Graduation day finally hit like a bittersweet storm—the campus alive with caps and gowns, proud parents snapping photos, speeches droning about futures and potential. Harry stood on the sidelines in the auditorium, watching the seniors file across the stage, her heart twisting in ways she hadn’t expected. She was sad—deep down, gut-wrenchingly sad. Draco would be gone soon, off to whatever big-shot life awaited him, and she’d miss his cock so much it hurt. The way it stretched her, owned her, made her feel like the filthy slut she craved to be. No more blackmail quickies in her office, no more risky rooftop pounds. Just back to Snape’s gentle love-making, which suddenly felt… lacking. To mark the day, she’d worn her sluttiest dress: a tight black number that hugged her massive tits like a second skin, neckline plunging so deep it barely contained her pink nipples, hem short enough to flash thigh (and more if she bent). No bra, no panties—her pink fat pussy already slick with anticipation, hoping for one last glimpse of him.