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Paying for It

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Sweat tickled his back as he pushed her into the wall, the silk of her "new" robes whispering against his belly with every thrust.

"Her—fuck! Daphne."

"Do be . . . quiet, Weasley. Quiet, quiet, qui—"

Daphne clenched her eyes and around his cock as she came, and the sight of her mouth, all smudged red angry and open, was all Ron needed.

"W—well," he panted out, shuddering through his orgasm while Daphne and her robes hissed down his body. "Well."

"Well, what, Weasley?"

"I s'pose you'll have to buy them now."

Daphne scrambled for her wand and swished it over her soiled robes. "You suppose wrong. Give 'Mione my best."

Pop!

Yeah, rich unhappy bints never do pay for anything, do they?

Sighing, Ron pulled up his trousers and counted his Galleons. It was one thing to shag semi-publicly, but stealing, well, he'd never been poor enough to do that.