Narcissa, however, nearly choked on her morning juice. She had never truly gazed at her wife's (ex-wife now) legs in such a skirt, where each step made the material swish just enough to catch her eyes to focus on the pale, toned muscles of her thighs. She turned as she looked around and couldn't find anyone she knew at the Gryffindor Table and quickly darted to a different one as someone waved to her. And that arse is perfect for grabbing hold to...