if going from thought to deed were to sate these thirsts, that it would be a mercy. A small indiscretion now weighed against continual unrest.
It would be simple enough, Astoria has hinted broadly enough that she would do nearly anything to get the Portkey her husband so desires. There is the risk of rebuff, but I judge it a small one: Slytherins are used to double dealing and quid-pro-quos and I have something to offer.
There is only one small drawback: a loss of integrity that, like a loss of virginity, can never be regained. And I yet I consider myself to have nearly thirty years of faultlessly good behaviour. I cannot deny myself this one thing.
The meeting with Astoria went well. As I was expected she was suspicious when upon her arrival, I let her into my office quickly and politely. I let her bandy about words in her usual way, just to but her at her ease before I struck.
She was pleased, but no less suspicious when I let her know that with my discretionary power as a long standing member of one of the Ministry’s most important and oldest offices I approved her request for Portkey. No less suspicious because she sensed the hook coming.
Still she made noises of pleasure and gratitude until I explained that my power was only great enough to authorise one person to travel via a Portkey that was already scheduled for a Ministry business trip, the Cauldron Standards Commission in Strasbourg. and it would not take Mr Malfoy that long to travel from the city to his parent’s holiday home. though given the distance it would be advisable for him to take a long break there to have a decent amount of time with family apart from travelling.
She objected but only half-heartedly. From the amusement in her eyes and the sardonic little smile on her face. I am quite sure she realises why I wish to part her from her husband for over a month.
Neither of us said anything though and of course I changed the subject. I talked, extremely briefly I admit, about the Burrow by way of explaining an interest I had in fine homes and old Wizarding architecture and how, by strange coincidence, she would be alone for several weeks in one of the oldest and finest examples of it.
She took the meaning immediately and offered me a tour. Saturday the 19th of June is that date, more than a week after Draco departs the country.
It wouldn’t pay to be too obvious after all.
Dear Draco,
At last, the Ministry has seen reason or at least half of it. The amount of prejudice againstyour our family is unbelievable. Only one of us can travel via Portkey to France. It is a spiteful act but I believe we must accept it.
It will be cruel to parted so soon in our marriage but I will endure for your sake.
Yours lovingly,
Astoria
It has occurred to me that the coming assignation has a mercantile nature to it. I have given Astoria something she wants and in return I get to shag her. I think perhaps I should be ashamed and yet thinking of Astoria as whorish is exciting more that repulsive.
Thought it does raise a question. Will she want to kiss me? The members of the profession quite famously don’t and yet she is not quite a profession either just a talented amateur, as far as my imagination goes in any case.
In any case, I can hardly be accused of forcing her. She has been has what she wanted: her husband is already out of the country, nor can I force the issue if she refuses to pay up. to use a vulgar term.
Given that I am the one receiving payment, I am far from sure I shall allow to her come. Not very quickly at any rate. She shall have to earn that through her efforts if any are above and beyond her duty.
Soft and sensuous kisses are right out. I think roughness and teeth are more the order of the day. I routinely think of the pale porcelain skin and leaving it wet and red with marks where I’ve kissed and sucked and bit.
I don’t think Astoria will mind, it’s a long time until her husband’s return; that will let any marks I leave fade. On the contrary, I think it will only excite her more. She’ll be wet by the time I’ve done that all over her.
Sometimes I think I won’t be able to restrain myself from tearing her clothes off and ravaging her immediately but I must show restraint. She won’t be allowed to come and I can’t either; she could take that as excuse to end festivities early.
No finger and cunnilingus will be the order of the day. I can myself spreading her cunt wide. (Given the vulgarity of these entries any other word seems pointless.) I will tease those folds just with my fingertips and the tip of my tongue, touching her just softer than she needs, endlessly. I shall insert only a finger at a time and slowly. I must remember the beckoning motion while inside her: I know that drives women crazy.
I hope I can figure out when she’s close. Perhaps a sudden flush of the cheeks, or a motion of her hips. A shivering of her legs is perhaps too much to hope for but recognising it will be the key of keeping her right on the edge of coming.
And I do so hope to keep her there a good long time.
Dear Daphne,
My trap has succeeded. It is almost been too successful. I have rid myself of Draco for a six weeks. Instead I must entertain Percy Weasley for a night.
One look at the man and you can see how pent-up he is. I might be doing anything. I might spend the entire night on my knees, sucking him off. Or on my hands and knees. Or up against the wall.
I am giddy with anticipation.
Your sister,
Astoria
PS. I know this is excellent blackmail material for you. I still had to tell.
It is a day to go and my stomach is as hard as rock, tension and excitement are roiling inside of me like an acid sea in a high storm. Even the metaphors appearing to my mind are dramatic nonsense.
I have made my excuses to Audrey and she suspects nothing, she is easy to fool and yet as the moment looms I ask if I am not easy to fool myself. A pretty woman, a low cut and a lascivious manner; are these things that have brought me down? Will I appear at Malfoy Manor only to be met with scorn and derision and rejection?
Sad to say, but I am trapped on the hook and will go whether or not I convince myself that these fears are baseless. The potential delights are too much.
These delights are much better dwelt on than rejection. Even if the meeting is not half as long and passionate as I expect, I am sure I can get some action out of it. If nothing else, I want Astoria to suck me off.
It is pointless to pretend otherwise, it is quite literally in my dreams. There’s nothing so appealing as the idea of her on knees worshipping my cock. (Again cock is the only word for such filthy thoughts.)
She could be clothed, urgently, desperately sucking me off the second I enter the manor. Or she could be naked as nature, languidly bobbing her head up and down the shaft as slowly as she had all night.
She could lavish attention on by balls, licking them, swirling her tongue over them, I see my hard cock draped across her face, or she could concentrate on getting as much of my cock in her gob as possible.
The possibilities are endless.
The words “deep throat” send an almost primal urge of desire through me and do believe I have enough cock to more than do the job.
Although I would love to see Astoria gobble me up enthusiastically and make herself sick on my cock. There is nothing like the idea of fucking her face; of holding her head still as I slam myself into her throat, fucking it as long as possible with her drooling over it.
Writing these words has set me off again and there is nothing I can do but please myself. Once done though I know my thoughts will turn dark again and I shall only feel foolish and have a great foreboding of tomorrow’s meeting.
Either way, pleasure or humiliation. Tomorrow is the day.
Dear Draco,
I miss you so much but I am so happy for you that you have this time with your parents. I love you. I miss you. Nothing exciting happens when you’re not here.
Yours faithfully,
Astoria
Absolutely nothing of interest or remark happened today that I wish to record in this journal.
Dear Daphne,
I regret nothing. I have exactly what I wanted at a price that was hardly arduous to pay. A little indiscretion now and then just keep things interesting and adds spice to what otherwise would become boring routine.
Your sister,
Astoria
I saw Mrs Astoria Malfoy today. Only in passing, I was heading out of the Ministry Atrium at lunch time. I went to a small Muggle sandwich shop several streets away, the walk does me good. Astoria meanwhile was heading to the office. She was on her husband’s arm, looking every bit the way a proper wife should.
Our eyes might have met, though there was not a hint of recognition in her gaze. Nor indeed was there in mine, and we went on our ways.
I felt nothing. No lust. No envy or jealously. No desire to haul her away from husband or find the nearest bed or cupboard and throw her on it or up against the wall, respectively. The lusts and madness of the spring and early summer seem to have faded away.
I am completely cured.
There was a curious occurrence today. I was tidying away the guest room at home. I’ve not looked there in some weeks as Audrey and I do not often entertain, the good thing about Apparition and the Floo network is that is rarely necessary to. However, my brother Charlie is returning from Romania for a long spell and it is my turn to offer him a spare room for his stay.
While clearing away I found an old shirt tucked away in a bottom drawer. I did not know what it was doing there. Pulling it out and holding it up, however, I realised what it was. It was the shirt I wore that one time to Malfoy Manor. I don’t know how long it has been there without checking back in this journal.
It is a strange thing but I smelt it. There was still the faintest scent upon. Sweat and perfume and other scents. Everything came flooding back. Every memory, every fantasy of Astoria’s naked supple form and of the things that we’d do and the sounds that she would make…
God, I want to fuck her.
Rating: R
Characters & Pairing:Percy Weasley/Astoria Malfoy
Word Count: ~4,700 words
Content: Infidelity, Corruption, Coercion, Epistolary, Fantasies (sex, spanking, blowjob, orgasm delay)
Disclaimer: The characters, settings and HP Franchise as a whole are owned by JKR and not by me. I make no profit from writing this piece of fanfiction.
Summary:Draco Malfoy wants to go to France so his wife has to get permission for a Portkey out of Percy Weasley. An affair in their own words.
A/n: Written for my dear friend
tamlane /sportivetricks for the final edition of smutty_claus . It was pleasure to write for you and I was especially helped by your Tumblr likes post which reminded me of Percy's repression and your love of epistolary fic. Thanks to the incomparable torino10154 for support and beta reading.Indiscretions
Or
The Best Way To Coax A Portkey Out Of An Unwilling Ministry Employee
Excerpts from the correspondence of Mrs Astoria Malfoy and the Journal of Percy Ignatius Weasley, Junior Undersecretary, Department of International Magical Cooperation, 2004
Or
The Best Way To Coax A Portkey Out Of An Unwilling Ministry Employee
Excerpts from the correspondence of Mrs Astoria Malfoy and the Journal of Percy Ignatius Weasley, Junior Undersecretary, Department of International Magical Cooperation, 2004
Thursday, 15th April
Today, I think it is fair to say I have suffered a grave injustice. Although I do not like to speak ill of my colleagues or superiors at the Ministry, I cannot help but feel that my talents and hard works, of which I offered numerous proofs of in previous entries of this journal, have gone unrewarded.
In explanation for this extraordinary statement, I can only offer the fact that I had a private meeting with Mr Elias Jones, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, today. While our discussion was far ranging and constructive, he eventually came to the point, which is that I am not to be promoted to the position of his direct assistant and that Eloise Midgen, who it is fair to say is skilled at her job but has not nearly my experience, will be.
There are times when I wonder if it isn’t personal. That the higher ups in the Ministry in their wisdom have taken a set against me. Yet, I cannot think why, I have committed no oversights, no indiscretions, though I have been wrong on occasion; I think all my mistakes have been honest ones.
However it is not for me to speculate and I shall carry on with my duties to the best of my ability as I always have. Unfortunately for me, my stationary position in the office hierarchy means that my duties today included those that I feel most unsuited for (and Ms Midgen was most apt at, though now she will be excepted from them) that of the fortnightly public surgery we have. Which in essence means that all the public comes to my office and explain why they, in complete defiance of current legislation, deserve the use of a Portkey to take them wherever they might want to go.
Today the following applications were rejected: T. Boot, C. Carter, S&L Finnigan, A. Malfoy and W. Tycross.
A task which gives me no pleasure whatsoever, a fact that I can record in this journal for posterity.
Thursday, 29th April
I think a new record was set at work today. Though it is a dubious honour to bestow upon someone. Astoria Malfoy reapplied for her Portkey application on behalf of her and her husband, Draco (whom has been mentioned, albeit in passing, numerous times in this journal, and whose family has a long and fractious history with my own). I believe this to be the shortest interval between re-applications that I have seen in my tenure at the office.
I do not know what possessed her to do such a thing, and I find myself more than ordinarily irked by the presumption of her behaviour. It is true that in the past, the Ministry has been more than accommodating to her and her family. Even after the war, my illustrious brother-in-law’s testimony meant the elder members of the clan, Lucius and Narcissa, and her own husband escaped from their association with He Who Must Not Be Named and his Death Eaters with the merest slap on the wrist by way of consequence. At least by official consequence, the family have become such social pariahs that the aforementioned older couple have left the country entirely, finding the south of France more comfortable, I am told by office gossips, both in climate and in the acceptance of the locals.
By which circuitous route, I come to the point of the junior Mrs Malfoy’s application, her husband wishes a Portkey to visit his parents. This, of course, is quite out of the question. I patiently explained so to her: that no change had been made to recent Ministry Degree, that all Portkeys were restricted in use to only the most extreme situations, I even attempted to explain the reasoning of the act to her, though I was under no obligation to. That given the Muggles increasing interest in security in the last few years that it was unwise for people to appear in other countries with no record of how they got there.
Mrs Malfoy did not think this constituted an adequate reason to refuse her request. However it is my judgement that matters in such cases.
*
Dear Daphne,
The jumped-up Ministry official continues to refuse me. I’ve never had to ask anyone for something twice before. And to be refused both times! It is intolerable.
Any advice you have for handling government employees would be gratefully received. I know you will laugh and tell me ‘I told you so’ but this marriage thing is becoming stale, we need this change of scenery.
Your sister,
Astoria
Thursday, 13th May
For the third successive surgery, the Malfoy woman has come into my office and demanded, I write again, demanded a Portkey. I am at a loss to explain the woman’s behaviour and its inherent presumptuousness. The law has not changed, the substance of her application has not changed and yet she has come into my office fortnight after fortnight, expecting to be kowtowed to and obeyed.
Perhaps she is used to it. Woman sometimes are, especially when they have powerful husbands. Though in all honesty, Mrs Malfoy seems far more assured and used to it than the recency of her marriage would suggest. Perhaps it is her beauty, perhaps she has had men falling over themselves to do as she asked for a long time.
It would not surprise me. Astoria is a beautiful woman, not unlike my own Audrey. I say this not because of physical similarities: Audrey is quite tall and Astoria only of middling height. Audrey is a redhead, as is proper for a Weasley bride (though none of my brothers have followed suit). Astoria’s hair is a rich golden blonde. They have the same fine, proud bearing, excellent posture and poise.
But why am I writing about her appearance? I am not sure I have written half so much about a single person in this journal for sometime. And yet I am loathe to remove it.
Whatever the reason for her insistence and belief she can get her way, I have stood firm against Astoria’s demands.
Saturday, 22nd May
I don’t believe it. I simply do not believe it. The woman is haunting my every move now. Not simply at work but outside when I am off duty. I was simply enjoying an evening out at a pub with Audrey and a few of my siblings and siblings-in-law. (Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and briefly Angelina, though she left earlier when George did not make a timely appearance) and there she was just hanging out nonchalantly at the bar.
It is a strange thing to see someone who hitherto you have only seen in one context, in a different one. Astoria seemed unreal and quite glamorous while out of the Ministry. The previous times I have seen her, I remarked on how prim and proper and poised she seemed. In this context though, she seemed bright and energetic, full of vigour. She’d kept her hair up when I saw her before. Now it was loose and hung past her shoulders; her clothing was loose casual wear as well, rather than robes. Our eyes met at one point and when they are not glaring at you for your disobliging nature, they are really quite pretty blue colour. Personally I prefer the minimal make up she had worn to my office, but the effect of the amount she was wearing out tonight was quite striking, those ruby red lips captured my attention for quite some time.
I do hope Audrey didn’t see me staring at another woman, that would be quite difficult to explain though it is all quite proper really, just someone from work, no harm in looking after all.
I have strange feeling that she wanted to talk to me. Yet I would no more bow to her demands out of the office as I would within. The Malfoys are notoriously rich; perhaps she meant to bribe me.
*
Dear Daphne,
I had a strange experience today. I saw Percy Weasley in a pub. Have you ever seen someone in a different context and had it completely change the way you see them? It was truly odd. He seemed human for a change.
Draco thinks we should try bribery, or else go over Mr Weasley’s head but this has given me a new idea on how to handle him.
Your sister,
Astoria
Tuesday, 25th May
My day today started off very oddly. I awoke early and was moderately sweaty and also in a state of physical excitement. As best as I can recall though I was dreaming of being in the office. Perhaps it is no surprise that the dream featured Astoria Malfoy. It seems that she is the most frequent visitor to my office of late.
In the dream we were arguing much in the same way as we do in real life. Unlike in real life though the dress code of this dream office was entirely lacking. Astoria started out in a version of the outfit I saw her in on the Saturday prior and yet even that was soon discarded.
Perhaps that lipstick had more of an effect on me than I thought. Apparently this version of Astoria had decided the best way to get what she wanted was though seduction. It is immensely frustrating: although I have the image in my head of Astoria naked on her knees, with my hand in her blonde hair as she performed fellatio upon me seemingly with great eagerness, in the way of dreams there was no accompanying physical sensations, neither the feeling of her hair in my grip nor the sensation of her lips or tongue working upon my manhood.
I can think of no other reason for my continual arousal and thoughts of Mrs Malfoy than the after-effects of this inexplicable dream.
However, for the first time in a lengthy period, I find I am looking forward to the Ministry Open Office this week.
Thursday, 27th May
She came to my office again today. This was, of course, no surprise to me. What did surprise me was her attire and her demeanour during the visit. It was much more in keeping with how I saw her in that pub, or in the latter case, how I imagine she would have been if I had talked to her on that Saturday meeting.
She came dressed in low-cut robes, though the blouse underneath was perfectly respectable. With her hair down and well-conditioned, it would be hyperbole to say it was like spun gold and yet it would not be an excessive exaggeration either. In most respects her make-up was subdued apart from that same vibrantly red lipstick.
I feel like some of her was revealed but much was left only looking like it might be revealed; tantalising and yet frustrating at the same time.
So was it with her appearance, so was it with her manner. She seemed friendlier and approachable, apologising for repeatedly wasting my time with her endless requests and stating that it was only for her husband’s sake she did so. Yet she did not back away from the request entirely and still insisted upon submitting it while all the time hinting that if there was anyway that I could approve it, she would be most grateful for the help.
Most grateful. The way she said it cannot be put into writing. The word lascivious hardly does it credit, nor can I fully describe the smile she gave me, not the batting of her eyelashes.
I am not wholly unfamiliar with the idea of feminine wiles but neither could I say with complete confidence that they were being worked upon me. Nor am I certain what was being offered aside from that it most certainly not money.
The whole thing is so frustrating that I should like to take Mrs Malfoy over the desk and spank her. For being such a nuisance. Indeed I could think of little else after our meeting adjourned. Certainly Astoria draws attention to her behind; she has a sultry, sensuous, swaying walk that only accentuates that feature, though I admit I only noticed it today.
Perhaps she only put that sway there today, perhaps she knows exactly what I’m thinking. I think she’d like to be put in that position, bent over my desk, gripping one end of it while her end is raised on the other, exposed as I swat it over and over again.
Would she want it with her robes over her bum I wonder? That would cushion the blows at least. I can see myself hiking her robes up over her hips. What kind of knickers does she wear? Thin ones I should think , maybe translucent even. They wouldn’t help much but still I think I would take them down. Astoria has a fine complexion, utterly flawless as far I have been able to tell, lacking even the few freckles that Audrey has. What would happen to that complexion under a good spanking? It would go pink and then red, it would be uncomfortable, she would squirm and pant and moan, and yet I cannot help but imagine that arousal would accompany it, the engorgement of the vaginal regions, the wetness not just among her folds but streaking down the insides of her legs...
This entry has entirely got away from me. I did not mean to write this. The fantasies are as powerful now, perhaps more so than immediately after she left my presence. I leave this text unaltered only out of honesty to myself. And the fact thar I lock my journal with a spell of my own devising that nobody else could break.
Thank goodness for that.
Monday, 31st May
There must be something wrong with me. It is the only thing I can conclude; the main symptoms seem to be a high temperature, a lack of sleep and a complete obsession with carnal knowledge of other another person’s spouse.
By which I mean I have slept barely at all this weekend for heated thoughts of shagging Astoria Malfoy. I feel like recording my fantasies has opened a floodgates of images and thought inside me that cannot be stopped. I can only continue to record them in the hopes that the cause and the cure are the same, like wrapping oneself in blankets to sweat out a fever.
How that does Astoria shag? I can picture her stretched out waiting for me in a bed, completely naked, her legs spread welcomingly as I climb on top of her. I can picture the look on her face as I slide into her, eyes shocked and wide. I can see myself thrusting, pounding into her, as her legs and arms wrap around me.
I can picture all of it and not believe any of it. Astoria is not that kind of willing, dutiful wife. She’s not Audrey.
Now, if I think about what Astoria wants, I am the one flat on my back in bed, with her crawling all over me. I can see the excitement in her eyes, see that ambiguous smile. She’d try to pin my wrists to the bed or else claw at my chest as she rode me, just as fast as she wants. She’d draw it out, rolling up hips slowly, making sure it’s good for her while I have to let her do whatever she wants.
That is surely what she wants. I wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.
Up against the wall, that’s the best way. She’s only a little thing, I could lift or charm her off the ground without a problem. Those pert breasts of hers would be against my chest, her firm arse, the subject of so many fantasies would fill my hands as I held her up. I could see her face as I take her hard and fast with no pretence at romance, nothing but fucking us both into a stupor.
It’s a perfect fantasy, one that results in my release at my own hand often, but the feelings all come back. I fear fantasies are not enough.
Tuesday, 8th June
Something has to break. This situation has become completely intolerable. I cannot, not will not, cannot stop fantasising about another person’s wife. I have to do something about it as my own considerable willpower seems to be flagging.
Audrey has commented on the frequency and urgency of my ardour of late. She seemed pleased and not at all suspicious but that is not a situation that can last. She is a kind and faithful wife, everything I wanted in a spouse and for this infidelity to be revealed would destroy her.
And yet... And yet, it seems to me that it is the revelation of unfaithfulness that is the problem and not the unfaithfulness in and of itself. To be truthful, the kind of acts I have engaged in, in thought and writing if not reality, are faithless in and of themselves but not harmful to Audrey.
Indeed, if going from thought to deed were to sate these thirsts, that it would be a mercy. A small indiscretion now weighed against continual unrest.
It would be simple enough, Astoria has hinted broadly enough that she would do nearly anything to get the Portkey her husband so desires. There is the risk of rebuff, but I judge it a small one: Slytherins are used to double dealing and quid-pro-quos and I have something to offer.
There is only one small drawback: a loss of integrity that, like a loss of virginity, can never be regained. And I yet I consider myself to have nearly thirty years of faultlessly good behaviour. I cannot deny myself this one thing.
Thursday, 10th June
The meeting with Astoria went well. As I was expected she was suspicious when upon her arrival, I let her into my office quickly and politely. I let her bandy about words in her usual way, just to but her at her ease before I struck.
She was pleased, but no less suspicious when I let her know that with my discretionary power as a long standing member of one of the Ministry’s most important and oldest offices I approved her request for Portkey. No less suspicious because she sensed the hook coming.
Still she made noises of pleasure and gratitude until I explained that my power was only great enough to authorise one person to travel via a Portkey that was already scheduled for a Ministry business trip, the Cauldron Standards Commission in Strasbourg. and it would not take Mr Malfoy that long to travel from the city to his parent’s holiday home. though given the distance it would be advisable for him to take a long break there to have a decent amount of time with family apart from travelling.
She objected but only half-heartedly. From the amusement in her eyes and the sardonic little smile on her face. I am quite sure she realises why I wish to part her from her husband for over a month.
Neither of us said anything though and of course I changed the subject. I talked, extremely briefly I admit, about the Burrow by way of explaining an interest I had in fine homes and old Wizarding architecture and how, by strange coincidence, she would be alone for several weeks in one of the oldest and finest examples of it.
She took the meaning immediately and offered me a tour. Saturday the 19th of June is that date, more than a week after Draco departs the country.
It wouldn’t pay to be too obvious after all.
*
Dear Draco,
At last, the Ministry has seen reason or at least half of it. The amount of prejudice against
It will be cruel to parted so soon in our marriage but I will endure for your sake.
Yours lovingly,
Astoria
Monday, 14th June
It has occurred to me that the coming assignation has a mercantile nature to it. I have given Astoria something she wants and in return I get to shag her. I think perhaps I should be ashamed and yet thinking of Astoria as whorish is exciting more that repulsive.
Thought it does raise a question. Will she want to kiss me? The members of the profession quite famously don’t and yet she is not quite a profession either just a talented amateur, as far as my imagination goes in any case.
In any case, I can hardly be accused of forcing her. She has been has what she wanted: her husband is already out of the country, nor can I force the issue if she refuses to pay up. to use a vulgar term.
Given that I am the one receiving payment, I am far from sure I shall allow to her come. Not very quickly at any rate. She shall have to earn that through her efforts if any are above and beyond her duty.
Soft and sensuous kisses are right out. I think roughness and teeth are more the order of the day. I routinely think of the pale porcelain skin and leaving it wet and red with marks where I’ve kissed and sucked and bit.
I don’t think Astoria will mind, it’s a long time until her husband’s return; that will let any marks I leave fade. On the contrary, I think it will only excite her more. She’ll be wet by the time I’ve done that all over her.
Sometimes I think I won’t be able to restrain myself from tearing her clothes off and ravaging her immediately but I must show restraint. She won’t be allowed to come and I can’t either; she could take that as excuse to end festivities early.
No finger and cunnilingus will be the order of the day. I can myself spreading her cunt wide. (Given the vulgarity of these entries any other word seems pointless.) I will tease those folds just with my fingertips and the tip of my tongue, touching her just softer than she needs, endlessly. I shall insert only a finger at a time and slowly. I must remember the beckoning motion while inside her: I know that drives women crazy.
I hope I can figure out when she’s close. Perhaps a sudden flush of the cheeks, or a motion of her hips. A shivering of her legs is perhaps too much to hope for but recognising it will be the key of keeping her right on the edge of coming.
And I do so hope to keep her there a good long time.
*
Dear Daphne,
My trap has succeeded. It is almost been too successful. I have rid myself of Draco for a six weeks. Instead I must entertain Percy Weasley for a night.
One look at the man and you can see how pent-up he is. I might be doing anything. I might spend the entire night on my knees, sucking him off. Or on my hands and knees. Or up against the wall.
I am giddy with anticipation.
Your sister,
Astoria
PS. I know this is excellent blackmail material for you. I still had to tell.
Friday, 18th June
It is a day to go and my stomach is as hard as rock, tension and excitement are roiling inside of me like an acid sea in a high storm. Even the metaphors appearing to my mind are dramatic nonsense.
I have made my excuses to Audrey and she suspects nothing, she is easy to fool and yet as the moment looms I ask if I am not easy to fool myself. A pretty woman, a low cut and a lascivious manner; are these things that have brought me down? Will I appear at Malfoy Manor only to be met with scorn and derision and rejection?
Sad to say, but I am trapped on the hook and will go whether or not I convince myself that these fears are baseless. The potential delights are too much.
These delights are much better dwelt on than rejection. Even if the meeting is not half as long and passionate as I expect, I am sure I can get some action out of it. If nothing else, I want Astoria to suck me off.
It is pointless to pretend otherwise, it is quite literally in my dreams. There’s nothing so appealing as the idea of her on knees worshipping my cock. (Again cock is the only word for such filthy thoughts.)
She could be clothed, urgently, desperately sucking me off the second I enter the manor. Or she could be naked as nature, languidly bobbing her head up and down the shaft as slowly as she had all night.
She could lavish attention on by balls, licking them, swirling her tongue over them, I see my hard cock draped across her face, or she could concentrate on getting as much of my cock in her gob as possible.
The possibilities are endless.
The words “deep throat” send an almost primal urge of desire through me and do believe I have enough cock to more than do the job.
Although I would love to see Astoria gobble me up enthusiastically and make herself sick on my cock. There is nothing like the idea of fucking her face; of holding her head still as I slam myself into her throat, fucking it as long as possible with her drooling over it.
Writing these words has set me off again and there is nothing I can do but please myself. Once done though I know my thoughts will turn dark again and I shall only feel foolish and have a great foreboding of tomorrow’s meeting.
Either way, pleasure or humiliation. Tomorrow is the day.
*
Dear Draco,
I miss you so much but I am so happy for you that you have this time with your parents. I love you. I miss you. Nothing exciting happens when you’re not here.
Yours faithfully,
Astoria
Saturday, 19th June
Absolutely nothing of interest or remark happened today that I wish to record in this journal.
*
Dear Daphne,
I regret nothing. I have exactly what I wanted at a price that was hardly arduous to pay. A little indiscretion now and then just keep things interesting and adds spice to what otherwise would become boring routine.
Your sister,
Astoria
Wednesday 4th August
I saw Mrs Astoria Malfoy today. Only in passing, I was heading out of the Ministry Atrium at lunch time. I went to a small Muggle sandwich shop several streets away, the walk does me good. Astoria meanwhile was heading to the office. She was on her husband’s arm, looking every bit the way a proper wife should.
Our eyes might have met, though there was not a hint of recognition in her gaze. Nor indeed was there in mine, and we went on our ways.
I felt nothing. No lust. No envy or jealously. No desire to haul her away from husband or find the nearest bed or cupboard and throw her on it or up against the wall, respectively. The lusts and madness of the spring and early summer seem to have faded away.
I am completely cured.
Saturday 7th August
There was a curious occurrence today. I was tidying away the guest room at home. I’ve not looked there in some weeks as Audrey and I do not often entertain, the good thing about Apparition and the Floo network is that is rarely necessary to. However, my brother Charlie is returning from Romania for a long spell and it is my turn to offer him a spare room for his stay.
While clearing away I found an old shirt tucked away in a bottom drawer. I did not know what it was doing there. Pulling it out and holding it up, however, I realised what it was. It was the shirt I wore that one time to Malfoy Manor. I don’t know how long it has been there without checking back in this journal.
It is a strange thing but I smelt it. There was still the faintest scent upon. Sweat and perfume and other scents. Everything came flooding back. Every memory, every fantasy of Astoria’s naked supple form and of the things that we’d do and the sounds that she would make…
God, I want to fuck her.