Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
AN: Authors of veela bond fics always seem to forget that Harry is a (presumably) horny teenage boy, not a romance-obsessed girl.
Harry stared at the curvaceous half-veela in shock. Hermione and Ginny seemed equally flabbergasted, so he gathered this wasn't a common situation even in the Wizarding world.
"So, let me see if I have this right, Fluer," he finally managed. "When I saved you from the Grindylows in the lake, your veela magic somehow… er... bonded… to me."
"Yes," Fleur replied sadly. "Now, we must be joined within one month or my magic will turn against itself, and I will die. I'm so sorry, Harry. Believe me, I did not want to force myself on you like this. I… I'll understand if you refuse me."
"Oh, dear," Hermione said. "Harry, I think she's serious. She's even stopped pretending to have trouble with her English. But Fleur, this is terrible. Harry has so many burdens to carry already, and now you want to add what amounts to an arranged marriage on top of it all? No. Surely there must be some other way to fix this."
The French veela hung her head. "No. I'm sorry Harry. I feel terrible, to do this to you. But it has been tried, many times, and always the veela dies in the end. Sometimes the wizard dies as well, and that I could not stand. Better we let nature take its course, so at least only I am in danger."
Harry sighed. "Right, because I'm really going to let an innocent girl die if I can do something to save her."
Ginny snickered. "Considering that you've already saved all three of us at least once, I don't think anyone here is expecting that. I can't believe you've gotten into this situation, though. Only you, Harry."
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, looks like fate needs a whipping boy. Alright, Fleur, you'd better explain what's involved in this 'bonding' business. Is this some kind of ritual? Dark blood magic that'll get me sent to Azkaban if I'm found out?"
Fleur blinked in surprise, and found herself suppressing a giggle. "Silly man. I thought it was obvious? Oh, but you are English, so I must be blunt. I am veela, Harry. My life, my magic, my passion, all are one flame. And now you are my hero, and my flame burns for you. If you claim your prize it will burn brighter than ever, but if you cast me aside it will fade away, and I will die."
Ginny and Hermione exchanged a knowing look, but Harry just stared at her blankly. Finally she decided she still wasn't being blunt enough, and tried again. "I mean sex, Harry. At least two or three times a month, for the rest of my life."
This time Harry managed to stop gaping at her after only a brief lapse. Still, it was such a shock that he found himself having trouble grasping the enormity of the situation. So he focused on his first instinct, which was of course to take care of everyone but himself. "Well, that sounds a bit awkward," he said slowly. "Especially for you, having to, um, that, with someone you don't care about."
"Oh, non, Harry!" Fleur shook her head emphatically. "No veela could be so cold! I told you, the flames of my passion burn for you now. Already I feel the pull, and it will grow much stronger. One night together, and I will love you as surely as any witch has ever loved a wizard. I will never feel desire for another man, and the more often we are together the stronger my feelings for you will grow."
"Oh," Harry replied vacantly. Nothing in his short life had prepared him for something like this. Beatings, starvation, ridicule, deadly danger - these were all familiar. But a hot veela girl throwing herself at him? No, that was too good to be true.
"You're having me on, aren't you?" He asked suspiciously. "You've got to be."
Fleur actually looked hurt for a moment. But then she sighed. "No, how could you know?" She said to herself, and stood. She'd pulled Harry and his companions into an empty classroom for this discussion, so there were no other witnesses, and she'd locked the door herself. Fortunately Ron hadn't been with them at the time.
"Harry, would I do this for a joke?" She said seriously. Then she tapped her uniform with the tip of her wand, and the fetching little dress unwrapped itself and fell to pool at her feel. Being veela she had no need of a bra, so her pert young breasts were left bare for all to see.
"Fleur!" Ginny protested. "What are you doing?"
"Proving to Harry that this is serious. Do you need more, Harry? Shall I take off my knickers? Perhaps, slip under that table and give you a little treat?"
"No," Harry managed to choke out. "I believe you. You wouldn't go this far for a joke."
"No," she replied. "I would not. My life is in your hands, Harry. I am sorry to ask so much of you, but what else can I do?"
"It can't be that hard," Hermione insisted, already pulling out a notepad and pen. "If an artifact as powerful as the Tri-Wizard Cup can be confunded to pick an extra contestant, it can't be that hard to fool your magic into thinking you're being...intimate...with Harry. We might need to use Draught of Living Death to buy enough time to iron out the arithmancy, but I'm sure it can be done..."
"Hermione, why on Earth would I want to do that?" Harry interjected. He stood, and put his hands on Fleur's shoulders. "Fleur, what this basically amounts to is us being lovers, right?"
"That...depends, Harry," she replied nervously. "Sometimes bonded lovers can find one another, or share feelings, or even share their magic. Also, a veela who beds a wizard often can sometimes be overwhelmed by her love, and find herself devoted beyond all reason." She sighed, and smiled softly. "Every veela dreams of such things, Harry. But it takes much shared passion to make the bond grow so strong, and a very powerful wizard, the sort who can banish a dozen dementors at once. It is easy enough to prevent, if you wish."
"Of course!" Hermione exclaimed. "You could visit one day a month, just enough to keep yourself healthy while we research this. That should keep you from getting too attached. Why, it might even be feasible to develop an artificial delivery method, if all you really need is magical contact..."
Despite Harry's best efforts his eyes dipped south as his bushy-haired friend babbled on, but then something wonderful happened. Instead of frowning, or turning away, or even looking disappointed, Fleur put her hands behind her slender waist and arched her back slightly. He stared at the twin peaks she was presenting for his inspection.. .and all at once, it hit him what she was doing. He raised his eyes to meet her gaze, and saw the desire there. Desire for him, the boy who had thought his name was Freak until he was six. Admiration, for the boy who had saved her life. And something else. Not love, but the desperate, longed-for potential for love. A love that would never fade, never be taken away for some mysterious, incomprehensible female reason. That would grow stronger, the more attention he gave her. That he could count on, no matter what his friends or dorm-mates or the press might stay, and no matter what new trials the coming years might bring.
"I've got a better plan," he interrupted. "Fleur, my record is actually about a hundred dementors. So what say I just shag you rotten every chance I get, and we face the world together?"
Fleur squealed in delight, and threw herself into his arms. "Oh, thank you, thank you 'arry! I swear, I will do everything I can to make you happy! You can have me every night, every morning, every afternoon, until I fall so hard I start calling you master and babbling to every witch I meet about what a wonderful lover you are!"
The two human girls in the room exchanged an alarmed look.
"But, Harry, you hardly know each other…" Hermione sputtered.
"Don't care." Harry replied smugly. He was rather enjoying the feel of Fleur's perky breasts pressing into his chest, and the fact that her nipples were hard as buttons wasn't lost on him. "We can get acquainted between bouts of hot veela sex."
"But, Harry, what if you don't fall in love?" Ginny protested.
Harry grinned down at the gorgeous creature in his arms. "Guess I'd have to make do with the sex. I think I'll survive."
"But, what if you fall in love with someone else?" Ginny insisted, more than a hint of worry creeping into her voice.
"I'll help you seduce her, Harry," Fleur promised with a saucy grin. "I love seducing pretty witches, especially the ones who think they're straight."
She gave the slender redhead an appraising look, and the younger girl blushed furiously and looked away.
"But, but, what if you don't get along?" Hermione interjected. "What if you argue all the time?"
"Makeup sex," Fleur countered.
"What if you aren't... compatible?" Ginny objected, beginning to sound a bit desperate.
Fleur arched one elegant eyebrow. "What part of 'I'm a magical sex object' do you not understand?"
"What if you just have different interests?" Hermione asked.
"Then I will learn to love the things Harry loves, so we can do them together," Fleur declared. Then she gave the bushy-haired genius a thoughtful look, and added, "or the people."
Hermione blushed slightly, and her gaze went to Harry. Fleur's smile widened a fraction, and she gave a barely perceptible nod.
Hermione smiled in relief. "In that case," she said as she gathered up her things, "maybe you're right, Harry. It isn't what I'd do, but then, you obviously aren't me. I hope it works out for you. Come along Ginny, let's give these two a little privacy."
"Thanks, Hermione." Harry gave Fleur's slender form a gentle squeeze, and gazed into her eyes. "I think, for once, everything is going to work out just fine."
Then they kissed.
Ginny's indignant sputtering went entirely unnoticed.