Secret of the Male Veela
Chapter 6: Chapter 6: Parting Gifts for Harry (Part II)
"Some other time, Fleur." And they said he was insatiable.
"I'm glad both of my ladies happen to get along so well. I suppose I wouldn't have to worry about anyone being jealous, right?" The girls assured him they were fine, and he could sense the honesty of their assertions, but Harry still sensed of something on the periphery that nagged him. 'Oh well, that can't be dealt with right now.'
"Listen, Regine. I can't really explain why since everything I know, Fleur's told me, but I'm sorry …"
The blonde human shushed the repentant male with her middle finger.
"You don't need to apologize, Harry. I knew what I was getting into and I'm more than pleased with the result." Regine stated with a radiant smile. "I just had the best sex ever, my best friend is now willing to reciprocate, and I won myself a cute boyfriend, well part of a cute boyfriend, to boot."
Harry smiled at the last bit, but pressed on.
"But you are stuck with me, and I thought that you preferred to play the field."
Regine's smile dimmed somewhat at the words.
"I'm not nearly as …experienced as you think Harry. And I can be loyal. Besides, I got Fleur now." The girl smiled again, reaching over to sling an arm around her veela friend and then twisting the other girl's nipple. The naughty and giggling human girl slid off of the bed quickly, her long blonde hair trailing behind her as she dodged her friend's attempt at retaliation. The two older girls briefly bartered back and forth like two immature prepubescent kids until both cackled in laughter. Harry had to admit, he was feeling pretty good about having this 'threesome' thing; it was turning out much better than anything he could have ever hoped for.
"… Anyway, so what if I have to share you? Especially since you outlasted both of us with plenty of stamina to spare."
It was clear to Harry that the French girl was still in awe of his bedchamber prowess.
"The real question is, do you want me?" The Gryffindor made a half-snort, half-chortle kind of sound that clearly indicated he thought it was a stupid question.
"Regine: you could make a corpse want you. Same goes for Fleur, in case you are wondering." The casual, simplistic way he put it made it seem as if he was stating a universal fact of life rather than giving his own opinion.
Regine smiled serenely in response. "You already know we both want you, want each other, and are perfectly willing to share. So, what's the problem?"
That had Harry momentarily stumped. He couldn't see a problem. The girl smiled victoriously.
"I must be going, but just remind our lover boy here to have LOTS of practice since we'll definitely be better prepared the next time we meet, right Fleur?" Regine reminded of her friend as she tried to fix herself up so she didn't have the 'freshly screwed' look. The veela gave an "oui" answer in affirmation.
The girl walked to the door, gently swaying her hips for her lovers' interest.
"Bye love. And be sure to write, Harry, or we'll think you are having so much fun, that you forgot about us."
The Gryffindor snorted. "Like that's possible. Besides, even if that happens, which it won't, I'm sure you two will have absolutely no problem winning me back should you choose to, of course."
Regine seemed most satisfied with the response.
"One last thing, don't forget to give him your gift, Fleur." The Beauxbatons prefect remarked with a wink as she floated out of the room.
"Do I look like zat?" Asked Fleur in awe, still half-sprawled out on the giant bed.
"You mean, that fresh fucked glow?" The veela blushed. "Yeah, you do, though you hide it pretty well before others."
"So, what's this about another gift?" Harry asked with amusement.
Fleur responded by pulling a folded letter of sorts out of her clothes.
"I thought you might 'av some trouble wiz your 'eadmaster and minister so we got you zis."
Harry opened the parchment.
"It'z an endorsement of you by the visiting schoolz, wiz signatures by Madam Maxime, Regine and I, representing Beauxbatonz, and co-signatures from Victor Krum and the Durmstrang prefectz."
The Gryffindor's eyes lid up as he looked over the content and took in the small list of signatures at the bottom.
"An official copy 'as been forwarded to Professor Dumbledore, your school'z Board of Governorz, the British and French Ministry of Magic, and another will be on file at Beauxbatons for the record, in case your 'eadmaster doez something."
Harry chuckled. With an official foreign recommendation this high, coupled with his almost assured surge in domestic popularity, he probably had a 'carte blanche' as far as the ministry was concerned. Dumbledore, likewise, would also probably restrain himself for the time being from taking any sort of direct action, whatever his misgivings about Harry may be.
"Thank you, Fleur. I'm very pleasantly surprised."
"A good slave anticipates the needs of her master." The veela cheekily offered.
"A good slave also knows better than to tease her master." Harry retorted as he nuzzled the girl's neck, sensually licking her ear lopes and provoking melodious gasps of pleasure that were like music to mortal ears.
"She's also one now, right?"
"What?"
Harry separated from the confused veela. The change in the male veela's demeanor did quickly killed the mood.
"Regine is now one of my 'slaves,' right?"
Fleur sighed in defeat.
"She cornered me one afternoon after our…session if she could be yours as well. I vouch that I didn't tell her anything, 'arry."
"I know you didn't. Alright, let's just accept that Regine's willing. Why are YOU so encouraging about her joining my harem?" The Gryffindor couldn't help but wince slightly at the inherently degrading term.
"… And there has to be more to it than the fact that you two are best friends. I'm, well was, best friends with Ron, and I have never, nor will I ever, have the urge to rub bums with him." Harry shuddered at the very imagery as the veela laughed cutely.
"Well, I'm at least zlightly bi-sexual and I know, almost for sure, zat you are not. But it also 'as to do with what I am. Unless they are mated, veela lead lonely livez in the wizarding world even from a young age, 'arry. For me, I had lost all of my childhood friendz by the time I entered Beauxbatons, all except for Regine. Though I'm certainly popular, I 'av few real friendz and of them, I only trust Regine. She waz alwayz there for me; cried wiz me; laughed wiz me. She waz like another sister to Gabrielle and my parentz adored 'er like another daughter."
Harry stored Fleur's words, in its entirety, in the back of his mind, knowing that they would be useful info later.
"I repaid her by preventing 'er from ever truly enjoying the companionship of another. Ahm, I 'ope you don't hold it against her, or me, zat we aren't..."
"Virgins?" Harry finished. "No, I don't mind, as long as you are mine from now on, of course."
The teenage male only half meant it to be serious, but the way his lover seriously enunciated the words 'of course' with crystal clarity stuck him. They were, indeed, his in every way. He had rights and powers over them but also duties and obligations to them. Harry's stomach churned with discomfort, even as he covered his face with a mask of calm. The veela only smiled, seemingly reassured by his words.
"Regine iz, az you 'av probably guessed, somewhat experienced, and I 'av only been wiz one other before you."
"I'm guessing it wasn't Roger." Actually, Harry was 99.999% positive it wasn't. His Slytherin 'look at all sides' mentality kept him from assigning it the last 0.001%.
Harry's inner beast purred with delight as Fleur made a disgusted face in response.
"Absolutely not! It happened well over a year ago. But, don't worry, 'arry, we can always find virginz for you in the future."
The Boy-Who-Lived wisely chose not to respond to that statement.
"About what you said about repaying Regine. I don't see how you could have hurt her, not with how close you two seemed."
The blonde, naturally, reddened in response.
"Not deliberately, of course. I love 'er like a sister." The flush subsided as the veela shot Harry a serious, piercing gaze.
"Do you think Régine iz pretty?"
Harry almost splattered at the unexpected question.
"Pretty?! At the risk of angering my beautiful veela lover, who could in an instance turn into a flame throwing menace and barbecue my ass, I say she's gorgeous and, on an added note, also happen to be an absolute dynamite in bed."
Said potential menace gave another smile at her lover's perfect answer, showing that she wasn't offended. Of course, both already knew that the bond almost guaranteed that such an event could never occur.
"What about me then? How does she compare to me?"
Harry blinked.
"Why do I need to compare? You two are both fantastically and unearthly beautiful."
"Think 'arry. Given how close we are, how many times do you think someone else made a similar remark to her about her, about us."
Harry opened his mouth only to shut it as he grimaced in realization.
"Exactly! Everyone compared 'er to me, alwayz; Sizing 'er up against me, consciously or unconsciously."
Fleur gave a sad, grim smile.
"Regine logically knowz she iz very beautiful, but when no one tellz you that, when everyone alwayz think of you as second best… that takez a terrible toll on a girl'z psyche. I 'ad my own insecurities, my own fears so I used my best friend like a crutch, yet I denied 'er when she approached me. My stupidity almost cost me my best friend."
Clearly the experience had been very trying for Fleur as well for the normally bubbly and even haughty veela to make such a self-deprecating remark. Harry resisted the urge to offer comfort, knowing that this guilt was something she had to deal with on her own.
"I owed Regine so much, 'arry. So when she approached me, I thought it waz a way I could make up to 'er. Besides, I need to learn to share anywayz, so why not start with my best friend?"
Harry didn't know whether he should be proud or angry for having been pimped out by his French lover.
"That still doesn't explain why I wasn't told." He remarked dryly. Fleur opened her mouth to respond, before shutting it with a wince.
"I assumed you would like it."
"I do, this time, but what about next time. Will you make the decision as to who will join us without my consent? You know I can't stop myself."
The raven-haired young man's voice had taken a hard edge causing the veela to visibly flinch. "It won't happen again, master. I promise."
Harry's displeasure evaporated at the word 'master', his countenance shifting from slight anger to resignation.
"Bloody hell…"
"'arry?"
"You arranged a threesome for me with another gorgeous blonde, Fleur. Instead of being thankful and grateful, I act like an ass and blame you. It's not you, it's me."
The boy dropped his head into his hands as the veela hesitantly wrapped her arms around him in comfort.
Fleur had warned him about the physiological, physical and mental effects being a male veela would have on him. But to know something abstractly and to experience it in reality are two different things.
Last night at the feast and now today, he had no doubt his excessive exuberance, border-line arrogant confidence, his adrenaline pumped aggression, his hormone induced sexual prowess and his feeling of godlike empowerment, were all due to the effects of being what he was. Harry was afraid to admit that he loved and enjoyed every minute of it.
"Last night, Hermione confronted me while I was still high from my little speech. She went on a mini-spew, chiding me for my speech. It used to be that I found it kind of cute and maybe even endearing, but last night, it sounded whiny and annoyed me to no ends, so I told her, in not very kind words, to mind her own business."
Unsure what to say, Fleur waited a few moments before offering a hesitant. "That seemed reasonable."
"No, it's not reasonable! She's 14 and so is Ron. They are supposed to act like that: to whine, to complain, and maybe bicker a bit. But now, I find myself increasingly annoyed with their inane arguments; with Ron's jealousy every time I talk with you or your friends; with Hermione and her blind 'follow the rule' mentality. They were good, even loyal friends, all things considered. But now, that's no longer enough and I find myself growing inclined to distance myself from them."
"… I'm afraid of revealing my secrets, Fleur, because I know doing so will only set me up for betrayal. I see Ron saying a tad much in a sniping argument with Malfoy or yelling it all out in a fit of childish jealousy. I see Hermione, with her mind unguarded, running to Dumbledore, spilling her guts out." He remarked with disgust, either at his friends for how they were liable to act, or at himself for how cold he was being in his assessment about them.
Harry sighed, suddenly looking far older than he is.
"They simply aren't mature enough for this and I'm all but willing to let them go. I… I can live with that. But might I also, some day, grow tired of you, Regine or any of the other girls I might gain?"
The thought seemed to profoundly disturb Harry, but Fleur had no easy answer for as similar fears percolate her mind.
"Is that what I'll end up being like in the future? I can't say I didn't enjoy the changes, Fleur, but I can't say I'm not concerned about them either."
The veela squeezed her lover in support.
"I don't know what the future holdz for us, 'arry, but the very fact zat you are thinking about it in the way you are fillz me wiz hope. As for your friendz, I'm afraid I can't help you az I'm not impartial, but maybe zis can."
Harry looked with interest at the small, black, and ancient looking, notebook Fleur pulled out.
"Open it." The Gryffindor did as instructed.
"But, there's no writing in it…" 'Strange. The outside cover looks really old, but the inside pages are all new.'
"It's charmed?" The veela nodded.
"After our first night, I suspected zat you were a male veela, so I sent for this. Zis iz my last gift for you, 'arry. It'z an old family heirloom and it'z believed to have been the Diary of Thanatos."
"The last male veela?" Harry's eyes widened as his lover nodded.
"I thought you said there were no surviving records of him." The anxious Gryffindor leafed through the empty pages. Briefly, he reminisced about Riddle's diary, which he destroyed in his second year, but shook off the thought. Since this was an old treasure of Fleur's family, it should be safe.
"There aren't az none 'as ever seen what'z written in it. Thanatos waz a great scholar. It'z believed that 'e enchanted 'is texts so that only a drop of blood, willingly shed, from another male veela, can unlock ze secretz of 'is writings."
Harry looked at the small diary-sized booklet, which may hold all the answers he seeks. He felt his mouth turn dry.
"Thank you, Fleur, for everything." Harry crushed the veela girl against him in a smothering bear hug. "… And none of that 'you were only doing what you are supposed to do' crap. I don't even want to think what I would be like, if it weren't for all you. I know we haven't been together long, but it feels like we have shared a lifetime already. I won't let you go, Fleur, ever."
Fleur felt herself float as her heart literally soared with joy. Surely, the gods must have been beaming at her for them to have given her such a loving and sweet man. Confined within the warm embrace of her love, the girl could only purr in delight as the Casanova whispered more sweet nothings into her ear while idly stroking her long silvery-blonde mane.
"I'm going to miss you and Regine, but you in particular."
Harry lamented as he prepared to leave, having secured the Beauxbatons-Durmstrang recommendations document and Thanatos's diary inside his robes.
"I'm sure you'll be plentiful supplied wiz ze meanz to relieve your frustration." The veela teased.
"It's not just sex. Jeesh, I created a monster." Harry supplied with mock exasperation.
The two laughed uproariously. The statement wasn't too far from the truth. Except for that first time in the astral-plane, Fleur had been fairly docile the first few times the two coupled. She gradually became more playful and creative as time went on, perhaps, as a result of becoming more comfortable and at ease with her lover.
"Would you like it if I include my escapades in the letters, as well?"
Fleur furrowed her face as if in deep thought, before smiling coquettishly back at him.
"Hmm, why don't you decide?" Harry rolled his eyes.
"Right, but that's assuming I can receive and send mail at all. Dumbledore will most likely either block or scan everything and I'm not keen on him snooping on our exchanges."
"Zat iz a problem. Regine and I will figure something out. You just enjoy yourself, 'arry. Remember what my best friend said: 'make sure you 'av plenty of practice'."
Harry muttered something about a certain insufferable veela, as he gave his delectable lover one last sensual kiss.
"Je t'aime, 'arry." The veela called out instinctively.
Harry stopped at the doorway of the opulent chamber. Given the peculiar bond between the two lovers and how it was formed, Harry was a bit uncomfortable with the placement and usage of the sacred 4 lettered L-word in their relationship. Fleur was keenly aware of this and didn't push him, knowing that just because he didn't say it, didn't mean he did not feel it. In fact, it was as if he didn't feel right saying the words so he reciprocated with action. Plus, the intelligent veela quickly found that when uttered at the right moment, the L-word induced a wonderful reaction from Harry that usually left her smiling and feeling sore for hours after.
But now was not that moment and Fleur wanted to kick herself for her inopportune choice of words, thinking that she had ruined their last moment together. But to her surprise and joy, Harry turned around, smiling back at her and uttered in perfect Parisian French:
"Je t'aime aussi, Fleur."
--
Harry's mind was a whirl mind of jumbling thoughts as he walked along the empty corridors of the castle.
"Harry!" The Gryffindor turned to see his friends racing to catch up to him. 'Damn.' Harry swore, silently wishing he could have put off meeting his friends for a time when he had pulled his thought together. Alas, his wish was granted, though perhaps not in the manner he expected.
"Potter." A sneering voice called out.
'Oh, bloody hell.'
"Professor Snape." Harry greeted, with far more cheer than he felt, while mentally cursing the deities that be.
Ron and Hermione, now caught up, stared at the potions master with loathing in the former case, and worry in the latter.
"The headmaster has requested your presence, Potter." Casting a scornful look at his companions, Snape added, "…alone."
From the way Snape sounded, Harry was fairly positive, that THAT was not a request. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the Slytherin adult answered fierce protests from his friends with points deduction. Right, like that was going to do anything at this point. What's next, threat of detention?
After some quick planning, Harry decided on what to do.
"I'll be fine. I'll see you guys later." Harry calmly assured his friends. Neither was comfortable with the idea of leaving him with their most hated professor, but Harry's calmness seemed to mollify them somewhat. After a few tense moments, his friends departed while Harry turned to walk to Dumbledore's lair without so much as a glance at Snape.
Harry had no doubt that it must have irked the greasy git terribly for his most hated student to ignore him so and to turn his back on him as if he weren't enough of a threat to warrant his attention. That was the whole point, of course; to get Snape all riled up before the meeting.
For too long, the old man had used the hated professor as a decoy so that while he was flustered with anger, and his attention generally diverted on his hated professor, Dumbledore would whittle under Harry's defenses, while carrying out the role of being his 'protector'. Too long had he been ignorant of this farce and many times had he often shuddered, thinking about how long and how far it would have gone. But with the discovery of his newfound knowledge and intelligence, things have been different. During the meeting regarding Slytherin students' improprieties, Harry had, at last, successfully used Dumbledore's own weapon against him. The premise of the plan was brilliant in its simplicity. Basically, Harry subtly provoked Snape as much possible during the meeting, while generally remaining, calm himself. The idea was to turn Snape into a hot potato, with all the diplomatic tact and subtlety of a porcupine and about as easy to control as a hungry Tasmanian devil, so that he became a liability for the headmaster. The result of the first trial example would indicate that the plan had worked rather flawlessly and Harry was rather eager for a retest to make sure.
Of course, in this case, there was the possibility that crazy Snapey would lose it and curse him outright, which given how his back was turned, would have put him at a severe disadvantage. But, Harry was confident enough that that wouldn't happen, for now at least. And once again, the sage male veela was correct as he eased himself into the pro-offered seat and denied the smiling old man's offer of his favorite.
"About your behavior last night, Harry."
"Absolutely unacceptable! He should be expelled..."
"Severus, please." The headmaster groaned tiredly. For a moment, Harry felt a twinge of pity for the old man, before quickly and ruthlessly crushing it. Old habits die hard it seems.
'I need to be careful.' Harry chided himself. For all he knew, it could be another one of his traps. Constant vigilance and all that. 'One thing that crock got right.'
"The Tri-wizard Tournament is a means for students from countries to interact with one another and show solidarity. Is this image of animosity the one you want to give to them about us and about yourself?"
"What image, professor? Haven't you received the letter?" When he received blank looks, Harry withdrew the parchment Fleur gave him and handed it to Dumbledore. The headmaster frowned for one instant as he looked through it, but it was long enough for Harry to catch it. Snape didn't try so hard to hide his displeasure as he gave it an once over, spluttering over words like 'honored', 'kind' and 'most helpful' being associated in tandem with the name 'Harry James Potter'.
"I would like to have it back if I may." Harry added, seeing Snape, who seemed to be visibly itching to tear it apart.
"I have been told that a copy has been sent to you, sir and to the Ministry of Magic. That's my personal copy and given that it's a pretty high honor from our foreign guests, I'm looking to having it framed." Snape looked like he really want nothing more than to have the document burned, preferably via the heat conducted through his hateful gaze. A hard stare from his master/headmaster, however, forced his hand.
"Still, there's the matter of you advocating violence against your fellow school mates, even after the death of one of them. I'm most disappointed in you, Harry. What would Cedric think?"
Harry lowered his head to give the image of feeling shame, but inside he was seething. 'Bastard…'
"I think Cedric would be pleased that I'm using the opportunity to educate the wizarding world about the dangers around them."
"What nonsense, Potter!"
Dumbledore held his hand up to stop his professor's tirade.
The male veela felt a cold empowering force take hold of him.
"Do you know what landscaping is, professor?" Harry asked, seemingly out of the blue, while staring coolly at Snivelus.
"I do not believe I do."
"I did a bit of that for my muggle relatives over the summer. There's many parts to it, but for me, it was basically just busy work, pulling out the weed in the yard."
"I see."
"I like to think I did a good job, sir, clearing the weeds, that is."
"Foolish boy. A simple cleaning spell could have done it in an instant."
"Unfortunately, it seems that certain regulations in the wizarding world prevent me from casting such a simple spell." Harry responded. Snape shut up rather quickly.
"I'm sure you did a wonderful job Harry." The headmaster remarked kindly, complete with those damn, blasted twinkling eyes . Harry could see that he was still confused. '… you'll understand, old man, soon enough.' He thought coldly.
"I thought so too, though my aunt didn't." He tried very hard not to push too much malice into that sentence. "My aunt was angry that almost all of her flower bushes died and blamed me for not having cleared away the weeds that suffocated them."
Snape was glaring at him, no doubt wondering why he was wasting his time listening to gardening lessen from Potter. 'Soon enough…' Harry promised.
"She was right, professor, but not because I didn't clear away the weeds. I did. It's just that they grew back too quickly."
"No matter how hard I worked, more kept coming back because I couldn't get rid of the roots. I suggested using herbicides – those are the muggle chemicals used to kill weeds – but my aunt refused, saying that it would hurt her flowers. But, those herbicides would have taken out the roots I couldn't get with my bare hands."
Mentally, Harry allowed himself a dark smile as he saw Dumbledore's eyes going cold.
"It may be that some flowers may have been damaged or killed, but the result would ultimately have been far better than letting the weeds take out all those bushes. Those weeds spread like wildfire, professor, and they utterly consumed the soil, crowding out and choking the flowers of their vital nutrients. I couldn't keep up; whenever I cleared an area, more just grow right back up. I guess in the end, you could say that I tried my best, but that ultimately wasn't enough."
"My aunt was pretty angry when I said to her 'I told you so,' but in the end, she agreed that I was right. But even though in the end, herbicides ultimately were used and worked, all those flowers still died needlessly. I think it would have been much better if herbicides were used right at the beginning. Don't you think so as well, professor?"
Harry's question was answered with silence.
"Is there anything else, professor?"
"No, I think that'll be all. Good luck, and have a good summer, my boy." The headmaster genuinely tried to smile, but Harry knew better. The 'my boy' comment almost caused him to visibly twitch, but he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of doing that. Victory was definitely his this time.
After dismissing an angry, spluttering and, most likely, confused potions master, a pensive Dumbledore collapsed in his chair.
--
"Harry, what did Dumbledore want?"
Harry held his hands up as his friends assaulted him as soon as he returned.
"Yeah, and why did he send the greasy git?"
"Ronald Weasley. That's no way to talk about a professor."
"Well, the git's a menace and doesn't deserve to teach. Harry's with me on this one, right?"
"Honestly Ron, will you remember that Dumbledore trusts him." Harry looked at his bookish friend with incredulity. Little things like this really made it hard for him to take the initiative to make up with his friends.
"Ever wonder why?" The redhead thought viciously. For once, Harry silently agreed.
"What did he want?"
"He just wanted to talk. Nothing happened." In his defense, Harry didn't mean to intentionally end the conversation, but he really wasn't comfortable talking about what happened.
The trio settled into an uneasy silence until Ron spoke up.
"So where were did you disappear to, mate? We searched everywhere."
"Parvati said she saw you near the Beauxbatons carriage." Hermione added suspiciously. The bushy haired bookworm was probably one of the very few that thought something might be going on between him and his Beauxbatons companion – no, make that companions.
'Just great.' Harry cursed the high heavens for Parvati's keen observation skills – keen in the nosy kind of way, of course – and her big mouth. He said he was sorry for the damn, bloody ball, didn't he?
Oh what the hell. Honesty's the best policy right?
"Fleur was looking for me."
"What!" Or…maybe not based on the redness developing across both Ron and Hermione's faces. It was a testament of Harry's enormous control over his will power that he didn't outwardly react to his friends' 'outrages'. These outrages leading to remarks such as:
"Bloody hell! Why always you!" That was Ron of course.
"Harry, she might be dangerous! Remember Moody's imposter?" Hermione.
And then when Harry revealed that Fleur wanted to see him privately to avoid public eyes, he got:
"You shouldn't trust people you don't know!"
"Why didn't you invite me?!" Harry felt some form of unnatural, hot rage shoot through him as he forced himself not to make a vow to turn his supposedly best friend into his personal practice dummy the next time the redhead so much as looked at his beloved French veela the wrong way.
'For god's sake, I don't need this!' Harry thought viciously.
"Just shut up and listen for a moment!" The impatient male veela finally cried out in anger. The two other Gryffindors immediately shut up, rather surprised at the force of their friend's command.
"She just wanted to give me a thank you gift and didn't want to make it public." Harry offered coolly. Let them make up what they would from that completely truthful and yet ambiguous and most certainly misleading statement.
"You mean for saving Gabrielle?" Guessed the ever-logical Hermione. His two friends took Harry's silence to be a yes, which for 'some' reason greatly reassured them, especially Ron.
Hermione soon left to pick up her stuff, leaving Harry with his arguably denser than brick red-haired friend. To be fair, it wasn't long ago when he, himself, was of a similar mind, but screw fairness! Ron was all but admitting to having wet dreams and masturbating to his Fleur and Harry did not appreciate that one bit.
Needless to say, Harry was very pissed as all of his recent concerns about his past identity and friendships gave way to the almost all-powerful urge to assert the supremacy of his alpha masculinity before this infantile male upstart. But somehow, Harry fought down that urge.
"I should be jealous, but I guess, you deserved it." Ron, of course, was thinking of Harry's role in saving little Gabrielle.
"So, were you and Fleur, like ahm… alone?"
It's a sign of Harry's enormous willpower when he managed not to outwardly react, when hit with the image of the half-dressed, libidinous French prefect sauntering towards him while Fleur looked on.
"Not exactly." The redhead didn't even try to hide his sigh of relief.
"Too bad about that then, mate. At least you got yourself a nice parting gift, right?"
This time, the image of two exotic heads, respectively crowned with golden and silvery blonde manes, fiercely battling each other over the right to drain Harry jr. briefly flashed across Harry's mind.
"Yeah, you could say that, mate." The raven-haired male veela admitted, draping an arm over the youngest male Weasley, who completely missed his friend's thin smile.
--