Chapter Eleven - Hogsmeade - Part One

"Wake up, sweetheart, it's date day."

Harry blinked blearily as Hermione's voice broke through the fog of sleep, a soft kiss brushing his cheek. He stretched under the silk sheets, his mouth dry, and smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Water. He needed water.

"What time is it?" he mumbled, watching through half-lidded eyes as Hermione pulled up a pair of navy, wet-look leggings over her thong-covered behind. They hugged her figure perfectly, and Harry wasn't complaining.

"Ten past eight," she replied, clipping on a matching bra and reaching out for a fluffy cream-coloured jumper, "Can we make the announcement about the house-elves today?"

Harry pushed himself upright, scrubbing a hand over his face. His mind was still catching up, but he could already see Hermione's focus hadn't wavered since yesterday.

"Erm…" he began, his brain crawling out of its slumber, "Maybe not yet. I'd like you to take some time to write the announcement out properly. Let's go over it together first–we might come up with a few extra bits to add.

Hermione nodded, her plump lips curving in approval. There was something about the way he approached his new leadership now–careful, deliberate, and so different from his impulsive teenage self. It was… sexy.

"Come on then," she said brightly, pulling the jumper over her head, her curls fluffing around her face. "We're meeting Fleur at the main gates at ten, right? I still need to do my makeup."

"You don't need makeup, babe," Harry said, his voice warm. "You're already beautiful."

Hermione paused, a faint blush dusting her cheeks, "I'm going to be standing next to a Veela all day, Harry. I'm gonna look my best."

"Alright," he relented with a grin, sliding out of bed.

Hermione's blush deepened as he padded past her, shirtless and still tousled from sleep, looking at her and not watching where he was going. But who could blame him? The jumper she'd worn was slightly too small and stretched tightly across her generous chest.

When he came out of the bathroom, hair damp and face refreshed, Hermione had already picked out an outfit for him. He arched an eyebrow at her for it, but with the pleading look she responded with, he smiled and nodded. Quickly, he put on the simple black jeans, boots and crisp, dark green shirt that she'd laid out.

Her appreciative look didn't escape his notice, especially when he rolled up the sleeves of the shirt, exposing his toned forearms. Throwing on a sleek black bomber jacket, he smirked at her.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I'm gonna rip your clothes off," he teased, his voice low.

"No you aren't," Hermione replied in a singsong voice, her grin sly, "You don't get to cum until I say so, remember?"

He gave Hermione a pleading look, but she crossed her arms and arched a brow, unmoved. With a dramatic harrumph, Harry followed her down the spiral staircase.

The school was abuzz with excitement for the Hogsmeade weekend, especially because so many of them were going clothes shopping. It was going to be packed in the village, for certain. Harry and Hermione ate a quick, light breakfast and headed out into the grounds.

They arrived at the carriages at precisely two minutes to ten, finding Fleur already waiting for them. Her sleek, silver hair was made into an elegant half-up, half-down look, and her makeup, like Hermione's, was simple and natural-looking. Her luscious body was shaped by a form-fitting, knee-length black and white woollen dress. Both Harry and Hermione couldn't help but admire how it clung, glancing at each other in mutual appreciation before Fleur noticed their presence.

'"Arry! 'Ermione!" Fleur greeted them warmly, her smile as radiant as ever, "You both look very nice."

"You too," Harry replied, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"Absolutely," Ermione replied flirtily, "I love your dress. Is it French?"

"Ze best," said Fleur with a grin, the pride unmistakable in her voice "Shall we go? Is it far to walk? I've only been by Floo."

"Nah, only twenty minutes," Harry replied, offering his arm for her to link with an easy smile. Fleur took it, and Hermione quickly linked Fleur's other arm. Together, the trio strolled leisurely through the gates and out of the grounds.

Initially, the chat was just small talk and a bit of banter about who would win the Tournament which then turned into a conversation about magical capabilities. Fleur's special interest was Enchanting and of course, talking about such exotic academia had Hermione enchanted herself so they started conversing rapidly about different enchanting methods. Their rapid-fire discussion on the nuances of imbuing objects with permanent magic without runes soon had them both enthralled. Harry was content to let them chat, just happy to be out on a date with two gorgeous girls.

Eventually, the subject drifted to life in France.

"It is a beautiful country," Fleur said wistfully, "It 'as its problems, but where we live, in ze south, it's lovely and warm and ze beaches are magnifique."

"I'd love to visit someday," Harry said, "I've not managed to get out of the country yet. If it's as nice as you say, I might never come back."

Fleur laughed softly, her eyes sparkling. "We would make sure you 'ad no reason to leave."

"It is lovely there," Hermione said, her tone warm and nostalgic. Harry, meanwhile, found himself distracted by the dazzling brightness of Fleur's smile, its perfect symmetry drawing him in.

"My parents have taken me to France many times since I was about five, I think," Hermione continued. "My mum's sister lives in Montpellier, so we visit almost every summer."

"Really?" Fleur's eyes lit up, "That's not that far from our château in Béziers!"

"We've driven around there a couple of times," said Hermione excitedly, her face turning wistful, "The whole riviera is beautiful. I can just imagine laying down on the beach in Cap d'Agde and soaking up the sun…"

"Cap d'Agde?" Fleur echoed in surprise, "You mean ze nudist beach?"

Harry's head snapped around so fast it was a wonder he didn't get whiplash.

"Course." Hermione said as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "My aunt's a member of the resort there, so we'd be there most days. I wasn't allowed to go nude until I was sixteen, but it's a separated naturist beach. "Very exclusive and not a lot of members."

Harry's mind went blank, replaced by an image of white sands, a gentle sea breeze, and a sun-kissed naked Hermione lying beside him. Her curls danced in the wind as she turned to smile at him, and–

"Harry?" Hermione's voice snapped him back to reality, "Earth to Harry! You're miles away."

"I was in France, is where I was," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

Hermione smirked knowingly. Well, "I was saying that I'm sure my parents wouldn't mind if you joined us on our trip there this summer if you want."

"Definitely," Harry replied, with such enthusiasm it made both of the girls burst into laughter.

Five minutes later, they were traipsing down the cobbled steps of the main high street in Hogsmeade. The village was packed with students, but they found that with the combination of Fleur's allure and Harry's status as the Prophet of Magic, many stopped to gawk and they just sailed right through the crowd. They waltzed straight into Twilfit and Tattings, a clothes store that was many times bigger than it looked from the outside. In the interest of time, Harry split off from Fleur and Hermione and headed to the men's section to purchase his own new uniform because the queue for the tills was already piling up with students. It didn't take anywhere near as long as they'd anticipated to find what was needed, in the end. With the new uniforms having been made to magically adjust to the wearers' desires and pre-sorted by houses, they were easy to find and they didn't need to waste time changing in fitting rooms. With his basket of clothes in hand, Harry strolled through the shop, squeezing between students and their families, soon spotting Fleur and Hermione gawking over a large, multi-levelled shoe rack.

Hermione turned to him with a dramatic flutter of her lashes. "Harry," she began, her voice sugary sweet, "would you possibly –just maybe–get me a pair of those thigh-high Hebridean Black scale boots? They're so expensive and I have nowhere near enough money but custom-made ones from the window are just so…"

She trailed off, her tone imploring, but the sparkle in her eye gave her away.

Harry sighed with mock exasperation, but the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

Hermione squealed in delight and darted off to find someone to take her measurements, her excitement practically contagious. Before she disappeared, though, she paused to throw her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Looks like I'm going to earn myself some extra points for this," she whispered in his eyes. Then, with a playful nip to his earlobe, she was gone.

This left Harry alone with Fleur for the first time, and Harry found her very easy to talk to, sitting in a small seating area where shoppers could try shoes that didn't need to be custom fitted. He found it incredibly refreshing that she didn't even mention the goddess once in the ten minutes Hermione was gone. She was much more interested in getting to know Harry as a person. Though he avoided revealing too much about his past before Hogwarts, Fleur's genuine curiosity and warmth put him at ease.

She seemed to truly care, and it was clear she got on well with Hermione, which made Harry relax further.

For Fleur, Harry was captivating in ways she hadn't anticipated, beyond his looks. He had an undeniable spark to him, a hidden energy that he held in his every step. She'd heard a mix of stories about him when she'd first arrived at Hogwarts with the Beauxbatons delegation, and then had been so intrigued she found himself purposefully seeking more. Of course, you could never tell which were true, and some of them were downright ridiculous. After all, there was no way a second-year student could kill a thousand-year-old basilisk with a measly little sword. The sheer bravery in the face of adversity that was woven in many of the stories, though, thrilled her. He had fight in him. If she was ever going to choose a man, she'd need one who'd fight for what he believed in.

Hermione, on the other hand, was a young woman that Fleur was quickly becoming more and more attracted to. The way she'd shown a strong understanding of Enchantment, a subject not even taught at Hogwarts, had impressed her. It seemed that Hermione really was the brightest witch in her school, which was a trait that Fleur prized in herself, so she couldn't help but be attracted to her English counterpart. Looks-wise, Hermione was a classic beauty, but her looks contrasted well with Fleur's own.

Hermione had soft, girl-next door facial features, a voluptuous body, a classic hourglass, while Fleur's face was angelic with high cheekbones, her body slender and graceful. Her best friend Amie had told Fleur she could've been a ballet dancer, if not for the fact that she boasted a little too much cleavage and a little too much ass. To Fleur, her legs were her best feature, and more and more that day so far she'd found herself wondering what it might be like to wrap those legs around Harry's waist or around Hermione's head.

It had taken a while, but she'd finally accepted her identity as a Veela, even though it had taken years with the way she'd been treated. She'd thrown herself into her work, determined to come out on top and be known for more than just her looks. Yet, with her confidence in her skills growing year on year, the raw sexual nature of her species had morphed her body into one built for sex.

She had a body made for fucking. While she of course had lost her virginity years ago to a partner she trusted, he'd idolised her. All he wanted was to caress her, make love to her. That wasn't what she needed, she was a creature of passion. She needed someone to let her give in to that nature, to be able to handle the dominant side of her that craved large raw, unbridled cock. She needed someone who would let her ravage his body and would do the same to her.

The biggest issue was the closeness of the relationship between Harry and Hermione. Best friends for years were precious. She'd known the two of them would get together the week she arrived at Hogwarts, when they didnt know it themselves. They danced around each other effortlessly, bouncing off each other. Now, with the added sexual energy between them, the feedback loop of their relationship assaulted her Veela senses. It was a heady feeling she couldn't help but feel excited by.

Yesterday, she'd seen Hermione waddling to the hospital wing, clearly looking for something to help soothe the warm yet slightly uncomfortable feeling after being oh so deliciously ravaged. That had been the moment Fleur made her decision. If they were who she thought they might be, she would dive in with all the fire of her race. Could she ever be as close to either of them as they were to each other? She wasn't sure, but based on her research and how they'd behaved so far, she was definitely willing to find out. Maybe if what her mother had said was true, it might actually be an option.

Harry had just shown how caring and thoughtful he was by asking about her sister's wellbeing when Hermione came back with a ticket in hand. Her boots would be delivered to her in the next week and so it was time for them to head to the tills. The queue was massive, snaking its way around the shop, so they wasted no time in finding the back of it. It only took about five minutes before a shop assistant found them, a willowy brunette in her mid-twenties.

"Prophet Potter," she said with a deferential bow, "we've decided you have no need to wait, come with me and we'll get you and your friends served right away," she said, bowing low to the three of them

"Oh, no, there's no need," Harry said abashedly, "We're happy to wait our turn."

The man in front of them, a tall, bespectacled wizard standing next to his Ravenclaw daughter, turned and said, "No, Prophet Potter, I insist–go ahead of me and my daughter. In fact-" he placed his wand to his throat with a Sonorous Charm and proclaimed. "Prophet Potter is in the queue. Please let him through so that he may continue with his grand work!"

Whispers of excitement broke out through the store and the crowd parted like the Red Sea to let them pass. Harry, Fleur and Hermione, hesitantly squeezed through the throng, giving bashful words of thanks as they made their way to the cash register. When it came to purchasing their items, they even offered for Harry to have his items for free, but at this point Harry refused. After a bit of negotiation, they agreed that Harry could purchase items at cost, but they wouldn't make a profit from him.

They exited the shop thoroughly hassled by those who'd seen they were finished with their shop, but they waved them aside with words asking them to please write, or speak to him during school if they needed to. When they got outside, however, that was a whole other story. The news that the Prophet of Magic himself was in Hogsmeade had spread like wildfire and there was a huge crowd of witches and wizards of all ages waiting outside. As they stepped onto the street, the three were instantly accosted with a tidal wave of shouting and jostling.

Taking a leaf out of the book of the man in the queue, Harry quickly cast a Sonorous charm to speak loudly.

"Witches and Wizards," he began, his amplified voice cutting through the chaos. "I need you to take three steps back, but be careful of those around you."

Immediately the crowd shuffled backward, even the ones overhearing in the various Hogsmeade shops doing the same.

"The Goddess wants you all to know," Harry continued, "That hassling me or my friends today while we are in Hogsmeade will make her angry and will negatively affect you. However, if you complete ten star jumps right now, she will be very pleased."

The crowd burst into a flurry of vigorous exercise, arms and legs flailing as they jumped on the cobblestones. Harry gave a quick glance at Hermione who had her fist to her mouth in barely suppressed laughter.

"Furthermore," Harry continued, managing to keep a straight face, " she requests that all witches and wizards who can hear this announcement should go to St. Mungo's at their nearest convenience and give appropriate Christmas presents to the children's unit, if they can afford to. Good day."

Immediately several witches and wizards popped away, presumably to fulfil the request, while a few others stopped and stared, but didn't say anything. Either way, they let Harry, Hermione and Fleur pass, arms linked again as they made their way to their next destination.

Cordelia Aquatica's swimwear was a new shop that had only opened up in recent weeks, but was already busy with students looking to buy their attire for the upcoming swimming lessons. In anticipation, however, the shop had hired more than enough staff for the occasion.

"Let's get your stuff first," Hermione said as they entered the shop, "It's not too busy yet, but I want to see what they have before it gets too bad"

"I 'ave to admit," Fleur said, "I am very excited by the swimming lessons. We do not have the opportunity to practice at Beauxbatons and as Veela are creatures of fire, I need the practice, especially after ze task."

"Don't beat yourself up about it," Harry said earnestly. "You had a disadvantage, but It'll be great to see you in class."

"Thanks, but you just want to see me in a bikini," teased Fleur.

"So do I," said Hermione with a smirk, earning herself a playful swat on the arm from the French Champion.

"I'd prefer to see you out of one," Harry quipped, his smirk widening as Fleur's cheeks flushed.

"Perhaps," was Fleur's eyelid-fluttering reply. It made his heart race.

"My wishes tend to come true," replied Harry with a mischievous glance at Hermione. She didn't respond directly, though, because she was now holding up a pair of simple black swim shorts.

"How about these?" she said, holding them up to his waist to gauge the fit.

"Seems good enough," Harry answered with a shrug, "Three pairs?"

"Yeah."

"We can't get the first thing he chooses 'Ermione," Fleur admonished playfully, "What about these?"

She held up a pair of garish Hawaiian-style shorts, her grin as loud as the pattern.

"Ha! no chance!" Harry laughed, holding up his hands in mock horror.

"Fine, then what about...these?" Fleur said, turning behind her to grab an item on a hanger and then revealing a pair of dark green budgie smugglers–Speedos–and holding them up with an innocent expression. "Green to match your eyes, non?"

"I'm not getting into those!" Harry blushed, pushing them towards her.

"So you expect us to wear a little bikini but you won't wear proper swimwear?" Fleur answered with a raised brow.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but faltered. Hermione, however, jumped in, her smirk devilish."

"No, Fleur," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "Harry means he won't be able to fit into them."

Fleur's eyes grinned with intrigue. "Oh really?"

"Really," Hermione replied with a knowing smirk.

"Especially if you two are in said bikinis!" Harry added, feeling extremely proud of what Hermione had said.

"All ze more reason to buy them zen," Fleury mused with a wicked grin, while Hermione grabbed the Speedos and added them to her basket. "Let's go get ours now."

For the next hour, Harry was dragged by Fleur and Hermione through the trove of different racks of women's swimwear. They'd feel the material, and ask for his opinion from time to time.

When Fluer held up a rid bikini that was the tiniest they'd seen so far, Harry couldn't help but comment, "That's not a bikini–it's practically underwear."

Fleur's grin widened as she added it to her basket. "Parfait," she said, tossing him a playful wink.

Unlike with the men's swimwear, because their bikinis weren't elasticated, Fleur and Hermione had decided, after whispering excitedly to each other, that they needed to try everything on. Oblivious and intrigued about such antics, Harry followed as they made their way through the busy store to the fitting rooms. Because the girls went first, Harry ended up trying very hard not to get angry at the groups of guys leering both at Fleur in her little dress and Hermione with her almost criminally tight jumper.

When they reached the fitting rooms, a shop assistant recognised Harry instantly and led them to a private VIP section at the far side of the store. The area had only one spacious changing room, complete with heavy curtains and a plush black leather sofa outside for waiting.

"Come on," Fleur said to Hermione with a grin." We can share."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, a slight blush creeping up her neck.

"Of course." Fleur's confidence was infectious.

The curtain swished closed, and Hermione immediately cast a silencing charm. As she turned to face Fleur, her mouth went dry, The French witch's steady gaze made her heart race.

"M-maybe, this is too quick," she stammered, "You seeing me like this."

"Non," Fleur replied softly, smiling, "It's no different than the beach, apart from a Veela will be appreciating you up close, of course."

"I'm…I'm not like you Fleur," Hermione murmured, dropping her gaze to the floor..

"Shh," Fleur whispered, closing the gap and planting a soft kiss on Hermione's lips that took her breath away, "You are beautiful. I think so, so does 'Arry. 'Ere, I'll go first."

Fleur then proceeded to get very naked in front of her, and all hesitation just faded away.

A whole twenty minutes later, Harry sat trying his best to ignore his racing thoughts about what might be going on in there. The downsides of his Siren heritage were in full force. As he hadn't come yet today, he felt incredibly uncomfortable with any thought of anything vaguely sexual. They could be doing anything in there!

He tried–vainly–to think about something mundane. ' What should I have for dinner?' But his imagination betrayed him: Fleur on her knees, Hermione's soft pink nipples…

"Stop it," he muttered to himself.

His train of thought was interrupted when the curtain parted slightly, and Hermione's head peeked out.

"Harry, come here a sec," she said, her expression unreadable before disappearing again.

"Everything alright?" he said, getting to his feet and cautiously approaching the curtain curtain. Suddenly, a hand grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and yanked him inside.

Harry's brain short-circuited. Standing very close together, right in front of him, were Fleur and Hermione wearing two very tiny bikinis. Hermione's light blue set shimmered slightly, its gold-threaded straps framing her large, gravity-defying breasts perfectly. Fleur's white bikini had a high-cut bottom that accentuated her slender legs. Both of them had blushes on their faces. Hermione swayed adorably from side to side while Fleur twirled a long wavy lock of silver hair around her finger.

"What do you think?" Fleur asked, stepping closer to Hermione and squashing her smaller, perkier breasts against Hermione's large round ones.

"They…er…they look," Harry tried.

"You don't like them?" Hermione teased with a soft pout. "What about that one?" She pointed to a tiny black bikini on the side.

Before Harry could reply, Hermione unhooked her top, letting her breasts bounce free.

"Well he can't not like these," said Fleur with a grin, cupping Hermione's chest and giving them a playful jiggle. "They are magnifique. The best I've ever seen."

"Thanks," Hermione replied, blushing. She turned away, her back facing Harry and bent forward to slide off the skimpy blue bikini bottom. As she bared her round ass and obviously wet pussy, she made sure to bump it against his bulge reaching up and pulling on the next pair.

Harry could do nothing but stare, and not knowing about the silencing charms, felt very aware of making too much noise as he watched Hermione's breasts jiggle as she moved. However, as she put on the black bikini top, the triangles were so small they only just covered her nipples and Harry couldn't help himself but reach out.

"Ah ah! No touching!" Hermione scolded, swatting his hand away, "Not until I say, remember?"

She glanced at Fleur, who giggled.

"I think he really likes zat one," said Fleur, clearly enjoying Harry's flustered state, "Do you think you have wound him up enough?"

"Hmm," Hermione said, playfully kicking out her hip and placing a finger on her lips, "Not quite. Need to get my points worth."

Harry had barely had time to feel the horror of knowing Fleur too now knew about Potter Points, because Hermione had reached out to Fleur, pulled her to her chest and engaged her in a deep, passionate French kiss. Fleur moaned softly, as Hermione's tongue teased her lips and the two pressed against the mirror, Hermione's hands gripping Fleur's waist as Fleur's hands roamed lower.

When they broke apart, both turned to Harry' their grins wicked as they took in his slack-jawed, frustrated expression.

"I think we broke him," Hermione said, giggling.

"Well zat won't do," Fleur said overdramatically, "Ow can I watch him fuck you later if 'e's broken?"

"You're right," Hermione replied with a theatrical sigh before her attention turned serious."Get out."

She stepped forward, grabbed his more than ready bulge and with a hard shove, he went stumbling backwards, out of the changing room and onto the black sofa with a thump. Harry's mind was spinning, and his cock was throbbing.

'Wait, did she say 'watch him fuck you'?" Harry's mind raised as he trailed behind the girls. The idea was undeniably tempting, but it came with a tangle of questions. Fleur joining his coven? That was a huge step, and while Hermione seemed on board, what if it didn't work out? What if Fleur turned out to be a manipulative bitch–or worse, someone who couldn't handle the truth about his powers? Harry trusted Hermione's judgement, but this felt rushed. They didn't even know Fleur that well yet. He would need to think carefully before letting things go any further.

When they were done, Fleur and Hermione strode out of the changing room casually as if nothing had happened. They joined the short queue for the tills and Harry rushed behind them as they chatted amiably. Their casual demeanour as they joined the queue had left Harry floundering for how to approach the situation. When he tried to bring it up, they pointedly ignored him, their conversation flowing easily about family and holiday plans, though they both kept casting mischievous smirks at him. Eventually, Harry gave up, paid for his items (at a discount, of course) and followed them outside.

"I'm hungry," he announced once they hit the wintery air, feeling the cold sting on his cheeks. Overhead, the skies had darkened ominously, threatening rain.

"Three Broomsticks?" Hermione suggested, breaking their silent treatment with a cheeky grin.

"Sounds good," Harry began, but Fleur hesitated, her usual confidence dimmed by a hint of embarrassment.

"I…er, I did want to ask something, by the way," Fleur said, glancing between them. "It's okay if you say no, but my maman is staying there for the tournament. She asked if I could bring you to meet her, if we have time. I am sure she will have had lunch already prepared.

Harry glanced at Hermione, who gave a small nod of approval. "Sure," he replied. "Let's go."

Fleur exhaled a visible breath of relief, her shoulders relaxing. She had worried they might feel ambushed by the invitation, but their calm acceptance reassured her.

As they hurried through the growing drizzle, they reached the Three Broomsticks just as the first drops began to fall. Inside, the pub was warm and bustling with activity, but Fleur led them through the crowded main room with practised ease. They moved past gawking patrons and up a staircase at the back, their footsteps echoing against the worn wood.

At the end of a wood-panelled corridor, they stopped outside room number twenty-one. Fleur knocked twice and then peeked inside, murmuring something in French before opening the door fully.

"Come," she said, stepping aside to let Harry and Hermione enter.

The room was a stark contrast to the lively pub below. It was large and elegantly furnished, with plush seating and rich, dark panelling. At the end of a long, polished table sat a strikingly beautiful woman. She rose as they entered, her movements graceful and poised.

She was tall, with silver-blonde hair swept back in a loose chignon, her high-arched eyebrows framing piercing blue eyes. Her lips, painted deep red, curved into a polite smile. The low-cut black blouse she wore emphasised her buxom figure, not needing her Veela allure for her presence to fill the room.

"Pleasure to meet you properly, Prophet of Magic," she said, her French accent smooth yet unmistakable. Then, with a slight tilt of her head and a sharp gleam in her eye, she added, "Or should I say, Prophet of Naga?"