CHAPTER 51: LOVE BEYOND BOUNDARIES
As Harry stirred from his slumber, he was greeted by the unwelcome sensation of a throbbing headache pulsating with each beat of his heart. Reluctantly, he peeled open his heavy eyelids, only to be assaulted by the harsh rays of the morning sun piercing through the room's window. Grimacing, he quickly shut his eyes, but even in the darkness behind his lids, flashes of vibrant colors danced before him, intensifying his discomfort.
After a few agonizing moments, Harry cautiously attempted to open his eyes once more, relieved to find the sunlight more bearable this time. Though still squinting against the brightness, he scanned the room, gradually acclimating to his surroundings. His hand instinctively reached out for his glasses, a reflex he was still trying to shake off after months of not needing them. Adjusting to his newfound vision and feeling the headache begin to ebb, he took in the details of the room.
"Ugh, why does every morning feel like a battle?" Harry muttered to himself, rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to alleviate the lingering pain.
Across the room, a rustling noise drew his attention to the window, where a gentle breeze played with the curtains, casting shifting shadows across the floor. It was a peaceful scene, yet Harry couldn't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at him. As he sat up in bed, he couldn't help but wonder what new challenges awaited him beyond the safety of his room.
As Harry gingerly lifted the sheets, a familiar weight pressed against his chest, confirming his suspicions from the events of the previous night and the soft, feminine moans he remembered. There she was, nestled against him, her golden locks tousled in the morning light. It was Fleur, her features softened in sleep, though the sight of her drooling on his chest was still one he found difficult to become accustomed to, no matter how many times it had happened over the past month.
With their bodies entwined, Harry couldn't help but feel every contour of her form pressed against his own. Both completely unclothed, he realized, and he found himself ensnared between her supple thighs. As she shifted in her sleep, a subtle grind against him sent a jolt of sensation through him, though she soon settled, a mischievous grin playing on her lips even as her eyes remained closed.
"I know you're awake," Harry ventured, breaking the morning silence.
Fleur's smile widened, though she made no move to open her eyes. "Any plans for getting up?" he prodded, amusement lacing his voice.
Finally, she lifted her head from his chest, her hazel eyes sparkling with mischief as she regarded him. "As much as I hate it, mon amour, I 'ave to. Even though you make a good pillow."
Harry feigned a dramatic sigh. "A pillow! Well, that's one future prospect apart from the Auror internship."
Their banter was interrupted by a soft knock on the door, signaling the start of what promised to be another eventful day in their tumultuous world.
Her eyes narrowed playfully. "Are you implying that being my pillow is a lesser pursuit than an Auror job, Monsieur Potter?"
Harry flashed her a lopsided grin. "Choosing to fight ugly mugs over this?" His fingers trailed down her chin, neck, and over her breasts. "What am I, crazy?"
She chuckled, patting his cheek affectionately. "Good answer."
Reaching for his wand, Harry cast the Tempus charm, revealing that it was close to seven. With breakfast not scheduled until nine, they still had an hour to spare.
"Is this when you tell me about this new gig?" Harry inquired, breaking the silence.
"Gig?" Fleur echoed, unfamiliar with the term.
"You," Harry clarified. "Coming to Hogwarts. The assistant professorship."
Fleur's smile widened at the mention of the opportunity. Sliding herself closer across his chest, she tilted her head up to kiss his jaw. Harry reciprocated, running his fingers through her hair as he pulled her into a deep kiss. He recognized her tactic of diverting the conversation, yet found himself unable to resist the temptation to lose himself in her embrace, if only for a moment.
He gently pushed her back, meeting her gaze with a determined expression. "So?"
"So what?" Fleur replied innocently, though there was a hint of mischief in her eyes.
Harry sighed, his patience wearing thin. "Do we really need to play this game? You know what I'm talking about."
Fleur grumbled in protest, lightly tapping his chest before crossing her arms over it, drawing attention to her enticing lips. Another attempt at distraction from the enchantress.
"Fleur..." Harry's voice was tinged with both frustration and amusement.
"Oh, fine!" she relented, her tone playful yet tinged with annoyance. "Spoil my fun, why don't you?" Pushing herself slightly upward, her nose mere inches from his, she continued, "You know why I did it. I don't have a job, and I don't enjoy being a... profiteuse. Mesdames Babbling and Vector will... tutor me in private."
Harry's brow furrowed in concern. "And it has nothing to do with me spending the next nine months at Hogwarts?" he pressed, searching her eyes for the truth.
"Non, that would be..." Fleur paused, lifting her lips in a faux-thoughtful frown, a gesture that Harry didn't buy for a second, "...a jolie sérendipité."
Harry rolled his eyes. It seemed she was determined to play innocent, no matter what he said. He decided to humor her for the time being, though he wasn't about to let her off the hook completely.
"Regardless, you know things will be different now," he insisted.
"Huh?" Fleur yawned, feigning ignorance. "Like what?"
"Daphne," Harry stated bluntly.
Instantly, Fleur's façade crumbled, her features contorting into a familiar expression of haughtiness. "The frail princess. What about her?"
"She's not frail," Harry countered, though he couldn't deny the truth in her nickname. "And stop pretending. You know what I'm talking about."
Fleur shifted her weight over him once more, her dismissive attitude evident. "What of her?"
"We're to be wed, and you know that. And that means I will spend time with her. And if things work out, she will end up as my wife. You know what that means..." Harry trailed off, his tone serious.
"It means nozzing!" Fleur retorted, traces of annoyance creeping into her features. "Unless you think the girl can do better than I?"
"She's not your competitor, Fleur, and I'm not a trophy!" Harry countered firmly.
"Non!" Fleur agreed with a playful smirk, "you're my pillow."
Harry shot her a sideways glance. "And you're a professor. Don't think I'll not notice if you try giving her a hard time."
A hint of defiance flashed across Fleur's features. "I'm more interested in making you... uh, how did you put it? Hard!"
"Minx!" Harry exclaimed, a mixture of amusement and exasperation in his voice. Their playful banter was interrupted by another knock on the door, signaling the start of what promised to be another eventful day in their unconventional relationship.
Fleur chuckled softly, easing herself off him until she was lying beside him. Sensing that the battle was lost for now, Harry decided to let the matter rest, at least until Fleur gave him a reason to act.
"Mon amour?" Fleur's voice broke through the silence.
"Yes?" Harry replied, turning to face her.
"I propose a deal. If you agree to answer one question of mine, honestly, then I'll let her be."
Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What question?"
"Non," Fleur shook her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "First, agree. Then, question."
"Not happening," Harry countered, a hint of skepticism in his tone. "For all I know, you'll ask me about my weirdest fantasies and if I'd like to perform them with you."
Fleur's smile widened. "Let's pick your favorite three and start from there."
Harry snorted in amusement. "You're incorrigible."
"A veela is not easily redeemed," she teased.
"Fine!" Harry relented. "What's the question?"
Fleur's expression softened as she gazed at him intently. "Why did you accept me?"
Harry blinked, feigning confusion. "...I don't understand," he lied, though he knew exactly what she was talking about.
"Now who's pretending?" Fleur countered, her gaze piercing through his facade.
Caught off guard, Harry found himself at a loss for words as Fleur sat up, her naked form illuminated by the morning light streaming through the window. "You know what I am. You know what I've done," she began, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "I... murdered, and I told you how I enjoyed doing it. Despite that, you accepted me. You bedded me. Why?"
Harry raised an eyebrow, his mind racing for an answer. "Fleur, I'd have to be a reptile to not be attracted to you. You're heavenly."
"And I'd have accepted that answer from anyone else but you," Fleur countered, her tone soft yet insistent. "I saw it, 'Arry. The dégoût in your eyes. You wanted to attack me, but you... you made love. I just want to understand. Why?"
Sensing the weight of the conversation pressing down on him, Harry rose from the bed, a sense of discomfort settling over him. "Do we really need to do this now?" he deflected, his voice tinged with unease.
"Oui," Fleur affirmed, her gaze steady.
"What do you want to hear?" Harry asked, his tone resigned. "That despite what you did, I knew you were a good person at heart, and believed you really deserved a second chance to prove your humanity?"
Fleur snorted, but remained silent, her expression unreadable.
Harry held her gaze, the intensity of his green eyes meeting hers. "You're a monster."
The blunt statement hung in the air, yet Fleur showed no outward reaction, her composure unyielding.
"But you're the monster I know," Harry continued, his voice soft but unwavering. "One I can reasonably predict, which is more than I can say about some others. Yes, you're a murderer, and I hate it. I despise it. But I know something about you that others don't. Or if they do, they don't really understand it."
Fleur tensed visibly, anticipation etched into her features. "Which is?" she prompted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"You're not human," Harry stated simply.
Fleur blinked, her expression shifting from affronted to puzzled. "Excusez—"
"You. Are. Not. Human," Harry reiterated firmly, cutting her off. "You're a veela. Yes, you look human and feel human, but deep in here," he touched her temples gently, "you're really not. A human does not drink from others' souls, nor kill people while feeding on them. You're a veela, and it is part of your constitution. It's what you are. I can no more be angry at you for feeding than I can be at a tiger for hunting deer."
Fleur watched him in silence, her features unreadable.
"I've had a long time to think about it, Fleur," Harry admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "That day, I didn't just decide to embrace you because of what happened. I didn't just give in to my lusts. You know the allure doesn't work on me. And no matter how beautiful you are, or how much you drive me crazy, your body simply isn't enough for me to look past what you've done. Nor will it ever be."
"But—" Fleur began, but Harry raised a finger, silencing her.
"I knew what you were, Fleur, when I went to your home that day," Harry continued, his voice steady. "Sirius had collected enough information on your species. Your own admission only proved my suspicions right. But do you know what I really noticed? Not that veela are misunderstood creatures, nor that I could somehow save you and your kind from your demons. Make you a better person or some such shit."
Harry's laughter ceased abruptly, the realization of the gravity of his words settling heavily upon him. His tone softened, losing its edge of cruelty as he continued, "No. I've seen it, felt it from your voice. The moment you give in to your Allure, it is over. It is impossible to get rid of it. You can't stop it, and maybe you don't even want to stop. You said that you became a veela when you used the Allure actively for the first time, when you... killed someone. But I don't think that's right."
Fleur narrowed her eyes, a flicker of anger and frustration crossing her features. A tinge of silver began to color her hazel orbs, a sign of her rising emotions.
"I don't think it's that drastic," Harry continued, his voice calm yet determined. "I think it happens piece by piece. One act at a time. At first, it is about feeding. Then it is about pleasure. Slowly, ever so slowly, it shifts, until you cannot even differentiate between people and food. It is possible that this happened to your mother, Apolline. Maybe she, too, tried her best to limit it. Maybe find a path of lesser evil, and if not, then get a good result out of it."
As Harry spoke, Fleur's eyes turned full silver, a reflection of the turmoil brewing within her.
"I'm not sure if there is any humanity left in your mother now. But in you, I see it," Harry said softly, his voice filled with genuine emotion. "The person you were. Still are. It shows in the way you help me. It shows in the tiny ways you try to avoid talking about your veela nature, or the triggers that invoke them, like my relationship with Daphne. How you tried to fully explain everything you did and resigned yourself to my judgment. It shows in the way you care about your sister."
Gabrielle. Harry realized he had never really gotten around to knowing if she had awakened her veela instincts, or if she was still a witch. Fleur never really talked a lot about her.
"I know you try hard, even though you slip from time to time," Harry continued, his voice tinged with sadness. "It scares me... I fear that someday I'll lose you to the veela, that someday, you'll be gone, leaving the monster behind. And I don't want that."
A single glistening tear trailed down Fleur's left cheek, a silent testament to the depth of her emotions.
"I know how it feels. After all, I too have something within me that's not... human," Harry confessed, his voice heavy with understanding. "And no matter how much I try, I know that I'm not like everyone else. They call me a vessel of an ancient magic, but magic is the last thing that can describe what I have. Yes, I hold it back, but it slips through. When I get angry, when I'm afraid. I know that with Voldemort coming for me, I will probably have to dive deeper into the abyss of my power and when it looks back at me, I wouldn't know who is the greater monster. Me, or Voldemort. But I try, and it is this struggle that makes me human."
"'Arry—" Fleur started, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, but before she could say anything more, Harry pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"And that is why I chose you that night," Harry continued, his voice tender. "Because I know what it feels to be inhuman. To be a demon. Call me selfish, but I think even demons deserve a bit of happiness."
With that, he kissed her, the warmth of their connection enveloping them both. Fleur responded eagerly, her moan mingling with his as they lost themselves in each other once more. Despite the intensity of their previous night's passion, the desire between them burned just as fiercely, igniting a flame that refused to be extinguished. Harry couldn't help but marvel at the resilience of their love, a beacon of light in the darkness of their uncertain futures.
"Does that adequately answer your quest—mph!" Harry's words were cut off as Fleur pressed her lips firmly against his, silencing him with a passionate kiss. In an instant, any coherent thought he had been about to voice vanished from his mind, replaced instead by a wave of intense desire.
Within seconds, their breath and saliva mingled, igniting a primal urge within Harry that he struggled to contain. Images and fantasies flooded his mind, each more tantalizing than the last. By the time fifteen seconds had passed, he found himself mentally composing a list titled 'Things To Do With Fleur'. And by the twenty-fifth second, he was lying back, with Fleur straddling him, their bodies pressed together in an electrifying embrace.
Harry reminded himself to be cautious, wary of Fleur's veela instincts that might compel her to feed on him. But to his surprise, there was no hint of the overwhelming allure he had come to associate with her. No flashes of memories, no dazzling sensations that left him breathless. Yet, despite this absence, Fleur's passion was undeniable, and she came at him with a ferocity that matched his own.
In that moment, as they lost themselves in each other's embrace, Harry realized that perhaps their connection transcended the boundaries of veela allure. Perhaps it was simply about them, their love and desire for each other burning brighter than any magic or instinct could ever ignite. And for Harry, that realization was nothing short of extraordinary.
"Does that adequately answer your question?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with amusement. "You know you'll have to keep your word. Won't—"
But before he could finish his sentence, Fleur interrupted him, pressing a finger against his lips to silence him. He gazed at her in confusion, noticing the slight pout forming on her lips.
"What?" Harry questioned, bemused by her sudden change in demeanor.
If anything, her pout only grew more pronounced, her golden bangs falling delicately over her face as she glared at him sullenly.
"'Arry Potter..." she began, her tone carrying a hint of reproach, "Has anybody told you that you talk too much?"
"Um... not in those exact words," Harry admitted, feeling slightly taken aback by her candid remark. Hermione had certainly called him thick-headed several times, but...
"Well, you do," Fleur declared, her smirk playful. "So just shut up."
With that, she took his hand and guided it to the appropriate destination, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she urged him to abandon words in favor of action.
No, there wasn't.
Their embrace deepened, words becoming unnecessary as their actions spoke volumes. In the warmth of each other's arms, they found solace, passion, and a profound connection that transcended mere conversation. As the morning sunlight bathed the room in a soft glow, they lost themselves in the sweet symphony of their shared desires, each touch and caress igniting a flame that burned brighter with every passing moment.
Time seemed to stand still as they explored each other with a fervor that bordered on desperation, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as they surrendered to the intoxicating pleasure of their union. In that intimate embrace, they found a sanctuary from the outside world, a place where only their love and desire existed, unfettered by the constraints of reality.
And as the morning sun rose higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the room, they clung to each other with a newfound intensity, savoring every fleeting moment of their passionate encounter. For in each other's arms, they found not only physical satisfaction but also a profound sense of belonging and acceptance that filled their hearts with an overwhelming sense of joy and contentment.
And so, they remained entwined in each other's embrace, their bodies united in a dance of love and desire that knew no bounds. And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their shared passion, they knew that their love would endure, strong and unwavering, against whatever challenges the future might bring.
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