The Yule Ball
Hogwarts was louder than ever before. The deafening cacophony of screaming, cheering, and loud music from the Main Hall was enough to disturb the otherwise peacefully silent school grounds. Nevertheless, in a private bedchamber deep within the Beauxbatons carriage resting on the lawn, Roger Davies snored, fast asleep.
Fleur Delacour sat next to him, fuming. Her dress robes were strewn across the floor of her room, as were those of Davies. Never in her life had she been with such a disappointing lover! If only Diggory hadn't been snatched up before she could get to him. Cedric was handsome enough, but he was also a formidable wizard; after all, it was he who had been selected as the Hogwarts Triwizard Champion, and that required serious prowess. Davies paled in comparison.
She looked out the window and up at the moon, which shone pale light upon her exposed skin. A more competent wizard tended to be a more capable bedmate, Fleur reflected, so a night with Diggory would undoubtedly have been deeply satisfying. However, she had to admit, he was completely uninterested in her. Nor was he the most powerful male student Hogwarts had to offer. That Potter boy would do, perhaps…
No! She herself had called him nothing more than a little boy just weeks ago! Surely she couldn't be thinking of taking him to bed?
Yet, Fleur had to admit that young Potter had proven himself to be far more than just a "little boy". He already had a reputation, having survived an encounter with Lord Voldemort, the most dangerous wizard alive, three times. Rumor also had it that he could even produce a fully-fledged Patronus, despite being only fourteen.
And then, there was also the first trial. Fleur saw with her own eyes the pure skill with which handled his broomstick and his ferocious courage in luring the dragon away from its nest and swooping down to grab the Golden Egg. Harry Potter may only have been a boy, but he was no ordinary boy.
Fleur fell back against her pillow, her slender body aching for a proper tumble. Davies stirred beside her. She glanced at him, irritated. Based on what little she had gathered about Davies, she suspected she would be unable to keep him from blabbing about their little endeavor without giving him another round, which of course was completely out of the question. Something had to be done. Rolling back over, she grabbed her wand off the bedside table and aimed it at his forehead.
"Obliviate."
One week after the second trial
It was a Friday, and night was descending on Hogwarts. After dinner, Harry was walking across the grounds towards Hagrid's hut. He had been so busy with the tournament that he had completely forgotten to drop by, yet he knew Hagrid would understand the lapse in communication. It had been a while since he had visited Hagrid by himself, too, but it could not be helped; Hermione was studying in the library with Krum and Ron was busy sulking about the pair.
. "'Arry," said a familiar voice behind him.
Harry whipped around to find Fleur smiling at him. She was only about half a foot taller than him, yet her intimidating beauty made him feel as if she were towering over him.
"Fleur!", he stammered. "Is- is there something I can do for you?"
Her silvery golden hair tumbled down over her shoulders, resting on her satin blue Beauxbatons robes. Harry loved the way she wore those robes; unlike thick Hogwarts robes, which billowed out and fell past the knees, the Beauxbatons' attire clung tightly to Fleur, accentuating every curve on her sultry body.
"No," she replied, smiling devilishly. "But zere is something I can do for you."
Harry's heart was pounding against his chest as it did every time he spoke to the French beauty. He tried his best to regain his nerves, and replied, "Er- like what?"
She smirked. "I 'ave a gift for you. I 'ope it would be more zen enough to repay you for saving my sister."
"You don't have to-," he started hastily, but she placed a gloved finger against his lips. Fleur knew full well that Harry's heroics during the second trial were, although noble, completely unnecessary. The judges would not have dared harm a single hair on Gabrielle's head. Nevertheless, it was a good pretense with which she could get him into her bed. Besides, his clumsy attempts at modesty amused her.
"I insist," she responded, retracting her hand from his lips and beckoning to him. "Come."
Harry gulped. A deep fog had clouded his mind. He tried not to look down at her slender legs, where the robes left bare skin exposed all the way past her knees. His eyes strained to remain on her shapely face instead of on her chest, where she had left the top button of her robes suggestively undone. Harry struggled to keep her allure from overpowering him.
"Okay," he breathed. Hagrid could wait.
Fleur took his hand in hers and led him across the empty grounds. Harry was too fixated on her curvy derrière swaying as she walked to notice that she was leading him towards the Beauxbatons flying carriage. She pulled him in and from there into her room, closing the door behind her.
They stood in the middle of the room. Fleur, still clasping Harry's hand, was so close to him that he could feel her breathing into his hair. Her scent was overwhelming, their close contact causing Harry to sweat profusely. Being in a room with a bed and a veela was too much. His hormonal teenage mind began to put forth increasingly erotic thoughts, causing a small bulge in the front of his pants.
He looked around. "You get your own room?", he asked nervously. The room was simple and tasteful, with light blue walls and cream-coloured furniture. In the middle was a large queen-sized bed with a white frame and blue sheets.
"Oui," Fleur said conversationally. "Zey cannot trust ze uzzers to control zemselves in a room wiz me." She leaned closer to him and sexually whispered , "Besides, ze gift needs to be opened in private." Harry gulped.
Fleur deftly grabbed Harry's robes, pulling them off him and onto the floor. "You won't be needing zat," she said, and shoved him into the bed. He sat up quickly, his face turning a deep red. At this point, he was able to guess what his gift would be. His heart raced even faster in horny anticipation. Ron's face swam into his mind and he felt a stab of guilt, knowing his best friend was enraptured by Fleur and would be furiously jealous of him if he ever found out where Harry was spending the night. But Fleur's offer was just too good to turn down. He locked his doubt away in a deep recess of his mind, vowing never to tell Ron about tonight.
The veela seemed to know exactly what to do to trigger Harry's hormones. She placed a high-heeled foot on the bed, directly between his legs. The action had lifted the lower portion of her robes, giving Harry a small glimpse of her inner thigh. He was in a state of shock, unable to move and completely at the mercy of the French goddess. The bulge in his pants grew still larger.
"Are you ready for your gift, little boy?", Fleur asked mockingly. She pushed her foot even further towards him so that it rested gently against his lap. Harry gasped, trying to control himself.
Unable to speak, Harry simply nodded breathlessly. Fleur shoved her high-heeled foot to his chest and forced his back onto the bed. She slid expertly onto his lap, where his cock strained painfully against his underwear. Harry squirmed, trying to free himself and his erection, but Fleur held him firmly in place with her thighs.
Fleur smiled to herself. Yes, he was certainly still a boy, but she could show him how to be a man. She saw a savage, sensual beast awakening inside of him, one that she would take great pleasure in unlocking the full potential of.
Suddenly, she tossed her hair back and swooped down on him, forcing her mouth onto his, slamming his skinny arms against the bed with her gloved hands to keep him from moving. Harry's mouth was alive with the taste of her glossy red lips and he met her kiss clumsily and eagerly.
As their mouths attacked each other, Fleur let go of his arms and lifted his shirt, massaging his scrawny bare chest, rubbing his exposed ribs. She tore her mouth from his, sliding off his lap and pulling his pants down to his knees, leaving him in just his drawers. Harry groaned in wet anticipation, his legs shaking.
Fleur only smiled cruelly in reply to Harry's moans, and descended upon his lap. There, she tortured him mercilessly for what seemed like hours; licking, sucking, massaging the massive bulge of his underwear. Harry was so painfully hard that he was sure his drawers would tear in half. He wished more than anything that the cloth between their flesh would vanish and that it was his actual cock, not his underwear, that she pleasured with her mouth.
"Shit, Fleur, please…", he groaned, barely keeping control over his body.
The French veela lifted her beautiful head to oblige his request, throwing her hair behind her. Fleur marveled at how long Harry had kept himself from erupting, especially as a virgin. She pulled his underwear off his boyhood and it bounced up, fully erect. Some fluid was already leaking from its tip, but she licked it off him skillfully. Harry shuddered in reply.
Fleur admired his shaft, seductively twirling her finger around the tip. It was easily larger than average, and Harry already showed great control over it. After all, he hadn't even finished yet, even though it was his first time, and with a veela at that. Still, he couldn't hold out forever. Locking eyes with him, she kissed his tip and flattened her tongue against his boyhood. Then she began to suck it.
Harry jolted at the sensation of her warm, wet lips wrapping around his cock. After only a few seconds, she removed her mouth from him with a small pop. Harry whined in protest, but she grabbed his stem with her silky gloved hand and gave it a little squeeze. Harry had completely lost it at this point. Unable to stop himself, he gasped and spurted a good distance into the air, splattering Fleur's glove. She giggled, removing both gloves from her hands.
"We can't 'ave zat just yet, can we?", Fleur teased, grabbing his limp member with her now exposed hand. Giggling, she tugged him until he was back to full length, sliding her hands gracefully up and down his boyhood. He moaned with pleasure as she pumped his cock.
"Oh, Merlin's beard, Fleur," Harry cried. "Just fuck me already!"
She looked up at him from his lap, playfully pulling at him with a smile. "Not yet, 'Arry. Be patient," she chided. "Besides, your cock is all dirty. I need to clean it."
And so she did. Fleur descended upon him, licking every last dribble of his cum off of his shaft and smacked her lips when she was done. Then the veela slid her mouth back onto his cock, sucking him so forcefully it was almost painful. Harry was in heaven; he thought he could die of pleasure.
Suddenly, her wet mouth began to move down his shaft, consuming it fully, burying her nose in the black tangle of his pubic hair. There, her head began to bob up and down, never once pulling off him.
Fleur sucked his cock endlessly. For the most part, Harry had his eyes closed, lost in a world of bliss, but he would occasionally glance at her gorgeous red lips as they slid up and down his wet manhood, at her nose as it brushed against his scraggly black hair, at her cleavage showing through her blue robes.
Again, it was too much for Harry. He erupted with another groan, filling Fleur's mouth with warm, sticky white liquid. She pulled herself off him and swallowed it all, licking her lips. Then she stood up, towering over him. Harry whimpered, afraid his treatment was over already. Fleur smiled, as if she had read his mind.
"Don't worry, 'Arry," the French girl said soothingly. "Zat was just an appetizer. You are ready for ze main course, I think." With that, she swiftly unbuttoned her satin robes and let them fall to the floor. Harry's mouth fell open and his flaccid, lipstick-stained cock turned to stone again. Fleur Delacour stood before him wearing nothing more than blue lingerie.
Harry had frequent, deeply erotic dreams of her ever since her arrival, but his subconscious imagination was nothing compared to the real deal. She pulled his shirt off, threw it on the floor, and pounced on him, her slender figure pressing against his scrawny little body. Fleur grabbed his face and fiercely slammed her mouth to his, leaving his hands free to explore her flesh. They trailed from her lustrous silvery-blonde hair to the curve of her back and her waist, massaging her hairless, perfect skin. She continued to kiss him as his hands made their way down to her shapely posterior, from there to her supple legs, where he squeezed her firm thighs as she rubbed them against his skinny legs. Harry's rock-hard boyhood strained against the lingerie cloth between her legs and he shook with anticipation at the thought of being inside her.
Fleur tore away from him yet again and pulled her panties off, giving Harry a full view of the treasure between her legs. There wasn't a speck of hair on the veela except upon her head. Harry's cock bounced eagerly, begging her to take it.
She mounted him with catlike grace, giving a little gasp as his boyhood penetrated her, nestling her hairless cavern in his black bushy pubes. Fleur began to rock back and forth, bending his cock as she moved. Just when Harry's shaft had gotten used to its new home, she began to bounce up and down, sighing with pleasure as his thickness slammed in and out of her, filling her cavity completely.
Many of the Beauxbatons boys had been deeply captivated by their veela classmate for many years, fantasizing about burying their manhood in her slender figure, dreaming about seeing her moan and shudder under their weight. One such student had taken his infatuation to extreme lengths, going as far as to levitate himself to her window and pleasure himself to the sight of her changing attire.
The student had decided to do so this very night, since the Hogwarts grounds were completely empty and there was no one to catch him in the act. Yet when he peered through her window, he turned green with envy at the sight of his beautiful veela idol riding that scrawny Potter boy. The kid was only fourteen! Surely even he could satisfy her better than that boy. The short, scrawny prick had absolutely no body hair except in his lap. The Beauxbatons student felt that he was much more of a man than Potter, yet here was outside her window, and Harry was the one fucking her. The student was initially infuriated at this supposed injustice, but he could not help but watch as Fleur's lusty face moaned in delight as she bounced on the skinny little lad, and realized he was no match for Harry Potter.
Harry continued to explore Fleur's body. He held her soft hips as they bobbed up and down, gasping as she slammed him repeatedly into the mattress. He slid his hands up her flat stomach, listening to the clap of her supple cheeks against his scrawny thighs. Yet, despite everything else she had to offer him, his eyes were riveted to her shapely breasts, locked safely away behind her bra. He was hypnotized by the sight of them bouncing slightly as she rode him.
He was stirred out of his paralysis when she leaned back, still fucking him, and grabbed his thighs. From there she began to plunge his cock into herself even more violently, groaning "'Arry! Oh, merde, 'Arry!"
Harry had been in submissive awe throughout the night so far, but a savage animal inside him was beginning to rouse. He wanted more of her body. To Fleur's surprise, he suddenly sat up, pulling her torso towards his, shoving his face into her bra. Before she could react, he clumsily reached behind her and ripped the lingerie off, leaving her completely naked. The French girl moaned sensuously as Harry took her firm breasts in his mouth and mashed his face into her flesh.
Still buried in her chest, Harry's hands found their way again to her hips and began to force her to move faster. Fleur squealed with delight as he rutted her thoroughly, her chamber's needs completely fulfilled by his cock.
Sensing an oncoming climax, Harry groaned, "Oh fuck, Fleur, I'm coming…". With an effort, she slid off just in time for him to shower her belly and her pussy with hot, white fluid. Harry lay there panting, quite satisfied, but Fleur refused to relent. She threw her pretty head against his lap again, taking him in her mouth and sucking him until he was erect. Then she mounted him, their warm, sweaty bodies joined once again as he slid into her, and they tumbled onto the bed sheets together. Fleur screamed Harry's name as he pounded her ferociously, forcing his mouth onto hers, pressing his bare, sweaty chest against her breasts.
A Beauxbatons girl was intrigued by the commotion from her champion's bedchamber and silently opened the door to catch a glimpse inside. Upon witnessing the source of the noise, she stifled a scream at the sight of the skinny young Potter boy fiercely fucking beautiful, slender Fleur Delacour. Closing the door behind her, she ran back to her own room, the image burned into her mind. She couldn't tell anyone; after all, who would believe her?
Harry and Fleur continued violently for what seemed like hours, panting, moaning, yelling. Harry was soaked in sweat and Fleur was drenched in his cum. The bed shook endlessly as Harry continued to ravage her, but the commotion did not disturb the Hogwarts grounds, where the moon shone brightly upon the castle.
Next morning
Harry awoke, yawning and stretching under the covers. What a fantastic dream, he thought, disappointed it hadn't been real. Still, it felt so real. He could still feel Fleur's firm thighs on his waist, her wet lips around his cock, her supple breasts in his mouth. He could still see her curvy figure bouncing on top of him and her beautiful head bobbing on his lap. He opened his eyes with a sigh, and his heart jumped into his throat.
This room was not the Gryffindor dormitory. Harry tore back the covers, finding his exposed cock hanging limply from his naked body. It was covered in dried lipstick. Heart pounding, he rolled over and almost collided with a sleeping, equally nude Fleur Delacour.
Harry shot up and out of the bed. It was real! His erection returned yet again at the sight of Fleur's exposed figure sprawled on the bed, her breasts rising gently with each purring breath. Her hair was disheveled from the rough night, and her slender body was covered in dried cum. Harry felt a vicious satisfaction in knowing it was he who had made her moan and scream last night and that it was his cum that stained her skin and her sheets.
Fleur woke slowly to find skinny little Harry standing over her, his rod fully erect. "'Arry," she murmured sleepily, pulling him towards her. "Come back to bed." She kissed him gently and asked, "Was zat bedwarming better zen you get at 'Ogwarts, little boy?"
He grimaced slightly, his morning wood brushing against her stomach as he climbed back into bed with her. "I'm not still a 'little boy', after last night?"
She smiled. "You are right. Zat was an impressive performance, worthy of a man."
Harry grinned cheekily and eagerly grabbed her body, his cock ready for some more action. Laughing, she pushed him away. "Non, 'Arry," she said. "Perhaps anuzzer time."
He could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Another- another time?" His mind raced with excitement at the idea of fucking her again.
"Oui. You think I would let you escape after just one night?", she giggled. "In ze meantime, take good care of zat," she said, flicking his boner playfully with a dainty finger.
Harry groaned in frustration, then pulled her towards him, locking lips again, delighting in the feel of her breasts pressing against him, her legs wrapping around his waist. "When can I come back?"
"Patience, 'Arry, patience," the veela soothed. "It will be soon, I promise."
Harry sat up, a little guilty. Ron had appeared in his mind again, and he felt deeply ashamed of what he had done, and afraid of how angry Ron would be if he found out. Perhaps there was a way to work it all out. Wait! He had an idea…
"Er- Fleur," he started, praying this would work.
"Oui, 'Arry?", she murmured, smiling sleepily at him.
"I know you're doing this to repay me for the second trial, and really you didn't have to. But I didn't do it alone. My friend Ron helped, too, and I think he'd… uh… really enjoy a gift like this from you too." Harry held his breath.
"Zat perverted little ginger boy," she said, the smile sliding off her face.
"Yeah…", Harry said in a small voice, looking down. What was he thinking, bringing Ron up? He gulped, praying she wouldn't retract her invitation for him to return. The beast in him was starting to wake, roaring at him for even suggesting the idea.
"You are ashamed of fucking me because of 'im," she said crossly. "And me giving 'im ze same 'gift' would ease your conscience."
"Yes," responded Harry, mentally slapping himself for his stupidity. Besides, a small, greedy part of him wanted Fleur all to himself. The monster agreed, growling at the idea of her tumbling Ron.
"Do you think I am a whore?", she asked angrily.
Harry's eyes widened. "What? No!" He dropped his head. Ron was infinitely more important to him than Fleur was, even if last night was fantastic. Mustering his courage and ignoring the angry beast in him, he continued explaining. "It's- it's just that he likes you, and he'd be really mad at me if we found out what we did."
Fleur said nothing. Harry said weakly, "I mean, he really needs a win right now. He was devastated when I was picked as a Champion." He sarcastically added, "Everything happens to me, the great Harry Potter."
"Zis boy's friendship means much to you." Harry nodded sadly. Fleur paused for a second, looking at him intently. "Very well," she finally said. "But I 'ave one condition."
Harry turned cold. What could that possibly be? Fleur had already shown a frightening lack of mercy when she teased his drawers, what could she be planning this time? "What is it?"
"You will join us also," she commanded.
Harry sighed in relief. This was turning out much better than he had hoped. "It would be my pleasure," he responded cheekily.
With that in mind, he left the carriage that sunny Saturday morning, dazed at the thought of being back in bed with Fleur.