"Harry," Rias whimpered, her nails grazing her lover's scalp as he feasted upon her dripping wet pussy.
Harry let out a low, rumbling groan of pleasure, intoxicated by the taste of her, as he slowly dragged the flat of his tongue up through her fleshy nether lips to her throbbing clit yet again. He was being slow and deliberate with his licks and kisses, in no rush to make her cum. The two of them were enjoying a quiet morning to themselves, having holed up in the Room of Requirement last night to indulge their all-consuming desire for each other.
Today was the Yule Ball, and tonight would, if things went well, focus on Luna. Akeno would be there as well, and as much as Rias was looking forward to seeing how Harry handled all three of them, as well as getting to watch him deflower Luna, she was also eager to spend some time alone with him before that and insisted on getting a full night in his arms.
"Rias, fuck, you taste so good!" Harry exclaimed as he pushed his tongue deep inside her and made it vibrate for just a second.
"Harry!" Rias screamed, grabbing the sheets on either side of her at the sudden jolt of pleasure.
If she didn't know better, she would swear that he had sold his soul to one of the more unscrupulous devils in exchange for that ability. She knew that wasn't the case, that parseltongue was a rare yet perfectly natural ability found in some wizards and witches; but by the Underworld, it was too sinful for words.
"Please," Rias begged, sounding less like the powerful heiress that she ever had. "Please make me cum, I need it so badly!"
"Are you sure?" Harry asked, smirking as his emerald eyes peered right into hers. "You know the longer I draw this out, the harder you'll cum, Rias, and I could eat your pretty little pussy for hours and not have my fill."
"Hours," Rias thought to herself as her mind conjured up just such a scenario. Orgasm denial was more Akeno's thing, but she couldn't imagine just how intense the soul-searing pleasure would be if he tortured her for that long before giving her her release."
"We might have all day, but there are other things I'd like to spend it doing," Rias grinned. "Now be a good boy and make me CUM!"
He wrapped his lips around her clit and spoke that devilish tongue right against her pearl, making her squeal in ecstasy. The orgasm rocked through her entire body, with wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her from her core outward. Her thighs locked around his head, and she spasmed and convulsed under him as he continued to draw out the mind-melting orgasm. He reached up and cupped her jiggling tits, kneading the full mounds and adding to the sensations, making her mind go blank.
"Fuck," Rias sighed as he relented and her climax finally ended.
"Was that worth the little bit of teasing?" Harry asked, grinning down at her.
"Always," Rias replied, smiling widely at him.
He kissed her, entangling his tongue with hers and sharing the remaining traces of her fluids, only to grunt as she rolled him onto his back. Straddling him, she pulled back and smirked at the look of lust and desire on his face. Reaching down, she picked up his rock-hard cock and sank down onto it in one swift movement. She cried out in bliss and knew that she would never truly get used to the feeling of having him inside her. He felt so damn good and stretched her tight tunnel so well. She wasted no time at all in fucking him hard.
"Merlin, Rias," Harry groaned, leaning in towards her bouncing breasts and capturing one of her pebbled nipples between his lips.
"Oh, just like that!" Rias cried, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him to her chest as she rode him.
Staring into his eyes and seeing the sheer affection and adoration in them, along with the desire, she felt her heart skip a beat. She knew that she had grown rather attached to Harry, quite a bit, in fact, but as he let go of her nipple and just looked up at her like she was most the precious thing in the world to him, she began to wonder if it might be more than that.
With a grunt, he flipped her onto her back and moved her legs up until they were resting on his shoulders. With a feral grin, he began fucking her with long, deep strokes, reaching all the way to one of her most sensitive spots each time he bottomed out inside her. She cried out in pleasure, feeling herself racing towards her peak already. There would be plenty of time later to consider her growing feeling, for the man who was doing his best to drive her insane just then. Right now, all she wanted to do was bask in the pleasure of his wonderful touch.
Harry couldn't help but grin from ear-to-ear as he made his way to his dormitory. Seeing Rias never failed to put him in a good mood, and not just because of the sex. While it had obviously been her beauty that drew him in at first, he found himself increasingly fond of her in general. She was witty, insightful, and caring. For all her claims of being a creature of sin and selfishness, she was kind and good, and he knew that she actually cared about him for him and not what he was or what he represented. He had had so few people in his life that he could say that about, and he knew that he had come to rely on her a lot.
As much as he liked Luna, he honestly wished that he could have taken her to the ball, but he couldn't, and that was that. All he had to do was survive the tournament, however, and he was sure that there would be other balls he could take her to. He smiled as he realized that, for the first time in his life, he was actually thinking of the future in a meaningful way.
"I'm screwed," he heard Ron moan, and he rolled his eyes instinctively, wondering what exactly his former friend was whining about now.
The answer came quickly enough as he saw Ron, Seamus, and Dean, staring down at what had to be the most hideous set of dress robes ever designed. Frilly and maroon-colored, with an odd-looking collar, they were genuinely awful.
"They're not that bad?" Seamus tried to say, finding himself physically unable to get the words out without the upward inflection.
"Not that bad?" Ron asked incredulously. "Padma's going to take one look at me and be sick."
"They're not vomit-inducing," Dean snorted, "and Lavender might be able to help."
"With what? Setting them on fire?" Ron asked.
"No, you have Seamus here for that," Dean chuckled, earning a glare from his friend. "Lav's a genius with clothing charms and transfigurations. I'm sure she'll have some ideas."
"Yeah?" Ron asked, sounding relieved.
Harry had to admit that he wouldn't have thought of that. He wasn't close to Lavender Brown and wouldn't have even thought of getting clothing altered like that. He could only hope it worked, both because he hoped, despite everything, that Ron enjoyed his evening, and because he knew the boy would be insufferable if it didn't.
Making his way over to his trunk, he opened it up and pulled out his perfectly normal dress robes, taking them with him into the lavatory to get changed. His dormmates didn't even seem to notice him, something that they'd been pretty good at avoiding for a while now. He was more pleased by that than anything, preferring invisibility to being looked at with scorn, as he had been since his name came out of that bloody goblet. As he put on his dress robes, he noticed that they fit a little more tightly across his shoulders than they had before, a testament to how much he had changed since the summer, but it wasn't enough to look truly off, so he didn't mind at all.
He had never been particularly vain, in part because before Hermione fixed his glasses on the train before their first year, his vision had long been a little blurry, but as he looked in the mirror there, he couldn't help but think that he looked good. He knew that it had to be a mixture of frequent exercise and more natural changes, but he had grown a good bit over the last few weeks, and even his face had been altered a bit, becoming less round and more angular. If this was what training regularly, like he honestly should have been for years now, given the frequent danger he ended up in, did for him, then he was more than happy to continue.
He made his way downstairs, his wand securely kept in the wrist holster he'd had Dobby buy for him. Professor Moody's talk of constant vigilance was starting to sink in, especially with Rias and Akeno reinforcing the basic concept. He saw the Weasley twins standing in the common room, their eyes fixed on the stairwell that led to the Gryffindor girl's dorm, and they smiled as they saw him.
"If it isn't our illustrious champion," Fred enthused.
"Who's the lucky girl, Harry?" George asked.
"Luna Lovegood," Harry said. "I assume you two are going with Angelina and Alicia."
"Correct," Fred replied. "We'd seen you spending time with the lovely Miss Lovegood, but we didn't know you were dating."
"We're friends, for the most part," Harry said.
"Just seeing where things might go?" George asked.
"Something like that," Harry said. "We'll be meeting by the entrance to the great hall, so I'd best be off."
"I doubt you'll see her for a bit," George said. "Luna might be...unique, but she's still a girl, and they all take for bloody ever to get ready."
"You're probably right, but just in case," Harry said. "Have fun, you two, and try not to get yourselves transfigured into balls of yarn."
"We'll do our best," Fred laughed.
Harry smiled and made his way to the great hall, finding that only a few boys were waiting there already, presumably ones who also had dates in other houses. He had offered to meet Luna outside the Ravenclaw common room, but she insisted that she didn't mind meeting him here. He leaned back against one of the stone walls and waited. It didn't take all that long for people to start joining him, and soon enough, his date came walking down the long hallway, a serene smile on her face.
Harry grinned at her unique fashion sense, for while her pale blue dress, which showed off her thin figure without being even mildly scandalous, and matching flat shoes were perfectly normal, the rest of her ensemble was not. The red radish earrings she had on were decidedly not normal and clashed rather blatantly with her dress, as did the necklace of butterbeer corks she had on. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a loose bun that looked nice but was pinned together by her wand.
"You look beautiful, Luna," he said as she approached, making her smile grow wider.
"I'd say you do as well, but I know that boys can be quite touchy about their beauty," Luna replied, making him snort. Leaning in, she added, "Then again, you've been a man for some time now, haven't you?"
Harry froze for a second, surprised by the sudden, if very Luna-like flirting, but quickly recovered and said, "We generally prefer handsome, but I won't mind either way, at least from you."
"Handsome definitely works too," Luna said, looking him up and down. "How many girls have you promised dances to tonight?"
"Aside from you, just Hermione...and Fleur," Harry replied.
"Fleur Delacour?" Luna asked, her gray-blue eyes lighting up with excitement. "Oh, that's lovely. I didn't know you two had gotten to know each other."
"We've spoken a couple times," Harry replied, "and she, um, asked me to the ball."
"Why didn't you go with her?" Luna asked. "I know I would have."
Harry let that mental image overtake him for a moment before shaking his head and saying, "I had already asked you."
Luna beamed at him and hugged him tightly. He returned the hug, leaning in to bury his face in her hair and smelling her pleasant, vanilla-scented shampoo.
"It's a pity you couldn't have taken both of us," Luna whispered, rising onto her toes so that her mouth was just by his ear. "Think of how much fun that could have been."
Harry felt his cock stir and looked up to distract him from the mental image of taking both Luna and Fleur, only to freeze as he caught sight of Hermione coming his way.
"Oh wow," he murmured.
"Hmm?" Luna asked, looking up at him and then turning around to see what he was looking at. "Oh my, she looks gorgeous."
She really did as she walked towards them in her periwinkle dress. Like Luna's, it showed off her figure while still being rather conservative. It was cut slightly lower than Luna's dress, showing off a little of her breasts, and he forced himself to look back up at her face as she drew close. She had managed to tame her hair somehow, and it flowed in deep brown waves to her shoulders. He had already thought she was pretty, always had, actually, but this was the first time she had looked utterly beautiful to him, and it left him stunned.
"Oh!" Lavender exclaimed as she finished. "You look fab, Hermione! Seriously, you're like a princess."
Hermione stood in front of the mirror in muted shock, almost unable to grasp that she was looking at herself. She never put that much stock in her appearance, generally having better things to concern herself with, and wasn't used to putting in this kind of effort. With the Yule Ball, however, and with the dress that she'd been unable to tear her eyes away from in the shop until the store clerk came over and asked if she wanted to try it on, she found herself wanting to look good and turned to Lavender for help. Somehow her dormmate managed to tame her dreadful hair and do her makeup in a way that enhanced her looks without making her look like a trollop.
"Th...thank you, Lavender," she said, feeling her eyes grow misty.
"Blink those away before they ruin the makeup," Lavender said, and Hermione laughed, blinking rapidly and fanning her eyes with her hands. "There's just one more thing you need to look perfect."
Before Hermione could ask what that was, Lavender reached into her trunk and pulled out a red sash. After taking her wand and turning it blue, she wrapped it around Hermione's waist, helping to show off her narrow waist more and make her modest breasts and slim hips stand out more.
"There," Lavender said. "That way, it'll show off your figure a bit more."
"Not something you need," Hermione commented, looking over Lavender's less conservative, cream-colored dress, which seemed to be designed to show off how buxom her dormmate was.
"No, the girls do that all on their own," Lavender giggled, palming her sizable breasts as she pulled her dress up a bit.
"I seriously don't know how to repay you," Hermione said, looking away from Lavender's substantial cleavage.
"There's no need," Lavender said. "Just being able to say that I did the hair and makeup of Viktor bloody Krum's date is enough. You are seriously so lucky. You really met him in the library?"
"Yes," Hermione replied, smiling. There was little point in keeping it a secret now.
"Maybe I should spend more time there," Lavender mused.
"I find it doesn't hurt," Hermione said.
"Lavender?" Parvati called out as she entered the dormroom.
"What's up?" Lavender asked.
"A fashion emergency," Parvati replied. "Oh wow, Hermione, you look amazing."
"Thank you," Hermione said. "So do you."
"Emergency?" Lavender asked, sounding confused, "Parv, you look gorgeous."
"It's...you'll know when you see him," Parvati said flatly.
"Well, duty calls, I guess," Lavender sighed. "I know I said that you didn't need to repay me, but I would not say no to a dance with that hunky date of yours."
"I'll talk to him," Hermione smiled, figuring that it was a small price to pay.
The two of them left her alone, and she looked in the mirror again, still partly unable to accept that she looked the way she did. After making sure that her wand was secured in the small bag she'd be carrying, she made her way downstairs, noticing Lavender frantically looking over the fashion emergency that turned out to be Ron. He was so focused on his own predicament that he didn't even notice her, and, realizing that he was in better hands than hers on this matter, she decided to leave him to Lavender.
As she walked towards the Great Hall, she experienced something that she couldn't recall experiencing before: she drew eyes. Be it girls looking at her in shock, boys looking in surprise and desire, or even the odd double take and ogle, she drew eyes and wasn't sure how she felt about it, that was until one man in particular looked at her. Green eyes that were far too pretty to belong to a boy, and which she could have picked out in a daze, widened as they took in the sight of her.
Harry looked so very handsome in his smart black dress robes, but she barely noticed that, being entirely too distracted by seeing something on his face that she had never seen before: attraction. She was sure that she saw desire in his gorgeous eyes as she approached him and felt her pulse spike as she drew close.
"Oh, Hermione, you look lovely," Luna said, and Hermione looked at her in surprise.
She hadn't noticed Harry's date just then, despite the girl standing right in front of him, but then again, she hadn't noticed any of the other people there either until the blonde broke her from her trance.
"Thank you, Luna," Hermione said, her brow furrowing as she noticed the younger girl's odd accessories. "You do as well. I love your dress."
"Harry, tell Hermione she's stunning," Luna said, and Harry blinked, shaking his head.
"Stunning," he said. "I mean, yes, Hermione, you look...wow."
"You look pretty wow yourself," Hermione squeaked, blushing.
"Hermyownee," Viktor called, and Hermione whipped around, seeing her date for the evening coming with the rest of the Durmstrang students, looking very nice in his red and black dress robes.
"Hermione," Harry corrected under his breath.
"I actually find the pronunciation charming," Hermione commented quietly. "Viktor, hello."
"You look great," Viktor said.
"Thank you," Hermione said. "You recall Harry, and this is his date, Luna Lovegood."
"Hello," Luna said.
"Hello," Viktor replied. Turning to Harry, he said, "Your solution to dragon simple but inspired. Protective charms must fail."
"I was surprised it worked, honestly," Harry said smoothly, "but I wasn't complaining."
"Harry, could I have a word?" Hermione asked. Turning to Viktor, she added, "I'll just be a moment."
"Of course," Viktor said as she and Harry walked off together.
"Is something wrong?" Harry asked quietly.
"I thought it might be a good idea for you to have this tonight," Hermione said, reaching into her bag and handing him the map.
"Why?" Harry asked.
"I doubt anyone would try anything here, but on the off chance that something feels a little off, having the ability to excuse yourself and subtly make sure that someone is who they say they are might be a good idea," Hermione explained. "Your robes are more voluminous than my dress, slightly, and you'll have an easier time concealing it while using it than I would."
"I guess," Harry said, stashing the parchment in one of his charm-expanded pockets. "Did you find anything out of the ordinary?"
"No," Hermione whispered. "I double checked everyone who seemed like a bit of a loner, either getting Viktor's or Ron's help, and everyone was who they said they were. The only strange bit was Professor Moody and Mr. Crouch."
"Oh?" Harry asked.
"I never once saw Professor Moody outside of his room here, and Mr. Crouch visited him, often multiple times a day," Hermione said. "I saw him during our classes, of course, but I just managed to keep missing him moving about."
"That is odd, but I haven't seen him about the castle all that much outside of classes and meals," Harry said. "That incident with Malfoy was honestly unique."
As if summoned, Malfoy appeared then with the rest of the Slytherin delegation, looking like a puffed-up peacock in his expensive-looking robes.
"It's just strange," Hermione said. "Anyway, we should get back; nearly everyone else seems to have arrived."
They returned to their dates, finding Viktor looking utterly perplexed as Luna spoke to him.
"I am not seeing this snorkack in Durmstrang," Viktor said just as they reached them, and Harry chuckled.
"That's alright," Luna said. "I figured it was worth checking."
Luna's dreamy gaze left Viktor for a moment and then returned to what had drawn her eye in the first place. Harry almost immediately found himself looking in the same direction as Fleur Delacour appeared on the arm of a dazed-looking Roger Davies.
"'Ello, 'Arry," she said as she reached them.
"Hello, Fleur," Harry said, trying not to stare at the form-fitting silver gown she was wearing. "This is my date, Luna."
"Hello, you look very pretty," Luna said.
"Zank you," Fleur laughed, looking her over. "You look lovely as well. Viktor, zis is?"
"Hermione Granger," Hermione replied.
"Enchante," Fleur said.
Cedric and Cho arrived soon after that, and Professor McGonagall quickly followed and ushered everyone in. Harry and Luna, along with the other champions and their dates, led the way and took their places at the high table, where the headmasters, Bagman, and oddly enough, Percy Weasley were already seated. Harry pulled out Luna's chair for her, which earned him a wide smile, and once he'd pushed her in, he sat next to her.
"What brings you here, Percy?" Harry couldn't help but ask.
"Mr. Crouch is feeling a touch under the weather, and, as his assistant, it fell to me to come in his stead," Percy replied, puffing up his chest in obvious pride.
"I hope he's alright," Luna said. "I like his funny mustache."
"I...er...I'm sure he'll be fine," Percy said, nonplussed
"Welcome all of you to what I hope will be a most memorable evening for us all," Professor Dumbledore said once everyone was seated. "The dance will begin once we've finished eating. Just say what you want, and it will appear. To demonstrate, roast beef and potatoes."
His dinner appeared before him, and he sat down as the hall filled with the sound of people ordering food.
Recalling what he'd had that day at the Gremory mansion, Harry said, "Beef Wellington."
When it appeared, he commented, "I honestly didn't think that would work."
"Zey likely 'ave a number of well-known French dishes available today, along with an assortment of Eastern European ones," Fleur said, staring down at her duck confit and looking genuinely impressed. "I'm surprised you are at all familiar with filet de boeuf en croute."
"I've had it before," Harry said.
"Could I try some of that?" Luna asked. "You can have some of my chicken."
"Sure, Luna," Harry replied.
The room quieted down as people ate. Whether because people were exceptionally hungry, or nervous about the dancing that would follow, it was somewhat less raucous than usual. It was still far from silent, however, and as Harry and Luna shared their meals and talked about how different the great hall looked, he heard Fleur informing her date about the superior nature of French cuisine. The lecture seemed rather lost on the already glassy-eyed-looking boy, who, it seemed, was not quite as resistant to Fleur's charms as he imagined she would have liked.
Once their meal was finished, Dumbledore waved his wand and cleared the tables to make room for the dancing to follow.
"Guess that's our cue," Harry said, looking over at Luna.
"I'm sure you'll do fine, Harry," Luna said. "I trust you."
"Thanks," Harry chuckled softly, taking her hand and leading her out onto the dance floor.
Hermione took a deep, steadying breath as Viktor led her out for the opening dance. Feeling his hand press against her waist, she smiled and relaxed. The music began, and he led her in time with it, proving himself to be well-practiced from the start.
"Have you been to many dances like this?" Hermione asked.
"Da," Viktor replied. "Dance always enjoyment for me."
"Really?" Hermione asked. "I suppose a certain nimbleness on your feet translates into flying."
"A little," Viktor said.
Hermione couldn't say that she much enjoyed dancing while everyone watched them, and felt a bit stiff, but she managed to relax once the rest of the attendees had joined in. The music was pleasant, and the atmosphere was perfect. She had spent so much time worrying this year about Harry and the Tournament and her friendships with him and Ron. It was nice to be able to let that all go, even for a bit. Of course, as she caught sight of Harry dancing with a very happy-looking Luna, her thoughts returned to him and to one little mystery that she realized she had completely forgotten to inquire about.
"Viktor?" Hermione asked.
"Da?" Viktor replied.
"Is there anyone who goes to Durmstrang with the surname Gremory?" Hermione asked.
Viktor missed a step and barely avoided her foot. "Gremory? Where did you hear this name?"
Hermione furrowed her brow at his strange reaction, saying, "I overheard someone say it, and it stuck out. There's no one here by that name, so I figured they were referring to someone from either Durmstrang or Beauxbatons. I was just curious."
"You must mishear," Viktor said gruffly, "or I hope so, anyway."
"Why?" Hermione asked, growing increasingly concerned at his reaction to the name.
"Gremory is name of major demon family," Viktor said quietly.
"Wha...what?" Hermione asked.
"Is not thing Hogwarts would teach," Viktor said. "Even at Durmstrang, is pure theory. Anyone caught trying something practical is expel."
Hermione was sure that she grew even paler than normal as he spoke. Trying to stop him from asking any questions she truly couldn't answer, she quickly said, "I...I must have misheard them. The boy who said it was French, and might have had a cold. Maybe he said Gregory."
"That must be," Viktor said, seeming as eager as she was to drop the subject.
"Harry, what the hell have you done?" Hermione wondered to herself, wincing at the unintended pun.
"...and so Mummy and Daddy were warned never to return to Australia again," Luna said.
"That…" Harry trailed off, realizing that the Lovegoods had been like that since long before Pandora's tragic death.
"It's a real shame too," Luna said, "since Daddy thinks that Blibbering Humdingers might be native to Australia."
"Well, surely you aren't banned from the country," Harry said.
"Mummy was pregnant with me at the time, so I'd have to check," Luna replied. "Oh, I don't think Fleur's having a very good time."
Harry looked over and saw that she was most likely correct. Fleur's date looked stoned, with glassy eyes that had gotten worse since dinner and a lumbering gait that suggested he was increasingly unable to pay attention to much at all. This likely also included the placement of his feet, and it seemed like just a matter of time until he stepped on hers'.
"Do you think her dress is charmed to make her breasts look that perky or that they actually are?" Luna asked, and Harry was glad he didn't have anything in his mouth to spit out.
"I…" he went to reply.
"Honestly, she looks like one of the women from the book," Luna commented, seemingly oblivious to his reaction. "Do you think Veela might be related to them?"
"Err, I don't know," Harry said, recovering. "You've read more of it than me, honestly. Are they mentioned at all?"
"No," Luna replied. "I think we ought to go help her. You want to give her the dance you promised? I could distract Roger for a while."
"If you're sure?" Harry said.
Luna just nodded, and off they went to rescue the unhappy Veela.
"Pardon me, Fleur, do you mind if I dance with Roger?" Luna asked.
"Be my guest," Fleur said flatly, allowing Luna to take her place just as the song ended.
"But…" Roger went to protest, his cloudy mind clearly up a little bit as he lost contact with Fleur.
"Have fun, you two," Harry said as Luna led him away.
"Zank you," Fleur said, sounding relieved. "'Is resistance to my allure seemed adequate when 'e asked me to ze ball, but Aphrodite's tits, 'e could not keep 'is wits once we touched."
"And here I thought it was just the dress," Harry said, feasting his eyes on how the silver satin clung to her generous curves before staring into her eyes. Her lips quirked upward in amusement, and he took her hand, saying, "I do believe I promised you a dance."
"Clearly, you are a man of your word," Fleur purred, stepping forward and grinning as his other hand reached her waist.
"Your self-control is much better," Fleur said. "I can practically taste your desire, and yet your eyes are sharp as ever."
"A compliment I've never received before," Harry chuckled, pointing to his glasses.
"You know what I mean," Fleur giggled.
"Is it difficult being in a room like this and feeling everyone's desires?" Harry asked.
"It can be tough, especially for younger Veela, but you get used to it eventually," Fleur replied. "We do not just feel other's desires for ourselves, zough, and knowing who everyone wants can be entertaining."
"I've never been one for gossip," Harry said. "More often than not, I'm the subject."
"Ze price of fame, I suppose," Fleur said, "and to endure zat fame over something as awful as what you are known for. It must be terrible."
"I grew up having no clue about any of it, or even magic, so it was one hell of a shock when I first arrived," Harry said.
"No clue about magic?" Fleur asked.
"I grew up with my muggle relatives," Harry said.
"And zey never told you at all about who you were or what 'appened to your parents?" Fleur asked.
"No," Harry replied. "I never would have learned at all without my Hogwarts letter coming."
"Mon dieu," Fleur swore. The two of them danced in silence for a moment after that, though she broke it by saying, "You are a surprisingly good dancer."
"Surprising?" Harry asked, sounding deeply amused.
"Well, I can only expect so much from an Englishman," Fleur teased, making him laugh. "Did you 'ave lessons as a boy?"
"Merlin, no," Harry chuckled. "I had a couple friends teach me when I learned about the ball."
"Zis is from just weeks of instruction?" Fleur asked. "Are you always zis much of a, 'ow you say, quick study?"
There was a breathy tone to her voice that made his cock swell in his pants, and he was about to reply when he heard the distinct sound of shouting coming from outside the great hall. If he and Fleur hadn't danced their way close to the entrance, he might not have heard it at all, but as it was, not only could he make out the sound, he was pretty sure that he recognized both voices.
"I'm sorry, Fleur, but I need to check on that," Harry said, reluctantly letting her go.
"Go ahead, 'Arry," Fleur said. "I would like to get some air anyway."
"Don't forget your warming charm," Harry grinned.
"You say zat like it is possible to exist in zis wretched climate without one," Fleur said snootily. "If we don't see each other again, good night, 'Arry."
"Good night, Fleur," Harry said, taking the hand still in his and pressing his lips to her knuckles.
Fleur gasped as he kissed her soft skin, her blue eyes turning a deep black for just a moment before she pulled away, looking shocked. Harry was about to ask what just happened when he heard Hermione's voice get louder and rushed off to investigate.
"...the ball with the bloody enemy!" Ron snarled.
"Enemy!?" Hermione hissed, sounding utterly incredulous. "It's a tournament, not a war, and the only contestant you've said two words to in your life, you haven't spoken to in months! Two words in any recognizable language, anyway."
Harry winced at the little dig at Ron about his attempt to ask Fleur to the ball. As he spotted them, he noticed that Lavender had indeed managed to help with Ron's robes, which looked rather normal compared to what he'd seen before. Alas, that didn't seem to have helped his former friend enjoy himself.
"Let's not pretend that you didn't want his autograph," Hermione continued.
"Yeah, and what does he want?" Ron asked, his voice venomous. "He's years older than us and a sodding Quidditch star. Why would he ask a random fourth-year girl to the ball?"
"Because unlike everyone else around here, I'm not utterly obsessed with that bloody game!" Hermione hissed. "Viktor isn't just a seeker; he's a thoughtful, intelligent, and charming man."
"I'm sure he's bloody charming," Ron said darkly. "Why can't you see that he's using you?"
"Using me?" Hermione asked.
"You're friends with one of his competitors," Ron explained, sounding like it was obvious. "Why the hell else would he ask you?"
"Maybe because, unlike some people I could mention, he realized from the start that I was a girl!" Hermione shrieked. "Why do you always need to ruin everything?!"
"Ron, that's enough," Harry said, deciding to interfere before the redhead managed to step any further into it.
"Stay out of this!" Ron snarled. "If you cared about anyone but yourself, you'd have warned her off that guy the second you found out about this!"
"I said that's enough!" Harry snarled as the rage and pain he'd been fighting down for weeks now at being abandoned by his supposed best mate bubbled to the surface. "Hermione's perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and Viktor Krum is no threat to her at any rate. You're just pissed that everyone around you is having a good time while you've insisted on sulking and feeling sorry for yourself."
"That's…" Ron went to say, his face turning as red as his hair.
"I'm past the point of thinking that you'll ever pull your head out of your arse where I'm concerned, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let you pull crap with her," Harry said. "Piss off!"
As he glared at Ron, Harry felt electric, as though charged with power. It was his magic he was feeling, he knew that, and he had felt like this before, but only in moments where his life was on the line. In his anger, driven by nearly two months of frustration with the boy in front of him, he let his magic, tinged with that raw emotion, suffuse his being and spread outward. Ron's red face paled back to normal and then further as he felt the aura of a much stronger wizard bare down on him.
"Fine!" he hissed after a moment, stalking off somewhere else.
Harry felt a petty sense of triumph overtake him at that. He had never been intimidating in his entire life, being too small and weak at the Dursleys' as a boy, and too lackadaisical in his studies to amount to anything that powerful before. He was stronger than he had ever been, though, and that fact filled him with a confidence that he knew he had lacked before. He wouldn't normally have enjoyed being able to scare off someone like that, but Ron had been such a colossal dickhead this year that he couldn't help but take a degree of pleasure in the encounter. As he shook his head, though, his focus turned to the reason that he had come out here at all, and he found her glaring at him.
"I'm sorry about him, Hermione," he said.
"About him?" Hermione asked, still sounding furious. "I guess I'm sorry too. Sorry that my friends both turned out to be utter blockheads!"
"What?" Harry asked, taken aback by her anger at him.
"I'm used to Ron's pigheadedness and his penchant for ruining things, but you?" Hermione asked, looking like she was on the verge of tears.
"Hermione, I wasn't about to let him talk to you like that," Harry said defensively.
"I'm not talking about that," Hermione hissed, stomping up to him. Leaning in, she whispered, "I'm talking about Rias Gremory."
Harry paled, taking a step back. "How…"
"The map," he thought to himself, realizing that there was no other way for her to know that name.
"Harry, do you have any idea how much trouble…" Hermione went to say.
"This is a conversation best had somewhere else," Luna said as she joined them, sounding unusually serious.
"You know?" Hermione asked, glaring at the blonde.
"The room would probably be a good idea," Luna said, ignoring her. "Fewer eyes and ears about."
"You're right," Harry said. "Hermione, I swear there's a good explanation for all of this. If you come with us, we talk about it."
"I can't wait to hear this," Hermione fumed.
Harry led the way as the three of them walked towards the moving staircases. One of them happened to be in position as they arrived, and he ushered Luna and Hermione on, only for Hermione to go still.
"Oh, for the love of...I left my bag back in the great hall," she groaned. "It has my wand in it…"
"I'll get it," Harry said as the staircase started moving. "Luna, lead her to the room, and I'll meet you two in a few."
Without waiting for either of them to say a word, he turned and left, racing towards the great hall. Hermione's bag was still by her seat, much to Harry's relief. After making sure that her wand was still inside, he stuffed it inside his mokeskin pouch and left, noticing that the festivities in general seemed to be dying down as the night grew late. By the time he returned to the staircases, he had just missed the most convenient one and cursed under his breath. Electing to take the longer route rather than wait, he pulled the Maurader's Map from his pocket and muttered the pass phrase. The map showed that most people had either already left the dance or were in the process of doing so, and he deliberately picked the least crowded route available as he made his way to the Seventh Floor.
It was testament to just how busy and tired he'd been lately that he didn't foresee potential problems with handing the map to Hermione. For the most part, his escapades with Rias and Akeno had been confined to the room, but there had been a couple moments where one or the other had stepped just outside the room to kiss him goodbye. Hermione must have just happened to be watching at one inopportune moment.
"I just have to get her to understand that devils can be good people too," he thought to himself. "The fact that she went to me instead of going straight to the professors like she did last year is a good sign."
The circumstances were quite different, and while he had been royally pissed at her for informing Professor McGonagall about the firebolt at the time, he had come to understand her reasoning once he cooled off. He didn't believe that she would intentionally screw him over in this case, but he had been reluctant to inform her at all for fear of how she'd react. He should have known that he couldn't keep it from her forever.
Shaking his head in frustration, he came to a corner and checked the map, seeing that Crouch was there and seemed to be heading in the direction of Professor Moody's office, where the man in question already was. He paid that no mind until he heard the distinctive sound of Moody's wooden leg hitting the tiles.
"What in the…" he thought to himself, carefully peeking his head around the corner.
Sure enough, although the map said that Bartemius Crouch was there, it was Professor Moody that Harry saw. As his heart raced in his chest, his mind flashed back to all the times he had seen the bizarre professor drink from that flask that he never seemed to be without. A chill went down his spine as he realized that the man could easily have drunk from it once an hour.
"That doesn't make any sense," Harry thought to himself. "Crouch and Moody were both in the room with the champions when that dickhead said that I was stuck in the bloody tournament. How many people on polyjuice are involved in this?"
He knew that he should go get Professor Dumbledore, explain his theory, and hope for the best, but he had had professors doubt him before. If he got proof, that would be different. Taking the man's flask would be all the proof he'd need. Snape could tell polyjuice at a whiff, and Dumbledore probably could as well. He himself would never forget the foul concoction. Crouch was also apparently unwell enough that Percy had to take over for him.
"Maybe he's really sick," Harry thought to himself. "Maybe Voldemort promised him a cure in exchange for his help. I can take on one sick man."
He might have had only a few weeks of training under his belt, but he knew that he was stronger than he'd been before, and that knowledge, along with his remaining high at finally telling off Ron, left him feeling confident. Resolved, he stashed the map in his pocket, cast a quick silencing spell on his shoes, and followed the false Moody, looking as nonchalant as he could. Moody didn't seem to notice as he continued walking towards his office, until he was within just a few feet of the door when he suddenly halted.
"Need something, Potter?" he asked without even turning around.
"Not really," Harry replied, realizing that he truly could see through the back of his head, as they'd suspected. "I got into an argument with Ron and just wanted to walk it off. Did you enjoy the ball?"
"Oh yeah, I love dances," Moody snarked, tapping his wooden leg with his walking stick.
"Did you lose the leg during the war?" Harry asked, wondering how he'd respond.
"Aye," Moody replied gruffly. "Evan Rosier managed to nick me with a withering curse that couldn't be undone. I'd have lost more than the leg if I hadn't quickly amputated it."
"What happened to Rosier?" Harry asked.
"His curse was a lucky last blow in a fight he'd already lost," Moody replied, smiling grimly. "Rosier was weak; he'd always been weak, and he died weak."
"Well, at least you got him. Expelliarmus!" he hissed the second his wand dropped into his hand.
Moody's wand flew into his hand, and his good eye widened in surprise. "What the hell are you playing at, Potter?"
"Accio flask!" Harry cast, pulling the flask into his hand as he pocketed Moody's wand. "Your only mistake was stealing the potion ingredients. Snape would blame me if he got a hangnail, so naturally he accused me of stealing the boomslang skin. I began to wonder if my name might not have been placed in the goblet by someone in disguise, and then I remembered just how often you drink from this flask."
Flicking open the lid, he smelled it and confirmed his suspicion as Moody burst into hysterical laughter.
"The great Albus Dumbledore couldn't see what was right under his crooked beak, and yet you managed it?" he cackled.
"Who are you?" Harry asked, wanting to hear it for himself as he pocketed the flask as well and kept his wand trained on the man.
"Moody really was the perfect target," Crouch sighed. "Madder than a rabid dog, not that I'm one to judge, he was the one person that no one would question odd behavior from. My master's brilliance truly knows no bounds."
"So you are working for Voldemort, then?" Harry asked.
"You dare speak the name?" Crouch hissed.
"It's an idiotic pseudonym thought up by a teenager, so yes," Harry snarked.
"The dark lord has made it clear that the pleasure of killing you will be his alone, Potter," Crouch said, "but that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun. Diffindo!"
Harry's eyes widened as Crouch sent a cutting charm right at his leg and jumped aside on instinct, only to nearly be hit with his disarming hex that he barely managed to get a shield up in time for.
"Failing to check for a second wand?" Crouch asked, grinning madly. "Looks like you haven't learned CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"
It was in that moment that Harry realized that intimidating Ron Weasley and taking on a full-fledged, probably very dangerous wizard were two different things.
Grimacing as he realized the extent of his fuck-up, Harry steadied himself and shouted, "Expeliariamus!"
Crouch cast a shield, effortlessly blocking the spell, but when Harry followed it up immediately with a reductor curse, it nearly shattered, earning an annoyed grunt from the older man. As the two of them began trading spells back and forth, it quickly became apparent that Crouch wasn't as sick as he'd appeared. Luckily for Harry, the hallways of Hogwarts weren't terribly narrow, so there was room for him to make use of his dodging practice.
The two of them each had advantages and disadvantages. Harry was quicker on his feet, having two of them, but lacked the true combat experience that his opponent clearly had. The number of combat spells he knew and could cast was also rather limited. Crouch, on the other hand, was slowed down by the crippled form he'd be stuck in until the polyjuice wore off, and, if the frustrated look on his face was any clue, he also really did need to hold back for fear of incurring his master's wrath.
"You're better than I'd have expected you to be, Potter," Crouch admitted as he sent a bone-breaker at Harry's right arm.
"Well, you know, some arsehole forced me into a dangerous tournament against my will, and I figured I'd better train," Harry quipped, dodging his spell and sending another reductor towards the man's wooden leg. He had been focusing on it and Moody's walking stick, knowing full well that if he could unbalance Crouch, it would give him the sort of edge he desperately needed.
"Train with who, I wonder?" Crouch commented. "Confringo!"
It was the most dangerous spell that he'd used yet, and, with the orange curse coming right at his head, Harry panicked and ducked, crying out in pain as he felt a cutting charm dig a deep gouge in his left side. Searing pain took his breath away, and he backed up as his blood spilled onto the tiles below. He sent conjured flames right at Crouch's face, which the man froze effortlessly. Crouch hit him with a jelly leg jinx, and Harry fell with a thud and a pained groan.
"You have some talent, but you're still greener than your eyes, boy," Crouch sneered, as he sent Harry's wand flying out his hand and down the hall. "My master is going to enjoy seeing you again."
"What's going on here?!" Dumbledore bellowed from far down the hall.
"Bloody portraits!" Crouch hissed, realizing how the old man had learned of the fight.
Harry took advantage of Crouch's momentary distraction and reached into the mokeskin pouch at his side, grabbing Hermione's bag and grasping the wand inside. It wouldn't work as well as his own for him, but he figured that it would be usable.
"He's not Professor Moody; he's polyjuiced!" Harry shouted. Aiming Hermione's wand at Moody's wooden leg, he hissed, "Reducto!"
As he moved to point his wand, his wound burned terribly, and it threw off his aim a touch. Distracted by Dumbledore and not expecting Harry to have a second wand, Crouch failed to block the spell, which blasted his walking stick to pieces. Hissing as he was left hobbled, Crouch sent a disarming charm at Harry, wrenching Hermione's wand out of his hand and sending it flying down the hall towards his own. He then transfigured one of the floor tiles next to Harry into a napkin and summoned it into his hand.
"As much as I'd love to stay and chat, Dumbledore, I need to fly. Avada Kedavra!" Crouch shouted.
The green curse flew towards Dumbledore, who conjured a wooden shield to take the impact, and once it shattered, sent the shards rocketing towards Crouch. Crouch ducked and, aiming at the ceiling above Harry, pointed and shouted, "Confringo!"
The ceiling exploded, sending debris raining on Harry, who tried to roll out of the way only to notice that it stayed hovering above him as Crouch slipped into his office. He continued rolling to the side, crying out as he pressed on his wound, as Dumbledore rushed over, only allowing the debris to fall once Harry was safely out of its way. As his headmaster tried to open the door, Harry dragged himself towards his wand, undoing the jelly-leg jinx once he had it back. Struggling to his feet, he limped over to the office, pausing at the blasted ruin of the door as he found Dumbledore staring out the window after the retreating Crouch.
"B...borrow my firebolt, Professor," Harry grunted. "You can catch him."
"It'll be too late for that, I'm afraid, Mr. Pott...Harry!" Dumbledore cried as Harry slid down the wall onto his arse, feeling suddenly woozy.
"C...could you close that window? I'm cold," Harry mumbled, reaching over to feel the gash in his ribs and seeing that his hand came away bloody. "Oh."
"You're going to be alright," Dumbledore said, casting a quick couple spells on him that cleared away the cold and wooziness, and levitating him up. "We're just going to need to get you to the hospital wing."
"Professor Moody!" Harry exclaimed.
"Alastor is, I suspect, not only alive, but stashed away somewhere in this room," Dumbledore said, moving with surprising speed for a man his age as he rushed Harry along. "I'll search for him once you're in Madam Pomfrey's care."
"Oh Merlin, Hermione," Harry grunted, remembering where he should have gone.
"Miss Granger will be informed of what's transpired," Dumbledore said, wandlessly summoning a pair of wands on the floor as he passed them, "as will Miss Lovegood if you like."
"Hermione's going to kill me," Harry muttered, though as soon as he said the words, he realized that he was mistaken. Hermione wasn't going to kill him; Rias and Akeno were.