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-Prologue-

It would be cliché to say that I saw her the moment Fleur walked in the door, just as it would be both cliché and trite to say that it was love at first sight. Both would also be untrue.

After all, I knew her, we competed together in the Triwizard Tournament.

The truth is that I have no idea when she walked in; I was sitting at the bar, my back to the door, watching the Quidditch game in the mirror above the bar., and I barely noticed her when she slid onto the bar stool two places to my left. Bored and horny after a sexless week of meetings and negotiations, with time to kill on a Thursday night before a Friday morning international portkey, I'd hit the hotel bar with a vague hope that maybe an opportunity would arise.

Hotels, it had the standard bar and lounge that catered to traveling businessmen – and to the hookers who also sought that clientele; I'm sure hotel management doesn't encourage that trade but is wise enough to recognize the symbiosis and not discourage it either. Looking to spend some time with a beautiful woman and get laid, I wasn't averse to paying for it if necessary, although my first choice would have been to find a woman that was also looking for a good time. A realist, I recognized that the former was far more likely than the latter.

In any event, when I did first see her it was in the mirror below the television, the mirror bars use to reflect all the colorful, sparkling liquor bottles, a visual Veela's song ensnaring the weak-willed with their mind-fogging and emotion-numbing elixirs.

The bar's lights gleaming off her platinum hair was my Veela's song, far more powerful than anything that could be poured from a bottle; the glossy, soft thickness of her glorious hair sent tingles to all the right places in my body. I wanted to touch her, to run my fingers through her hair and breathe her soft scent.

As I said, it wasn't love at first sight. Less than two years removed from a bitter and contentious divorce I wasn't looking for love and very much doubted I would ever put myself through that again. It was, however, lust at first sight; for me, this petite woman with the shimmering blond hair held hypnotic allure.

I'd been about to give up, bored with the game, the only women in evidence a couple of hard, worn-looking working girls that had failed to capture my interest. They'd been quickly picked up by a couple of guys more desperate than I, but now, suddenly, with the appearance of this petite, gloriously-coiffed beauty, my chances seemed much less remote and my arousal spiked.

Not knowing how to approach her after so many years I mentally shrugged, accepting that possibility, and turned to look at her. She was stunningly beautiful, tiny and exotic, she took on the features typical of Veela, but that wasn't what had first caught my eye and my gaze soon returned to her hair, thick and glistening blond, razor-cut ithat fell just to her bare shoulders. It was professionally mussed in a sexy bed-head look, rich, silky hair which framed her flawless face.

In the same mirror where I had first seen her, she saw me looking at her and swiveled her stool to face me, meeting my lustful gaze with an open, friendly smile, showing white, even teeth between full, kissable lips. Her makeup was subtle, minimal, and flattering. I was stunned for a second time, her perfect China-doll face and sapphire eyes taking my breath away.

She nodded toward the mirror. "Who's winning"

"The Raiders, unfortunately."

She laughed, a sultry, musical sound. "You're a Chiefs fan"

I shrugged. "No, just a fan of whoever is playing the Raiders. I can't stand them." Needless to say, Ginny was the seeker for them.

She laughed again. "I see." Fleur slid off her bar stool, her back to me in a move no doubt calculated to display her pert little ass, firm and perfect, and moved to the stool next to my own. "May I"

"Sure, by all means" I was already envisioning her on hands and knees in front of me where I could look down at that perfect little ass as I slid into her tight pussy. I felt myself getting hard, and her scent, subtle and feminine, fueled the flames.

She wore a short, strapless sheath dress in a deep red, the neckline low across the upper swell of her small breasts, nipples hard and eye-catching; scooped lower in the back, it displayed an alluring expanse of perfect, flawless skin from just below her luscious hair down to the smooth northern hemisphere of that fine ass.

Fleur divorced Bill after two years of marriage. This was preceded by a major scandal in the French ministry that led to the fall of the Delacour family. I wondered if this led Fleur to reach for money from horny magicians.

Her dress barely reached past her ass, and it rode up as she climbed up onto the stool. She tugged it down, but not before it had slid up almost to her hip; I'd seen no trace of panties, not even a tiny thong, and the thought of her in that tight little dress, pussy bare, sent a surge of blood to my swelling cock.

To my amazement, she started talking Quidditch She knew the intricacies of the game, and while I found myself chatting with her comfortably and casually I also found myself enchanted by her sultry velvet voice, and by the way her eyes so eagerly searched my face as she hung on my every word.

Though I was hiding behind the illusion, there was a chance Veela's sharp sixth sense had informed her that we knew each other. But I wasn't going to tell her the truth after all. Now I was Lord Black, whose origins have been shrouded in mystery for years, which has almost become a game between me and the Daily Prophet

She was either well-practiced in the art of seduction, a seasoned pro at making the target of her attentions feel important and masculine, or she was just one of those women that are born with it, with the innate ability to charm any man. It was undeniably effective; I was finding her more attractive by the minute. She didn't need Allure for this.

She'd introduced herself as Flower, and I told hername, "Artur, Artur Black". I was beguiled by how easy she was to talk to, and how interesting. The near-instant rapport we seemed to have was unexpected, but I found myself enjoying it immensely as our conversation ran the gamut from sports to current events and even into our personal lives. My fatigue and boredom evaporated as I became thoroughly engrossed in her.

Fleur made the next move, touching my hand and then my knee; when I didn't object, her delicate hand wandered up my thigh. It wasn't yet a sexual touch, but it was intimate, and while I won't say I didn't enjoy it I recognized it for what it was, something between flirtation and seduction. Since that meshed perfectly with my own plans I encouraged it by touching her in return, softly stroking her forearm and then her bare shoulder. By that point, we both knew where things were headed.

Playing the game, I offered to buy her a drink. She accepted, and as I called Carl, the bartender over, she slipped off to "visit the little girl's room", promising to hurry back. She took her purse and I watched her walk away, enjoying the swing of her hair and the sexy sway of that tight little butt as she balanced on her tall heels.

Carl reached me as she turned the corner, disappearing, but he'd seen me watching her. "I see you met Flower."

"I did; she's stunning, and she seems very bright."

He nodded stoically. "Yeah, she's something special."

"Does she come in here often"

"Not as much as some of the other girls," he shrugged. "She's also very selective with the men she talks to, but she lit on you right away."

"My lucky day."

He laughed. "Apparently." He left to fix our drinks.