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Narcissa took most of Harry's belongings back to the Manor, leaving him with a single enchanted duffle bag containing only the essentials he would need for the next couple of weeks. She seemed eager to return his things once the university resolved the mess with his dormitory, but Harry couldn't let her go out of her way more than she already had. He didn't want to take advantage of her generosity.

Their goodbye at the carriage was teary and heartfelt. Narcissa pulled him into a tight hug, pressing him so closely that he could feel the softness of her embrace. Harry didn't hesitate to hug her back, giving her the affection she so clearly wanted.

After Draco headed back to his dormitory, Fleur, Gabrielle, and Daphne invited Harry to their sorority house for a grand tour.

As they strolled through the shared common rooms and dining hall, Harry couldn't help but notice the curious stares they drew. While the Delacour sisters and Greengrass were strikingly beautiful, the sorority itself seemed to have cornered the market on attractive witches. In Harry's experience, beauty often came with a dose of cattiness and self-absorption. Though Fleur, Gabrielle, and Daphne were not overly narcissistic, they could certainly be catty.

Was he willingly stepping into a den of Slytherin intrigue while the cauldron heated around him? Perhaps. But Harry resolved to keep his head down, stick to his business, and use Fleur's room as a place to sleep while spending most of his time outside the sorority.

Their first stop upstairs was Gabrielle's living space. As a second-year, she shared what was essentially a glorified walk-in closet with another witch who wasn't present during their visit. The space was compact but functional, with a desk Gabrielle used for her makeup, and a wardrobe and dresser bursting with clothes.

Daphne's suite, as a third-year, was significantly larger. The suite consisted of two bedrooms connected by a cozy common area furnished with a small table, a futon, and a magical mirror that functioned as a television. Thankfully, Gabrielle's relief was palpable when she saw that Daphne's suite mates, Ginny and Padma, weren't there.

With a week until classes started, not everyone had returned to campus yet, leaving the sorority half-empty. That would make concealing Harry's temporary stay much easier.

Gabrielle also showed him the cold-air dormitory, a cavernous attic that housed bunk beds for nearly half the sorority. The space was dimly lit, with cool air flowing from enchanted windows and charmed air conditioners. The summer heat still lingered, but the attic offered a respite from the stifling weather. Gabrielle's bed was tucked in a cozy corner of the dormitory. She had piled it high with quilts, comforters, and an enchanted blanket to ward off the chill. It was a snug and inviting nook, complete with a charger for her wand, a pair of magical earbuds, and a charmed tablet for streaming wizarding broadcasts.

Images of Gabrielle and Harry crammed into her tiny bed sent his thoughts spiraling, and he silently cursed himself for turning down her offer. Still, the logistics seemed impossible unless her sorority sisters truly didn't care. Then again, with so many of them still away, a sleepover might have been manageable—at least until the others returned in full force.

Fleur's room was the final stop on their tour, and by any standard, she lived like a queen. The space featured an enchanted mirror for entertainment, a futon, two full-sized armchairs, a coffee table, a massive wardrobe, a queen-sized bed, and her own private bathroom, complete with a shower large enough for one person. Despite all the amenities, there was still enough room to comfortably seat all four of them.

Fleur called it one of the perks of being a senior and president of the sorority. Only the housemother's quarters were more impressive, though Harry had no desire to see that part of the house.

The four of them chatted in Fleur's spacious living area, and Harry filled in many of the gaps from the last two years. Daphne invited him to join her at the student recreation center the following morning, where she planned to show him the weightlifting facilities and, as she put it, "teach him how to stretch." Gabrielle staked her claim on the rest of his free time, including lunch and dinner.

As bedtime approached, Daphne and Gabrielle departed, leaving Harry alone with Fleur for the first time.

Fleur perched on the foot of her bed, gesturing toward the bathroom. "The private bathroom is one of the best reasons for you to stay here. We won't have to sneak you in and out like we would at Daphne's."

Harry nodded, though nerves gripped him. It had been easier to keep his cool around all three sisters, but the thought of being alone with Fleur, the legendary Fleur Delacour, filled him with anxious energy.

"Makes sense," he said. "Thanks for letting me crash here. I really appreciate it."

Fleur waved his gratitude away with a graceful hand. "Don't even mention it. It'll be fun."

As Harry looked at her, his stomach swirled with nervous excitement. There was no avoiding it—Fleur's beauty was magnetic. He decided to address the awkwardness head-on, remembering Narcissa's advice about defusing tension. "I'll admit, I'm a little nervous. I don't think I've been alone with you since I was thirteen."

Fleur laughed, crossing one long, tanned leg over the other. Her dark, silken hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a face so perfect it could have graced the cover of Witch Weekly. Harry's gaze lingered on her full, luscious lips, and he quickly looked away, realizing there was no safe place to focus without his thoughts straying.

"Good thing you're not thirteen anymore," Fleur said, her tone teasing.

She twirled her ankle, the strap of her open-toed sandal dangling precariously from her toes. Her teasing smile and the playful glint in her eye made Harry's pulse quicken. Beyond her extraordinary beauty, Fleur carried herself with a commanding presence that turned heads wherever she went.

Harry swallowed the lump rising in his throat and licked his dry lips. "Mind if I use the bathroom to get ready for bed?"

Fleur shook her head, her silky hair falling in waves over her shoulders. "Of course not. My room is your room. You go first. Afterward, I'll help you set up the futon. I've got spare sheets and a blanket you can use, and you can grab a couple of my pillows—I have plenty."

"Thanks, Fleur. You're the best."

"If you want to take a shower, there are fresh towels under the sink," she added with a smile.

"That's great. Thanks."

"I'll be changing out here," she said, her smile turning playfully mischievous. "Promise not to peek."

Her tone carried a teasing lilt that made Harry's pulse quicken. Was it a warning or an invitation? He didn't dare interpret it as the latter. "No peeking. No problem."

Grabbing a pair of shorts, a tank top, and his toiletries, Harry disappeared into the bathroom. Normally, he slept without clothes, but that wasn't an option—definitely not with Fleur, and certainly not in his future dormitory.

True to her word, Fleur had stocked the bathroom with everything he might need. Harry took a quick shower, scrubbing away the day's tension and taking a moment to tidy up his appearance—just in case. Emerging from the bathroom, however, he was completely unprepared for the sight that greeted him.

Fleur stood before her wardrobe, perched on her tiptoes as she reached for a set of sheets on the top shelf. Her choice of sleepwear left Harry utterly speechless, his mind short-circuiting as his eyes locked onto her. She wore impossibly short black shorts that hugged every curve of her firm, round figure, revealing toned, flawless legs that seemed to go on forever.

Harry felt a rush of heat through his body, and he cursed himself for not wearing briefs to contain the growing problem in his shorts.

"I'll help you set up the futon," Fleur said, still facing the wardrobe. "It can be tricky sometimes."

"Thanks, Fleur. Need a hand?" Harry managed, his voice unsteady.

"No, I've got it," she replied, turning around to face him.

Her thin white tank top—and what it revealed—nearly sent Harry into a tailspin. She had shed her bra, and her perky, all-natural figure moved slightly as she stopped before him. The fabric clung to her curves, revealing the faint outline of her areolas, her nipples pressing against the material. Harry's breath caught in his throat, and he froze, trying not to make things more awkward.

To his surprise—and relief?—Fleur seemed just as affected. Her blue eyes widened as they roamed over his face, lingering on his broad chest before dropping lower. Her lips parted, and her gaze traveled further until it landed on the unmistakable reaction straining against his shorts. Her nostrils flared, and her cheeks flushed a deep crimson before she quickly snapped her gaze back up to meet his.

Without a word, Fleur turned abruptly and moved toward the futon. "The futon catches sometimes when you unfold it," she said, her tone hurried. "It takes two people to get it to lie flat."

Harry tore his gaze away, willing his thoughts to focus on anything other than Fleur's stunning figure. He tried to think of calming images—Quidditch plays, defensive spells—but it was no use. Adjusting discreetly, he shifted his arousal to lie flat against his body, hoping to minimize the inevitable awkwardness.

Fleur dropped the sheets and blanket onto the futon while Harry busied himself stowing his dirty clothes and toiletries in his bag. A soft knock on the door startled them both.

They exchanged a look, Fleur's expression shifting to one of concern. "Stay back," she whispered.

Harry nodded, stepping behind Fleur as she moved toward the door. He caught an unintentional glance at her perfectly curved figure but quickly looked away, focusing on the door.

Fleur unlocked it, opening it just wide enough to peek through. Her body relaxed as she recognized the visitor. "What?" she asked, her tone tinged with impatience.

Gabrielle's muffled voice came in response. "I wanted to say goodnight to Harry."

"You already said goodnight," Fleur said.

"That wasn't a proper goodnight," Gabrielle replied. "I can't sleep until I see him one more time."

Fleur sighed. "Fine. Just make it quick. I'm tired."

She opened the door fully, and Gabrielle stepped into the room, her radiant smile leaving Harry momentarily stunned.

The Delacour sisters, it seemed, shared a knack for selecting sleepwear that bordered on dangerous. Gabrielle's choice was even more revealing than Fleur's. The perky blonde strolled in wearing a loose, thin gray tank top that swayed with her every step, her braless figure unmistakable beneath the fabric. Her golden hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and she had scrubbed the makeup from her face, which only emphasized her natural beauty.

Her black shorts barely covered her, hugging her slender hips and toned thighs. The way they clung to her left little to the imagination, and Harry's breath caught as he struggled to keep his expression neutral. His body betrayed him, his arousal returning with force, and he silently cursed himself for his lack of control.

Gabrielle didn't seem to mind—or perhaps she didn't notice at first. Her gaze swept over Harry, lingering on his muscled arms and broad shoulders before dropping lower. Her lips parted slightly as her eyes locked onto the undeniable evidence of his reaction. When her cheeks flushed a delicate pink, she quickly looked away, a mix of embarrassment and something else flashing in her expression.

Fleur locked the door behind her, turning to find her sister's gaze still fixed on Harry. Her expression hardened slightly, but she didn't say a word.

Harry forced himself to look away from Gabrielle, running a hand through his hair as he let out a quiet sigh. "We were just about to make up my bed," he said, gesturing toward the futon.

Gabrielle glanced at the sheets and blanket with a knowing smile. "That futon is tricky to unfold."

"We've got it," Fleur said firmly. "Say goodnight and then you can go."

"There's a trick to it," Gabrielle said, ignoring her sister's tone. "I've slept on it a dozen times."

"I'm aware," Fleur replied, her voice tinged with frustration. "It's my futon."

Gabrielle smirked and picked up Harry's hand, guiding him toward the futon. "God forbid I help my best friend settle into his first night here," she said over her shoulder, her tone dripping with faux innocence.

Fleur crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "I know exactly what you're trying to do."

Gabrielle ignored her, her warm grip on Harry's hand pulling him closer to the futon. Her playful demeanor only heightened the tension in the room as Fleur's exasperation grew.
Fleur placed her hands on her hips, her piercing blue eyes glaring daggers at Gabrielle. "I knew you'd pull something like this. I'm not staying in here to listen to you and Harry—well, you know—in my room."

Harry's head spun, his thoughts swirling as if he'd been hit with a Confundus Charm. Was Fleur serious? Would Gabrielle really want to…? The idea left him both exhilarated and utterly baffled. Just hours ago, he'd been living his quiet, mundane life, and now this.

Gabrielle folded her arms across her chest, the motion drawing Harry's gaze before he quickly looked away. "We're notdoing that, Fleur. Is it so hard to believe I just want to spend time with my best friend? Not everything has to end in sex."

Fleur scoffed, shaking her head. "Please, Gabrielle. Who do you think you're talking to? You're both wildly attractive adults with raging hormones. Anyone can see you're into him. But Harry isn't one of your little playthings that you string along until you're bored."

Gabrielle put her hands on her hips, giving her sister a withering look. "You don't think I know that?"

Gabrielle hadn't denied Fleur's implication, which Harry couldn't help but notice. He had known about her reputation for being selective with her relationships—fickle, some might say—but Harry had always admired her high standards.

Fleur pursed her lips. "You know exactly what you're doing, Gabrielle."

Gabrielle feigned innocence, her tone almost too sweet. "What exactly do you think I'm doing, Fleur? It's been two years since I've spent any real time with the one person I care about more than anyone else. Maybe you don't know what that feels like."

"Sleeping in the same bed will help you reconnect?" Fleur asked incredulously.

"Harry and I used to have sleepovers all the time," Gabrielle countered.

Fleur ground her teeth, shaking her head. "Maybe Maxime would have something to say about that?"

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. "I broke up with him a month ago. And for the record, I'm with Harry now. If Maxime has a problem with it, he can go curse himself."

Harry frowned, caught off guard. "Isn't your boyfriend's name… Maxime?"

Fleur laughed, her tone accusatory. "See? Even your subconscious knows the truth."

Gabrielle waved a dismissive hand. "Whatever. I meant Maxime, not Harry."

Fleur's expression didn't soften. "You get Harry all day tomorrow. He's my friend too. You're being selfish, as usual."

Harry felt like a spectator at a heated Quidditch match, his gaze shifting between the two as they traded barbs. When they both paused to catch their breath, Harry seized the moment. "Should I put Narcissa on speaker?"

The sisters exchanged a look, the tension lingering for a moment before Fleur grinned and Gabrielle laughed, the tension breaking.

Gabrielle sighed and nodded. "Fine, Fleur. Have it your way. I'll help with the futon and leave you two alone. But just for tonight."

"Thank you," Fleur said. "And I promise we're just sleeping."

The silence stretched as Gabrielle stared at her sister, her expression skeptical as if searching for any hint of deceit. "As long as it's just sleeping."

Was Gabrielle trying to protect Harry, or was she deliberately blocking something? Either way, it was an ironic position for someone who still had a boyfriend—at least, as far as Harry knew.

The three of them spent the next few minutes wrestling with the futon, Harry doing his best to focus on the task at hand while Fleur and Gabrielle's presence made it almost impossible not to notice their graceful, effortless beauty. Once the bed was made and Gabrielle seemed satisfied that Harry wouldn't be uncomfortable, she turned to leave.

Gabrielle hesitated, her gaze searching Harry's as though she wanted to say something but couldn't with Fleur standing nearby. "Can you walk me out?" she asked.

"Don't linger in the hallway," Fleur said, her tone brisk. "We don't want anyone noticing Harry staying in my room."

"We won't," Gabrielle replied. "I don't want to get either of you in trouble."

"Better yet," Fleur interjected, her tone softening slightly, "I'll stand in the hall and give you a second to say goodnight. Just don't make me wait too long."

My stomach flipped with raw nerves as Fleur stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

Gabrielle watched the door latch shut before turning back to face me. "Sorry about all that," she said quietly. "I'm all mixed up inside."

"You have a boyfriend, Gabrielle."

"I know," she admitted, lowering her gaze. "And I have no right to pry into your life. It's just… confusing."

"What's confusing?"

She looked up at me, her blue eyes locking onto mine. "I have feelings for you I didn't have before."

"Welcome to the club," I said, managing a small smile that drew a matching one from her.

"Back then, I knew how you felt," she said. "Do you still feel the same way about me?"

"I've always been crazy about you, Gabrielle. Then, now, and forever. Nothing will ever change that. But I don't want to screw up our friendship."

Gabrielle stepped closer, her presence enveloping me. She slipped her hand into mine, her fingers warm and soft, before tracing a heart on my chest with the other. Her expression grew thoughtful. "What if we could be more than friends? Wouldn't that be amazing?"

"Is that what you want?"

"I don't want to lose you," Gabrielle said, her voice cracking slightly with emotion.

I pulled her into a tight embrace, my arms wrapping around her slender frame. "That's never going to happen. But I don't want you to feel like you have to be with me just because you're afraid I'll leave otherwise."

"That's not it," she murmured. "There's something between us, Harry. It's so strong I feel like I can almost see it. I know you feel it too."

"I do," I admitted. "It's part of why I pulled away. Watching you date other people was hard."

Her eyes softened as she gazed up at me. "I think I feel it too. When I imagine you with someone else, it makes me sick to my stomach."

"Bingo," I said quietly. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault."

"Is it okay if we spend some time together? If these feelings don't go away… how great would it be to see where this could go?"

"I'd love that," I said earnestly. "No matter what happens, I want you in my life. Always."
Gabrielle gave Harry a smile that touched her eyes, her expression warm and full of emotion. She nodded. "Good."

"We should probably say goodnight before Fleur storms back in here," Harry said softly.

Gabrielle hesitated, her gaze lingering on his. "I know we just agreed to take things slow, but… would it be okay if I kissed you?"

Harry's heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he thought his legs might give out beneath him. This felt like a dream. Unable to find his voice, he simply nodded. Gabrielle reached up, tugging gently on his shirt to draw him closer.

Her lips met his, soft and tentative at first. They both froze, savoring the moment, as though afraid to break the spell. It was Harry's first real kiss, and he was determined not to mess it up. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. Gabrielle melted against him, a soft moan escaping her lips as the kiss deepened.

Their lips parted in unison, their tongues meeting in a dance that felt natural, as though they'd done it a thousand times before. Gabrielle's delicate floral scent enveloped Harry, leaving his head spinning. Her nipples pressed against his chest, and his legs trembled as they lost themselves in the kiss.

Harry's hands drifted down Gabrielle's back, stopping just short of her hips. His body reacted instinctively, his arousal evident as it pressed against her stomach. Gabrielle's hands roamed over his shoulders and down his arms, tugging lightly at his shirt as though she wanted it gone.

Before they could go any further, a sharp knock sounded at the door, followed by Fleur's unmistakable voice. "Gabrielle, I'm coming in."

They broke apart, both breathing heavily. Gabrielle stepped back, her blue eyes hazy with desire. She blinked, as though trying to reorient herself, then took another step away to regain her composure.

Harry clasped her hands in his and licked his lips, still tasting her sweetness. "Wow."

Gabrielle nodded, her cheeks flushed. "Double wow. That was the best kiss I've ever had."

Fleur pounded on the door again. "Gabrielle, don't make me come in there."

Gabrielle sighed and turned toward the door, raising her voice. "Hold on, I'm coming."

Her voice cracked slightly, and she glanced back at Harry, her hands still in his. "This is going to be really hard to wait."

"Maybe we can speed up the timeline," Harry said with a small smile. "Besides, who says friends can't kiss?"

"Exactly," Gabrielle replied, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Or touch."

"Touching is good," Harry agreed, his grin widening.

The door handle rattled, and they quickly moved apart just as Fleur stepped inside. She glanced between them, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as Gabrielle released Harry's hands.

"Why was it so quiet in here?" Fleur asked, her tone sharp.

"We were totally making out," Gabrielle said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "If you hadn't knocked, Harry would've had my shirt off by now."

"Ha, ha," Fleur said flatly, unimpressed. "Did you say goodnight?"

Gabrielle rose onto her tiptoes and pressed a light, innocent kiss to Harry's lips. "Goodnight, Harry. Sweet dreams."

She strode past Fleur, swatting her older sister playfully on the rear. "And keep your hands off him."

A moment later, she was gone, leaving Harry alone with Fleur.

"Well, that was… interesting," Harry said, breaking the silence. "Should we expect a visit from Daphne as well?"

"Knowing her? Probably," Fleur replied, a hint of amusement in her tone.

Harry glanced at the freshly made futon, then back at Fleur. "I know you're tired, but would it bother you if I put in my earbuds and watched a movie on my multi-way mirrors for a while? If the light's too bright, I won't."

Fleur tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "What movie?"

Harry hesitated. He loved watching science fiction and fantasy—especially Star Wars. Fleur didn't strike most people as a sci-fi fan, but Harry knew better.

Back when Fleur had babysat him, they'd stumbled upon the Star Wars movies. To his surprise, she'd gotten hooked, and their shared love for the franchise had become a secret bond. Until Fleur left for Beauxbatons, they had watched every installment together.

Without a trace of embarrassment, Harry answered, "I found this website with the complete chronological order for all the Star Wars movies and series. I figured I'd start at the beginning with Episode One before classes start."

Fleur's eyes widened with excitement. "I want to watch."

"I thought you were tired?" Harry teased.

Fleur rolled her eyes. "I was just trying to get rid of Gabrielle. Get your multi-way mirrors and meet me on my bed."

Harry grabbed his multi-way mirrors as Fleur turned out the lights. They met on her plush queen-sized bed, where Fleur adjusted the pillows and settled into place.

Harry reclined on one side of the bed while Fleur stretched out beside him. She pulled her pillow closer, turning onto her side to get a better view of his screen.

"Did you watch the last season of The Mandalorian?" Harry asked as he queued up the movie.

"Obviously," Fleur said with a grin. "I've tried The Acolyte, but it just doesn't feel like Star Wars."

"Exactly," Harry agreed. "It's missing that magic."

As the movie began, Fleur shifted closer, the warmth of her body radiating against Harry's side. He caught a faint whiff of the lotion she used, its light floral scent lingering in the air. Arousal stirred in him, and he internally braced for the challenge of keeping his composure.

Harry had two reasonable options. First, he could try to hide his growing arousal, which would bring its own set of awkward complications. Or, he could simply let it be, accepting it as the natural reaction to Fleur's undeniable beauty. After all, she was an extraordinary woman, and Harry was a hormonal young wizard navigating uncharted territory.

Deciding to avoid making a fuss, he let it go and started the movie.

As the film played, Harry and Fleur chatted intermittently, their easy conversation fostering a comfortable intimacy. Fleur eventually abandoned her pillow, resting her head lightly on his shoulder.

By the end of the first act, Harry's body betrayed him. His arousal strained against his shorts, painfully obvious despite his best efforts to keep still. Fleur's subtle glances didn't go unnoticed; she seemed aware of the effect she had on him and, perhaps, even enjoyed it.

Her hand drifted to Harry's chest, lightly grazing over his tank top. She wriggled closer, her body pressing warmly against his side.

"If you're too hot or uncomfortable, you could take off your shirt," Fleur suggested softly.

Harry glanced down at her, meeting her eyes. Her expression was curious, almost hopeful. "You don't mind?" he asked.

Fleur shook her head, a small, mischievous smile tugging at her lips. She twined her ankle around his, drawing herself closer. "I'm curious."

"Hold my multi-way mirrors a sec," Harry said, handing it to her.

Fleur shifted to give him space as Harry sat up and pulled his shirt over his head. Tossing it aside, he settled back down, and Fleur's eyes widened as they roamed over his chest.

"Merlin, Harry," Fleur murmured, her voice thick with awe. "You're absolutely ripped."

"Thanks," Harry replied, his cheeks flushing. "For a long time, I wanted to bulk up. When things finally clicked, I became a bit obsessed with exercise and nutrition."

Fleur's hand moved instinctively over his muscled chest, her touch light and reverent. Her nipples hardened visibly beneath her thin top, her arousal mirrored in her body language. The tank she wore had shifted slightly, revealing faint tan lines crisscrossing her perky breasts. The barest edge of her areola peeked out, but it was her taut, swollen nipples that commanded attention.

Licking her lips, Fleur spread her palm across his chest, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Do you mind me doing this?"

"I like it," Harry admitted, his voice low. "But I don't think Gabrielle would."

Fleur's expression darkened briefly. "Gabrielle has a boyfriend. She forfeited her claim."

"Don't you have a boyfriend too?" Harry asked. "His name's Pierre, right?"

"Forget about him," Fleur said, her voice firm. Her gaze drifted lower, landing on the conspicuous bulge in Harry's shorts. "Does it hurt?"

Harry followed her gaze, glancing down at himself. "Sorry. I should've dealt with it in the shower. Between you and Gabrielle… well, I couldn't help it."

"Don't apologize," Fleur said, tracing the defined lines of his abs with her finger. "You can't possibly sleep like that, can you?"

"Eventually," Harry muttered.

Fleur tilted her head, her eyes glinting with mischief. "He looks uncomfortable. Maybe you should… let him breathe."

Harry's pulse quickened, his gaze flicking to Fleur's breasts as he licked his lips nervously. "I could say the same about you. Your nipples—they're, um… hard."

"You're not the only one aroused, Harry."

Without hesitation, Fleur sat up and pulled her tank top over her head, baring her chest to him.

Harry's heart thundered in his chest as his vision blurred momentarily, adrenaline surging through his veins. He stopped breathing, his jaw dropping as he stared at Fleur's flawless form.

Her breasts were perfectly round, perky, and slightly more than a handful. If Harry had to guess, they were a full C-cup, perhaps even a little larger. Her taut, aroused nipples stood proudly atop soft pink areolas, framed by tan lines that contrasted sharply with her creamy, untouched skin. She radiated confidence, her gaze locked on his as if daring him to look away.

Fleur smiled, clearly pleased with the effect she had on him. She pressed her breasts together before letting them spring apart again. "Do you like them? They're not as big as Gabrielle's or Daphne's."

"They're perfect," Harry said, his voice low and reverent. "You're perfect."

Fleur's smile widened. "I've touched your chest. It's only fair that you touch mine—but on two conditions."

Harry hesitated, his breath hitching. Fleur took his silence as agreement.

"First, no sex. That's a line I'm not crossing. Second, whatever we do here stays between us. Outside this room, I have a boyfriend, and you're free to pursue whoever you want. No holding hands, no kissing, no affection in public."

"Agreed," Harry said, though he couldn't quite hide the hint of disappointment in his voice. Fleur smirked, fully aware of the storm of emotions swirling within him.

"Inside these four walls, anything goes—except penetration," Fleur continued, her tone matter-of-fact. "You can touch me, kiss me, fondle me, use me however you want, and I'll do the same to you. This isn't cheating—it's teaching. You've got women throwing themselves at you already, and you'll need to know how to handle that cock of yours without losing control."

White-hot lust surged through Harry, and his arousal strained painfully against his shorts. "So, no futon?" he asked, half-joking.

Fleur laughed, shaking her head. "No futon. We sleep together, and I sleep naked—that's just how I prefer it."

Harry's jaw dropped. "What if I… get horny in the middle of the night?"

Fleur tilted her head thoughtfully, her gaze drifting down to the bulge in his shorts before meeting his eyes again. "If we were together, I'd say just take me. But since we're not, you can thigh-fuck me. Just don't make a mess of my sheets."

Harry blinked, heat flooding his cheeks. "Thigh-fuck? What's that?"

Fleur smiled knowingly. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you, Harry. I'll teach you everything you need to know. After all, isn't that my job as your mentor?"

"How many credits is this course worth?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Fleur giggled, leaning in to kiss him deeply, her lips soft and warm as they pressed against his. She didn't hold back, her tongue dancing with his as the kiss deepened. Her hand tightened around Harry through the fabric of his shorts, and he nearly lost control. He groaned into her kiss, his arousal twitching with such intensity that he was sure he wouldn't last much longer.

Sensing his predicament, Fleur broke the kiss, pulling back slightly while her hand maintained its firm grip, as if to steady him. "We've got to do something about this," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "Take off your shorts."

Reluctantly, Harry let go of her perfectly sculpted breasts, his hands marveling at their springy softness one last time as they jiggled back into place. He leaned back, pulling his shorts down and letting his arousal spring free. His cock surged upward, thick and prominent, making Fleur inhale sharply as her eyes widened.

Her gaze fixated on him, filled with a mix of awe and hunger. "Merlin's beard, Harry," she breathed. "You've hit the genetic lottery. You're smart, kind, and sweet—and then there's this."

Harry's cheeks flushed, and he looked away, embarrassed by her blunt admiration. "You're exaggerating."

Fleur crawled closer, her fingers curling around his shaft, giving it a firm but gentle squeeze. "I don't think I am," she said, her lips quirking into a mischievous smile. "With this… well, let's just say Gabrielle and Daphne wouldn't stand a chance."

Fleur didn't mention anyone else, but Harry's mind briefly wandered to Narcissa. He pushed the thought aside, focusing entirely on Fleur as she knelt over him, her lithe frame the epitome of beauty. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders as she tucked a lock behind her ear, her body completely exposed to him. Her smooth skin bore soft tan lines that disappeared into the curve of her hips, highlighting her toned and flawless figure.

Her gaze remained locked on him, a playful glint in her eyes. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "I'm already reconsidering that whole 'no sex' rule. I wonder if we could use your cock as a mold for a wand handle."

Harry's pulse quickened at her words, hope flickering—until she laughed softly, shaking her head. "But that's a problem for another day. Right now, we both need some relief."

"You can say that again," Harry said, his voice hoarse.

Fleur grinned, her thumb brushing over his tip, sending a shiver racing up his spine. "Have you heard of the sixty-nine position?"

Harry shook his head, feeling heat flood his face. "I've never really been into that sort of thing. My imagination works just fine."
Harry found himself in a moment he had only dared to imagine. Fleur's eyes twinkled as she spoke, her voice teasing yet commanding. "There's really no need for an explanation. I'll get into position, and you do what comes naturally. Remember, I'm your sex toy. Use me however you want."

Her words ignited a fire in him. "You're gonna make me come talking like that," he managed to say, his voice thick with arousal.

With a playful wink, Fleur leaned over and kissed the swollen tip before him. "Save it for my mouth," she murmured, turning her back to him. She tossed one leg over his chest, straddling him in reverse.

He reached up, placing his hands high on Fleur's hips as she slid toward his face. His vision filled with the tight, enthralling view of Fleur Monroe—her firm ass and the sweet pink that commanded his gaze. Another spike of adrenaline turned his legs to mush, his mind racing with thoughts of impossibility and desire.

As Fleur swirled her tongue over him, ecstasy flooded through Harry. The barest flicker of her tongue ignited pleasure sensors he didn't know existed. She enveloped him, sucking as if drawing from a straw, then came off with a loud smack of her lips as she gently stroked him. "Do you sprinkle this thing with fertilizer before you go to bed?" she teased.

Overwhelmed by pleasure, Harry could only respond with a moan. He palmed her firm, flawless backside and squeezed as he dipped his face into her, driven by raw desire. He was ticking off first-time experiences rapidly, but this was unlike any other. With her flesh yielding between his fingers, he worked his way up, following her guidance to do what felt natural.
Fleur's moans filled the air and her thighs quivered around his cheeks before clamping down and squeezing his head between her sculpted limbs. The warm, wet softness engulfed him, and pleasure spiked so high in his brain that he had to arch his back and groan to prevent himself from reaching the peak too soon. Fleur, fervent as ever, was fully engaged, her tongue performing acrobatics as she moved up and down, the room resonating with the sounds of his first-ever encounter of this kind.

He lost himself in a haze of intense desire and gave Fleur's rear a sharp smack, prompting her to pause, her breath catching as she maintained her position. Her reaction was immediate; her legs trembled and a fresh release from her filled his mouth, which he savored eagerly.

His tongue was relentless. After years of pent-up fantasies, he was living them in this singular, unforgettable moment. He continued his fervent attention on her, his actions coaxing a continuous flow from her.

Then, as he explored further, he stumbled upon a discovery so potent it overwhelmed his senses. As his tongue glided over her, he encountered a hidden spot deep within her folds. The effect was immediate—Fleur reacted explosively.

She withdrew momentarily, gasping loudly, a sound that likely reached beyond the confines of the room. "There. Right there. Don't stop," she instructed breathlessly.

Heeding her urging, he delved deeper, his face, nose, and tongue fully engaged with her, focusing on the sensitive bud. He mimicked the actions she had shown him earlier, gently sucking while his tongue danced over the spot.

The reaction was intense and immediate. Though he was not naive about the concept of female pleasure, experiencing it firsthand, directly in the thick of it, was a different reality altogether.

Fleur's body convulsed, her thighs squeezing his head with such intensity he briefly worried about the pressure. Yet, he persisted, his efforts unyielding as he savored every response from her.

As her body spasmed, her loud moans filled the space, hinting at the depth of her climax. "Fuck. God. Fuck. Matt, baby, I'm coming so hard," she exclaimed.

He continued his ministrations but sensed when the intensity became too much for her. Easing off, he shifted his focus to gentler caresses on her inner thighs while softly touching her flawless rear.

Fleur then redirected her attention to him with renewed energy. She enveloped him once again, her tongue skillful and omnipresent as she resumed her rhythmic movements. The sounds of their connection filled the air, punctuated by her intermittent breaths for air as she handled him expertly.

The pleasure escalated, reaching the deepest, most primal parts of his being, culminating in an explosive climax that erased all coherent thought. He reacted instinctively, his body responding with an intensity that bordered on overwhelming. With a surge, he reached the apex of his pleasure, his release forceful and unrestrained.

Grunt after grunt escaped him as he continued, each release filling her with evidence of his overwhelming ecstasy. Fleur, ever the consummate partner, managed every moment with prowess, her abilities leaving an indelible mark on his memory.

Without hesitation, he arched his hips off the bed, driving deeper, surrendering to the most powerful climax he had ever experienced. Visions flashed before him as he released with a force that seemed to rival a torpedo's blast.

Grunts that seemed to emanate from the depths of his soul filled the room as he continued, his release unabated, generously filling Fleur's mouth and throat with wave after wave. Fleur, ever the formidable partner, managed every moment with expertise, taking everything he had to offer.

She drank him in, maintaining rhythm and suction, drawing out every last drop, leaving him utterly spent. As he gradually descended from the peak of his ecstasy, he realized just how incomparable this experience was to any solitary pleasure he'd previously known. There was no turning back now; he was thoroughly captivated by what Fleur had brought forth in him.

He then turned his attention to her again, kissing and gently exploring her with his tongue, not stopping as he ventured further. He traced the outline of her more delicate areas, causing her to shudder with delight. He explored further, his face buried in the most intimate of spaces, feeling as though he had transcended to a blissful state.

Despite his desire to continue, he knew some pleasures were best saved for future explorations. Internally, he made a promise to himself to explore every inch of Fleur, from her toes to her ears, but that was for another time.

After ensuring she had left him impeccably clean, Fleur shifted positions to snuggle against him. She draped her leg across him, her touch on his chest light and teasing. "You're going to be a problem," she murmured.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, eliminating any space between them. "Did I do something wrong?"

Fleur laughed softly, her breath warm against his ear as she spoke. "No, baby. You were fucking perfect. That's the problem."

He relished her touch, the way her tongue played over his skin, her breath hot and quick. "You told me to do what came naturally."

"You're a natural, alright," Fleur laughed again. "That was the biggest orgasm of my life. Let me clarify—I came three times, and the last one was a monster so huge I could name it like they do hurricanes."

"I thought you came once."

"When you smacked my ass, I came. Then when you first sucked on my clit. Then when you went ham on my clit, it was lights out." He nodded, absorbing her words.

"So that's your clit."

Fleur looked at him with a mix of amusement and astonishment. "You didn't know?"

"I mean, I've heard of it, knew it was important, but didn't realize... that was it."

Fleur stroked his chest, a gentle sigh escaping her. "Like I said, you will be trouble with a capital T."

"Does this mean our deal is off?"

She pressed closer to him, her movements suggestive, as she kissed him deeply. Pulling back slightly, she met his gaze. "Hardly. But I don't think I can go forever without feeling you inside me. In fact, I know I can't."

He grinned. "Oh? In that case, I'm open to renegotiate our contract."

Fleur sighed, her voice a mix of awe and playful reproof. "You're just so... wow. I mean, it's like you fell from heaven, perfectly formed into this gifted... You're a goddamn Adonis."

"You'll blow up my ego talking like that."

Thank you for reading! If you want to read chapters 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11,12 right now and discover even more stories, join me on . Your support helps me bring you even more magical adventures!
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