"Guarantee to not harm the interests of these families. To not harm the interest of America. Not to use your bank for unfair means. You will be just a bank, nothing more, no secrets."
Might as well ask me to auction my balls, won't you? Dudley scoffed silently. Her requests would defeat the whole purpose of creating D&D Bank.
"Are these your words or theirs, Madam President?"
"Both. I don't know you, Mr. Dursley. I don't trust you. Your sudden rise is suspicious. Arithmancy may offer an excuse, but I'm not convinced. My duty is to protect my people—and these days, the threat isn't always from Dark Wizards."
Dudley sighed and relaxed back in his seat, thinking about a way out of this. There was no way he could fight all those families directly. Had had to give them some assurances, of course, false ones. But fooling MACUSA wasn't easy.
"Look, I'm not trying to cause trouble. It's just… the whole system's been run by the same old families for ages. They pull the strings—politics, everything. I only ever wanted to make things fairer so that every wizard had the same chance. But if I've got to bow and scrape to them just to get by, then what's the point?"
President Aiyana narrowed her gaze at him. "Such a confession. Do you not fear me?"
"Why should I? Are you some Dark Lord? I thought you were the President—meant to stand for all witches and wizards, not just a few old families. I don't know you well, but from what I see… You know there's something wrong with the world. Grindelwald had his pureblood rubbish, and those same families backed him. Then Voldemort came, and they turned on wizardkind again. Once is a mistake, twice is a warning. But three times? That's not chance—that's a habitual choice."
Dudley stood up at that point, his expression troubled. But he was determined. He paced back and forth in front of the table a few times. In President Aiyana's eyes, the scene looked strange. Dudley was supposed to be a mere Hogwarts student. But the man in front of her seemed far more experienced than his age.
"Madam President, I can't make any promises about those families. It's just—well, my job's to handle the money, keep the bank running strong, that sort of thing. If anything happens to them, it's not really down to me—it's more about the choices they've made. That said, I can give you my word: I won't go after MACUSA or magical America as a whole, not unless I am directly provoked or harmed."
President Aiyana softly chuckled. "Interesting choice of words."
"I've got to leave a bit of room to defend myself, Madam President. You might be fair, but I can't say the same for whoever comes next."
That was it. That was all he could give her. Silently, he stood there and waited for her response. He was aware she had a lot of rich and influential families to answer to. But she was still MACUSA's President, and if she wanted, she had the power to ignore them. It would destroy her future career, however.
Well, not unless Dudley wins in the end.
"How will you give your assurances?" She asked.
"Magic as old as time, an Unbreakable Vow. But my vow will be to you only. Whoever comes after will have their own thoughts, I reckon, and I'll be right back here explaining it all again."
But Dudley's goal was to grow strong enough to ignore all their restrictions by then.
Tap, tap, tap…!
President Aiyana tapped her finger on the desk. Minutes passed before she looked back at him. "I can't make any decisions without consulting the Representatives. Your fate lies with their vote. I'll do my best to present your case, but don't expect me to sugarcoat it."
"That's quite enough," Dudley said, straightening up a bit. "I'll be in San Francisco for the next couple of days. You probably already know where I'm staying."
The stoic woman simply nodded and let him leave.
####
Leaving behind Percy to keep an eye on the MACUSA's decision, he and Penelope returned to his glass-coated San Francisco office building. The top floor had the best view in the city. On a good day, one could see the Golden Gate far in the distance.
Inside his private corner office, he sat behind a modern, wooden table with a computer and all other muggle things on. He even had a mini-golf set up there to give off the rich, dumb CEO vibe to visitors. He never used it.
It was sunny outside but gloomy inside. Hands on the table, he stared blankly at the desk, his mind running questions and answers. Was it the right decision to promise an Unbreakable Vow? He was playing an extremely dangerous game by putting his life at risk like that. With the Vanguard Group, it was one thing, as he desired control. With MACUSA's President, it was very different.
I can't be the loser in this long game. But I'm helpless in America.
Knock! Knock!
"Sir, Your Coffee?"
Dudley looked up from the table. The wooden door opened, and Penelope walked in with a cup of coffee in her hand. His brows flared up, seeing her attire. They'd returned an hour ago from MACUSA's headquarters, and she'd already changed her clothes. Now she wore a muggle attire… too muggle, in fact. A tight, white, full-sleeved shirt, black, high-waist, pencil skirt that reached her knees, black stockings underneath, and black heels. Her hair was untied, falling over her shoulders and over her chest.
What's this now?
"Aaaah!"
Splash!
Suddenly, Penelope lost her balance right beside his chair, and the coffee cup slipped from her grasp. All its contents splashed onto his lap and chest, painting his expensive suit and white shirt brown.
What the… It's not that hot… lukewarm even.
The coffee was suspiciously cold.
"Oh, no, no, no… S-So Sorry, Boss." Penelope frantically grabbed a bunch of napkins from the table and pivoted his office chair towards herself. Quickly, she fell to her knees and started wiping the coffee, her hand lingering on his loins far too long, rubbing.
Ah, so we're playing THAT game?
"Ugh! Fuck, it's burning hot, Penny! What the fuck." Dudley shouted, cursing. But honestly, he was getting hard under her frantic rubbing hand. Seeing her on her knees between his legs, it was a picture-perfect view.
"It's just coffee. It's fine... You should be... O-okay… Let me just… wipe it."
Penelope's hands trembled just slightly as she reached for his belt buckle, her fingers brushing the firm bulge tenting his soaked trousers. She worked the zipper down with slow, deliberate care, dragging the metal teeth apart until she could slip her dainty fingers beneath the damp waistband.
Her touch was a little too familiar, a little too eager for just a clean-up.
Dudley didn't speak. He simply raised his hips, offering his body up to her with lazy amusement as if this was all her idea to begin with. His eyes watched her intently as she tugged the trousers down over his thighs, revealing the outline of his cock already straining under the dark fabric of his briefs.
Penelope hesitated for just a second, her breath catching as she took in the sight of the heavy outline, thick against the thin cotton. She hooked her fingers under the waistband and tugged it downward, exposing inch by inch of skin… until finally, his cock sprang free. Thick, veined, flushed with heat. A heavy, girthy slab of flesh that stood proud, twitching with eagerness.
"Umm…" Penelope hummed, her voice nearly a whimper as her eyes drank in the sight of it. Her lips parted unconsciously, heat rushing between her thighs.
His cock was girthy from base to tip, standing straight with confidence. The foreskin slid back slightly on its own as it swelled, revealing the pale, purplish head, plump and smooth.
"I-I think you're fine…" she murmured, barely audible as her fingers wrapped around the shaft.
He groaned low as her hand curled around him, the contrast of her soft, feminine palm against his thick, twitching meat making him harder. The warmth of her skin only coaxed more life into it—more need. It pulsed in her grip, proud and needy.
"How could this be okay?" Dudley muttered with a fake scowl, his voice thick with feigned distress and teasing undertones. "What if it doesn't work anymore?"
Penelope glanced up at him, far too turned on to retreat now. Her eyes flicked between his face and his cock, making her dizzy. She gave the shaft a gentle squeeze, then another, and felt it pulse with every pump of her palm.
"It's working…" she whispered, licking her lips as she dragged her hand down his thick length again, slower this time, intentional. "O-Of course it's working. See? It's working fine."
Dudley leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head with that arrogant smirk he wore so well.
"Can you prove it?" he asked like this was all part of some meeting agenda.
______________________
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