Chapters 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 ,11, 12 are already on Pa tr eon
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Pat re on. c om(slash)belleveela(delete spaces)
The sun scorched Harry Potter's skin as he walked through the bustling streets of Bangkok, his phone pressed to his cheek. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, pushing through the crowd, his shirt clinging wetly to his torso. Harry had been in Thailand for four months but never got used to the heat and humidity. Even cooling spells that worked perfectly in the British climate were useless here.
Bangkok was an incredible city, and it was said that wizards here were much more integrated with the Muggle world, but Harry had seen almost nothing of it during his stay. Instead, he focused on his work. At 31, he was about to finalize a deal that would secure a fortune for generations. After the war, it turned out that most of the Potter family fortune had been spent on financing the war efforts, and the Black family wealth was entirely confiscated to cover the damage costs, which had to be paid to the goblin bank. Although the goblins officially did not pursue Harry, the coldness and even open hostility he encountered after the post-war chaos made him decide to keep all his earnings in a Muggle bank. This decision sparked his interest in investments and the Muggle economy, leading him to deepen his knowledge of finance and economic markets of the non-magical world.
The thought of reuniting with his wife Fleur also kept him going. If he managed to close this deal, he and his wife would be set for life. All the years of hard work for peanuts were finally about to pay off.
"When do you think you'll have the blueprints ready, Harry?" asked his partner and the person who believed in Harry's idea, Draco.
"A few more days," Harry replied.
"Fantastic. I'm almost ready with a proposal to address the supply chain issues Mr. Arjun asked about. But those blueprints are crucial. Mr. Arjun insisted on it."
"I've got it under control," Harry assured him. "I know how important these blueprints are."
"I know I can count on you, Harry."
"Of course! We'll close this deal, Draco. All our hard work will pay off, buddy."
Harry ended the call on a high note, eager to get back to work. His mood lifted even more when he received a message from his wife, Fleur.
"Harry," the message began, "I've been thinking a lot lately and I can't do this anymore. I want a divorce."
The words cut through him like a knife, leaving him stunned and unable to comprehend what he was reading. He stood frozen on the sidewalk, staring at his phone. People around him complained and cursed, but he didn't notice. His whole world shrank to the message on the screen.
As he stood in shock, another message appeared.
"I've sent the documents to you. They should arrive in a few days. I'm sorry it has come to this, but I hope we can handle this process like civilized adults."
Harry's hands shook as he read the messages over and over. A dozen responses ran through his mind, each more hysterical than the last. He wanted to reject what she had written, to deny that this was happening. But deep down, he couldn't say he was surprised.
For months before his trip to Thailand, there had been tension in their marriage. Fleur had grown cold and evasive, avoiding him even in their home at The Pearl. For many months before his departure, she had refused him her body, claiming she was too tired or not in the mood.
At first, Harry thought it was just a rough patch they would get through. Now it seemed clear that it was the beginning of her distancing herself from him. The message on his phone was undeniable proof that Fleur had given up on their marriage long before his trip to Thailand.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.
Fleur had always been his dream girl. Intelligent and beautiful, with a smile that made his heart stutter. And now everything that connected them was ending? What was once a vibrant and loving marriage was falling apart?
"Hey, are you okay?" asked a passerby, noticing his distress.
"Yeah, just... got some bad news," Harry managed to say.
"Life's full of surprises, right? Keep your head up, mate," the passerby said before walking away.
Surprises didn't even begin to cover it. Taking a deep breath, Harry sent a message to his wife.
"Is there anything we can do to fix this, Fleur?"
Her response came quickly.
"No."
Harry slipped his phone into his pocket and looked up at the cloudless sky. He knew he had to rush to the airport and catch the next flight back to England. International Portkey bookings had to be made at least three days in advance, and the number of jumps from Thailand to England numbered in the dozens, which was not only magically but physically exhausting. So traveling by magical means would take longer than a flight. He wondered how to break this news to his partner when an older man bumped into him and spat at his feet for blocking the sidewalk. The anger on the man's face snapped Harry out of his chaotic thoughts.
Barely aware of what he was doing, Harry joined the bustling crowd, letting it carry him wherever they were headed. Eventually, he escaped the relentless heat and stumbled into a bar. He ordered a whiskey and downed it, savoring the burn in his throat. He ordered another from the smiling bartender, the sharp alcohol blazing a trail to his stomach.
Through the alcoholic haze filling his head, Harry looked around and realized he was in the red-light district, a part of Bangkok he had never been to before. The surrounding bar was a mix of noise and bodies, with scantily clad women eyeing him from every corner. Once, their hungry looks would have excited him. Now he felt only numbness.
His phone buzzed again, and he picked it up, his pulse quickening. Please, Fleur. Don't do this.
The message wasn't from Fleur. It was from his partner, reminding him of an important meeting in two days.
Harry turned off his phone and waved to the bartender, ordering another drink. Work? What did it matter now? His life was ruined, his heart shredded.
A warm hand slid onto his shoulder. Harry looked at the young Thai woman in a tight red dress, smiling at him.
"You look sad," she said. "Maybe I can cheer you up?"
Her boldness shocked Harry, but beneath the shock was a spark of interest. When was the last time a woman had affected him so strongly?
He took in her curvy figure and bright red painted lips. She was far from the statuesque blonde beauty of Fleur, but this woman had an earthy sexiness that aroused him. He felt his cock harden against his thigh.
What the hell? Fleur wanted freedom? He would give it to her.
He leaned in close, inhaling the woman's scent. "What's your name?"
"Arisa. But you can call me whatever you want."
A smile spread across Harry's face. "Then, Arisa. Looks like it's my lucky night."
The pain in his chest eased, replaced by a hunger he hadn't felt in ages. Tonight, he would lose himself in this woman, and when he woke up tomorrow, he would start a new life. A life without Fleur.
Arisa was the beginning of a month where Harry lost himself in the warmth of a woman's body and the coldness of alcohol. It was as if Fleur had reached into his chest and ripped out his still-beating heart, leaving a gaping hole in its place. He tried to fill that void with anything he could—drinking, nightclubs, the company of strangers. In the chaos of Bangkok's nightlife, Harry sought an escape from the pain.
"One more round!" Harry muttered one night, raising his glass to no one in particular.
His newly found "friends" cheered him on as he drowned his sorrows in whiskey and beer. Nights blurred together, punctuated by hazy memories of laughter, brawls, and vomit-stained sidewalks.
Harry Potter began using sex as another crutch, a way to forget the emptiness inside him. Each night, he wandered through the red-light districts, seeking the warmth of a woman's embrace. Their faces and bodies were interchangeable, mere fleeting moments of pleasure that left him feeling even emptier.
"Harry," a sensual voice whispered in his ear one night, "fancy a threesome? We can make your dreams come true."
"Sure," he mumbled, desperately seeking anything to distract him from his misery.
That night, Harry fucked three women. Their young, firm bodies writhed around him, lips pressed against his skin, hands exploring every inch of his body. He entered them all, filling them with his cock, sweating and groaning like a beast. Yet, despite their best efforts, he felt nothing but numbness, their twisted dance making him feel dirtier than ever before.
When morning came, he crawled out of bed, sore and exhausted. As he stumbled towards the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and froze. His reflection stared back at him, puffy and tired, a shadow of the man he once was. Dark circles ringed his bloodshot eyes, and his body sagged from the excesses of the past month.
"Jesus Christ," Harry whispered, looking at the surrounding squalor.
The room reeked of alcohol and sex, discarded food containers and used condoms littering the floor. This place was a pathetic testament to his self-pity and degradation.
"Is this what you've become?" he asked himself, staring deeply into his own eyes. "Is this the man Fleur once loved?"
As Harry surveyed the wreckage around him, something inside him shifted. A spark of determination ignited, burning away the fog of despair that had clouded his mind for so long. In that moment, he knew he couldn't let the loss of Fleur define him any longer. He had to change, to rebuild himself from the ashes of his broken marriage.
"Enough," he muttered, clenching his fists. "This ends now."
That day, Harry severed ties with his self-destructive habits, leaving behind alcohol and prostitutes. It wasn't easy, but he knew he had no other choice. His work had suffered greatly, and he could see the concern in his partner's eyes during their weekly progress meetings. Determined to turn his life around, Harry threw himself into his work, tackling each task with renewed purpose.
"Harry, you've really turned things around these past few weeks," his partner remarked one day. "I was worried about you, mate."
"I'm sorry, Draco. I was up to my neck in shit," Harry replied. "I'm over it now. I'm 100% focused and ready to close this deal."
"That's my man," Draco laughed, patting Harry on the shoulder.
Harry's journey to self-improvement didn't stop at work. Seeking a new outlet for his energy, he joined a local Muay Thai gym. The first few sessions were brutal, leaving him battered and bruised, but he persevered. He knew he would never be a great fighter, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the way the training made him feel alive, strong, and focused.
"Good kick, Harry!" his trainer shouted as he landed a solid blow on the heavy bag. "Again! Don't stop! Don't stop!"
"Yeah!" Harry panted, sweat pouring down his face as he kicked again and again. "I won't give up!"
Every weekend, Harry ended the workweek with a trip to the beach and long swims in the ocean. The saltwater cleansed his body, washing away the grime of the day. Each night, as the sun set over the horizon, he felt a sense of peace, confident in his decision to stay in Thailand. After all, there was nothing waiting for him back in the States.
So, when obstacles in his business deal extended his six-month stay to another six months, Harry didn't mind. He had found purpose in this foreign land and wasn't ready to leave it yet.
A year had passed since his arrival in Thailand, and after successfully closing the business deal, Harry finally returned to France. The solid beach house his grandfather had built stood nestled in the cliffs overlooking the bay, its wooden walls weathered by time and salty sea air.
Three stories high, with a pool and a guest house, it had been Fleur and Harry's home for over ten years after he had sorted out things post-war. Their divorce had been finalized, and their assets divided, but since The Pearl was still in the Black family name, it wasn't part of their settlement.
"Welcome back, old friend," Harry muttered, stepping inside, memories washing over him like the waves on the sandy beach below.
The house was now empty, devoid of Fleur's laughter and the warmth of their shared life. The air held a stillness that spoke of unoccupied rooms, an unused home. As Harry wandered through the house he once shared with Fleur, his mind filled with fleeting glimpses of the life they once led together—nights spent in each other's arms, lazy mornings sipping coffee on the patio, passionate evenings consumed by their desires.
He ran his hand over the smooth wood of the kitchen countertop, remembering all the times he'd bent Fleur over that counter, her hands gripping the polished wood as he pounded into her firm ass from behind. "I can't keep living in the past," he murmured to himself.
Harry continued exploring the house, noting with sadness that all traces of Fleur had been removed. Their bedroom looked the same as when he had left it, but now the closets were empty. Fleur had always loved the ample closet space. The sight of those closets filled only with empty hangers drove home the finality of their divorce.
A sudden weariness overcame him. He closed his eyes, slowing his breath as his Muay Thai trainer had taught him. He relaxed his muscles, focusing on inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling. It was a way to center his mind, to anchor himself in the present moment.
Harry's thoughts calmed and clarified. He knew that dwelling on the past was pointless. He might have lost his dream girl, but he still had his life ahead of him. He had plenty of money in the bank, a beautiful beachfront home his grandfather had built, and time to do whatever he wanted. All the training and clean living in Thailand had made him fitter and healthier than he'd been since his school days. Lean muscles rippled under his tanned skin, and calluses covered his knuckles and shins. He was 32 but felt like he was 22.
Why should he pity himself? This sadness was unnecessary and unproductive. He was tired and out of sorts. He needed to clear his head. He needed to swim.
"Damn red tide," Harry muttered, gazing out at the ocean from the back porch of The Pearl.
The bay was a secluded spot, accessible only from the surrounding cliffs. Harry's grandfather had built one of the first houses there in the 1940s. Since then, newer and more luxurious homes had sprung up on the cliffs, attracting people to the secluded beauty of the place.
Harry watched the waves crash against the sandy shore of the cove. The water was off-limits for swimming, but he desperately craved the cool embrace of the sea to wash away the sadness clinging to him like a second skin.
With a sigh, he turned his gaze toward the backyard pool—not the same as the ocean, but it would have to do until the red tide passed. The pool had the advantage of privacy. Stripping off his clothes, he welcomed the freedom of being naked outdoors after a 19-hour flight.
He immersed himself in the pool, feeling the refreshing coolness envelop him as he sank below the surface. The water revitalized him as he swam lap after lap, letting the rhythm of his strokes clear his muddled thoughts and melancholic regrets.
Floating on his back, he stared up at the cloudless sky and allowed his mind to drift aimlessly. He had enjoyed his time in Thailand immensely, but nothing could compare to returning home to The Pearl. He intended to spend the rest of his life in this place, and it was up to him to make the most of it.
Feeling calm and collected, Harry emerged from the pool and collapsed onto one of the lounge chairs by the pool. As he basked in the warm rays of the sun, his thoughts wandered back to Fleur—to the wild, passionate nights they had shared, to the times when their love burned so fiercely. He recalled one particular night when they had fucked like animals right by the pool, taking each other with a hunger that seemed insatiable.
This memory stirred something within him, a dormant flame of desire. Unable to resist the temptation, he closed his eyes and wrapped his hand around his growing erection.
"Fleur," he groaned.
The sound dissolved into the warm air as he surrendered to the pleasure washing over him. His strokes became faster and more insistent. Within moments, he exploded, his orgasm splattering across his belly in thick, hot ropes of cum.
Panting, Harry lay back on the chair, letting the sun bathe him in its warmth as he reveled in the satisfying release. He hadn't been with a woman in seven months. This release was much needed and incredibly satisfying.
"Wow, Harry!" a sudden female voice exclaimed, pulling him from his reverie. "That was quite the load!"
He looked up, heart pounding in his chest. "Gabrielle!" he stammered, trying to cover his still-stiff cock.
Fleur's younger sister smiled at him, her blonde hair gleaming in the sun, her tongue slowly licking her full lips.
"Welcome home!" she giggled.
Chapters 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 ,11, 12 are already on Pa tr eon
If you would like to read the next chapters faster, see exclusive content, or support my work, please visit
Pat re on. c om(slash)belleveela(delete spaces)