Ciri (Witcher Crossover)

Sitting in the back of the relatively busy tavern, Ciri sips from the strange drink in her grasp, having learned her lesson the first time. It didn't just burn going down, it BURNED… best to take it in small doses, no matter how good it was. She didn't want to draw any more attention than was necessary after all. Pulling her cloak, a little tighter, the young white-haired woman takes stock of her current situation.

She'd done it again of course. Jumped to another world. The Wild Hunt had finally found her once more, and she'd left everything behind to escape. Not back home, unfortunately. She'd checked, and this was not her original world. It was a lot more similar compared to some of the other places she'd been though, she could tell that much. An actual hamlet, and a castle looming on the horizon.

Yes, this felt almost like home… save for the lack of guards holding armor and carrying weapons. And for the somewhat off dress-sense. She'd never seen so many people wearing robes before. Her own clothing hadn't been too out of place, but Ciri had still taken her cloak out and wrapped it around her shoulders all the same when she noticed more than one person looking at her swords or her stark-white hair.

Best not to draw too much attention to oneself. That was a mantra she'd lived by for quite some time now. Never knew who might be a Wild Hunt agent. Never knew who might sell you out for coin. Speaking of coin… that was the other definitive sign that she was nowhere near home. While they still used gold pieces, they were not Orens, not by a long shot… and they were a little thicker too. The Madam of the establishment, a kindly woman named Rosmerta, had been relatively understanding of Ciri's plight and taken her gold… but had still required a two-to-one exchange rate.

Better then some of the places she'd been though, where gold was barely worth anything to most people, and could only be sold to certain collectors for some of a given world's currency. Besides Orens, Ciri had a variety of different currencies floating around her bag, from strange paper with faces on it to these odd chips that bent ever so slightly but were mostly rigid.

It was certainly a hard life, being on the run. But Ciri wouldn't trade it for the alternative. She would not be some breeding puppet for an elf who could barely get it up. She would not have herself used like that. Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon was a Witcher, and she was free. Still… if she was going to spend any more time in this world, she would need to find a source of income. Some sort of way to make some of this world's version of gold find its way into her pockets, because if she kept trying to pay with Orens, the exchange rate would see her bled dry in a week.

As she sat in the corner, stewing over this and drinking gingerly from the liquor that Madam Rosmerta had called firewhisky, Ciri can't help but overhear a group of men near her table talking. They'd been murmuring to each other at first, but as their conversation grew more heated, she began to catch bits of what they were saying.

"… deal with that damn werewolf bitch! It's a blight on our village!"

Ciri's brow raises at that. So, they had werewolves around these parts too? Leaning a little closer, the green-eyed Witcher focuses her attention on the trio of men, even as one of the other two smacks the loudest upside the head.

"Keep your voice down, damn it! You never know who might be listening!"

A growl emanates from the smacked man, but he DOES glance about… and then Ciri realizes that the third one is staring right at her in silence. Well, now that she's been caught out… adopting a cocky sort of smirk, Ciri rises from her chair, bringing her firewhisky with her. The man who has eyes on her smacks both of his companions and gestures towards her, but she's already halfway across the distance between them.

All three turn to her, looking somewhat distrustful as they glower in her direction. The loudmouth from before is the one who speaks for the group.

"And who the hell are you supposed to be?"

Pulling back her hood and revealing her comely features, marred only by the scar beneath her right eye, the white-haired young woman flashes her sword a bit and then takes a seat at the table with the men, without being invited. They all tense up, but she can see the interest in their eyes all the same. It was unlikely that they knew what she was though… Ciri could tell it was more lust than actual knowledge that kept them focused on her.

"Sorry, gents. Couldn't help but overhear this one here talking about a werewolf problem. Just so happens, I'm quite good with monsters. Back where I'm from, they call my profession 'Witcher'. I hunt the baddies that go bump in the night so you fine folk can sleep soundly."

Her spiel done, she sips from her firewhisky again, enjoying the way it burns going down while studying the three men before her, her sharp green eyes darting back and forth among them. They all look at one another, and its clear that they're silently asking each other if she's for real. The mouthy one snorts indelicately as he eyes her up and down.

"The fuck is a Witcher supposed to be?"

Ciri rolls her eyes and prepares a scathing retort for the idiot, but before she can do so, the third man, the observant one, grabs his friend by the arm and speaks up.

"She already told us, moron. She's a monster hunter. Ain't that right, 'Witcher'?"

This one has some brains, she can tell. The loudmouth might have preferred to speak for all of them, but it was clear to her that this one only allowed that to continue as long as it didn't get them all into too much trouble. Either way, recognizing where the power in the trio truly lay, Ciri turned her attention to the third man and smiled.

"That's exactly right, good sir. And I'd be more than happy to deal with this town's werewolf problem for you. Wouldn't even be my first. Of course, a Witcher never works for free. You understand."

Chuckling darkly, the man inclines his head at that.

"Aye, that I do. Nothing in this world worthwhile is free. Well, if you can gut that werewolf bitch for us… we could certainly pool our resources and pay you handsomely. How does… a hundred galleons sound?"

From her conversation with Rosmerta, Ciri knew that a galleon was one gold piece. Which, going off of the exchange rate Rosmerta gave her, was two hundred Orens… was that a good price? In truth, Ciri was still relatively young for a Witcher. She was inexperienced, and she'd spent more time running than witching at this point. If Geralt was here, would he take the deal?

For a moment, Ciri actually considers that. She considers her adoptive father and a burst of fondness and nostalgia and pain at being gone from him for so long wells up within her. What would Geralt do in this position? Lost on another world, limited funds, asked to hunt down a werewolf from men who actually looked vaguely well off from the world's standards… he would…

"Make it a hundred and fifty with half pay up front and we have a deal, my friend."

None of Ciri's nervousness shows on her face as she looks the observant man in the eye, her own green gaze glittering and the cocky smirk back across her features. He stares back at her, as if trying to find weakness… but Ciri doesn't back down. After a moment, the man breaks away and looks to his companions instead.

"What do you say, fellas? Fifty gold apiece to finally be rid of that blight?"

The loudmouth grunts while the second man considers it for a moment before bobbing his head up and down. To Ciri's surprise, they each produce the fifty galleons in short order, pulling them out of pouches that really didn't look large enough to contain that much gold and stacking them up in a small pile of pillars before her on the table.

It made her wonder if she'd not demanded enough, given how easily they'd given in and raised the price by half again. Had she been swindled? Well, not that it mattered much. Watching the leader of the trio count out seventy-five gold pieces, Ciri takes the galleons as they're offered to her and slips them into her own bags. The thick coins of gold take up some space, but at least she's got some money from this world now… and there's more where that came from once she finishes off this werewolf.

Down to business then.

"Right. What can you tell me about this werewolf? Where was it last seen, where should I start looking? I need a general area obviously, or I won't be able to hunt this thing down."

There's a pause from the three men. They exchange another glance, and then oddly enough one of them glances over at Rosmerta as well. The Madam is currently turned away from all of them, halfway across the pub and cleaning up a table. Looking back to Ciri, the leader smirks.

"There's a place on the north side of town called the Shrieking Shack. You can't miss it, the place is abandoned and boarded up. That was where the beast was last seen. You start there, I'm sure you'll find it soon enough."

Ciri nods at that and knocks back the last of her firewhisky. Its not much, thankfully, so while it does burn going down, she suffers no truly terrible effects as she slams the now empty cup down on the table of her new employers and rises from her seat with a smile on her lips.

"Right then. I'll get started right this moment. Have my gold ready for me when I get back, gents."

And with that, she leaves. No point in sticking around when there's a monster to hunt, after all. As Ciri slips out of the Three Broomsticks, she misses the glints in the eyes of the trio who have just hired her to hunt this werewolf. She also misses their hushed conversations, having already stepped out into the cold night air, swiftly beginning the trek north.

Her first Witcher contract in who knew how long… how could she not be excited? Some of the worlds she'd been to just didn't have monster problems at all. Not to say there weren't monsters, but they usually wore the familiar faces of men, and while you could make some money killing the worst of the lot, that wasn't the job of a true Witcher, not as she'd been taught.

And the worlds that did have monsters she was more familiar with tended to have developed their own ways of dealing with them… or not, in which case all she found was ruins and corpses and beasts that wanted her dead. She'd killed plenty of things during her run from the Wild Hunt, but she hadn't been paid for most of them. This though… this was her in her element. A werewolf? Hah, with her silver monster-killing blade ready, this would be a piece of cake…

-x-X-x-

She finds the Shrieking Shack easily enough. It's a bit away from the rest of Hogsmeade, and as the man said, its covered in boards and the like that bar entry. It looks… old and decaying, like its about to fall apart any moment. But the problem is, as she approaches it… she can hear screams and howls coming from inside.

Not… necessarily what she recalls a werewolf sounding like though. More feminine in nature, like some sort of specter shrieking out for whoever might hear it. Was that what she was dealing with? A ghost of some sort instead? Well, she could handle that just as easily, though if it was a revenant rather than a lycan, she'd be having some words with those three gents back in the pub.

Moving closer and closer, Ciri can tell that this is not the sound of a werewolf she's hearing. She still needs to investigate though, and a quick show around the perimeter of the aptly-named Shrieking Shack shows her no werewolf tracks she might be able to follow away from the building. Whatever's going on, it looks like she needs to get inside in order to complete her task.

Well, easy enough. While the building might be boarded up, a thing like locked doors has not proved a true hindrance for Cirilla in quite some time. Focusing on the power flowing through her veins, the woman known to some as the Lady of Space and Time uses her control over those two things to teleport herself inside the Shrieking Shack.

She finds herself landing on one knee as she comes back into reality proper, one hand palm down beside said knee and the other closed around the hilt of her sword as she draws it a few inches from her sheathe. The screaming has quite suddenly ceased, to be replaced by whimpers as Ciri gathers herself and finally glances up to figure out where she is and what she's dealing with.

… What she discovers is not at all what she expected to see. Contrary to the ramshackle appearance that is the outside of the seemingly abandoned shack, the inside is… surprisingly put together, and quite cozy. There's a fire going in a fireplace, which confuses Ciri slightly since she did not see smoke coming out of any part of the building's roof. On top of that, there's tapestries hanging from the walls and rugs covering the wood floor. There's also furniture of all things, armchairs and the like.

She's gone from standing outside a broken-down shack in the cold night air to kneeling in someone's cozy, lived-in study in an instant, and she's not quite sure how that happened. But there's also the fact that she's not alone. Even as Ciri takes in all of this through her periphery and files it away in the back of her mind, the lion's share of the young woman's focus is on the two people who were in the room when she arrived.

One of them is a nude woman, blonde of hair and buxom in figure. She's also firmly gagged with a large bit between her lips, as well as bound, each of her four limbs chained to the floor. Atop her, rising to his feet and turning to face Ciri is a man, just as naked as the woman, holding a cat o' nine tails that Ciri can tell has been laid onto the bound and gagged woman multiple times of the crisscrossing red marks along her body are anything to go off of.

The man is dark of hair, and his bright green eyes are a match for her own. On top of that, he has a faded, white scar on his forehead in the shape of a zig-zagging lightning bolt. Straightening up to his full height, holding the cat o' nine tails in one hand and a stick that she hadn't seen before in the other, he slowly lifts one eyebrow at her, questioningly.

Ciri straightens up as well, though she doesn't take her hand off the hilt of her sword. She doesn't let it fall back into its sheath all the way as she swallows thickly and takes in the situation at hand. The woman on the floor isn't… pleading with her eyes at least. Ciri makes sure of that. If anything, the nude blonde is glaring balefully at her, and that's enough to tell the female Witcher she's definitely stumbled onto something that's not only consensual… but also exceptionally private.

"Uh… I seem to have, um… interrupted something. I apologize for the intrusion, I was sent out here to hunt down a werewolf. I don't suppose you've heard anything about that?"

No matter how embarrassing the circumstances, follow up on every lead. That was something Geralt had taught her long ago. She didn't have any tracks to follow, and these two were apparently staying in the Shrieking Shack… so maybe they knew something that would lead her to her quarry's den. Couldn't hurt, right?

The man looks back at the woman, who in turn glances up at him. Ciri doesn't miss the fearful look on the blonde's face at her words, though she also doesn't mention it, at least not for now. Slowly, the green-eyed nude man, who seems absurdly comfortable for someone naked and exposed before a woman with a sword, looks back to Ciri.

"A werewolf, you say?"

Ciri licks her lips and slowly nods.

"… That's right. I was hired by some men in town to deal with Hogsmeade's werewolf problem. I'm rather new to the area, but as I told them, where I come from, we Witchers deal with monsters in return for coin. Towns like this one don't usually have the proper defenses for such beasts, and you lot don't even have any guards from what I can tell."

As she's speaking, the green-eyed man seems to be considering both her and her words. He chuckles slightly when she mentions guards, shaking his head ruefully. The stick in his hand suddenly flicks off to the side for a moment. Her eyes follow it, but when she doesn't react in any other way, he smiles and speaks.

"You really aren't from around here, are you?"

Blinking once, Ciri furrows her brow. Was it that obvious? Usually she put a little more effort into hiding just how far from home she was, but this place had seemed relatively similar, so she'd not seen any point in truly masking herself and who she was. She'd thought she'd finally found a world where she could be a bit freer with her occupation. As it is, there's an authority to this man, this nude, masculine figure that no one else she's met so far in this world has given off. She finds herself stuttering a little as she answers him.

"W-Well, yes… but I-!"

He cuts her off.

"Do you know who I am?"

Staring at him for a moment, Ciri ultimately has to shake her head.

"No. I do not."

Was she supposed to? Given the circumstances, she was suddenly beginning to wonder if she'd run afoul of some Lord and Lady's playtime. Just who owned this shack… and who owned the castle that loomed over the town? Ciri was beginning to inwardly kick herself for not investigating her surroundings further. Rosmerta had been a veritable font of information, and she'd clearly squandered that by not learning more than the hamlet's name and some basic stuff that wasn't of much use to her now.

Still smiling, the man suddenly takes a step forward. Instinctively, Ciri draws her blade. He was naked and wielding nothing but a stick and a cat o' nine tails, and yet she felt inexplicably threatened, like she was up against something or someone that she wasn't going to enjoy fighting one bit. Her instincts are proven right when the stick in his hand flicks upwards and her blade is suddenly and inexplicably ripped from her grasp.

Ciri's eyes go wide as the sword propels itself up over the naked man's head and into the wood of one of the support beams on the wall far behind him. It shakes and shivers a little bit, but its embedded deeply enough that it doesn't fall to the floor afterwards.

"S-Sorcerer!"

The exclamation leaves Ciri's lips, and in turn, the man lifts his eyebrow again, grinning now.

"Wizard, actually. Do you truly not know where you've come? How in the hell did someone like you get to a place like this?"

Panicking now, Ciri turns and dashes towards the wall she came in through, at the same moment activating her power, attempting to go back outside with a quick teleport. Attempting being the key word, because instead she barely catches herself on the wall, her palms stopping her from smacking face first even as she finds her abilities cut off from her, her power to teleport short distances just… not responding.

"Good to see an apparition ward cast by the Elder Wand still works on whatever it is you can do, I suppose."

The man's amused voice causes Ciri to whirl back around as she looks at him. That stick of his is pointed directly at her now, and only in hindsight does the young woman realize how stupid she's been. Of course… of course this world has magic. Damn it all to hell. She'd not encountered any true magic in the last FIVE worlds she'd been on. At least, not the kind cast by humans like the one before her now. It seemed that he was not only capable of disarming her, but also capable of restricting her own power via the use of that casting focus in his hand.

The Elder Wand, he'd called it. Given she was said to carry the Elder Blood within her veins, that name did NOT fill Ciri with confidence. Still, she wasn't defenseless. Slowly, Ciri pushes off the wall and raises her fists. She swallows thickly when he just snorts in amusement.

"L-Look… I didn't mean to… interrupt you and your lady. This was all just a misunderstanding. Give me my sword and I'll be on my way, no harm, no foul."

Cocking his head to the side, the green-eyed man adopts a look of confusion.

"That doesn't seem likely. You're hunting the Werewolf of Hogsmeade, are you not?"

Blinking at what Ciri believes to be a non-sequitur, the white-haired Witcher frowns as she nods slowly.

"Yes…"

Glancing back over his shoulder, the man, the wizard as he called himself, gestures with the cat o' nine tails to the woman chained to the floor.

"Well, she's right there. The werewolf you're aiming to kill is right there. And while she's a very naughty bitch who deserves to be punished, she certainly doesn't deserve death. So, if I let you go now… well, that would be a negligence of duty on my part, now wouldn't it?"

Ciri stares at the blonde woman on the floor, who in turn glares back at her, growling a bit from behind her gag. It doesn't… what? Everything Ciri had ever read about werewolves told her this didn't make sense. A werewolf was a monster that had equal measures of man and wolf within it. It was a curse, and the transformations were said to happen outside of conscious control. But… when a werewolf reverted to human form, he had no memory of his deeds. Or her deeds, as the case may be. So how would they possibly know that this woman was a werewolf unless…

"Y-You're… you're keeping it as a pet?"

The green-eyed wizard's brow furrows.

"She has a name, woman. Its Lavender, in case you were wondering. And while we enjoy our fun, she is her own person, her own witch."

Ciri's eyes bulge at that.

"Witch?!"

At this point, the man looks almost more exasperated than angry. Before Ciri can say or do anything else, his words cut through the air, that same authority wielded like a sharpened blade as it hits her, blow for blow.

"You are ignorant, child! You know not what you speak of! So, shut up and LISTEN!"

Ciri finds herself instinctively pressed back against the wall that she cannot currently teleport through. The wizard takes another step forward, clearly incensed as he begins to speak.

"You are in a world of wizardry and witchcraft. I am a wizard. Lavender is a witch. Yes, she carries the werewolf curse within her! No, this does not make her a monster to be struck down! She has done no harm to the people of Hogsmeade, who not only know exactly who and what she is, but also happily allow her to live among them in peace! For the most part anyways… these men you say hired you are vile cretins of the worse sort, and it will be my job to arrest them when I am done with YOU."

Her heart pounding in her chest, Cirilla swallows thickly, latching onto that last bit for the sake of well… some sort of response.

"A-Arrest them? Who exactly are you?"

That gets a smirk from the dark-haired wizard.

"My name is Harry Potter, though I'm sure you don't recognize it. I am the Head Auror of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You may consider me this world's chief law enforcement official. And you just broke into my property and confessed to your plans to murder one of the citizens under MY protection right in front of me."

Ciri's eyes widen at this, even as Harry takes step after step forward. She presses further into the wall, but that doesn't stop him from invading her personal space. Its not the tip of his 'Elder Wand' that touches her though… rather, instead it's a far thicker, far meatier 'wand' that presses into her belly as he leans over her.

"You've broken several laws by accepting a contract to kill the young woman behind me."

He's so close… and though part of Ciri wonders if she's being enthralled somehow, the larger part is too mixed up and jumbled right now to truly fight it. She's so confused, so embarrassed, so lost… and his cock is just THROBBING against her midsection as he looms over her. He's authority incarnate, and the last time that she experienced anything like this was a rather limp effort from Auberon Muircetach, King of the Aen Elle elves that hunted her even to this day.

But this is no limp effort, and its been quite a long time since Ciri lay with a man. Even still, there's his accusations to address, and she does her best to address them as he stands before her, leaning down towards her.

"I… uh, I didn't m-mean to, I didn't know…"

Harry's chuckle cuts her off and his green eyes flash as they meet her own.

"That's no excuse, though your punishment would ultimately be for the courts to decide. Still… I suppose I could be persuaded of your ignorance about the criminal nature of your contractors. If you were able to convince me you were an unwitting accomplice, there might be leniency for you…"

His voice is silken, but at the same time there's a rumble deep in his throat. He's clearly aroused and was even before she'd interrupted his game with the woman, witch, werewolf… whatever the fuck the blonde was behind him. Even still, Ciri doesn't see a way out of this. It's all just… she'd put herself in between a wall and a hard cock, and there's only one path forward.

Reaching up, the white-haired young woman unties the top of her shirt, exposing some more of her chest and cleavage as she bites her lower lip and numbly agrees.

"V-Very well… how… h-how can I make this right?"

She tries to inject a note of seductiveness or sultriness into her voice like Yen or Triss might do in this situation, but in the end, it really just comes out kind of nervous and wavering. That doesn't seem to bother Harry none. Before Ciri can even truly process what's happening, the wand and the cat o' nine tails are left floating in the air on either side of him, and his hands are on her ass as he lifts her up the wall with a strength that seems to belly his strong, but ultimately lithe figure. He's got more of a runner's form than some sort of musclebound goliath, and yet he lifts her with no issue as he leans in and begins to nibble and kiss at her neck.

Ciri gasps, instinctively locking her legs around his naked waist, feeling his cock grinding into the center of her clothed midriff as they rub against one another. His lips and teeth on her sensitive neck feel amazing, better than anything ever has, and Ciri finds herself moaning as she writhes in his grasp. She squeals a moment later though as his hands, which before had just been massaging deep into the bottom of her leather pants, suddenly grip and tear viciously.

Ciri can feel the air of the room on her cunt lips. She wasn't wearing anything beneath her now torn pants, so her ass and her pussy are exposed to the elements in that moment. And exposed to Harry's cock. The female Witcher's green eyes go wide and her jaw drops open as she feels the air driven out of her from the moment he thrusts into her cunt. She's never had anything of his size up the tight passage, and it almost feels like he's splitting her in two as he pins her none-to-delicately to the wall and begins to have his way with her.

But as forceful as he's being, as domineering and controlling as he's acting, Ciri is enjoying every bit of it. She can't say why, can't explain her body's reactions to this wizard, but it feels right. It feels more than right, it feels GOOD as he begins to pound into her, his cock slamming in and then pulling out and then slamming in again without fail. Her inner walls clench and cling to his shaft, and she writhes and moans in his grasp.

If this was what it took to stay out of prison, if this was what it took to appease the handsome man who she now knew to be some sort of important government official… well, there'd been worse things in her young, albeit quite eventful life. If this was what she had to do, Ciri was actually quite happy to do it… it felt good and could have been a LOT worse.

One of Harry's hands suddenly comes up, and he pulls down her loose white top, exposing her shoulders and her breasts as she gasps at the forceful move. Even as Ciri wraps her arms around his neck, Harry leans forward and begins to play with her breasts using his mouth and tongue… and teeth. He goes from one to the next, sucking slurping and nibbling on her soft boobflesh. More specifically, he spends an inordinate amount of time on each nipple, licking at them, suckling at them, and then biting them in a way that finally sends Ciri over the edge. She'd already been close from that very first thrust on, but now… well, Harry certainly gets a good view of the female Witcher's O-face as she cums explosively, her eyes going crossed and a long, loud moan leaving her lips.

With a wicked grin, Harry pulls back out of Ciri as she's still in the throes of orgasm. Unable to catch herself in time, the white-haired young woman ends up on her knees, bonelessly falling down the length of the wall and finding herself face to face with his cock, still dripping in her pussy juices.

"Now look what you've done… look at the mess you've made of my cock."

Ciri, blinking slowly and trying to focus on the dick in front of her face, opens her lips to say something in return, only to get a mouthful of cock meat for her troubles. Harry's hands grip Ciri's short white locks, and he looks down to make eye contact with her as he proceeds to roughly face fuck her face.

"Gagkh! Gagkh! Gagkh!"

Two pairs of emerald orbs stare into one another. One pair is filled with confidence and assurance that they belong to the most powerful man in the room. The other pair is not nearly as confident anymore, and Ciri finds herself choking and sputtering on Harry's massive member, involuntary tears streaming down her face and ruining her mascara, causing it to run out and leave large streaks across her cheeks.

Her eyes begin to roll up in her head as he fucks the oxygen straight out of her, eventually burying his cock so deep down her throat as he skull fucks her that she's not even able to take in new air through her flaring nostrils anymore, buried as they are in his crotch. His balls smack against her slobber-covered chin, and he pounds at her face hole with all the ferocity of a horny man interrupted in the midst of a fun time with one of his women.

Lavender, the woman in question, is even now still bound down and chained, gagged and thus muffled as she whines out her irritation at having Harry's attention taken off of her. The blonde witch would like nothing more than to get back to what they were doing, but Harry can't even spare her the barest bit of attention. All of his focus is on Ciri and Ciri alone, this strange white-haired young woman that had teleported into existence before them, not apparating, but something else.

Probably didn't help that she was a looker too. Lavender can't help but be jealous… and immensely annoyed that she can't even TOUCH herself right now. Hell, she can't even rub her damn thighs together! Stuck where she is, all the blonde can do is watch on as Harry punishes the new wench for trespassing on their time together, and hope that soon enough she'd get to have some fun again too.

Meanwhile, Ciri was barely conscious by the time Harry slammed home into her esophagus and began to pump his hot seed down her convulsing throat. Sputtering and gurgling and gagging on his massive meat rod, all she can do is try to swallow… and even that she fails at, unable to swallow fast enough by a wide margin. The excess of Harry's load of cum explodes from her nostrils and the sides of her mouth, making even more of a ruin of her face as he pulls out of her throat finally, looking down at her.

For a brief moment, Ciri is just kneeling there, dazed and trying to recover, her green eyes glazed over and glassy as she stares right ahead, sort of at his cock but also sort of right through it, clearly not really able to process what just happened. Harry's more than happy to 'help out' though. His cock meat slaps into her face as he delivers a harsh smack to her cheek with the large, thick rod, bringing Ciri's attention back around. He can see the moment she actually truly focuses on his dick again, because its also the moment her eyes go wide, and her jaw drops open once more.

"Y-You're still hard…"

Harry snorts at that, and with a wave of one of his empty hands, strips her naked. Her ruined clothes vanish from her body only to appear neatly folded in a corner of the room. Reaching down, Harry grabs the white-haired wench by said hair and drags her across the floor, over to one of the couches that sits against a wall of the Shrieking Shack's refurbished interior.

Sitting down on said couch, he lets her kneel between his legs for a moment, watching her as Ciri's eyes remain fixated on his cock.

"Go on then, slut. Your turn to do some of the work, don't you think? Show me what you're capable of."

For a moment, Ciri licks her lips, as if considering taking him back into her mouth. But when she glances up at him, Harry shakes his head minutely, shutting down that idea without even saying a word. Slowly, the now naked young woman rises to her feet. Harry takes her in of course, all of her… and he can't deny that he likes what he sees. Ciri flushes at the hunger in his eyes. She's always known she's beautiful, but its good to know that even with the numerous scars she's picked up in her travels, she's still got it going for her.

Crawling onto his lap, kneeling on either side of him and preparing to insert his cockhead into her waiting cunt lips so she can ride him cowgirl, the female Witcher fingers herself momentarily stopped when Harry reaches out and grabs her left leg, running his thumb across the beautifully crafted rose tattoo on her inner thigh.

He stares at it for a moment, and then glances up at her with a grin.

"Cute."

Ciri blushes further, not sure why, but unable to keep her cool with this man. Perhaps it was just how confident he was, on top of his handsome looks and his large cock size. He was just so damn sure of himself, and though she'd not had much luck with men before this, nor with those who worked for the governments of the worlds she'd found herself in… this man was different. Licking her lips, Ciri places his cockhead at the entrance of her cunt and begins to push. Slowly at first, she places herself down on his dick, impaling herself inch by inch until most of his cock is inside of her and she feels him pressing up against the entrance of her womb.

Reaching her cervix, Ciri stops and pauses for a moment. Then, attempting to gain some semblance of dominance, the young woman reaches out and grabs Harry by the shoulders, giving herself some leverage as she begins to gyrate her hips around his cock, using the incredibly control she has over her own body, even over her own quim, to squeeze and clench along every inch of his member.

"You like that, Head Auror Potter? Like my tight cunt flexing and tightening around your big, fat cock?"

She can't really say for sure where the words come from exactly. They feel right though. They feel like the thing she needs to say, spoken from the heart as she pants and leans over him, her ruined face hovering before him the entire while. Of course, he's more interested in her tits, but Ciri has no problem letting him suckle and slurp at her soft breasts some more. It's the most attention any man has ever paid to them, at least physically. But then, she usually wore the top she wore to hide her figure a bit more, to make her bust less defined and less visible.

That didn't necessarily help with the perverts and the lecherous bastards out there, given she still had a womanly figure and a beautiful face, and an ass cupped by leather… but it did its part all the same. Regardless, Ciri rides Harry and Harry thrusts up into her, adding a bit of bounce to her movements as his cock pushes up against her cervix again and again, drawing a yelp or a squeal or a moan from her lips without fail each time.

"Y-Yes, fuck… fuck me just like that. You love it, don't you? You're like a-an animal… You want this body? Y-You want this cunt? Fucking have it, you big man. Fucking have it!"

She's panting, her chest heaving by the time she finishes getting that out. Harry grunts and Ciri squeezes and a moment later she can feel him as he slams up into her cervix and pushes into it just a bit. No man has ever penetrated so deeply, certainly not the Elf King when he was trying and failing to breed her. But Harry… this wizard she's stumbled across with his large cock, he manages to do so… and then he pumps her womb FULL of white, hot, sticky seed, filling her to the brim and then some.

Ciri can feel it happening as her body, glistening with sweat, continues to gyrate over him. In her stupor, in the sense of fullness and utter satisfaction, she completely fails to realize the ramifications of this lapse in judgment. She's just let a man cum inside of her, let a man pump his seed deep into her womb… but the consequences of that are left for another day.

Harry is not idle… NOR is he done with her. Even as Ciri is still recovering from her last explosive orgasm, which had occurred at the same time that he was filling her up, the green-eyed wizard pulls her off his cock and puts her down on the floor. She can only moan in a bestial, needy way as he puts her on all fours, facing the chained, bound form of Lavender, the woman-witch-werewolf.

"You want to see how I 'tamed' the werewolf bitch you were so eager to kill, slut? Let's see how well you handle it, hm?"

She barely has time to react to that. One of his hands pushes between her shoulderblades, driving her momentarily into the floor beneath her body, while his other moves and hooks around her hip, dragging her butt into the air. Then, his cockhead, his length still throbbing hard, is suddenly between her round, toned ass cheeks.

Harry plunges into her unprepared ass without warning and without hesitation, the only respite Ciri is given being the mess of fluids coating his cock and providing some small semblance of lube. The white-haired young woman scrambles at the floorboards, howling loudly as she pulls away a little.

"A-Ah! Wait! S-Stop, I'm not read-IIIIEEEEE!!!"

Even as she begs for mercy, he gives her none. Holding onto her hips with both hands now, digging his fingers deep into her sides, the strong wizard fucks her asshole with all his might. Each thrust forward sees Ciri trying to crawl away… but he just moves with her. He propels her further along in a way, jarring her with every powerful pistoning motion of his prick. He pounds into her bowels in a way NO one has ever done before.

This is a completely new experience for the young woman. To be fair, she'd never even considered the idea of sodomization for pleasure an option. It hadn't seemed possible, but now here it was. Harry was pounding into her asshole, fucking her back door for his own pleasure and to punish her for her actions. All Ciri can do in return is squeal like a stuck pig, screaming and sobbing as she continues to push forward, crawling step by step.

She doesn't realize where Harry is directing her to with his deep, penetrating thrusts until she suddenly sees a pair of spread, feminine legs in her eyesight. Looking up, Ciri's watery green eyes and tear-covered face stare at Lavender. The blonde witch or werewolf or whatever she is stares back, looking quite vengeful and satisfied with the current state of affairs. Well, partially satisfied anyways. Ciri can also tell that Lavender is jealous, that she'd much rather it be HER getting that dick then Ciri right now, even if it had to be in the ass.

And the thing is, as she's forced to crawl up the length of Lavender's chained-up form by Harry's continuing thrusts, Ciri is beginning to understand why. The pain is starting to cease, and really the only thing driving her forward now is Harry's massive cock. She's realizing now that he wasn't letting her crawl away and then following her, he was literally helping her along, hell, he was forcing her along.

He only stops doing so once she's completely atop Lavender. Her cheek is pressed against Lavender's own when he grabs her by a fistful of her hair and holds her in place, ramming into her just as viciously as before, but no longer letting her body slide forward with every thrust. The insides of Lavender's thighs, where Ciri's knees are now pressed up against, also help with this.

It feels… better than one might expect. The pain is fading, and her back door is loosening up as Harry continues to give her the anal plundering she never expected. It's quickly becoming the one she never knew she wanted as well, because the pleasure is building inside of her, even as Harry's cum oozes out of her drooling quim.

Ciri in turn finds herself nuzzling Lavender's face, mumbling barely coherent apologies and drooling all over the blonde witch. She moans and shakes and quivers beneath Harry's cock as it continues to piston in and out of her now-accepting back door. He's reshaped her anal passage to the shape of his member, making it form in such a way that it clenches and squeezes along his shaft, but no longer gives as much resistance as before.

He's using her as nothing more than a fuck hole, and it should be demeaning, it should be humiliating, it should be infuriating… but Ciri is too lost in her own pleasure to really worry about such things. When she finally cums from the ass plowing she's receiving, the female Witcher's eyes roll back in her head, her tongue lolls out of her mouth, and she screams her way to sweet white oblivion even as she slathers her mouth muscle all over Lavender's face.

That's the last thing she remembers before passing out atop the bound blonde. Getting fucked up the ass by a big dicked, powerful wizard… and loving every last second of it.

-x-X-x-

"Look, you two can have her other holes, I want first go at her mouth, alright? That's all I fucking want."

"Fine, if you want to risk the teeth, you can. Idiot."

"Hah! Shows what you know! Vanish the teeth out and the bitch's lips and throat will feel AMAZING around my cock as she gurgles her last. Not like we're gonna keep her alive once we're done with her anyways!"

"… Damn, that's not a bad idea."

"Ugh, don't encourage him. You're both morons. Keep an eye out you two. This bitch should be done soon, and even if she isn't… well, we'll deal with her one way or another, won't we?"

Ciri watches the three men who'd hired her to kill an innocent, relatively harmless young woman from behind a nearby tree on the edge of the woods that surround Hogsmeade and more specifically the Shrieking Shack. None of the trio, who she now know are wizards like Harry, are looking in her direction. She's dressed again of course and holding her sword in one hand as she listens in on their conversation.

As he'd said, they had no intention of honoring their deal, and instead were planning on having their way with her and disposing of her after they were done and had their coin back. It made Ciri sick to think she'd been so easily tricked by these fucks. Blood Purists, Harry had called them. Apparently, the wizarding world was only a small part of a much larger world, more of a nation then an actual 'world'. But there were still people throughout it, traditionalists given what Harry had said, that believed the entire world DID revolve around them.

They hated change and were racist as fuck. But unlike back in her world, where the prejudice and bigotry was usually focused around magic users and other species, this time it was all focused-on blood… and of course, other species where they existed. In a world where everyone was magical, it seemed that those who had been magical longer decided to hate those who hadn't been for as long. As well as anything that they decided was different or evil or not pure any longer.

Poor Lavender Brown fell into that category, and Ciri had apologized profusely to the blonde, both verbally and… other ways while they waited for these fools to finally show up. Lavender hadn't chosen to be a werewolf, and thanks to how this world worked, she wasn't a danger to anyone so long as she took the wolfsbane potion every full moon and remained far away from innocents.

Ciri had been a fool to rush in blind, assuming that her world and this world had the same sorts of monsters just because the names carried over. She'd been a damned fool… but at least now she'd be able to make up for her mistake. Gritting her teeth and baring them in a half-grin, half-snarl, the white-haired Witcher makes her move.

"Fuck man, can't wait to go to town on that smug little bitch. She wa-GAH!"

The pommel of Ciri's sword comes down on the head of the first one, the loudmouth before he can even finish the second sentence. She teleports again a moment later, even as the other two curse and start to draw their wands. They barely get them out of their holsters before its all over though. Ciri isn't alone after all, not by a long shot. The moment she enters the fray, red bolts of power fling through the darkness after her.

Distracted by the physical attacker in their midst, not a single of the three wizards manages to put up a magical shield in time to stop the barrage of stunners from knocking them out. Ciri dodges around them easily, moving in and out and aiming her sword at wand hands as she cuts the sticks in two, now that she knows the danger. A moment later, its all over and she's standing in the midst of the three unconscious men, not a single ounce of blood on her blade as it gleams in the dim light of the starlit night sky.

Harry calmly walks out into the open behind her, a soft smile on his face and an approving nod in her direction, even as he eyes the three wizards.

"Well done, my dear. And without any bloodshed. VERY impressive."

Ciri licks her lips at that and smiles, the cold of the night air not the only thing making her face a little red as she slowly brings her breathing back under control. Harry isn't paying her much mind though, instead waving that Elder Wand of his and flicking their hoods back with it one by one.

"Well, well. Don't recognize the third fool, but I certainly know these two. Blaise Zabini and Lord Perseus Parkinson the Fifth. How very interesting. Very, very interesting."

With a flick of his wand, Harry makes a small piece of parchment appear in the air before him. Ciri can't quite make out the words from here, but she can see as the parchment fills with them, seeming to write itself without any source of ink or quill. She can't help but be impressed, even as Harry replicates the thing and tucks one into each of the unconscious men's collars.

Then, he smiles at her and winks.

"Pureblood Scum."

It doesn't take a genius to realize this is a trigger, as all three men blink out of existence an instant later. Ciri gapes at that and can't help but wonder where they've gone… so she asks.

"Where… where did you send them?"

It's the first time she's ran into a society of people who can do what she does, at least in a way. The magic here is absurdly strong, and though Harry couldn't tell her of anyone traveling to other worlds, it seemed that he and his kind COULD easily teleport across great distances on this world, though they called it 'apparation' or something instead.

Regardless… Harry grins and shrugs his shoulders.

"Prison cells, of course. The DMLE has a few holding cells, and those notes will act as sworn statements from myself as to their crimes. They'll be given trials, but this is an open and shut case, especially with the memory you gave me."

He holds up a little vial with a glowing silver liquid inside and Ciri can't help but stare at it until he puts it away. It was… yeah, that was definitely an experience, having him use the Elder Wand to pull the memory of her meeting with the three men out of her mind. He'd already assured her that only they would be charged, that she wasn't in trouble anymore now that she'd proved she was… repentant. Ciri believed him, funnily enough. She didn't have a good track record with authority figures, and yet… this man. This wizard who'd had his way with her and essentially blackmailed her into sex… she liked him.

Probably because he was handsome, and it'd been fairly mind-blowing sex, but still… there was just something about Head Auror Harry Potter that Ciri found herself drawn to. Might've been the cum still leaking out of her cunt and soaking into her repaired leather bottoms, but who knew, right?

"Well then, for your assistance in bringing those three to justice, I suppose a reward is in order. You'll need some extra coin if you're going to be spending the next little while in our world."

Ciri blinks, pulled from her thoughts and looking to Harry to see him holding a sizable pouch of what was probably more galleons out to her. Smiling slightly, Ciri walks over to him, making sure to put the proper sway in her hip and a sultry, seductive look on her face. She used every little lesson she'd learned from the women in her life, both those they'd meant to teach her and those they hadn't to look as sexy and seductive as possible.

When she reaches Harry, she grabs his hand rather than the pouch of galleons in it, and she pushes it away as she sinks to her knees.

"Mm, I've got a better reward in mind, if that's alright with you."

Looking up at him, she sees his green eyes staring back down at her, interested and intrigued. All he does in response to her query is lift a single eyebrow, which Ciri takes as a go ahead to continue. Continuing to grin, she pulls down the handsome wizard's pants with her teeth, allowing his length to fall out atop her face again as she plants her hands palm down in the dirt she's kneeling upon.

Harry meanwhile, remains where he is. He's not exactly affected by the cold night air around them, not physically and not literally either. He watches on as Ciri takes his cock into her mouth and then begins to practically inhale him, slurping him down her throat until she's taken him to the base of his shaft. She gags a little, chokes even… but continues onwards anyways.

"Gagkh… Gagkh… Gagkh…"

As Ciri proceeds to face fuck herself on his cock, still choking and gagging but not nearly as badly as she was when he was the one in control, Harry just grins and watches on, letting her have her fun. At the same time, he's considering several things in the back of his mind. He always has been good at multitasking, after all.

The men were one thing. Finally having a reason to throw the book at not only Zabini, but also Lord Parkinson… mm, tonight was definitely a good night. There was no ifs, ands, or buts about it. This was fantastic. But then there was the reason that he'd get to see those two and their third comrade behind bars. This woman, kneeling before him, deep-throating his cock and continuing to choke herself out trying to take every last inch of his meat down her esophagus…

She was an enigma wrapped in a shroud of mystery. Though to be fair, pulling back the shroud hadn't been all that difficult, and she was beginning to understand the enigma more and more. As strange and otherworldly as Ciri was, which, given her world-hopping, made perfect sense… she was still just a girl, at the end of the day. Perhaps even just a witch, though she didn't seem to think of herself as one.

There was clearly a lot of words she'd heard before that they used for different things then her world did. Regardless, this young woman, this Ciri… she was special. There was no denying she was special. All he had to do was look down, watching as her cheeks puff out, her nostrils flare, and her watery green eyes look to him with determination and desire to realize that.

And right now, she was all his. As she milks his cock with her throat, eventually managing to draw out another release, Harry doesn't hold back. He lets his cum pour into her belly and all over her face when she eventually pulls back to take the latter half of his load across her features. Once she's done, once she's covered in his seed, she looks up at him, a wide smile across a face stained with cum, tears, and mascara.

"Thank you, Head Auror Potter. That was quite the tasty treat."

Harry watches his cum drip down off of her face and into the cleft of her breasts, which he can easily see from her current position. Chuckling, the wizard reaches out and places a hand in Ciri's hair, caressing the side of her head.

"Anytime my dear… anytime."

-x-X-x-

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