More than a month after the events of Chapter 4
The past several weeks had been some of the greatest of Harry's life. He was tied with Cedric for first in the Triwizard Tournament, he and Ron were on good terms again, and he wouldn't have to worry about the final task for several months. Best of all, he had been meeting Fleur secretly on an almost daily basis to rearrange her guts in almost every corner of the school imaginable. The danger of being caught seemed to arouse Fleur; the riskier the location, the more she appeared to have enjoyed it. They had shagged in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, the Prefect's bathroom, and the Owlery in addition to deserted classrooms and empty halls. Once, in a particularly bold move, Fleur had even used a Disillusionment Charm on herself to blow him under the desk during History of Magic. Binns' lectures were notoriously boring, but Harry had a particularly difficult time focusing on that day especially.
But something in Harry's chest – a feeling, awakened the night he watched her get on her knees for Ron – was stirred. On the nights they had spent together curled up in her bed, he had found himself lying awake long after they had finished, listening to the soft purr of her exhales as she slept beside him, dreading the mornings he had to leave her side. He spent an increasing proportion of his waking hours replaying their encounters in his head, and wondering what she was doing at any given time of the day. Harry realized that he hadn't thought about Cho Chang, the pretty fifth year he had taken a liking to over the course of the past year, in weeks, and that Fleur had all but replaced her in his idle fantasies.
One particularly warm evening – one devoid of snow and possessing only the slightest chill, which was most unusual for wintertime in Britain – for the sake of a change of scenery, the veela had suggested that they meet out on the grounds, somewhere no one could see them. Tonight would be the night Harry told her how he felt and what he wanted, he thought. He had been planning it out all day, his mind running every possible scenario that could occur. But as they lay there on the grass, gasping for air after another intense session, the words caught in Harry's throat. What was he thinking? He had no idea how he had managed to get laid by her; she was ridiculously out of his league. But here he was… still, did he have a chance of actually being with her? It was entirely possible that he meant nothing more to her beyond sex.
Harry shook his head. Now was not the time for cowardice; he'd never know the answers to these questions unless he gritted his teeth and popped the question. Quickly, before he lost his nerve again, he asked her.
"Do you want to be my girlfriend?", he asked. His heart was pounding in his chest.
Fleur stared at him, her intense blue eyes betraying nothing but surprise. She said nothing.
"I really like you Fleur," he continued. "And it's not just the sex, I-"
"Yes," she said abruptly, cutting him off completely.
"W-what?" Harry said. This was absolutely not what he was expecting. HIs heart was beating so hard, he thought it would jump out of his chest.
"Yes, I will be your girlfriend." She gave a nervous smile. "I 'ave never been in a relationship before."
Harry exhaled, his elevated elevated slowly dissipating. "Me neither."
Fleur suddenly sat up and nimbly slid onto his lap. "I think we 'ave to celebrate zis, oui?", she said, cheekily grabbing his cock. He hardened immediately in her hand, eager for another round.
He grinned unabashedly. "I think we do."
Fleur strode angrily through the hall, fuming at the audacity of her boyfriend Harry Potter. They had been dating for only a few weeks, and already had their fair share of issues. It had been fun getting to know him in a manner that was beyond the physical; he was kind and caring, and fun in a boyish kind of way, but now, right after what he had done, she didn't know how to feel about him.
Fleur had no idea what compelled her to accept Harry's request to date, either. Truth be told, she had done it without giving herself a chance to think, and if she had she probably would have refused. She liked hanging out with him, and she definitely thought he was more than a little cute, but the notion that she could no longer bed any boy she wanted disturbed her a little. While she wasn't planning on sleeping with anyone but Harry while they were just fooling around, she caught herself looking more and more at other men now that she was in a committed relationship – she even found herself blushing a little when that swine Karkaroff caught her eye, but there was no way in hell he was going to happen again. She supposed this feeling was what the English meant when they referred to the temptation of forbidden fruit.
Then, there was the issue of publicity. She had wanted to keep them dating a secret because, as she had told Harry, "Madame Maxime would not approve." But the real reason for her discretion was something she didn't think she could actually tell him: he was three years younger than her, and she was definitely out of his league. If word got out that they were together, it would be disastrous for her reputation.
This point of contention was actually the reason for their most recent argument. Her boyfriend was by no means stupid, and had begun to suspect Fleur had ulterior motives for secrecy. In an attempt to calm him down, she had clambered onto his lap, unbuttoning the top of her robes.
"I know 'ow to make you feel better," she had said cheekily, giving him a brilliant view of her lovely cleavage and pulling at his belt, only to be pushed off by a very angry Harry. "All you ever think about is sex," he had snarled at her. In a fit of rage, she slapped him in the face and promptly left.
That was this morning. Fleur wandered around the school feeling like a hot mess. She had never felt so unwanted in her life. She was sad, she was angry, and worst of all, she was very, very horny. She hadn't been this long without a proper tumble in ages, mostly because the escalating tension between her and Harry had been interfering with their sex life.
She felt tears stinging in her eyes, threatening to fall. Uh oh. She couldn't let anyone see that; after all, she was a Triwizard Champion, and the pride of Beauxbatons Academy. She wasn't supposed to cry in public. In a desperate attempt to find privacy, she quickly ducked into the library and escaped into a maze of bookshelves.
Fleur wiped her eyes and tried to clear her head. As long as she was here, she might as well find something to do, to distract her from her troubles. The final task was still months away, but there was no reason she couldn't start training for it. She hadn't the faintest clue what the trial could entail, but she figured she'd need to brush up on some basic defensive and offensive spellwork, at least.
At that point she noticed a placard on the side of the shelf, indicating that the more advanced spellbooks could be found on the higher shelves. She looked up and saw the perfect choice: H. Wallace's NEWT-Level Defensive Review. NEWTs were, of course, the seventh-year standardized exams for British wizarding students. That was probably her best bet at a helpful resource. But try as she might, even in her heels, she couldn't reach the title. Her gloved hand grasped desperately in the air above her head, but couldn't quite make the distance.
She needed someone taller than her. Taking a quick look around the library, she found a potential assistant: a Hogwarts boy sitting alone, rolling a quill on the table. Upon moving closer, she found that he was a dark-haired, rather well-built Slytherin who looked to be on the older side of the student body. He was no Diggory, of course, but fairly attractive by Hogwarts standards. She flipped her hair behind her shoulders and started toward him.
Marcus Flint sat in the library, bored out of his mind. He was supposed to be studying to retake his NEWTs. Actually, he should've graduated at least a year ago if it wasn't for his abysmal exam scores. He perked up. A rather shapely Beauxbatons girl was approaching him. As she came closer he felt his heart rate elevate; it was none other than the gorgeous part-veela and Triwizard Champion, Fleur Delacour. She stopped in front of him, and he realized the top of her robes was unbuttoned. He felt sweaty all of a sudden. Any thought of preparing for the NEWTs vanished from his mind.
"I would like a favor," she said, smiling at him. "Zere is a book I want, but I cannot reach it." She bent over, fully aware that she had neglected to do up her robes again after trying to seduce Harry, meaning her cleavage was on full display for this Slytherin boy, and blasted him with her Allure. Some harmless flirting wouldn't kill her boyfriend.
"Lead the way," he said, feeling very breathless. Like he was going to say no to her.
Flint followed her at a distance, eyeing from behind the bookshelves as the sexy veela reached up on her toes, her lovely hourglass figure stretching to grab a title, unaware that the lower hem of her robes had lifted slightly. Something rose in his pants at the sight of her exposed, limber thighs. He steeled himself and slowly crept forward. They were now just inches apart. "Let me," he insisted, breathing precariously down her neck.
Fleur jumped a little in surprise. "Okay…", she breathed in reply, unable to stop the boy's advances. Shit. The last thing she needed right now was close contact with a male. What was she thinking, leading him here? She looked up and saw his arm reaching up for the book and felt his tall, muscular frame leaning against her, sandwiching her between himself and the bookshelf. She stifled a gasp; the bulge in his robes was pressing against her brilliant backside. He pressed himself farther and farther against her, his warm breath permeating against her bare neck. His protrusion grazed her inner thighs, and she couldn't help but quake as her sensitivity prickled with excitement.
Flint's heart pounded furiously against his chest, and he realized suddenly that he was toying very dangerously with one of the most powerful magical students in Europe. He cautiously put his other hand to the curvy veela's soft hip, praying she wouldn't whip out her wand and blast him across the room for it. He had forgotten entirely about the book he was supposed to be getting her; both his hands were on her hips, pulling her against his bulge.
Fleur managed to turn herself around and get a good look at her admirer. The dark haired Slytherin boy towered over her, his warm breath permeating against her lusty face. Her hands unconsciously found their way onto his chest. Oh god, he was hot. Flustered, she caught his eyes leaving her face and trailing down to where her cleavage was still very exposed. She felt his already massive bulge grow even larger against her torso at the sight of her bra spilling out of the opening in her attire.
"Marcus Flint," he introduced himself. "Very pleased to meet you." He swooped down and mashed his face into her chest with such force that she slammed into the shelf behind her, causing a few books to tumble onto the floor.
"Wait," she gasped, as Harry's face flashed in her mind's eye, but she couldn't ignore how hard her nipples were at the man's touch. It felt so good to be wanted for once, that she felt herself die a little inside when she mustered up the willpower to shove him away. "I can't. I 'ave a boyfriend." Still, she had never felt so turned on; to have another man's hands all over her when she was in a committed relationship was a whole different level of arousal.
"Well, who's the lucky guy?", he asked mischievously. She looked at him in alarm as he slipped an arm around her slim waist. "Not one of those Beauxbatons pansy boys, I hope?"
"'Arry-", she gave a start as his hands found their way onto her ass and gave it a squeeze. "'Arry Potter."
Flint paused for a moment. "Really," he said, careful not to show a hint of the fury he felt inside. Seriously? She was with that little shit? "Well, I just don't think it's fair that he should get you all to himself."
He slipped his hand under her robes, causing her to buck into his arms. His fingers deftly worked their way between her pale leg and began to caress the cloth underwear that covered her. It was dripping wet. "I've wanted to fuck you ever since you got here, Fleur Delacour," he whispered menacingly into her ear as she shuddered at the sensation of his hand agitating her. "And I can tell you're willing to let me."
Unable to help herself, Fleur slammed her mouth against his. He was right. It was unbelievable how selfish Harry was being by expecting her to only want him. Besides, he didn't exactly deserve her loyalty at the moment. She couldn't help but tingle with excitement as the burly Slytherin forced her down onto her knees, imagining the look on her boyfriend's face if he ever found out she was cheating on him. Oh, revenge was sweet.
The part-veela tore her lips away. "Pull down your pants," she insisted, dropping to her knees. Flint quickly obliged, undoing his belt and letting the lower portion of his robes fall to the floor. To Fleur's delight, out popped one of the largest cocks she had ever seen. "Oh, you are much bigger than 'Arry is," she gushed, exhaling hot, wet breath onto his member. She began to kiss him all along his shaft, vexing him a little with quick, tantalizing licks from her pink tongue. She ducked under his massive rod and gently flattened her tongue against his hairy scrotum, enjoying the musky taste of manhood.
Marcus Flint stared firmly down at her, careful not to show the utter disbelief at the sight of the finest girl to ever grace Hogwarts with her presence eagerly licking his balls. The veela's lovely face was flushed slightly pink with arousal as she blew him, and he was sure his own face was beet red.
Fleur threw her silvery-blond hair behind her and slid her perfect lips onto his tip, closing her eyes and relishing the taste of infidelity. She pushed her soft, warm mouth all the way onto him and shook her head, overwhelmed with a sense of pride by the groan he gave in response. From there, she began to slide her head a little back and forth, never letting his base go more than a centimeter away from the opening to her mouth, producing a familiar gluck-gluck sound from her glossy lips. Simultaneously, her wet tongue slurped earnestly at the man meat that was shifting around in her mouth. Every second of it felt wonderfully wicked.
After treating him to her best deepthroat skills for several blissful seconds, she pulled her lips all the way back to his tip and grabbed his stem with her slim fingers. His cock was sopping from the inside of her mouth, but she began to push him to his limit by pumping him with her hand and suckling the head of his penis simultaneously.
Before she could get him to cum, Flint pushed himself off of her. "Get up," he commanded. She did so, a little out of breath. But before she could regain her composure, the Hogwarts stud grabbed her undergarments and yanked them to the floor. Then, with a quick burst of strength that only excited the already already soaking French girl even more, he grabbed her thighs and hoisted her up so her torso was level with his, pinning her back against the shelf behind them. The limber girl wrapped her shapely legs around his waist, bursting into a fit of giggles from his very stimulating display of sheer physical power.
"Oh, fucking hell," Flint whispered as his cock slid into her, her creamy thighs gripping his waist ever more forcefully the deeper he went. The combination of a lengthy period of abstinence and the eroticism of cheating had made her so wet that to him, it felt like he was fucking a warm, wet sponge.
He heard her gasp as he pushed his entire length into her and paused for a moment to let her get used to his entirety. After a few seconds he began to rut her, slowly at first but gradually speeding up. He felt her hands on his back, her nails digging into his skin in response to the ferocity of his thrusting. Her vulva was still leaking so much fluid that he could feel small drops landing on his exposed legs as he fucked her.
"Mmmmfgh…", Fleur whined, the abuse of her pussy causing her to orgasm after only seconds. She had to cover her own mouth to keep herself from making too much noise. With her other hand, she shoved Flint's face into her chest to muffle his grunts. She didn't want anyone else who might be in the library to find her getting railed like this. Still, just the fact that this boy Marcus was doing her in public only excited her more. If only her pathetic boyfriend Harry Potter could see her getting absolutely obliterated by a hunky Slytherin where anyone could see them.
Marcus Flint continued to pummel Fleur Delacour for several glorious minutes, loving every bit of it. The feel of her vaginal walls smothering his shaft so tightly he thought it might cut off blood circulation, the sound of her supple thighs clapping against his legs and her stifled "aah"s and other moans of pleasure into his ear, the fact that it was her of all people, and best of all, the knowledge that he was brutally humiliating the little shit who had stolen Slytherin's seven year winning streak at the House Cup.
Before he could climax, he pulled out of her quickly and unwrapped her legs from around his midsection, letting her land gently on her feet. His cock still throbbing hard, he held her waist tightly with his arms as she stood there out of breath, her quivering legs threatening to give out. Flint felt a savage sense of pride at the state he had put her in.
"On your knees, whore," he ordered, but he gently propped her elbows up and guided her onto the floor. Fleur sat there on her ankles with her Beauxbatons robes torn open to reveal every square centimeter of her glorious breasts to him, her blue eyes looking up at him with utter submission to his cock. "Open your mouth and close your eyes," he instructed, grabbing the back of her head. She happily obeyed, grabbing the back of his thighs for support.
Marcus thrust his meat back between her red lips, pinning her head between his pelvis and the bookshelf behind her. He brutally face fucked her until his impending climax returned. As soon as he pulled out of her, she grabbed his cock and pumped him to completion, offering her exposed chest up to him. Copious amounts of thick, white, ropey seed shot out of his cannon and splattered her breasts.
Before her new partner could finish drenching her bosom, Fleur wrapped her lips back around his length. She wanted a taste of his cum, as any good slut would. She thought devilishly about her boyfriend as another man's semen filled her mouth to the brim, causing it to dribble down her chin.
Fleur exhaled with satisfaction as she pulled out her wand and used magic to clean her cum-soaked flesh . "Merci, Monsieur Flint," she said gratefully, putting her underwear back on and buttoning her robes up again.