STORY 7: Fleur Delacour, Beauxtbatons' haughtiest student seeks out the dark rites of the universally mad, bad and dangerous Gryffindor House. It was a mistake she won't regret making.

Fleur Delacour, in her week or so at Hogwarts, had noticed something more than slightly odd. She was quite used to the scowls of the envious girls and the slack-jawed staring of entranced boys. Yet one quarter of the population of Hogwarts didn't partake of this. They tended to stroll in casually, always the most scruffily dressed of the Hogwarts houses, eat whatever they liked - usually odd combinations and what smelt like high-proof alcohol at twenty paces - while every other student twitched at the slightest noise from their table. Apart from the odd appraising look, none stared, scowled, drooled or otherwise reacted to her magical allure.

She voiced this to a group of Ravenclaw girls she was on reasonable terms with and was surprised by the answers.

"Look Delacour. We don't talk about the Gryffindors. We don't think about the Gryffindors. We don't look at the Gryffindors. As far as we are concerned, there is no such thing as a Gryffindor. This way we hope they will treat us the same." Marietta Edgecombe replied snappishly.

"Mari." Cho Chang said reprovingly, then explained. "Fleur, what you don't realise is that when we're sorted into our houses, Ravenclaw gets the intellectuals, Hufflepuff the team players, Slytherin gets the odd cunning person, but mostly the incompetent mouth-breathing knuckleheaded evil. Gryffindor is where the unhinged ones get stuck. In a nice tower far away from anyone else who might get caught in the blast radius."

"Blast radius?!" Fleur couldn't believe it.

"See those three over there. Three years ago the black-haired one set the defence professor on fire, quite fatally I might add." began Cho.

"Not to mention he can speak to snakes, attacked a Hufflepuff in front of the whole school with a spitting cobra." Marietta added.

"We think he also let a basilisk loose on the school, and only stopped it when the defence professor caught him." Cho continued. "That was two academic years ago, about a sixteen months ago. The ginger next to him got poor Professor Lockhart though, obliviated until his brains dribbled out of his ears. The girl with the messy hair, last year we think she turned the defence professor into a werewolf, then cursed the potions master and tried to feed him to the werewolf - they'd already nearly succeeded in feeding his godson to a rampaging Hippogryff. That didn't work, but when the potions professor revealed his colleague as a werewolf and implicated the trio in helping a deranged terrorist escape, he mysteriously managed to blow himself into bite-sized pieces in his private laboratory. He was replaced by Lily Potter, black-hair's mother."

"Probably the work of the redhead's twin brothers." Marietta suggested darkly. "The three of them were implicated running an exotic magical animal smuggling ring three years ago after two trolls, a Cerberus and a baby dragon found their way into the castle."

"The freckled guy, he's Irish and we're certain is responsible for the constant supply of alcohol to the Gryffindors. We don't mess with him as Gryffindors without booze is not good. Next to him, yeah, the black kid, he's a fan of a muggle sport which involves lots of fans getting together with the fans of other teams to try and beat each-other into a coma and trash whichever city they're in. The pudgy boy, he's an ace at anything involving plants and we think may have been responsible for an infestation of Devil's Snare which overran an entire floor of the castle during the summer after his first year."

"That's why we don't talk about, think about or otherwise interact with Gryffindors." Marietta nodded. "They probably have some horrific dark magic artifact which protects them from outside influence."

Fleur nodded, that sounded reasonable. Her campaign to find whatever allowed them to resist her would begin as soon as dinner was finished. She would find it and destroy it. Her pride as a Veela allowed nothing less.

Fleur's quest didn't even take until the end of dinner to produce results. Her little helper, a petite girl called Luna Lovegood and her own skills as a budding charms mistress had helped her listen in on the chatter of the Gryffindor girls.

They had artifacts, the 'Swords of Gryffindor' around which they performed some sort of Rite of Worship. Given what the name Godric Gryffindor meant in French history (a ruthless mercenary warlord who carved a bloody path across history from the Shetlands to the furthest reaches of the Byzantine Empire), Fleur could easily believe that his swords could be part of some dark ritual magic.

She even had identified the girl who would be carrying out the magic that night, and that's how Fleur found herself creeping through the corridors of the castle under a disillusionment charm as the rest of the school was finishing eating, her mark had left a few minutes early, stating that she'd 'get fed plenty after dinner'. They climbed through six floors to the Gryffindor tower, through a series of doors and small rooms with nothing but more doors until they came to one more door.

The Gryffindor girl slipped a hand in front of herself, and from Fleur's position she could not tell what she was doing. Then the hand reappeared, and she ran two glistening fingers down the front of the door, which unlocked and opened just far enough for the Gryffindor witch to go in and for Fleur to slip in as the door swung closed and locked itself noisily.

There were no more doors, so Fleur brandished her wand, and with a flash of red, the Gryffindor girl was unconscious on the heap of cushions that she had been standing over. With her mark unconscious, Fleur finally had a chance to look around the chamber.

It wasn't what she expected. A small space, with a springy floor under heaps of carpet, strewn with cushions. All in various shades of red. A clock over the door showed both the time and had a glowing green hand marking an hour ahead, though it seemed not to move at all. Not at all what she expected of a space for ritualised dark magic.

Then she spotted a small curtain hanging over an area at about waist-height. Fleur padded over to it and gently lifted it, and was surprised to hear the sounds of dozens of students returning from their meal. She realised she had the perfect opportunity to spy on the infamous Gryffindors.

Eventually she decided simply to kneel next to the curtain, listening to the chatter as best she could. Fleur strained to hear them, leaning forward until the curtain was brushing her cheek. Later she would realise the trigger was the soft velvet touching her lips, but in that moment she was filled with panic when the curtain vanished suddenly, and a hole appeared in a vortex of magic, piercing the wall, which could only be a centimetre thick at that point. Then there was a light chime that sounded in both rooms, and the chatter stopped.

It was only when the light was blotted out and the hole filled by a throbbing cock, long enough that she could wrap both hands around it and still have length to spare, that Fleur realised what should have been obvious from the start. The 'Swords of Gryffindor' were of flesh, not steel, the worship was largely non-magical, and the room she'd stepped into was the Gryffindor Gloryhole.

She glanced behind her. The green hand on the clock hadn't moved. It was indicating a time fifty minutes away. The door was locked, and were she a betting person, Fleur would put a fistful of Galleons on the lock being connected to the green indicator on the clock.

She glanced back to the thick length in front of her. Obviously the Gryffindor girl she'd stunned had been here to worship her housemates dicks. She couldn't revive the girl without her raising the alarm. She couldn't leave, and she couldn't allow them to know that there was an interloper in their gloryhole. Fleur steeled herself as there was an impatient tap on the wall. Taking the cock in front of her in her hands and pressed the head of it against her lips, brushing it back and forth, then she opened her mouth.

"Fucking hell." cursed the voice on the other side of the wall as Fleur wrapped her lips around his cock, her tongue swirling around his cockhead, feeling every throb and tasting every inch as she pushed deeper on his stiff cock.

She carefully covered his cock in a coating of saliva, refusing to acknowledge how her cunt grew wet, and how much she enjoyed the taste of a thick meaty manhood filling her mouth. Fleur pulled back up off the shaft, unconsciously making a wet pop as she reluctantly released the cockhead from her mouth, puckering her lips to deliver a wet smooch right onto the tip of the cock.

She then stood up and bent over, noting with a little surprise as she braced against the wall that two handholds appeared. Now with her mouth and throat in line with the gloryhole, Fleur once more opened her mouth and let the cock ride along her tongue, drooling rich, salty pre-cum as it went. Upon feeling the head of the cock press against the back of her mouth, she pulled back an inch or two, then pushed forward with her whole bodyweight and swallowed.

Her throat opened for the invading shaft as Fleur enjoyed three major benefits of her species. No uncontrolled gag reflex, every kind of sexual contact being pleasurable and tastebuds most of the way down her throat (the term 'foodslut' had been used more than once at Beauxbatons). She revelled in the sensation of a thick, veiny shaft filling her throat. A moan built in her chest as she impaled her throat on the cock over and again, pulling back until she had only the the head remaining before slurping it down so far that her lips met the loins of her partner-in-sloppy-throatsex.

A twist of her tongue around the churning balls finished it. The cock bucked in her mouth and she felt it throb and jerk in her throat. Fleur could feel it as a load of rich jizz, bittersweet and salty was pumped down her throat, vibrating as she urged her partner to use her as a cumdump. Every pulse of the balls on her tongue translated into a spurt of hot sperm coating her throat. She sucked desperately on the shaft in her mouth and swallowed, working her muscles on the cock until she had every drop of cum sliding down her throat.

Her partner pulled back, the sensation of a thick cock being pulled from her bulging throat near-orgasmic for Fleur. She stopped him from retreating from the gloryhole immediately and did something she never would have thought of doing. She gave the underside of the cockhead a kiss which turned into a full open-mouthed French kiss. One last smooch followed and she finally released him.

Glancing back, Fleur was alarmed to note that only eight minutes had passed. She then noticed a chest pop into existence next to her. Cautiously she opened it to reveal a compartment full of sex apparatus. Toys, restraints, lubricants. Her eyes were drawn to the toys, for there were every kind she could think of there. The most faded in colour, with rings painted around its girth in nail varnish, complete with initials, was a dildo which, as a young lady of good breeding, Fleur rapidly identified as a two-foot horse cock.

She stared at it for a long moment, but it was the rings of nail varnish and the initials, taunting her that drove her to pick it up. She nearly dropped it when it briefly lit up with a golden glow, but as that died away, she realised that it was slick from the flared, blunt head all the way to the sculpted sack at the base. Her decision already made, she hit the bottom with a sticking charm, then paused, and with a vengeful grin, hit it with a permanent sticking charm and a shield of permanence just to make sure before placing it right where any girl would kneel at the gloryhole.

Fleur chucked her wand onto the nearby cushions after casting a lubricating charm on herself, then knelt down on one knee, her other foot flat on the floor as she lined up the blunt, flared head with her asshole and pressed down. Her asshole strained, protesting the blunt force pressing against it. She mewled, a combination of debauched ecstacy and the pain as her asshole was breached.

Fleur's poor little asshole flexed and resisted, but the the determined veela pressed down. A muffled scream announced the moment her ass parted around the flared head of the horse dildo and she began sinking onto it. The veins and ridges stretched her still further, delicious pleasure with every one that passed her anus.

She could feel every inch up her tight rectum as she gingerly lowered her other leg and knelt on both knees. Gently flexing her hips, Fleur began riding to horse dildo, unnoticing of the loud ticking. She had not noticed, but for a minute, a thick black cock had been awaiting her attentions, but as a minute thirty passed, the enchanted room took action. A ring gag formed at the base of the shaft, attached firmly to the wall by short cords, and at the two minute mark, straps appeared and locked around the back of Fleur's head. They then shrank quickly, forcibly pulling her to the gloryhole, and the cock protruding from it.

Unable to resist, Fleur could do nothing more than take every inch of cockflesh that she could until the throbbing head was lodged in her gullet, unable to go any deeper thanks to the angle of her throat as she knelt there. The cock-drunk Veela reacted not by resisting, but by unbuttoning her pale blue silk blouse so she could drool her way through a sloppy throatfuck without staining her blouse.

It was a wise move as her partner realised she was restrained, and began pumping his cock into her mouth, enjoying the enthusiastic tonguing of his shaft and the suction Fleur was applying to the manhood filling her mouth. Soon her mouth was being emptied of all but the throbbing black cockhead, then he'd thrust his hips forward, his cock being buried in her gullet. The relentless pounding of her mouth made Fleur rock back and forth, her ass stretching ever more as she felt the horsecock reshaping her guts around it.

Whatever controlled her restraints waited until she anally-impaled herself into a wet, choking, drooling orgasm before dispelling the ring gag. Fleur took the opportunity to bob her head against the thrusts of the black cock into her mouth, slurping on it with unhinged cocklust until she felt her partner's orgasm building. She slipped her head off his dick, frantically kissing and licking him from head to balls, her slender hands rubbing his shaft around the path of her mouth. As with the last one, she brought the head of his cock to her lips, engaging in a messy makeout session until he peaked.

The torrent of jizz that erupted from the black cock coated the delicate, pale features of her face from brow to chin in a sticky glaze of thick pearly cum, a hot, dripping mask displaying the virility of the black cock Fleur had just been mouthfucked by and the unhinged debauchery of the anally-impaled Veela slut.


Fleur happily slurped down a thick load of cum, enjoying the taste of a man's seed and the sensation of it sliding down her throat, unknowing and uncaring of how long she'd spent sucking cocks and drinking cum at the Gryffindor Gloryhole. She'd not even noticed the Gryffindor girl awaken from her stunned condition and leave, wide-eyed at the sight of the haughtiest of Beauxbaton's clique of untouchable princesses choking herself on another Gryffindor cock.

She had rocked her ass deeper on the horse dildo, which now had a good fourteen inches buried in her rectum, nearly reaching the penultimate record-leading fifteen inches ring signed HJG, though miles behind the record holder's eighteen-inch deep ring signed LP. However, Fleur realised that despite spending a minute waiting, there was no more cock coming through the Gloryhole.

Regretfully, she stopped fucking herself on the horse dildo and slowly drew herself up it, managing to get one foot on the floor and levered her ruined anus up the dildo. Finally, it had to stretch once more to pass the head. Fleur managed a tired mewl as she finally pulled free, her asshole clenching on air as it sought something to fill it.

Wobbling to her feet, she conjoured a mirror, revelling in the sight that greeted her. Her perfect mane of silver blonde hair was ruined, tangled, and splattered with cum. Fleur had a faint memory of wrapping it around a cock and jerking it off into the mane that was her pride and joy. A glaze of cum covered every inch of her face, and plenty dripped onto her tits, or she'd painted her tits with their cocks herself. Her lips were sore but she still managed a smooch at the sight in the mirror. They'd seen their fair share of jizz, pumped into her mouth so she could swirl it around and swallow it, or even just fucked down her throat.

She admired every angle, then froze. Lounging in the corner was the son of the Lily Potter, the Hogwarts Potions Professor. His name, she recalled was Harry, the infamous Gryffindor ringleader, a young man of some fame in Britain.

"Hello Fleur." he greeted her mildly, but with a strong undertone of... something. "I wish I could say I was surprised when dear Fay came running, telling me stories of being stunned, the Princess of Beauxbatons ambushing her to take her place at the Gloryhole... but I'm afraid I wasn't, though I hadn't expected you to be this quick about it. I'm afraid knocking out my housemates isn't a nice thing to do, and do you know what we do with Bad Girls in Gryffindor?"

"Non." was all Fleur could manage, as Harry advanced on her, taking her with a firm hand on her ass, and simply conjuring a portal straight through the wall.

"They get bred." he responded as they stepped through, to be greeted by a mass of Gryffindors, male and female both. The latter already had their cocks in out, and a small cluster parted to reveal a pale, petite girl on her knees, a thickset boy plunging into her widespread pink asshole.

Fleur could only recognise her by the Ravenclaw tie, which is all she was wearing, and the distinctive ear rings. Her face was so coated in a mask of dripping seed that she was otherwise unrecognisable.

"Luna?" she gasped. She'd been instrumental in pointing out the right people to hit with listening charms, and urged her to follow the Gryffindor girl, Fay.

"Sorry Fleur." Luna actually sounded mournful. "I didn't want you to hurt my friends in your ill-advised quest. I thought you'd just give up when... I mean-"

"Non. It was... not unpleasant." Fleur admitted as she was led over to a padded bench.

"Sadly Fleur decided to attack Fay, so now she's going to spend tonight locked into the breeding bench for the House of Gryffindor." Harry announced, pushing her back onto the bench and forcing her legs back until her head was between her knees, and her arms outstretched under her thighs.

He finished by cuffing her wrists to the bench. The Veela's gaping asshole and unfucked cunt were turned up for anyone to fill with their cocks. Finally, a chocolate-haired girl wearing a figure-hugging Gryffindor quidditch shirt and nothing else presented Harry with an old-fashioned seal stamp, which he pressed to Fleur's mound a few inches above her slit, leaving a runic ring around the symbol of a griffin.

"There you go slut, that will make sure you're properly bred tonight." Harry announced, baring himself. She recognised his cock as the one she'd had through the gloryhole first.

The thrust of his cock into her quim delivered her an ecstacy of risk. Fleur could feel the magic of the seal doing its work, all her contraceptive measures simply having the magic sucked out of them and it all being pumped into her womb, magically driving her fertility. Harry leaned over her as he buried himself to the hilt in her cunt.

"This bench has seen a few uses, every year Gryffindor's head girl or seventh year prefect gets locked into it the night before graduation. My mother was one, but like my dad, I'm a little possessive. He modified the seal to make sure his seed took." Harry murmured in her ear. "And I decided that tonight was the night for anothet generation of Potters to be bred into a cock-addicted slut cuffed to the breeding bench. Don't you agree?"

"Baise moi! Feconder moi!"