Diagon Alley was a ghost town, the cobblestones slick with a chilling mist. The white marble of Gringotts loomed ahead, a fortress of cold stone and goblin greed.
As Tonksâfully in character as Bellatrixâmarched into the bank with a jagged, manic gait, Ethan decided to make the most of his temporary housing. Inside the lace-trimmed confines of the dress, the "beetle" started exploring.
Ethan scuttled over the smooth, pale curve of her right breast, his tiny legs tickling the sensitive skin. He didn't just sit still; he navigated the warm, silk-lined slopes, his antennae twitching as he found the firm, rising peak beneath the fabric.
'Ethan! Stop that right now!' Tonks's voice hissed in his mind, sharp with a mix of irritation and a sudden, involuntary jolt of arousal.
Outwardly, Bellatrix let out a sharp, erratic twitch, her hand flying to her chest. To Griphook, the goblin walking a few paces ahead, it looked like the Dark Lord's most loyal servant was having a sudden bout of madness.
"My vault, you miserable little toad!" she shrieked at the counter, her voice echoing through the silent lobby. "Unless you want to find out if your throat is as tough as your ledgers!"
Griphook blinked, looking bored but cautious. "Madam Lestrange... your appearance is... unexpected. We heard news of a disturbance at the school."
"I don't care what you heard!" Tonks roared.
Griphook flinched, but quickly masked it with a sneer. He'd dealt with the Lestranges for decades; he knew that any delay usually ended in a curse. "Of course. If you would follow me to the carts, Madam."
As they began the long walk toward the subterranean tunnels, the real fun started inside the lace-trimmed confines of Bellatrix's dress.
Ethan, in his iridescent beetle form, was currently navigating a landscape that was significantly more interesting than a dusty old vault. To a tiny insect, the warm, silk-lined valley of Tonks's cleavage was like a tropical paradise. He scuttled over the smooth, pale curve of one breast, his tiny legs tickling the sensitive skin.
He didn't just sit still. He began to explore, crawling over the soft mounds, his beetle-antennae twitching as he found the firm, rising peak beneath the fabric.
'Ethan! Stop that right now!' Tonks's voice hissed in his mind, sharp with a mix of irritation and a sudden, involuntary jolt of arousal.
Outwardly, however, she had to stay in character. She let out a sharp, erratic twitch, her hand flying to her chest. To Griphook, walking a few paces ahead, it looked like the Dark Lord's most loyal servant was having a sudden bout of madnessâor something much more indecent.
"Is something... bothering you, Madam?" Griphook asked, looking back over his shoulder with a look of pure loathing.
"Nothing that concerns you, worm!" Tonks snapped, her voice cracking as Ethan-beetle decided to crawl deeper into the crevice between her breasts.
She tried to discretely 'adjust' her blouse, which really meant she was trying to pinch the tiny green bug that was currently making her breath hitch. Her fingers dug into her own cleavage through the lace, but Ethan was fast. He dodged her fingers, scuttling around the side of the silk bra, his tiny legs brushing against the underside of the curve.
"Ughâ" Tonks let out a muffled, low-pitched groan. She quickly turned it into a manic, throaty cackle. "Hurry up! The air in this bank is suffocating!"
She began to aggressively massage her own chest, trying to trap the beetle while maintaining the appearance of a woman who had simply lost her mind.
'I am going to kill you, Ethan!' Tonks's mental scream echoed in his head, vibrating with a frequency that suggested she was halfway between a lethal hex and a complete sensory meltdown. 'I can feel every single leg! If you don't stop rubbing against that spot, I'm going to transform into a giant bird and eat you!'
Ethan, however, was having the time of his lifeâquite literally. To a beetle, the silk-lined landscape of Tonks's chest was a warm, fragrant valley of endless exploration. He didn't just stay in the cleavage; as the cart took a sudden, violent plunge into the dark tunnels of Gringotts, he used the momentum to slide further down.
He skittered past her ribcage, the tiny prickle of his legs dancing over her sensitive skin. Tonks let out a sharp, muffled "Ooh!" that she immediately tried to turn into a menacing, Bellatrix-style growl.
"Is Madam... quite alright?" Griphook asked from the front of the cart, his voice dripping with suspicion and boredom.
"Drive the cart, you miserable pipsqueak!" Tonks shrieked, her hand slamming against her own stomach through the heavy fabric of her skirts, trying to pin the 'bug' in place.
It didn't work. Ethan was fast. He ducked under her hand and slipped past the waistband of her skirts. The sensation was sharper now, the tiny legs moving over the smooth skin of her lower belly and diving straight into the lace confines of her panties.
Tonks's back arched violently against the cold metal of the cart. Her knees knocked together, and a flush that had nothing to do with the subterranean heat crept up her neck, clashing horribly with the sallow, pale makeup of her Bellatrix disguise.
'ETHAN! THAT IS A RESTRICTED AREA!'
Ethan-beetle didn't listen. He scuttled over the soft, heated junction of her thighs, his antennae twitching as he navigated the silk and the warmth. Every time the cart hit a bump, he'd buzz his wings just enough to create a low-frequency vibration against her most sensitive spots.
Tonks was a mess. She was gripping the side of the cart so hard the iron was beginning to dent, her teeth gritted as she fought the urge to moan. To the goblin, it looked like Bellatrix Lestrange was having a full-blown psychotic episode involving some very aggressive self-touching.
"Humans," Griphook muttered, loud enough for her to hear. "Absolutely revolting. No sense of public decorum. Massaging her own lap in a high-speed cart... truly a degenerate race."
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