The Lust of Gryffindors
Chapter 16: Beware of Veela
"I'm sorry I missed it," Harry said. "You could have gone, you know."
Hermione huffed as she rubbed ointment into the angry red skin of his side. "I'm not going to celebrate in the Pride when my best friend is injured and unable to move. You nearly scared the life out of me when you showed up covered in blood."
They were in Hogwarts' Hospital Wing, where Harry had been bound to a bed for the last two days. The trident that had pierced him had caused more damage than originally thought. Only now that most of the damage had been healed had Pomfrey de-petrified him. He still wasn't allowed to move except to get up and use the bathroom.
Needless to say, he had missed the Pride's celebration in his honor.
"They've promised to make it up to you later," she continued, slathering the salve on a few pink patches on his legs. "It just won't do to have the Gryffindor Champion miss out on his party."
"They'll have to wait. I'm stuck in this bed for three more days. Pomfrey's a sadist, I swear."
"She just wants to make sure there are no long-term issues. At least she'll let people in to see you now."
He hissed as she pressed too firmly into his flesh. "Easy. That bit's still tender."
"Sorry. I'm certain others will be stopping by later. Maybe even Ron."
"Really?"
"He might want to apologize sincerely this time. We had a big row over it before the task."
"Did he apologize to you?"
She huffed. "No. Professor Dumbledore originally chose him to be the person you should rescue."
"What?!"
"I know. They brought us to his office, and I was shocked to see him there. I told the Headmaster that you and Ron had fallen out, but he insisted that it would be an excellent way for you to mend fences."
"I would have left his arse down there and rescued you."
"That's what I told him. Ron blew up and stormed out when I insisted he use Katie or Parvati or someone else."
"Merlin, I can imagine it. Why would he want to apologize now then?"
"I think seeing you in that state made him realize just how bloody stupid he's being. He's been looking like a lost puppy, especially when people ask him about you."
"He better be ready to fucking grovel then," Harry muttered resentfully.
"Try to keep an open mind. You know how he is. Emotional range of a teaspoon. But don't let him off easy. I'll want my groveling apology too."
"We'll see."
"At least the Prophet is on your side now. Have you been reading it?"
"Yeah, I'm kind of shocked, really. It's like they forgot they were supposed to be vilifying me."
"They have someone else to hate for the moment."
There had indeed been an uproar in the press when they discovered the details of the second task, especially the extent of Harry's injuries. The injury to Gabrielle Delacour, while not very serious, almost caused an international incident. British authorities were being abused from every direction. It surprised him, given that no one seemed to care when they made him fight a dragon. But he supposed hostile merpeople were enough to rouse the public's bigotry. There were calls for the 'inhuman creatures' to be exterminated.
"Is Professor Dumbledore still angry with me?" he asked.
"He hasn't visited you?"
"Not once."
"Hmmph. I suppose he's busy defending himself. People are finally realizing the whole idea of this tournament is barbaric. The French are incensed and no one is being allowed near the lake."
"Probably a good idea. Madame Delacour wanted to make it boil. I won't be going near the bloody thing if I can help it."
He was relieved that Hermione hadn't chided him about his use of lethal force. He had perhaps gone a touch overboard, but he had been desperate and had no way of knowing that the merpeople had been allowed to wound him but not kill him. Was there a difference at the bottom of a lake? As far as he was concerned, they had taken their jobs far too seriously, and the fault lay with them and Dumbledore.
Hermione finished slathering up his wounds and set the jar of murtlap on a nearby stand. "All done. Let's talk about something more pleasant."
"Like what?"
She looked over her shoulder, noting that Pomfrey was in her office. They were hidden from view. She grinned and slipped her hand underneath Harry's hospital gown.
"Like what I can do with my hand."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry did indeed have more visitors the next day. With little more to do than read and brood, he was grateful for the distraction. Virtually every member of the Pride turned up, as well as most of his Gryffindor year mates and Ginny Weasley. She showed up with Neville, but they didn't act as if they were a couple. Cho and Cedric likewise wished him well.
Ron and Seamus were notable in their absence, and Harry didn't know what to make of it. Hermione didn't either, so they tried to put it out of their minds.
He set aside a letter he was composing for Sirius when Lavender and Parvati poked their heads around his curtain.
"Busy, Harry?"
"Sorry, my schedule is full up. I need to count the ceiling tiles again."
Parvati giggled and they came around the curtain to stand by the bed.
"We're missing you at the Pride," she said.
"I miss being there."
"The rumor is that Hermione helped ease your boredom yesterday."
He laughed. "Is that right?"
Lavender grinned. "She spread the word. Are you feeling bored right now?"
"Very."
"Good. Big damn heroes should be rewarded for their efforts, don't you think?"
Parvati lifted his hospital gown, exposing his cock, and both girls caressed him until he was hard.
"This part of you is still working fine, thank Merlin," Lavender said.
"Believe me, I'm grateful."
"You don't mind if we share, do you?" Parvati asked with a smirk, gripping him firmly with her hand.
"Not at all."
Lavender moved around to the other side of the bed, so that she and Parvati were on opposite sides. Parvati held his cock upright and both girls leaned over to bathe him with their tongues. Parvati seemed to enjoy smacking Lavender in the nose with it when she took more than her fair share.
Harry watched in fascinated bliss as they took turns taking his head into their mouths. Lavender suckled him firmly, while Parvati gently teased him, her soft tongue making little swirls until he was so engorged he could barely stand it. Sometimes they kissed each other with his cock between them. He had never seen a more beautiful sight. Never in a million years would he have guessed that he would one day witness Lavender and Parvati playing with his cock in the hospital wing.
He couldn't stop his little pants every time they traded places. One kissed his shaft tenderly while the other tried to drown his swollen crown in ecstasy. Each looked up at him with wicked grins. They began teasing and stroking him harder as he approached orgasm. Parvati squeezed his balls and he closed his eyes and—
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!"
Harry's eyes shot open and he looked up to see Madam Pomfrey's back. She had entered the screen only to do an immediate about face. Parvati and Lavender jerked away from him and looked at each other in mute horror. Harry rushed to cover himself.
"That's not what I intended when I approved visitors, Mr. Potter," Pomfrey said archly, still facing away from them.
"Er, sorry."
"Are you quite finished? It's time for your potion."
He almost retorted that her presence had prevented him from finishing, but that would have been very unwise.
"I'm decent now," he said sheepishly, trying and failing to make his arousal less obvious beneath the thin gown.
Pomfrey turned to face him, ignoring the two speechless, blushing girls. She handed him a deep blue vial of potion.
"Drink all of this. You'll have to take another in two hours."
She watched as he chugged the awful-tasting concoction with a grimace.
Parvati glanced at Lavender. "Er, Madam Pomfrey, are we going to be in trouble?" she said in an unsteady voice.
Pomfrey gave them both a flat look and took her time answering. "Twenty points from Gryffindor should suffice, and a detention with me tonight. You can keep Mr. Potter company. Do be more discreet in the future, and take care not to aggravate his injuries."
The girls just gaped at her as she accepted the empty vial from Harry and left. He almost burst out laughing. He lifted his gown again, hopeful that the girls wouldn't be too mortified to finish him off. He was still hard and in desperate need of release.
When word spread that Lavender and Parvati had been caught but barely punished, other girls from the Pride showed up regularly over the next few days, sometimes in pairs.
He was very appreciative of the visits. Though he wasn't allowed to exert himself, he was allowed to lie there while they molested him. Katie, Parvati, Lavender, Angelina, Livia, Saoirse, Jo, and Hermione each visited, as well as a few members of the Pride who only wanted to wish him well.
Their company helped ease the pain of missing Gryffindor's second quidditch match. Despite his protests—and those of Angelina—Madam Pomfrey had not cleared Harry to play. Hufflepuff had defeated Gryffindor by 70 points. Katie had been forced to play seeker and, to the surprise of many, an unpracticed but skilled Ginny Weasley had taken her spot as chaser. The Gryffindors fought valiantly, but Cedric had caught the snitch, ruining their chance at a perfect season.
Harry fumed, vowing never to return to the wretched hospital bed unless his life depended on it. He would never have guessed that he could grow tired of handjobs and blowjobs, but it was nevertheless true. He was desperate to leave, even if Pomfrey tolerated his guests.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hermione exited the Hospital Wing after her evening session with Harry to find Cho Chang waiting on her with a nervous look on her face.
"Can I talk to you, Hermione? In private."
"Sure."
Cho pulled her into a nearby empty room and cast a silencing charm at the door.
"What's on your mind?" Hermione asked. They had only spoken casually a couple times since the debauchery following the Yule Ball, and to her knowledge Cho hadn't revisited the Pride.
"I have a favor to ask," she said hesitantly. "I'm not sure if it's even possible."
"I'll help if I can."
"It's about what you did after the Yule Ball."
She tensed. "Pardon?"
"I can't stop thinking about it. The way you looked that night. It was like you were out of your mind with pleasure."
Hermione examined her with some suspicion, unsure if she was being judged. "I was, more or less, like a lot of people. Where are you going with this?"
Cho blushed and didn't quite meet her eyes. "I'm not shy about sex, obviously, but I've never done anything like that," she said, "or had it done to me, I suppose. And seeing how much you enjoyed it—well, I've been talking about it with Cedric, and—"
"And?"
"My birthday is coming up," she said, meeting Hermione's gaze. "I thought you might be willing to organize something for me."
Hermione blinked several times. "Wait. You want me to set up a gangbang for you?"
"If you're willing," she said, her blush deepening. "I know I'm not a Gryffindor, but that kind of thing—well, let's just say I wouldn't want to deal with the consequences in Ravenclaw. I'm sure you understand."
"So you want it to happen in the Pride."
"If it's possible. I just thought, you know, Gryffindors might be willing and wouldn't judge me, based on what we saw there."
Hermione chuckled. Someone was asking her—her—to organize a gangbang. Merlin, what a bizarre year this was turning out to be. Part of her wanted to howl with laughter.
"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you. This is just surreal. I'll have to ask Angelina about it. She runs the show."
"I can ask her if you want. I just wanted to talk to you first, since…well."
"Since you saw the whole room shag my brains out."
Cho smirked. "Yes."
"I bet Angelina would allow you back for your birthday. She just doesn't want other houses showing up all the time. How many boys did you want?"
"All of them?"
"Er, that's a lot for one girl. Are you sure you want that many?"
"You seemed to enjoy it thoroughly."
"Well, that was partly the lust potion, but I think I might be built differently. Stamina-wise, I mean."
"I'd be willing to pay for some lust potion if you have it. I'd like to try it."
"I'll ask. And you'd want Cedric to be there, I assume. Anyone else?"
"I wouldn't complain about Viktor Krum. And Harry, of course. Or anyone else you'd recommend."
Hermione grinned. "I'll see what I can do."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry looked around Fleur's room curiously. It was decorated in pastel blue, with accents of silver and gold. There were a few moving pictures on the walls, mostly depicting her family, but otherwise the room contained little but a desk, a chair, and an ornate bed.
He had been free from the Hospital Wing for only a day when he accepted her invitation to visit the Beauxbatons carriage. She had just finished giving him a brief tour of its spacious interior. It left him astonished at the wonders of magic. The carriage held more than fifty rooms, including a modest ballroom for feasts and dancing. From the outside, it looked as if it might hold a dozen people.
She sat on the edge of her bed and watched him as he looked around her private room. He felt awkward being alone in her presence. She was a stunningly beautiful girl, setting aside the fact that she was a veela. He almost felt like he was in the presence of royalty. So far, she had been treating him with polite but cold formality.
"I am sorry for calling you a leetle boy," she ventured.
"It's alright."
"No, it isn't. You 'ave behaved wiz 'onor and I 'ave not. My sister and I owe you our lives. I acknowledge ze debt we owe you."
"I was just doing what anyone would have done, but you're very welcome."
She took a breath and straightened her back. "Merci. What sort of arrangement do you wish, Monsieur Potter? I only ask zat you keep it private for ze sake of my reputation."
"What?"
She raised an eyebrow and looked at him as if he were particularly dense. "Zere is no need to be coy. You 'ave a veela in your debt, and I 'ave acknowledged it. We both know what you will ask of me."
He snorted. "Oh. So this is the part where I demand to sleep with you? I hate to disappoint you, Fleur—er, Miss Delacour—but I wouldn't do something like that."
"Non?"
"Non. No, I mean."
Fleur frowned and looked him over from head to toe, not bothering to conceal her confusion. "So you 'ave a petite amie? A girlfriend? Or are you a lover of wizards?"
"Neither. I don't want payment for doing the right thing. I don't take advantage of people."
"But…you truly do not wish to sleep wiz me?"
Harry blinked at her tone. She somehow seemed both relieved and mortally offended. "Er, I didn't say that. You're gorgeous. But you didn't want to sleep with me before all this, so I don't see why you would want to now."
Fleur considered his words for a moment. "You really did not cheat to enter ze tournament, did you?"
"No, I didn't."
"And you do not 'ave a girlfriend? I can smell several girls on you."
"No offense, but I don't see how that's any of your business."
She nodded slowly. "Ze Boy Who Lived 'as many admirers, I suppose."
He bristled at her insinuation. "I don't take advantage of my fame either."
"Then I 'ave misjudged you yet again, Monsieur Potter. I apologize."
"There's a lot of that going around. And call me Harry."
"Zen you must call me Fleur."
"Of course."
An awkward silence ensued. Harry had no idea what to say to a snooty French veela. They had literally nothing in common. They belonged to a different culture, a different social class, and spoke different languages. They weren't even entirely the same species. She was like Daphne Greengrass raised to the power of ten.
He glanced around the room again and focused on a photo on her desk. He sat down in the nearby chair to examine it.
"This is your whole family? Your mother seems very, er, formidable."
Fleur rose and stood beside him to examine the photo. "Oui, she is. Zat is my grand-mere, my papa, et ma soeur—my sister. You did not speak wiz Gabrielle before she left, did you?"
"Not really. I was kind of out of it for a couple days."
"Well, she is quite enamored wiz you. She will probably write you a letter. You will certainly receive a formal one from papa."
"Okay, but that's really not necessary."
He turned in his chair and realized that she was bending down next to him. Her face was only inches from his. From this distance, she was breathtakingly beautiful. Her skin almost glowed. The air seemed to hum around her and his heart beat faster from her presence alone. Her face turned away from the picture toward him, and it took him a moment to realize that she was staring at his scar with a fascinated look on her face.
"May I touch it?" she asked.
"Why?"
"Zere is magique in it. Something strange."
"What do you mean?"
"I can feel it, even wizout trying," she said, her face drawing closer to his.
"If you want," he said, licking his lips. At the moment he would have accepted any sort of touch from her. He could easily lean forward and kiss her. He felt an overwhelming desire to do so and tried to hold onto his composure.
She ran a finger gently along his scar. He shivered. She closed her eyes in focus, and he felt his head swim. A pleasant sensation washed over him. It felt like she was pulling on something deep within him.
Suddenly his scar flared with pain. He hissed and covered it with his hand. It felt as if he had been stabbed in the forehead. When he opened his eyes, Fleur had pulled away and was looking at him with concern.
"Are you alright? I do not understand."
"Yes," he said, wincing as the pain slowly receded. "What did you do?"
"I did not mean to 'urt you. I was just testing it."
"Testing it?"
She returned to her bed and frowned at him. "Zat scar 'as very dark magic. Noir. Surely you must know."
"It's a curse scar. Why wouldn't it be dark? What did you do to it?"
She didn't answer for a moment. "What do you know of veela?"
Harry was growing more irritated with her manner by the second. "Not much. Just that you can enthrall men, and you can turn into birds."
She snorted contemptuously. "Zat is a razzer rude summary."
"I'm sorry. I don't know much about you. What's it got to do with my scar?"
"Veela can sense and manipulate magique. Zat is what our allure is, at its core. We can use it to control men, oui, but we use it to sense uzzer magique too. Veela make excellent curse breakers, when we are allowed to be."
"And?"
"Your scar—it is a curse. A very dark one. I don't know what, but I am certain."
"Oh." A chill ran down Harry's spine. Dumbledore had never really explained the oddities of his scar to him.
"I want my maman to examine it. No one 'as talked to you about it?"
"Not really. It does react badly to certain kinds of magic." Like Voldemort's presence, he thought, but kept it to himself.
Fleur nodded. "Perhaps zis is 'ow my family can repay you. Will you allow her to examine it?"
"I suppose so."
She smiled. "Merci."
The silence grew awkward again. He didn't know what to say, and thought it best to take his leave before things got any stranger.
"Well, thank you for showing me around, Fleur, and for your offer. I don't want to take up any more of your time."
She watched as he stood and made his way toward the door. "You are quite welcome, 'Arry, but I 'ave set aside ze entire evening. You needn't go unless you wish to."
He swallowed a sigh. If he left, it implied he didn't want to be in her presence, which would probably be considered rude even by the French. But she made him uncomfortable, despite her great beauty, and she didn't seem to enjoy his company much either.
"Er, okay. If you're sure."
When she inclined her head politely, he reluctantly returned to his seat.
He had no idea how to make small talk with her. Perhaps something about the Tournament?
"You are an unusual boy," she said, cutting off his thoughts.
"Thank you? You're very French."
She smirked and then started laughing. The sound made his heart skip a beat. Even her laughter was alluring. She patted her chest as she calmed down.
"I deserved zat. Do you truly not wish to sleep wiz me?" she asked.
Harry almost rolled his eyes. She made him feel like a lesser being whose company she was forced to keep, and yet she seemed insulted that he didn't demand to sleep with her.
"Fleur, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not going to sleep with you because you feel a family obligation or something, no matter how gorgeous you are."
She smiled and he tried not to be too dazzled by it. A wave of unnatural desire washed over him, making his head swim. He suddenly felt the need to impress her. Perhaps he should tell her about the basilisk? He stubbornly pushed the thought away.
"What was that?"
She crossed her legs. "Like I said, an unusual boy. You're not even drooling."
"I don't appreciate you doing that," he growled, "and I can resist the imperius curse."
"My apologies," she said, though her smile made it a lie. "But my allure and ze imperius are not ze same."
"I threw off the veela allure at the World Cup."
Fleur laughed. "Zose were cheerleaders, and zey were not trying to control anyone. Even so, a dozen veela affected an entire stadium. You do not find zat impressive?"
"I suppose."
"I could make you follow me around like a dog, 'Arry. You would gladly lick my feet. You do not believe me?"
"No, I don't."
"You are very confident."
"I'm stubborn. And you're vain."
She smiled and lifted a foot in his direction. "We shall see. Would you like to test yourself?"
"You mean you want to enthrall me?"
"Wiz your permission, oui. You have not felt what I can do."
Harry had finally had enough of whatever game she was playing with him. "Why? When I walked in here, you were irritated that I might want to sleep with you. Now you seem irritated that I don't. I don't get it."
"Maybe I am simply curious."
Or maybe you're a spoiled brat, he thought. He steeled himself, preparing to throw off an imperius curse. "Fine, then. Hit me with it."
She smirked. "I won't take advantage of you. Well, too much. I just wish to make a point."
Immediately the most pleasant sensation he had ever felt washed over him. It was a gentle caress, warm and blissful, and he never wanted it to end. He looked at Fleur's face, and her beauty overwhelmed him. Her hair flowed around her in an unseen breeze and her eyes almost glowed. She was unearthly, a goddess, and the only thing that mattered in life was pleasing her.
He was on his feet and stumbling toward her before he was even aware of it. She smiled, and it made her face so beautiful he couldn't stand it. He felt suffocated by the desire to please her. He dropped to his knees and she extended her bare foot to him.
"Suck my toes, mon cheri," she whispered. "Zey need you."
Her big toe was in his mouth a moment later, and he suckled from it as if it were the most precious flesh on earth. He grabbed her heel to draw her foot closer, and peppered her other toes with little kisses. Her giggle brought him to his senses.
Why was Fleur's toe in his mouth? Sure, she was beautiful, but—fuck.
He blinked and pulled his face away from her. It took more willpower than anything he had done in his life. The desire to lick her foot from heel to toe intensified to the point that it was almost painful to resist, but he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes.
"Stop," he hissed.
She did so at once. He breathed heavily and opened his eyes to find her smiling at him. She leaned back on her hands with an insufferably smug expression.
"I told you so."
"Fuck."
He lifted himself from the ground and returned to his seat. He was furious with himself for allowing her to overwhelm him so easily. That had indeed been different from the imperius. The pleasure of her allure was more sensual and less demanding. It felt as if it were something he desperately wanted to do. Perhaps if she had given him an outrageous command, he would have been able to resist completely, but even so…she had proven her point. She had challenged him and won.
"I resisted," he grumbled. "At the end."
"You did. You were much stronger zan I expected, but it was not a fair fight."
"Why not?"
She shrugged. "You are powerful, but you are young. Your libido still grows wiz your magique. You are not in love or married, and you 'ave no children. When you are older, like my papa, you will be able to resist. But zere is not a boy in zis school I could not control."
He huffed, still angry with himself and her.
She smiled at the look on his face. "Don't pout, 'Arry. You did much better zan Roger. He behaved like a buffoon and I never even tried to enthrall 'im. He would 'ave passed out from what I just did to you. Clearly I chose ze wrong date."
"What's to stop you from enthralling half the school?"
"My desire to prove I am a respectable witch? Now you see why ze veela are so feared. We were hunted almost to extinction centuries ago."
"Why?"
"An evil veela is very dangerous. It is why we live mostly togezzer, and police ourselves. It is for our protection and everyone else's. Zey only let me attend Beauxbatons because my papa is so important in ze government. It 'as not stopped most of my peers from hating me."
He pondered the situation from her point of view and some of his resentment bled away. "I'm sorry. I had no idea."
"It is not your fault. I did not mean to upset you. I just do not like being dismissed."
"Says the witch who likes calling me a 'leetle boy.'"
She pouted. "Forgive me. I am frustrated wiz being in zis cold, ugly place, wiz zis tournament, wiz zeze people, wiz everything."
"And now you find yourself in debt to a British school boy. How humiliating."
"Oui. You zink me a bitch, don't you?"
He shrugged. There was no real reason to say it out loud.
"You would be too, if you were me."
"Why?"
"Because I can do nothing to earn zeir respect," she said, gesturing toward the rest of the carriage. "I am hated and worshiped. Women believe zey want to be worshiped. Zey do not."
He nodded, waiting on her to continue.
"When men are desperate for your attention, drooling on you like pathetique animals, soon you begin to see zem zat way. As leetle boys to be led around by zere little pricks. You learn zat only a few are worthy of your attention. Ze rest are just toys to use for your amusement and zen discard."
"That's pretty damn cynical."
"And you are a human, not a veela. You would not understand," she said bitterly. "Why must I be ze one to beg for zeir acceptance?"
Her attitude finally made some sense to him, even if he thought her a touch cruel and more than a touch arrogant. She wanted respect, and she could never know if she got it because of her merits or her veela heritage.
"I don't understand what it's like to be a veela, but I know what it's like to be hated for no reason. I know what it's like to be worshiped for something you can't control."
"Perhaps. I am sorry for speaking zis way to you. It was not my intention."
"It's alright. I think I understand you better now."
She tilted her head and examined him. He couldn't help but feel like a bug under a microscope.
"I am curious. Would you sleep wiz me if I asked you to?"
"Why? You weren't interested before you owed me. I don't think you're really interested now."
"You are not my type, but zere is a dearth of suitable lovers for me. I would not guess you to be skilled. Are you?"
Harry couldn't stop his laugh. Merlin, she was condescending. He was again forcefully reminded of Daphne Greengrass. He would have to recommend that she take lessons from Fleur.
"I haven't had any complaints."
"Veela are hard to please."
"With that attitude, I don't doubt it."
Her eyes flashed with amusement. "Very well. I am inviting you to my bed, 'Arry. Separate from my debt to you. Do you wish to stay?"
He shook his head in disbelief. An actual, honest-to-God veela was propositioning him for sex, even if he didn't much care for her. How had this become his life?
"One rule," he said. "No allure. No more toe-sucking. I'm not your sex toy."
"I can't control it well when I am aroused. It is fueled by my desire."
"Then just don't use it intentionally."
"I can agree to zat."
He smiled and began undressing himself. She pointed her wand at her Beauxbatons uniform and it slowly unbuttoned itself. Her clothing seemed to come alive, removing itself from her so she could easily step out of it. It didn't stop until she was standing before him completely nude.
"Merlin, I have got to learn that spell," he whispered.
His heart raced as he looked her over. Her body was slim. Her breasts were smaller than he would have guessed but still full. Her nipples were a deep pink, almost purple. Her skin was flawless, but there was something strange about it. It was too perfect, too supple. It almost seemed lit from within.
A powerful wave of desire washed over him and he instantly grew hard. The smirk on her face reminded him to finish undressing.
She looked him over from head to toe when he was finished.
"More zan acceptable," she said. "You are not disappointed, I 'ope?"
He swallowed. "You're fucking amazing."
She smirked and he drew closer to her. She reached down to caress his cock and he almost felt like he would pass out. He felt an overwhelming desire to kiss her. He captured her lips in his and soon their tongues were playing. He lost himself in the sensation, barely able to think. Her tongue was unbelievably soft, so sensuous he almost felt like he was under the influence of lust potion. He pushed the feeling away and tried to regain his senses. He could already tell this was going to be a challenge, and he didn't intend to lose to her again. He pulled away panting.
"I'm about to worship your body," he said, "but not because I'm enthralled. I'm in charge of your pleasure tonight. Not you."
She smiled. "Is zat so, leetle boy?"
"It is. Get on your back, French girl."
She laughed and retreated to the bed, obeying his command. She spread her legs and he breathed out roughly at the sight. Even the thin stripe of hair between her legs was a gorgeous silver. It rested over a pair of glistening pink lips that were the most inviting thing he had ever seen.
She reached a finger between her legs and gently caressed her lips. It came away wet with her arousal. "I am waiting."
Harry joined her on the bed and urgently buried his face between her legs. She laughed again, and he felt another wave of desire wash over him. He was uncertain whether it was hers or his, but it didn't matter. He rubbed his nose in little circles around her clit, taking in her scent. It was sweet, less musky than other girls but somehow more primal. It reminded him of honey.
He buried his tongue inside her as far as it would go, desperately needing to please her, and then replaced it with his fingers. His tongue traced a random pattern across her engorged clit, coating her with her own wetness, while he stroked her unimaginably soft walls with fervor.
She moaned and he felt a wave of desire that definitely came from her. It was needy and desperate, and made him want to stop moving and revel in it. He continued stroking her almost reluctantly.
"Mon Dieu," she moaned. "'Arry, I need you."
"Not yet," he said, stubbornly pushing away the urgency of her allure. He teased the edges of her clit, not pleasuring it directly. He could feel it throbbing against his thumb.
"Now."
He smiled smugly up at her. He felt the command deep inside him. He wanted to obey it, but could resist the compulsion. It was getting easier to do so the more he felt it—easier to distinguish his desire from hers.
Instead he teased her soft walls with his fingertips and gently rubbed his thumb across her clit, making her writhe. The lips of her pussy were swollen and now gripped his fingers tightly.
"Only if you beg," he said.
She literally growled, and something predatory flashed in her eyes. Her features grew briefly sharper.
"Now."
"No," he said, battling against the force of the command. Despite her promise, she was focusing her allure on him. She was obviously used to getting her way.
Her eyes narrowed and her chest heaved. Something pulled on his magic but he closed his eyes and resisted it, reveling in the pure bliss of the feeling and knowing he was in charge of her body.
"You can't resist forever," she said warningly.
"Beg."
He teased her with his fingertips once more. She was so wet he could hear it. She moaned and closed her eyes. She blasted him once more with her allure before conceding defeat.
"Please. I want you."
"Close enough."
Harry kissed her clit one last time and then climbed atop her. She spread her legs wider and he captured her mouth with his. She moaned again as the tip of his cock slipped inside her and he felt like he might pass out. He pushed in further and tried to focus. Her softness and warmth were amazing. She gripped him like a velvet glove and it was all he could do to find the willpower to move. No wonder she had to take control of the men around her. He felt as if his brain were mush.
"How does my chatte feel?" she whispered in his ear.
"What?"
"My pussy."
"Like the best thing ever," he said, unable to form a more coherent thought.
"Zen worship it wiz your English cock," she said, and he felt the hair on his neck stand up. That had certainly been a command, but not one he wanted to disobey.
He moved inside her slowly, withdrawing a little more each time before plunging back inside her. His body hugged hers tightly, and he rubbed against her clit with every penetration. Each time, she made a little noise that felt like a siren song deep in his mind. She wrapped her arms around him and dug her fingernails into his back. He didn't think it was his imagination that they grew sharper.
As his pace sped up, so did the power of her allure. When he could stand it no longer, he gave up and let it overpower him. Her desire guided his movements. It again reminded him of being under the influence of lust potion. Except it was somehow tender and primal at once, and didn't make his body feel desperate for release. It was like a state of nirvana that he never wanted to end.
She writhed beneath him, making little noises that drove him wild. His desire was so strong, he couldn't tell who was in control of whose body.
Afterwards he could not have said how long he lasted. He had been too lost in whatever hazy universe she had created. But he definitely remembered the exact moment she climaxed. Her desire spiked so sharply that it felt like it might burn out his mind. He whimpered as she moaned and pulled him tighter, thrusting into him and grinding her clit against him. His own release followed, and he spurted inside her copiously, panting with each burst. Each one felt like he was dying an ecstatic little death.
It took him almost a minute to regain his senses. Her body was still wrapped around his, and both were breathing heavily. Her allure slowly faded as she stopped panting. He found the strength to roll off her. She lay on her back next to him, her silver hair unkempt and splayed across the pillow.
"Dear God," he whispered to the ceiling.
She didn't answer for a moment. "Je m'excuse…I…I am sorry. I lost control of eet."
"Not a problem. How was that?"
"It was passable, I suppose."
He laughed. "Merlin, you're full of yourself."
She turned and smiled at him, a smile so genuine that it was almost blinding in its beauty. "I am teasing. Zat was magnifique. You may visit me whenever you wish."
He sighed contentedly. "I'll keep it in mind. I have a busy schedule."
She raked her sharp nails across his chest. "You will visit again, and you will speak of zis to no one."
"Are all French women this demanding, or is it a veela thing?"
She kissed the tip of his nose. "You may not be a leetle boy, but you are still a British cunt wiz awful 'air. It is not wise to upset a veela."
He couldn't stop his laughter. She rolled on top of him and blasted him once more with her allure. It felt less overpowering. He smiled, very aware of two things: that the night was just beginning, and that one day soon, he would be more than a match for Fleur Delacour.
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Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed Fleur. Next up, Harry has an enlightening conversation with Apolline Delacour, and Cho gets her birthday wish. I'll be busy on a trip this week, so the next update might take 9-10 days. Don't worry, though—I'm already many chapters ahead on this baby.
As always, don't hesitate to tell me what you like, what you don't, and what you want to see.