Death of Eternity: The Wrath of the Ancient Forgotten Ones

by FrozenIceKing

Cho, Harry, Anakin discovers that ancient, forgotten entities known only as the Forgotten Ones are awakening. These malevolent beings, long buried by time seek to reshape the galaxy in their image. With enemies lurking in both the shadows and the stars, must lead their crew in a desperate fight for survival, can they defeat the ancient forgotten ones or will all hope be lost?

28. Lust Incarnate

"If you thought the previous chapter was dramatic and perhaps over the top? Better do think again as this one is set to blow your mind and maybe the other chapters coming up later, expect more like these and greater also an addition details I don't plan on missing out, Enjoy!"

Lust Incarnate

The Holy Empyrean Infinite Empire's celestial bedchamber shimmered with golden light, its divine opulence unmatched across existence. The vast, cosmic canopy of the heavens stretched overhead, galaxies swirling in slow, rhythmic patterns, as though reality itself bowed before the beings that lay upon this sacred bed.

At its centre, Harry Potter, the Flameborn Infernal Titan Emperor, rested—or at least, he attempted to—wrapped in the eternal embrace of the three most powerful women in all creation.

Fleur, radiant as the first light of the universe, had her arms lazily draped over his chest, her golden hair pooling like liquid starlight across the divine silk sheets. Cho, the Celestial Paragon, remained ever-calculating, her fingers tracing absent patterns over his skin as she watched Fleur with knowing amusement. And then there was Angelica, the Supreme Imperatrix, the silent conqueror who had long since secured her throne in Harry's heart. Unlike the others, she never fought for dominance—she simply possessed him without question.

Yet, even with divine unity, chaos was never far behind.

A sudden rupture of reality shattered the peace, sending waves of pleasure, desire, and raw carnality rippling through the celestial palace. The very fabric of existence shuddered, reacting to an overwhelming presence—something both ancient and primal. The golden chamber darkened, its cosmic splendor shifting into something far more sensual, decadent, and dangerously alluring.

And then she stepped through. The air ignited around her.

She was Lust Incarnate, the living embodiment of every desire ever known, every sinful longing ever felt, and every intoxicating pleasure ever imagined by mortal and divine alike. She did not merely exude beauty—she was beauty itself, sculpted into irresistible perfection, radiating with the energy of countless billions of lustful souls.

Her dress—if one could even call it that—was a web of ethereal lace, a fabric woven from the fantasies of civilizations long since lost, clinging to her body with wicked precision. It shimmered, shifting in form as though it could barely contain the infinite temptation that made up her essence.

Her gaze, sultry and unapologetically predatory, locked onto Harry.

And then, she smiled.

"Oh, my poor, sweet Flameborn Emperor," she purred, stepping forward, the very ground beneath her trembling in arousal. "Did you truly think Love alone would be enough? Did you truly believe that you could escape me?"

Her lips curled into something dangerous as she tilted her head, drinking in the sight of Fleur, Cho, and Angelica still draped around her prey.

"I have come to claim my place beside you, as is my right."

She placed a delicate, sinful finger on her lower lip, watching them with mocking amusement.

"After all... if love may have him, then surely lust must have him too." The reaction was instantaneous.

The temperature in the room skyrocketed as Fleur's golden light flared, a smirk dancing across her lips. "Ah, mon dieu, how amusing. You think you can just walk in and demand a place at his side?" Her piercing blue gaze darkened with playful challenge. "How tragically adorable."

Cho, ever the strategist, barely batted an eye. Her fingers curled possessively over Harry's chest, her power humming beneath her skin. "Your mistake," she said coolly, "is believing that we would ever allow such a thing." Her eyes gleamed, challenging, defiant.

Angelica, however, remained utterly unshaken. If anything, she looked... amused.

She turned her golden gaze upon Lust Incarnate, assessing her as one would a nuisance rather than a threat.

Then, ever so casually, she spoke.

"You have already lost."

Lust's perfect brows arched. "Oh? Have I?"

Angelica's lips curved into something dangerously knowing. "You do not claim. You are taken." She leaned forward, brushing Harry's ear with a whisper that sent shivers down his spine. "And my dear Flameborn has already chosen."

Harry groaned inwardly. Oh, this was about to get so much worse.

Lust laughed, the sound velvet-smooth, a purr of divine seduction that sent an entire quadrant of the Omniverse into ecstasy-induced collapse.

"Oh, how precious," she mused, stepping closer to the bed. "You act as though he has no say in the matter." Her voice dropped into a sultry whisper, meant for Harry alone. "Tell me, Emperor, do you not long for my touch? Does your heart not race at the very thought of surrendering to the pleasure I could grant you?" Harry opened his mouth. And then Fleur bit his ear.

"Answer carefully, mon amour," she cooed, her fingers trailing over his chest in a not-so-subtle warning. "It would be such a shame if something... happened to you in your sleep." Harry groaned.

"Why do I feel like whatever I say here will result in my imminent destruction?"

Cho smirked, stroking his jaw. "Because it will, darling."

Angelica leaned in, golden strands of hair brushing against his face, her voice silken and amused. "The real question, Harry, is this: will you fall to Lust... or will Lust fall to you?"

Lust smirked.

"Try me."

The Celestial Bedchamber—a sanctum of golden opulence and divine splendor, where the Flameborn Emperor, Harry Potter, lay within the embrace of the three most powerful women in all creation—should have been a place of eternal peace and comfort.

Instead, it had become a battleground of cosmic proportions.

Fleur, Cho, and Angelica had each solidified their claim over Harry, draping themselves over him with effortless confidence, ensuring that no intruder—no matter how divine—could dare challenge their supremacy.

But Lust was no mere intruder.

She was inevitability given form.

She was desire itself.

And she was not here to ask permission.

The chamber dimmed, the golden brilliance of the heavens above shifting into something more primal, more forbidden. The walls pulsed with a heartbeat not of love, but of raw, unfiltered hunger, a rhythm that sent shivers through reality itself.

And then—she moved.

There was no warning, no prelude.

With a single blink, Lust Incarnate teleported.

In an instant, she was beside Harry, her satin-clad form pressed against him, her hand gracefully draped over his shoulders, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns over his collarbone.

Her smirk? Unshakable.

Her confidence? Absolute.

Her presence? Unstoppable.

She leaned in, her voice a whisper of silk and sin, meant for his ears alone.

"Tell me, Emperor…" she purred, "have you ever truly known pleasure? Or have you only been given glimpses?"

Her breath was warm, her presence deliberate. Her satin gown, a dangerous weapon in itself, clung to her every curve, shifting like liquid temptation, designed to entice, to enthrall.

And then? She smiled. A devastating, unholy, utterly victorious smile.

"You think love is enough?" she taunted, her nails gently dragging across his skin, sending an unwanted, undeniable thrill through his divine form. "Let me show you what they cannot."

The air snapped like a celestial storm, the very essence of the bedchamber flaring with divine fury.

Lust may have been desire incarnate, but she had just committed an unforgivable sin.

She had touched what was already claimed. And she had done so without invitation. The consequences were instantaneous.

Fleur's golden flames erupted, a searing inferno of celestial fire engulfing her in a brilliant, wrathful radiance.

Her eyes, once playful and teasing, darkened with something far more dangerous.

"Oh, ma chère," she purred, though her voice dripped with lethal amusement, her nails pressing against Harry's chest as if to reassert her claim. "I do hope you realise what you've just done."

Her lips curved into a smirk, but her hands tightened—a not-so-subtle warning.

"Touch him again, and I'll see to it that even desire learns the meaning of regret."

Cho did not speak immediately. Instead, she watched, her obsidian eyes gleaming with quiet, lethal calculation.

She had fought wars against gods, had judged kings, had rewritten the fate of entire realities—and yet, Lust dared to believe herself a contender? How amusing.

Slowly, elegantly, she tilted her head, her hand moving from Harry's chest to his throat, a deliberate gesture of dominance, possession, and warning.

"You believe you can offer more?" she murmured, her tone softer than silk, sharper than a blade. "What a fascinating delusion."

She smiled, but it was not friendly.

"Shall I break it for you?"

Unlike Fleur and Cho, Angelica did not move.

She did not burn with anger.

She did not tremble with wrath or jealousy.

She simply smiled.

It was the kind of smile that destroyed empires.

The kind of smile that preluded inevitability.

She leaned forward, brushing her lips against Harry's ear, her voice lower than a whisper, yet deafening in its weight.

"You poor thing," she murmured, though her words were not for Harry. They were for Lust.

"You think you have power here?" Her golden eyes gleamed with divine amusement, with unshaken certainty. "You think you are a rival to us?"

Her fingers moved, trailing deliberately, lazily across Harry's skin. And then she laughed.

"How adorable." Lust stiffened.

For the first time, her confidence faltered. Because Angelica was not fighting her. Angelica had already won.

Harry? He knew better than to answer.

He knew that no matter what words left his mouth, no matter how diplomatic or strategic, it would only end in catastrophe. He felt the weight of Lust's hand on his shoulder.

Felt the heat of Fleur against his left, the possessive grip of Cho against his right, the unshakable dominance of Angelica from above.

He was a god of war. An elder deity of the highest heavens. He had conquered realities, slain titans, forged stars with his bare hands. And yet? He was powerless against them. He sighed.

"I am going to die, aren't I?"

Fleur giggled.

Cho smirked.

Angelica chuckled knowingly.

And Lust?

She merely smiled.

Because whether she won or lost, she had already succeeded. She had entered the battlefield. And now? Harry Potter would never sleep in peace again.

The Celestial Bedchamber remained charged with tension, the air itself shimmering between divine forces that had long since transcended mortal comprehension. Lust Incarnate had made her move—bold, audacious, and utterly unthinkable—placing her satin-clad form against Harry's side, whispering temptations with the confidence of an entity that had never been denied.

But what was desire, truly, in the face of inevitability? Because where Lust sought to claim, Angelica had already won. And she would remind Harry of that fact—as only she could.

Angelica tilted her head, her golden eyes shimmering with amusement, her fingers brushing lazily across Harry's jawline—not possessively, not as a challenge, but as a reminder.

As if she was simply marveling at the undeniable reality before her. Her lips curved into a smirk.

"Oh, my dear Flameborn Emperor…" she purred, her voice a honeyed whisper that slithered into his ears like divine silk. "Have you truly grasped just how beloved you are?"

Harry exhaled, already bracing for whatever came next. "Angelica—" But she was not finished.

She leaned in, the golden strands of her hair brushing against his skin, her presence impossibly close, her voice lower, more teasing now, laced with a knowing certainty that made his heart thunder.

"You are truly the Heavens' Darling, aren't you?" she mused. "To shine so brightly that even an entity as ancient as Lust—" she cast a casual glance at the All-Powerful Embodiment of Desire "—was roused from slumber just for you?"

Her smirk widened, her fingers trailing down Harry's chest, feather-light and deliberate. "What an honour."

Lust arched a perfect brow, her confidence momentarily flickering, before she smirked in return, tilting her head. "An honour, indeed," she murmured, though there was a hint of something else beneath her sultry amusement—perhaps unease?

Fleur laughed, bright and knowing, her golden flames flickering around her form as she pressed closer against Harry, her fingers tapping against his chest as if contemplating a new game.

"Oh, mon amour, what shall we do with you?" she mused, languid and utterly entertained. "It seems you have a habit of attracting the very essence of existence itself."

Cho, ever the strategist, merely smirked, her obsidian gaze locked onto Harry with quiet triumph. "Darling, you should be flattered." Her fingers curled deliberately over his wrist, her grip light but undeniably firm. "To be so irresistible that even an eternal force of temptation itself has deemed you worthy?" She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Truly, there is no escaping your fate."

Harry groaned, running a hand down his face.

"I swear, I hate all of you."

Angelica merely laughed, brushing her lips ever so lightly against his ear, her tone silken and victorious.

"Oh, my love," she whispered, "you could never hate us. After all…" She smirked, her golden eyes gleaming with playful wickedness, "…you belong to us now."

Harry?

He knew he was doomed.

And the worst part?

He didn't even bother fighting it anymore.

The Celestial Bedchamber hummed with a tension so profound, so utterly intoxicating, that reality itself shivered under its weight. The battle for Harry Potter, the Flameborn Infernal Titan Emperor, the Heavens' Darling—was one of affections, dominion, and inescapable inevitability.

He had long since abandoned resistance.

His fate had been sealed the moment Fleur, Cho, and Angelica made their claim, and yet—Lust Incarnate, the living embodiment of all desire, temptation, and passion, had dared to enter their sanctum.

She had whispered, touched, and tempted. And she knew. Oh, she knew.

No matter how much Harry groaned, no matter how much he rolled his eyes, no matter how much he feigned frustration at yet another divine woman wrapping herself around him like he was the last warmth in existence—

Deep down? He enjoyed every second of it.

Harry had barely recovered from Angelica's merciless teasing when he felt it—the unmistakable warmth of Lust's breath against his ear.

It was not an attack.
It was not a challenge.
It was something far more dangerous.

It was intimacy.

Her lips brushed against his skin, feather-light and knowing, her voice a whisper that carried the weight of eons of longing and indulgence.

"I know, my darling Emperor," she breathed, her tone dripping with honeyed certainty, "that you do not wish for me to leave."

A shiver ran down his spine, a treacherous betrayal of his body, an acknowledgment of what his mind refused to say aloud. Lust smiled against his skin.

"You can say otherwise… but your heart whispers a different truth."

Then—before he could react, before Fleur could snap, before Cho could counter, before Angelica could smirk at the inevitability of it all—Lust tilted his chin up ever so slightly and pressed a quick, teasing smooch to the corner of his lips.

Not demanding.

Not desperate.

A mere taste.

A reminder.

A final, lingering promise.

And then? She was gone not from the chamber. No—far worse.

With a fluid, sensual grace, Lust rolled away from Harry, slipping effortlessly from his warmth. The silk of her divine nightgown shimmered as she moved, her golden form shifting with a feline elegance that was not of this world.

But she did not vanish into the void. She did not leave in defeat. Instead, she settled beside Angelica. And hugged her.

A quiet, delicate embrace, as if she had never been a rival to her in the first place.

As if they had been companions since the dawn of 's golden eyes flickered, momentarily surprised, before they softened in amusement, then intrigue.

Lust sighed, nuzzling slightly into Angelica's side, her voice half-lazy, half-playful.

"For tonight, Imperatrix," she murmured, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns over the silken sheets, "I will be your companion."

And with that? She closed her eyes, utterly at peace.

Silence fell upon the Celestial Bedchamber. For the first time in eternity, Fleur, Cho, and Harry were left genuinely speechless.

Fleur blinked. Once. Twice. Her brilliant blue gaze flickered between Angelica and Lust, then down to Harry, then back at Angelica—who was, by all definitions, unbothered.

Then?

She laughed.

A bright, fiery, wild laugh.

"Mon dieu! What is happening?!" she declared, her fingers digging into Harry's chest as she practically shook him in disbelief. "Lust, the embodiment of pleasure itself, has abandoned you in favor of our dear Imperatrix?"

Cho, still pressed against Harry's other side, merely tilted her head, observing the situation with calculating amusement.

"Interesting," she mused. "So, even Lust understands inevitability."

She turned, gazing directly at Angelica.

"And tell me, darling Imperatrix, what shall you do with this… new arrangement?"

Angelica, in all her golden majesty, did not look at Fleur. Did not look at Cho. Did not even look at Harry.

She simply lowered her gaze, her hand lifting to gently brush through Lust's hair, her fingers effortlessly commanding yet tender.

She did not push her away.

She did not reject the shift in power.

No—she accepted it, as she did all things.

A quiet, knowing smile played upon her lips.

And then?

She sighed.

"It is truly exhausting," she murmured, her voice silken and victorious, "being the inescapable end of all things."

Fleur's laughter redoubled. Cho's smirk deepened. Harry? He gave pletely, utterly, and absolutely surrendered.

And as Lust rested beside Angelica, as Fleur's amusement echoed through the golden halls, as Cho merely watched with dark amusement, and as Harry lay in resigned, exhausted peace—

The Celestial Bedchamber finally settled into something resembling tranquility.

For now. Because if tonight had proven anything? It was that Harry Potter, the Heavens' Darling, would never know a quiet night again.

The Celestial Bedchamber, for all its opulent grandeur, had become a battlefield of affections, dominion, and an inescapable fate. The golden silk sheets whispered against divine skin, the vast cosmic ceiling above shimmered with the swirling galaxies of the highest heavens, and yet, in the very centre of it all—Harry Potter, the Flameborn Infernal Titan Emperor, lay utterly defeated.

Not by war. Not by by the very forces of love, mischief, and inevitability themselves.

Angelica, Supreme Imperatrix of the Holy Empyrean Infinite Empire, lay reclined, her golden strands cascading over the pillows, her celestial smirk never once wavering. The presence of Lust Incarnate nestled beside her—having abandoned her initial conquest of Harry in favour of the only being in existence more inevitable than herself—had only solidified her victory.

Fleur, still curled against Harry's left, her golden flames flickering softly in the dim light, had yet to recover from the sheer absurdity of the situation. Her laughter had long since subsided, but every so often, she would look at Angelica, then at Lust, then back at Harry, shaking her head with wordless amusement.

Cho, draped against his right side, was far quieter, but her dark eyes gleamed with wicked amusement, a silent promise that this moment would never—ever—be forgotten.

And then there was Angelica. Harry could feel it. The way her golden gaze never left him.

The way her fingers rested lazily against Lust's shoulder, as if to emphasise that even the most ancient embodiment of desire itself had surrendered to her authority.

And then? Then, she spoke.

Angelica sighed, a soft, indulgent sound, as if she were taking in the breathtaking tragedy of Harry's predicament. She lifted a single, delicate hand, tracing her fingers slowly down Lust's arm, a gesture so casual, so utterly dismissive of the war that had just unfolded around them, that it sent a fresh wave of frustration through Harry's very core.

"Oh, my dear Flameborn Emperor," she purred, the mirth in her tone unmistakable, "how truly remarkable you are."

Harry, to his eternal suffering, felt the impending doom creeping closer.

He exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over his face, as if attempting to physically wipe away the torment he knew was about to unfold. "Angelica, whatever you're about to say—"

She laughed.

A soft, knowing chuckle, rich with divine amusement, a sound that promised nothing but his inevitable demise.

"No, no," she chided gently, her golden gaze gleaming with barely contained mirth, "do not interrupt, my love. You must hear this."

He gritted his teeth, glaring up at the cosmic ceiling as if the heavens themselves could save him.

They did not.

Because they would not.

Because he was the Heavens' Darling, and this was his fate.

Angelica shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow, her expression both wicked and affectionate, the very picture of a goddess who knew she held absolute dominion over the moment.

And then, with a slow, deliberate smirk, she delivered the final blow.

"Do you truly grasp the magnitude of your existence?" she murmured, her voice dripping with silken amusement. "To shine so brightly, to be so utterly irresistible, that even an entity as ancient as Lust herself was roused from slumber—just for you?"

Her fingers lifted, brushing lightly against his jawline, the contact so infuriatingly gentle that he fought the urge to pull away purely out of principle.

"Think of it, my darling Emperor," she continued, utterly relentless now, "an entity that has existed since the dawn of mortal longing itself—awakened, drawn forth, because of you."

She tilted her head, her golden hair cascading over her shoulder, her smirk widening. "It is a privilege beyond compare, truly. An honour, even."

Fleur snorted, barely containing her laughter.

Cho's smirk deepened, her fingers absently tracing circles against Harry's wrist, as if to further reinforce his utter helplessness.

Harry, for his part, felt the last fragments of his patience wither into cosmic dust.

"You're enjoying this far too much," he muttered darkly.

Angelica gasped softly, feigning delicate offence as she pressed a hand to her chest. "Me? Enjoying this? Oh, my love, how could you accuse me of such a thing?"

Harry glared.

Angelica smirked.

And Lust?

She laughed.

A low, velvety chuckle, her cheek now resting against Angelica's shoulder, her amusement as boundless as the heavens themselves.

"He does not deny it," Lust mused, her voice drenched in sinful amusement, her fingers tapping idly against Angelica's waist. "Which means, deep down, he knows it to be true."

"Oh, my dear Emperor," Lust purred, stretching her limbs lazily, indulgently, "if I had any intention of leaving you be, I would not be in this bed, now would I?"

Angelica laughed softly, brushing a hand through Lust's cascading hair, her expression one of ultimate victory. "It is rather unfortunate for you, my love," she mused, "but you are the Heavens' Darling. And you will never again sleep in peace."

Fleur's giggles turned to full-blown laughter, burying her face against Harry's shoulder, her amusement completely unrestrained.

Cho merely sighed, shaking her head with mock sympathy. "And to think," she mused, her fingers trailing down his forearm with teasing possession, "you once believed you could escape us."

Harry, utterly defeated, merely stared at the swirling cosmic expanse above him.

His fate was sealed. And the worst part? He knew he wouldn't change a single thing.

The Celestial Bedchamber was, at long last, at peace.

The great battle of affections had drawn to an uneasy ceasefire, the occupants settling into a fragile truce, if only for the night. The golden glow of the cosmic heavens above cast a gentle radiance over the magnificent bed, its silken sheets sprawled with the forms of goddesses beyond mortal comprehension, their divine beauty at rest.

Angelica, ever the undisputed ruler of inevitability, lay at the centre, Lust Incarnate curled against her side, a rare sight of the ancient embodiment of desire indulging in true stillness.

Fleur and Cho lay in their usual positions, one on each of Harry's claimed sides, ensuring that he remained exactly where he belonged. Their breathing had long since deepened into the rhythm of divine slumber, though whether it was sleep or simply a temporary retreat into restfulness was always a mystery.

And then, there was Harry. The Flameborn Emperor had managed—through sheer tactical brilliance, or sheer idiocy, the verdict remained uncertain—to briefly slip away from their collective grasp.

And now? Now, he had returned. But not to his usual place.

Not to where he was expected to be. Instead, he had made his way towards the one place he should never have dared venture. To Lust.

Harry moved with careful precision, his footsteps silent against the golden floor, the very fabric of reality holding its breath as he crept toward the resting form of Lust Incarnate.

She was a vision of sin and perfection, her satin gown shifting like liquid starlight over her flawless skin, her chest rising and falling in an illusion of peaceful sleep. He knew he should turn back.

Knew he should retreat to the safety of his side of the bed before anyone noticed his yet— Something compelled him forward. Perhaps it was the thrill of risk.

Perhaps it was the undeniable pull of her presence, a force even he could not fully deny.

Or perhaps—perhaps it was simply the fact that, in this one moment, he wished to claim something for himself, without the ever-watchful eyes of his divine tormentors. So he did.

With slow, deliberate intent, he knelt beside her, the warmth of her celestial body radiating like a siren's call.

And then—without hesitation—he reached out, his fingers brushing beneath her chin, tilting her face towards his.

His lips pressed to hers, gentle at first, an act of stolen indulgence, a moment of victory he believed would pass unseen.

It was a beautiful mistake. Because Lust was never truly asleep. For one, brief, foolish moment, he believed he had succeeded. And then— She moved.

Faster than light, faster than thought, her arms coiled around him, a python of divine desire, her hold unrelenting, inescapable, absolute.

Harry barely had time to gasp before she crushed him into her embrace, her lips slanting over his with a force that sent his entire godly form into spiralling chaos.

She kissed him back—hard, possessive, intoxicating—with the power of every mortal sin ever conceived, with the weight of every indulgence ever craved.

And she was relentless. She devoured him. A sound of pure satisfaction rumbled in her throat as she deepened the kiss, her nails dragging down his spine, her body pressing flush against his.

She had won.

She had trapped him.

And she would not let him go.

Because Harry was not hers alone.

And the moment his muffled, startled groan reached the wrong ears—the heavens trembled.

A shift in the air.

A sudden crackle of power, of something more dangerous than divine fire itself.

Then—

"EXCUSE ME?!"

Fleur's furious exclamation shattered the silence like a star going supernova, her body lurching upright, golden flames igniting instantly, sapphire eyes blazing with absolute outrage.

Simultaneously, Cho's dark gaze snapped open, and unlike Fleur, she did not move immediately.

No—she watched.

Watched as Lust continued to kiss him, watched as Harry failed to break free, watched as the woman who thought herself irresistible indulged in a mistake greater than any before it.

Then—with terrifying, deliberate slowness, Cho sat up.

"My, my," she murmured, her voice deceptively soft, dangerously amused. "What do we have here?"

Lust finally broke the kiss, licking her lips with a satisfied smirk, as if to prolong the torment Harry knew was coming.

"What does it look like, darling?" she purred, shifting slightly so that Harry remained tangled within her embrace. "Your Emperor came to me."

Fleur's flames flared violently, her fingers latching onto Harry's arm in an unbreakable grip.

"Oh, mon amour, you are in SO much trouble." Cho, in contrast, did not react with fury. She smiled. And that was worse.

Her fingers traced his jaw, tilting his face towards her, her eyes gleaming with pure amusement.

"Sneaking away in the dead of night to steal kisses," she mused, "how bold of you."

Her thumb brushed his lower lip, her touch not violent, not punishing—simply knowing.

"Tell me, darling…" her voice dropped into a silken whisper, "are we not enough for you?"

Harry? He swallowed hard.

Angelica—damned, victorious Angelica—merely sighed in amusement from her place at the centre of the bed, her golden eyes watching like a queen who had already seen the ending to this story.

And Lust?

She simply laughed, stretching luxuriously.

"He'll try again," she purred, "you know he will."

Harry?

He knew he would not survive the night. The Interrogation of the Heavens' Darling – Harry's Impossible Escape

The Celestial Bedchamber had transformed from a realm of rest into a courtroom of divine judgment. The golden sheets, once a place of indulgent comfort, now felt like chains holding Harry prisoner. The very air crackled with power, a suffocating weight pressing down on him as he lay trapped between the furious wrath of Fleur and the dangerously amused dominance of Cho.

And at the centre of it all? Harry Potter, the Flameborn Infernal Titan Emperor—the so-called Heavens' Darling—had never felt more doomed.

Lust, having thoroughly enjoyed herself at his expense, had finally retreated to Angelica's side, looking far too pleased with her victory. And Angelica? She merely watched, golden eyes brimming with languid amusement, as though this was nothing more than an entertaining diversion before she inevitably reclaimed him herself.

But Fleur?

Fleur was not amused.

Cho?

Cho was not letting this slide.

And now, Harry found himself under direct interrogation, flanked by two celestial forces who had no intention of letting him breathe until he answered for his crimes.

"Explain."

Cho's voice was dangerously soft, a deadly purr of restrained fury, her fingers firmly gripping his wrist, ensuring he could not slip away from her grasp.

Harry sighed heavily, already knowing there was no right answer to this.

"Look, it's not what it looks like—"

Fleur snorted, her grip tightening around his other arm. "Mon amour, I would love to hear how you will possibly explain sneaking over to Lust in the middle of the night and kissing her."

Her sapphire eyes burned with a fire that promised retribution, her usually playful expression now edged with disbelief and betrayal.

Cho, in contrast, remained utterly composed—which was infinitely worse.

She tilted her head slightly, her dark gaze never once wavering, her fingers slowly tracing along his collarbone in a gesture that was not soothing, but pointedly controlling.

"Do tell us, darling," she murmured, her smirk sharp, lethal, "was it mere curiosity? A moment of weakness? Or shall we believe Lust's claim that you came to her willingly?"

Harry clenched his jaw, already regretting everything that had led to this moment.

"I didn't mean to wake her," he grumbled, rubbing his face with his free hand, "I thought she was asleep—"

Fleur gasped, mocking in its betrayal, her fingers dramatically clutching at her heart as if she had been mortally wounded.

"Oh, so you wanted to kiss her?" she exclaimed, her French accent thickening in outrage. Harry winced.

"That's not what I meant—"

Cho's grip tightened, her smirk widening as she leaned in, her lips brushing dangerously close to his ear.

"So," she whispered, "you thought you could steal a kiss without consequence?"

Her fingers traced down his chest, slow, deliberate, each touch a silent punishment wrapped in teasing amusement.

"How adorable."

Harry groaned, his head falling back against the pillows as he glared up at the cosmic ceiling, silently praying for divine intervention. Which, of course, never came.

In a moment of pure desperation, Harry clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and mentally shouted his plea into the void of existence itself.

"Q! If you're out there, get me out of this mess!"

For a brief, flickering moment, the universe itself seemed to hesitate, as though the very fabric of reality was considering answering his prayer.

And then— Nothing.

No omnipotent trickster.
No miraculous escape.
No sudden intervention.

Just the silent judgment of Fleur and Cho, and the infuriatingly amused gaze of Angelica, who had definitely heard him.

Angelica's lips curled, her golden eyes gleaming with quiet victory.

"Oh, my love," she sighed, "not even Q can save you now."

Fleur and Cho snapped their attention back to him, their divine wrath fully renewed.

And Harry? He was utterly, completely, and irrevocably doomed.

The Celestial Bedchamber, once a haven of golden tranquillity, now pulsed with the simmering tension of divine judgment. The magnificent bed, adorned with the finest celestial silks, was no longer a place of comfort—it had become a court of reckoning, where the accused, Harry Potter, the Flameborn Infernal Titan Emperor, faced the unrelenting fury of his celestial lovers.

And his crime? Stealing a kiss from Lust Incarnate in the dead of night.

For a brief, fleeting moment, he had believed himself clever, had thought he could indulge in one forbidden taste without consequence. He had been so very, very wrong.

Now, he lay trapped between the righteous wrath of Fleur and the silken, merciless interrogation of Cho, while Angelica, ever the omniscient observer, watched with insufferable amusement, her golden eyes gleaming with the knowledge that this outcome had been inevitable.

And Lust? Lust had done nothing but stretch luxuriously, lounging against the pillows, her lips still curved in smug satisfaction, as if she had already won simply by existing.

Harry, however, had lost completely. And now, he had to explain himself.

"Speak, mon amour," Fleur demanded, her sapphire eyes blazing with a fire that threatened to consume the very air around them. "Tell me, in what part of your mind did you believe it was acceptable to sneak away in the dead of night and kiss her?"

She gestured towards Lust, who merely smirked, stretching out her arms with zero shame, her silken gown slipping slightly off her shoulder as if she were a queen basking in her well-earned victory.

Harry glared at Lust, cursing his own weakness, before shifting uncomfortably under Fleur's unforgiving scrutiny.

"It was a mistake," he muttered. "I thought she was asleep."

Cho let out a low hum, her fingers still tracing absent patterns against his chest, though now there was an unmistakable air of authority in her touch.

"Hmm," she mused, tilting her head, "so what you're saying, darling, is that had she not awoken, you would have gotten away with it?"

Harry's entire body tensed, his survival instincts screaming at him that this was a trap, a question designed to ensnare him in an unwinnable situation.

He hesitated. Fleur leaned in closer, her golden hair falling over his shoulder, her expression a dangerous mixture of betrayal and amusement.

"Go on, mon amour," she encouraged, her fingers pressing just a little harder against his chest, "tell us the truth."

He was going to die. And then—Angelica spoke.

"Oh, do be fair, my dear Fleur," Angelica purred, reclining elegantly, her golden gaze dancing with mischief. "Our darling Harry is merely experiencing what it means to be truly irresistible. Can we truly blame him when even Lust herself was drawn to him?"

Her smirk deepened as she turned to him, her gaze both affectionate and knowing.

"After all, he is the Heavens' Darling, is he not?"

Harry clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to curse the stars for placing him in this impossible situation.

Fleur and Cho, however, were not so easily distracted.

"That is not the question, Angelica," Cho said smoothly, her fingers gliding up Harry's jawline, tilting his face to meet hers. "The question is—does he regret it?"

A deathly silence fell over the room. The weight of Cho's question hung in the air, heavy, unrelenting, an inquiry not just of words, but of truth itself.

Harry opened his mouth—only to find no answer would come forth.

Did he regret it? Did he regret the risk? The thrill? The warmth of Lust's lips against his?

Or was he merely regretting being caught? Cho's dark gaze bore into his, unyielding, her touch gentle but unbreakable, as though she could see straight through him.

Fleur's fiery presence remained pressing against his side, her lips tantalisingly close, as though she was prepared to either forgive or punish, depending on his next words.

And Angelica? Angelica merely smirked. Because she already knew the answer. Harry took a deep breath.

"…Yes."

Fleur's eyes narrowed. "Yes, what?" He swallowed hard, staring at the cosmic ceiling as if the heavens themselves would grant him mercy.

They did not.

"Yes, I regret it."

Cho's smirk widened, Fleur's flames dimmed slightly, and Harry almost allowed himself to believe that he had survived this. Until— Lust laughed.

A low, sensual chuckle, filled with indulgence and satisfaction, her head resting against Angelica's shoulder as she watched the disaster unfold with unrelenting amusement.

"Liar," she purred, stretching her limbs like a cat that had thoroughly enjoyed playing with her prey. Harry's soul left his body.

Fleur's fingers twitched against his chest, Cho's nails dragged ever so slightly down his jaw, and Angelica? Angelica just laughed.

"Oh, my love," she sighed, golden and victorious, "did you truly believe you could fool us?"

Fleur shook her head, exasperated but entertained, her fingers pressing against Harry's pulse point. "Mon amour, you are terrible at lying."

Cho's lips curved into a smirk, her fingers trailing down his collarbone with knowing finality. "And you have just given us even more reason to ensure you never attempt something like this again."

Harry's lungs refused to work. He tried to think of a way out—some divine intervention, some miraculous escape, anything—but there was none.

He was at their mercy now. And they had no intention of granting it. Angelica sighed, so blissfully amused.

"Ah," she murmured, "I do believe Harry has learned an important lesson tonight." Fleur grinned wickedly. "Oh, not yet."

Cho smirked, brushing her lips dangerously close to his ear, her voice a whisper of pure dominance.

"But he will." And Harry?

He knew he would never know peace Celestial Bedchamber had become a prison of silken sheets and divine fury, and Harry Potter was its helpless captive.

Flanked by Fleur and Cho, their dangerous smirks and unrelenting grips ensuring he could not move, he lay trapped, his fate entirely in their hands.

Angelica, ever the watchful, victorious observer, was watching from above, a knowing smile tugging at her lips, her amusement endless.

Lust? She had already won.

She had no need to fight anymore, for she had planted the seed of chaos and now lay in Angelica's embrace, utterly at peace with the destruction she had wrought.

And Harry? Harry needed a way out. Fast.

Harry cleared his throat, forcing every ounce of his divine willpower into projecting an air of calm control, despite the fact that he was entirely at their mercy.

"Now, let's not be hasty," he began, his voice smooth, attempting to diffuse the impending disaster. "This was clearly a misunderstanding—"

Cho's fingers pressed against his lips, silencing him instantly.

Her dark eyes gleamed with something deadly and amused, her smirk utterly unshaken.

"Ah, ah," she purred, "no talking, darling. You've done quite enough of that tonight." Fleur laughed, the sound bright, fiery, and entirely devoid of mercy.

"Mon amour, trying to talk your way out of this?" she mused, "How adorable." Harry's stomach sank. Diplomacy had failed.

If words wouldn't save him, then perhaps misdirection would.

Harry shifted his gaze, locking onto Angelica, who still watched from her place at the centre of the bed, her golden gaze twinkling with endless amusement.

"Angelica," he called, putting every ounce of desperation into her name, "surely you see that I am being treated unfairly?"

Angelica tilted her head, her smirk never wavering.

"Unfairly?" she echoed, her fingers brushing lazily through Lust's golden hair, as if she had all the time in the universe to humour him. "My love, you kissed another woman in the dead of night while your lovers slept beside you."

Her laughter was soft, rich, victorious.

"Tell me, darling—what part of this is unfair?"

Harry opened his mouth—and then shut it. Because she was right. Angelica always was. Damn it.

Harry inhaled sharply, calling upon every ounce of power he possessed, willing the cosmos itself to hear his silent plea.

Surely, some greater force, some higher divine being, someone out there would hear his suffering and come to his aid.

Q. The Supreme King of the 17th Heaven. A stray Omniversal anomaly. A merciful time paradox. ANYTHING.

But the heavens did not stir. The stars did not flicker. The cosmos did not shift. And Angelica?

She smirked knowingly, having sensed every single thought in his mind.

"Ah," she exhaled, golden and victorious, "I see you have finally realised the truth, my love."

Harry's jaw clenched.

"And what truth is that?"

Angelica sighed, so blissfully amused, her golden gaze settling on him like a celestial verdict.

"That there is no escaping this."

"Fine!" Harry burst out, desperation creeping into his tone, "What do you want from me?!"

Cho's smirk deepened, her fingers trailing down his chest in slow, lazy amusement, as if she were savouring the moment of his absolute surrender.

"Oh, darling," she murmured, "we don't want anything unreasonable."

Fleur's eyes glinted, mischief burning alongside possession, as she tightened her grip around his waist, pinning him even further beneath her warmth.

"Just a simple promise, mon amour," she cooed, her lips brushing dangerously close to his jaw.

"No more sneaking off in the dead of night to kiss other women," Cho supplied helpfully, as if this was a completely rational request and not a divine decree of absolute authority.

Harry stared at them, then at Angelica, then at Lust, who still had the audacity to look utterly pleased with herself.

"That's it?" he asked, wary of the trap.

Cho tilted her head, considering.

"Oh, and a week of divine penance," she added smoothly. Harry's eye twitched. Fleur beamed.

"And, of course, no complaints about it," Angelica added from her place of victory.

Harry exhaled slowly, his soul barely clinging to his body.

"Fine," he muttered. "I promise."

Fleur and Cho exchanged a glance—and then, as quickly as their fury had arrived, it melted into satisfaction.

Fleur pressed a warm, searing kiss to his cheek. Cho ran her fingers through his hair in approval.

Angelica smirked knowingly, as if this had always been the inevitable outcome. And Lust? She simply laughed.

"Oh, I do hope you break that promise, darling Emperor," she purred, shifting luxuriously. "I would so love to see this happen again."

Harry's soul left his body a second time.

And as he finally closed his eyes, resigning himself to his fate, he realised—

There was no escape.

Not now.

Not ever.

Because he was the Heavens' Darling. And he would never know peace again.

The Celestial Bedchamber, once filled with the unrelenting fury of Fleur and Cho's judgment, had now shifted. The very air thickened with tension, but not of rage—of something darker, something infinitely more dangerous.

Lust had released Harry—but only for now. Because she knew something Fleur did not want to admit to herself.

She knew the one truth buried beneath the Eternal Light's playful laughter and teasing dominance.

She knew Fleur Delacour's most forbidden, most dangerous, most insatiable craving. And now? She was going to force Fleur to acknowledge it.

Harry, for once, was allowed to breathe, though his chest still rose and fell heavily, the lingering aftershocks of his near execution settling into his bones.

But he was not safe. Not yet. Because now, Lust turned her golden gaze upon Fleur.

She stretched lazily, her silk-clad body shifting effortlessly as she tilted her head, her smirk dripping with satisfaction, with knowing amusement, with absolute certainty.

"Oh, my dear Fleur," she purred, "why do you lie to yourself?"

Fleur's blue eyes narrowed, her grip on Harry's arm not loosening in the slightest.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, though her voice—despite its usual confidence—held a note of hesitation.

Lust laughed, a low, indulgent sound that sent a tremor through the very bed they sat upon.

She lifted a single golden hand, brushing back her cascading hair as she regarded Fleur with something akin to fondness—no, amusement.

"You hide behind laughter, behind playful kisses and teasing affection," she mused, "but I know, Fleur Delacour. I know your truth."

She leaned forward, her breath warm against Fleur's cheek, and whispered,

"I know your darkest, most forbidden desire." Fleur's body went rigid.

For the first time in eternity, true hesitation flashed across her face—but only for a moment, only a flicker, only a whisper of vulnerability.

And Lust? She pounced upon it mercilessly.

Her golden fingers lifted, tracing along Fleur's jawline, a touch that was not meant to seduce, but to remind her—remind her that she had no secrets, not from Lust.

Her lips curved into something wicked, something victorious.

"You can pretend all you like," she murmured, "but we both know it, don't we?"

"You do not merely love him."
"You do not merely want him."
"You crave him.
"Desperately. Endlessly. Insatiably."

Her nails trailed down Fleur's collarbone, slow, deliberate, a touch meant to burn the words into her very being.

"And no matter how much you take, it is never enough."

Fleur's jaw clenched, her fingers twitching against Harry's skin, as though the very act of acknowledging those words was a battle in itself. Lust leaned in closer, whispering like sin incarnate.

"You want more."
"You have always wanted more."
"And you will never be satisfied until you take him completely, utterly, beyond anything he has ever known."

Her gaze flicked to Harry, who had gone utterly still, his breath shallow, his body trapped between Fleur's possessive grasp and the unbearable weight of Lust's words.

Then she smiled—slow, knowing, victorious.

"If you truly embraced your deepest desire," she whispered, "if you surrendered to that endless craving that burns inside you, he would not survive you."

He would be truly, utterly, completely doomed."

A silence fell—a silence so heavy, so deafening, so inescapable, that even Angelica's usual amused laughter did not come. Because this? This was a moment of absolute truth.

Fleur's entire body tensed, her divine form radiating heat, as if she were struggling—not against Lust, but against herself.

Because Lust was not lying. The words had not been deception, nor manipulation. They had been truth.

Fleur's love for Harry was not just devotion—it was something far more dangerous.

Something deeper, darker, more insatiable. And she had always known it. She had always fought to control it. But now?

Now Lust had given her permission to let it consume her. And that?

That was the most dangerous thing of all. Harry had faced death before.

He had stood before gods, titans, cosmic horrors that sought to unravel the very fabric of reality itself.

But nothing—nothing—had ever made his soul tremble like the way Fleur's grip tightened around him.

Like the way her breath came just a little quicker, like the way her blue eyes darkened with something unreadable, something utterly terrifying in its intensity.

Because for the first time in his existence, he truly saw it.

Fleur was not just affectionate, not just playful, not just deeply in love with him. She needed him.

In a way that defied words, defied reason, defied limits. And if she ever truly let herself go— If she ever embraced that hunger completely— He would not survive it.

The bedchamber held its breath. Lust smiled, waiting, watching, knowing she had placed the ultimate temptation before Fleur.

Cho remained unnervingly silent, her gaze locked onto Fleur, watching her lover with a mixture of curiosity and something dangerously close to concern.

Even Angelica, for once, did not smirk—she merely observed, waiting to see if Fleur would succumb or resist. And Fleur?

Fleur stared down at Harry, her expression unreadable, the weight of her own buried desire threatening to consume her whole.

For the first time—she was truly at war with herself. And Harry?

He had never been more afraid in his entire immortal existence.

The Celestial Bedchamber was no longer a place of rest. It had become a throne of judgment, where temptation hung like a blade over all who resided within.

Harry lay frozen beneath Fleur's grasp, his breath shallow, his body unmoving, as if any slight movement would shatter the fragile balance that held this moment in place.

Because this was not a game. Not a lover's quarrel. Not a playful tease between eternal rivals. This was a war within Fleur herself. A war that Lust had forced into the light.

Lust had not lied.

No, Lust had done something far worse.

She had spoken the truth.

The truth that Fleur had always known but had never dared to face.

That she did not simply love Harry.

She did not simply want him.

She craved him.

Desperately.
Endlessly.

Insatiably.

No matter how much she had—no matter how often he lay in her arms, no matter how fiercely he kissed her, no matter how deeply she felt his warmth against her skin—it was never enough.

It would never be enough. And now? Now she had been given permission.

Lust had released him, had allowed Fleur to decide what would become of him, had given her the one opportunity she had never allowed herself to take.

To abandon restraint. To claim him completely. To devour him whole. And if she did?

If she truly embraced her endless desire, if she surrendered to it without guilt, without hesitation, without fear—

Harry would never recover. She would break him beyond repair.

Not out of malice. Not out of cruelty. Not even out of intent.

But because she would never stop wanting more. And Lust? Lust knew this. She had always known this.

That was why she smirked, why she tilted her head with such quiet amusement, why she watched Fleur so intently—waiting. Waiting for her victory to be complete.

Fleur's breath was unsteady, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as they curled into Harry's immovable form.

Her blue eyes, normally filled with playful fire, now burned with something far more dangerous—

Something primal. Something undeniable. Something terrifying.

And Harry? He could see it now. He could see what had always been buried just beneath the surface.

This was not about love. This was not about devotion. This was about a hunger that had no end.

And if she gave in, if she allowed herself to fall— It would consume both of them. Forever.

Fleur's entire body shuddered, her fingers tightening, her breath catching—

And then— She exhaled sharply. Her eyes fluttered shut, her body going rigid— Before she finally let go of Harry. She released him. She chose to resist.

She chose to protect him from herself. To protect herself from what she could become. Because Lust had been right.

Fleur had known, even before tonight, that this craving was never going to leave her. But she refused to lose herself to it. She would never let it control her.

She would never let it take him away from her. She would never break him. No matter how much she ached for more. No matter how much she hungered for it.

Because she loved him too much to destroy him. And that? That was something Lust could never understand.

For the first time, Lust's smirk faltered. Just for a second. Because she had expected Fleur to fall. She had expected the hunger to win. And yet— It had not.

Fleur, still trembling, still aching, turned to face Lust, her sapphire gaze shining with the fire of a woman who had walked to the edge of the abyss and refused to fall.

"Non." Her voice was steady now, unshaken, unwavering.

"You will not break me." Lust tilted her head, watching, considering—

And then? She laughed. A low, velvety chuckle, filled not with disappointment— But with intrigue.

She leaned forward, golden hair cascading over her shoulders, her smirk returning, but softer this time.

"Fascinating," she murmured, her gaze flickering toward Harry, who was still lying frozen, still unsure whether he had just barely survived or if he was still doomed.

"You really do love him, don't you?" Fleur's jaw clenched.

"I do."

Lust's smirk widened, her golden eyes twinkling with something dangerous, something knowing, something victorious despite her loss.

"Then you will suffer for it." And with that, she leaned back against Angelica, stretching like a cat who had decided she was satisfied—for now.

But Fleur? Fleur remained tense, her body still burning from the fire she had barely managed to suppress.

Because even though she had won—she had also lost. She had not destroyed him. But she had also realised the truth. That this hunger would never leave her. That it would never fade.

That one day—one mistake, one moment of weakness, one slip—could be enough. And if that day ever came? She might not stop herself again.

As the tension settled, as Fleur withdrew, as Harry finally breathed again, there was only one person who remained completely at ease.

Angelica. She had watched everything unfold. Had seen the battle, the struggle, the temptation. And she had always known the outcome.

She smiled, golden and eternal, her fingers idly tracing through Lust's hair, her voice soft, inevitable.

"You see, my love," she murmured, gazing at Harry with a knowing warmth that sent shivers through his spine.

"You belong to us—not because we force you to stay, but because no matter where you go, no matter what you do, you will always return."

Harry's throat went dry. Because she was right. Because no matter how much he tried to resist— No matter how much he tried to fight them— He had already lost. He was theirs.

Now.
Forever.
Until the end of time itself.

The Celestial Bedchamber, once thick with unbearable tension, now hung in the fragile silence of aftermath.

Fleur had resisted. She had stared into the abyss of her deepest craving and pulled herself back. She had chosen love over destruction. She had won. Or at least, that was what she had believed.

Because Harry Potter, the Heavens' Darling, the man who had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever, saw an opportunity—And he took it.

A slow, deliberate sigh escaped his lips as he finally relaxed against the bed, his golden gaze filled with theatrical disappointment.

Then, he turned his head towards Fleur, his expression the very picture of playful mischief.

"I have to say, Fleur," he murmured, "I'm disappointed in you."

The words landed like a strike of lightning, sending a wave of utter disbelief rippling through the room.

Fleur's blue eyes widened, her body still thrumming with the battle she had just fought.

Cho tilted her head, her obsidian gaze narrowing, as though unsure whether to be impressed or concerned.

Angelica?

She merely smirked, watching the impending disaster unfold with infinite amusement.

Lust, now nestled comfortably against Angelica's side, let out a low, indulgent chuckle, golden fingers tapping against the silken sheets.

"Oh, now this is interesting," she purred, her golden eyes flashing.

But Harry wasn't done. Oh no, he was only just getting started.

He shifted, turning fully towards Fleur, his hands reaching up to cradle her face, tilting her chin towards him, forcing her to meet his gaze.

His lips curved into a smirk, his emerald eyes gleaming with challenge.

"I thought you were insatiable," he murmured, "I thought you were the one who could never get enough of me."

Fleur stiffened, her breath catching in her throat. She had just fought this had just won. And now he was throwing himself at her?

Harry's fingers traced her jawline, slow, teasing, unafraid, his voice dropping into something low and daring.

"So tell me, my love," he whispered, "why are you holding back?" Then— He kissed her.

It was soft at first, playful, testing, a deliberate act of provocation. Fleur tensed.

She had spent the last several minutes restraining herself, forcing down every sinful urge, keeping herself from losing control.

And now?

Now he was kissing her?

Harry pulled back just enough to smirk, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip, his voice a husky whisper.

"I want to be the object of your desires."

Then—

He kissed her again.

This time, deeper, longer, hungrier.

Fleur's control cracked.

Her fingers tightened against his chest, her nails digging into his skin, as a sharp, mocking laugh slipped past her lips.

Then, in a single, fluid movement, she flipped him onto his back, pinning him beneath her, her body pressing into his as she straddled him.

Her golden hair cascaded around them, her sapphire gaze shining with dangerous amusement.

"Oh, mon amour," she whispered, her lips now hovering just above his, her breath fanning against his skin, "you should not have said that."

And then— She devoured him.

The kiss that followed was not gentle.

It was punishment.
It was mockery.
It was a declaration that she was, and would always be, the one in control.

Fleur's lips crashed against his, consuming him completely, her fingers twisting into his hair, pulling him deeper, forcing him to feel every ounce of the hunger he had so foolishly provoked.

Harry groaned, his hands gripping her waist, his body reacting to the fire she ignited within him.

Fleur laughed into the kiss, tilting her head, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then his throat, biting, claiming, branding him.

"You want to be my object of desire?" she whispered against his skin, "Alors, let me show you exactly what that means."

She kissed him again. And again. And again.

Each kiss wilder, deeper, sharper, until Harry was barely breathing, barely thinking, barely remembering why he had ever taunted her in the first place.

Because Fleur was not letting him go. She dragged her nails down his chest, her lips hovering just above his, her smirk victorious, triumphant, utterly merciless.

"Disappointed, mon amour?" she taunted, "Tell me, do I disappoint you now?"

Harry? He could not answer. Because he was lost. Consumed. Completely and utterly at her mercy.

Cho sighed heavily, shaking her head as she rested her chin against her hand, watching the disaster unfold.

"He never learns," she murmured.

Lust laughed, shaking her head in delighted amusement.

"Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing," she mused, "he just underestimated how quickly she would turn the tables on him."

Angelica, watching from her throne of pillows, merely smirked.

"Oh, but this was inevitable," she whispered, golden and victorious, "Harry Potter does not submit unless he is forced to. And Fleur?"

Her gaze shimmered, her knowing smile deepening as Fleur continued to consume Harry with each and every kiss, a firestorm of passion and vengeance in equal measure.

"She will always remind him who he belongs to."

By the time Fleur finally allowed him to breathe, Harry was a mess of golden skin, dark bruises forming where her lips had lingered, his chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow gasps.

Fleur grinned down at him, utterly pleased with herself, her fingers tracing over his throat, her nails dragging just lightly enough to send a fresh shiver down his spine.

"Do you regret your words now, mon amour?" she whispered.

Harry, still dazed, still struggling to form a coherent thought, merely stared up at her, his mind blank.

Then, slowly, a crooked smirk pulled at his lips.

"Not at all."

Fleur gasped—then laughed, low and dangerous.

"You are impossible," she muttered, pressing one final kiss to his jaw before rolling off him.

Harry, still breathless, turned his head toward Angelica, who was watching with insufferable amusement.

"This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" he accused. Angelica merely smiled.

"Oh, my love," she whispered, "of course it was." And Harry? Harry realised—too late—that he had walked into yet another trap.

The Celestial Bedchamber, still thrumming with the aftermath of Fleur's onslaught, had begun to settle into silence—but Harry Potter was not done.

Oh no. Not yet. Because there was one more person in this room who had escaped his wrath. And that? That was unacceptable.

Harry, still panting, still recovering from the absolute devastation Fleur had inflicted upon him, turned his piercing emerald gaze toward the true architect of his suffering.

Angelica. She was lounging comfortably, reclining against the pillows, watching everything with the calm amusement of a goddess who had orchestrated it all.

Her golden eyes twinkled with mirth, her lips curled into that insufferably knowing smirk. Because she had foreseen this outcome before it had even begun.

And she had done nothing to stop it. Harry exhaled sharply, his expression shifting into something theatrically wounded. Then, he spoke.

"You were supposed to support me, Angelica," he declared, his tone dripping with mock disappointment, as if he were a betrayed lover confronting his faithless companion.

Angelica's smirk widened, her golden eyes flickering with something dangerous and amused.

"Oh, my love," she sighed, "why would I stop something that was always inevitable?"

Harry's eye twitched. She was not even pretending to deny it.

"You just stood there," he accused, "watching me suffer!"

Angelica tilted her head, her expression infuriatingly serene.

"You suffered beautifully," she mused, her voice honeyed and victorious. Harry? Harry had had enough.

"That's it." The words were barely out of his mouth before he moved.

With one fluid motion, he lunged, closing the distance between them before she could react. And then— He tackled her down.

Angelica let out a rare, genuine gasp of surprise as her golden form tumbled backward, her divine poise momentarily shattered as Harry pinned her beneath him.

She blinked, caught between shock and amusement, her golden hair spilling across the pillows as Harry hovered over her, his arms braced on either side, trapping her beneath him.

His smirk was wicked, unrelenting, victorious.

"I've decided, Angelica," he murmured, his voice dropping into something dark and commanding, "you are now inevitable for good."

And then— He kissed her. The kiss was not gentle. It was not careful.

It was not the soft, teasing affection he had given Fleur before his mistake had been punished.

No—this was war.

Harry claimed her lips with the force of everything she had denied him, his hands tangling into golden strands, his body pressing against hers as if to cement his words into reality.

And Angelica? Angelica was not prepared. For the first time in her vast, infinite existence, she had been caught off guard. For the first time, she had not anticipated this.

Her body arched beneath his, her hands gripping his shoulders, her breath shattering as he kissed her again and again, refusing to relent.

She had expected him to sulk, to recover, to bide his time before his next inevitable mistake.

She had not expected this.

She had not expected him to fight back.

And yet—

She was Angelica.

She was the Supreme Imperatrix.

She was never conquered.

Her golden eyes flared, her lips curving against his, her fingers twisting into his hair as she retaliated in full.

"You dare?" she whispered against his mouth, her breath heated, her amusement still present but wavering now, tilting into something far more dangerous.

"I dare."

He kissed her again.

And again.

And again.

Each kiss burning through the walls of inevitability she had built around herself, each kiss undoing the careful dominance she had always wielded over him.

And for the first time in eternity— Angelica was not in control.

Harry rose suddenly, breathless, triumphant, his body still looming over her, his lips tingling from the force of his own rebellion. And then— He smirked down at her.

"I've done it," he declared, his voice low, victorious, utterly self-satisfied.

Angelica, still beneath him, still stunned from what had just transpired, blinked up at him, her breath uneven, her gaze unreadable.

Harry leaned in, brushing his lips just barely over hers again, teasing, taunting, victorious.

"I've won, Angelica."

His voice was nothing short of sinful.

"I've truly won your heart—by sheer force of my love."

Angelica stared up at him. And then— Then, she laughed. It was not the laugh of a woman who had lost. No—it was the laugh of a woman who had enjoyed the battle far more than she had expected.

Her golden fingers traced up his spine, curling into his hair, her smirk lazy, indulgent, impossibly dangerous.

"Oh, my love," she whispered, "do you truly believe you have conquered me?"

Her legs shifted, her body shifting beneath him, fluid and effortless, like a goddess who had merely been indulging him this entire time.

Then, with one elegant motion, she flipped them over, pinning him beneath her.

Harry let out a sharp breath, his eyes widening in shock as Angelica straddled him, her golden locks spilling over his chest, her smirk now fully returned, victorious, inevitable.

"You have won my heart, darling," she purred, "but you were always mine to begin with." Harry swallowed hard. Damn it.

Angelica had let him win—only to take it back the moment he had declared victory. Her fingers pressed against his jaw, tilting his face up, her gaze molten and amused.

"You are mine, Harry Potter," she whispered against his lips, "and there is no escaping me now."

And then? She kissed him. Harry, utterly defeated, utterly consumed, utterly lost— Could do nothing but surrender.

Cho, watching the entire ordeal unfold, let out a soft sigh, shaking her head as if she had seen this coming.

"He really doesn't learn, does he?"

Fleur, still breathless from her own battle against him, let out a delighted laugh.

"Non," she agreed, "but it is beautiful to watch him try."

Lust? Lust merely smirked, golden eyes gleaming as she whispered,

"Oh, but this time—he will never rise again."

And Harry? Harry knew, in that moment— That he had lost forever.

The Celestial Bedchamber, once filled with laughter and taunts at Harry's suffering, had become a battleground where he fought back with nothing but sheer audacity and relentless affection.

He had already claimed Angelica, had torn through Fleur's defences, had forced them both to acknowledge the power of his love—But there was one person left.

One person who had stood back, watching from the sidelines, her dark eyes gleaming with endless amusement, offering him no aid, no defence, no mercy.

Cho. She had sat there, lazily reclining, sipping from a conjured glass of celestial wine, watching him be tossed, dominated, and devoured by Fleur and Angelica, and had not lifted a single finger to help.

And now? Now it was her turn.

Harry, still breathless, still marked from the battles he had fought, turned his piercing emerald gaze towards Cho, his lips curling into a smirk filled with nothing but mischief and determination.

She arched a single delicate brow, her fingers still idly twirling her glass, unbothered, unshaken, effortlessly poised.

"And what," she mused, taking a slow sip of her drink, "are you staring at me for?"

Harry exhaled sharply, his expression shifting into something dramatically wounded.

"You," he accused, "were supposed to support me."

Cho's lips curled into a smirk, her dark eyes gleaming with pure amusement.

"Oh?" she murmured, "and what, exactly, made you think I would do that?" Harry's jaw clenched.

"You just stood there," he continued, "watching me suffer." Cho tilted her head, her fingers tapping idly against the glass, her smirk deepening.

"I did," she admitted, completely unashamed. Harry's eye twitched."You could have stopped it," he insisted.

Cho sighed dramatically, "Oh, darling," she purred, "but you do suffer so beautifully."

That was it. That was the final straw. Harry's smirk returned.

"Right, then," he murmured. And before Cho could react— He tackled her down.

Cho gasped, truly startled, as her poised, untouchable grace was shattered in an instant, her glass vanishing into the ether as she tumbled backward onto the silken sheets.

She had not expected him to fight back. She had expected him to collapse, to admit his loss, to accept his fate. But no. Harry Potter did not go down without a fight.

He pinned her beneath him, his arms braced on either side, his breath hot against her skin, his emerald gaze burning with triumph.

Cho, still recovering from her shock, blinked up at him, her lips parting as if to demand an explanation— And he kissed her.

It was not gentle. It was not hesitant. It was a declaration of war, a relentless, consuming attack that gave her no time to counter, no time to think, no time to strategise.

Harry had learned from his mistakes. This time—he refused to let her control the narrative.

Cho's body tensed beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she fought back, refusing to let him claim victory so easily.

Her lips parted, her breath hot against his skin as she retaliated in full, flipping the kiss into something that burned just as fiercely, just as violently.

For a moment—they were locked in an unbreakable battle. But Harry? Harry was relentless. He kissed her again. And again. And again.

Each kiss consuming her, dragging her deeper, forcing her to lose herself in the sheer force of his affection.

And Cho, for all her dominance, for all her control, for all her strategies—was losing. She was losing completely.

Her breathing was uneven now, her head tilting back against the pillows, her lips tingling from the sheer force of his assault.

Harry finally pulled back, his breath heavy, his chest rising and falling, his smirk triumphant.

Cho glared at him, her eyes dark, unreadable, but her body still trembling from the lingering remnants of his attack.

"You… are impossible," she whispered. Harry's grin widened.

"And you," he murmured, *brushing his lips against her once more, slow, deliberate, taunting, "are inevitable. Forever."

Cho's jaw clenched—but she did not pull away. She did not fight him anymore. Because she knew. She had lost.

For the first time in her existence, she had been outplayed, outmatched, outmaneuvered. And the worst part? She had enjoyed every second of it.

Harry, finally rising, pushed himself up, staring down at Cho with nothing but self-satisfaction and sheer triumph.

Then, he smirked at the entire room, his arms spread wide in declaration.

"I have done it!" he announced, his voice bold, victorious, unstoppable.

Fleur, still recovering from her own loss, merely groaned, rubbing her temple.

Angelica? Angelica laughed softly, golden and victorious, her gaze gleaming with something that suggested she had always seen this outcome before it had even begun.

And Lust? Lust let out a low, sensual chuckle, shaking her head.

"Oh, you think you have won?" she murmured, her golden fingers tracing over her lips. "My darling Emperor, I do believe you have simply doomed yourself further."

Harry, still riding on the high of his victories, turned back to Cho, his smirk widening.

"You truly love me now, don't you?" Cho huffed, sitting up, smoothing down her disheveled hair, her composure slowly returning. Then— She smirked. And in that moment—Harry's confidence wavered.

Cho tilted her head, her dark eyes burning with something unreadable, something infinitely more dangerous now that she had regained herself.

"Oh, darling," she purred, "you think you have won? How adorable."

Then, before he could react— She grabbed his collar and dragged him back down into another kiss, fierce and unyielding, reclaiming every last bit of dominance he had stolen.

And Harry? Harry realised—too late—that his victory had been nothing more than an illusion.

Because Cho Chang did not lose. She simply allowed him to think he had won. And now? Now, he was at her mercy. Forever.

The Celestial Bedchamber, which had moments ago been filled with Harry's victorious proclamation, had now shifted—again. Because Cho? Cho had allowed him to believe he had won.

She had let him bask in his triumph, let him feel the rush of domination, let him rise above her, let him savour the sweet taste of victory. And now? Now, she was going to take it all back.

Harry had no time to react. The moment his smug words had left his lips, the moment he had dared to claim that he had won her heart by sheer force of his love, Cho had struck back.

She grabbed his collar, her fingers twisting into the fabric, her movements swift and ruthless, dragging him down into a kiss that shattered every illusion he had built for himself.

Harry's smirk vanished. His body stiffened as he felt her retaliate in full, claiming him with a force that stole his breath, stole his thoughts, stole his very will.

It was not gentle. It was not teasing. It was not controlled.

No—this was vengeance wrapped in pleasure, punishment disguised as passion, a lesson delivered with unrelenting certainty.

Cho's nails raked down his spine, slow and deliberate, as her lips moved against his with an intensity that left him dizzy.

Harry groaned, his grip tightening against her waist, as though he had realised—too late—that he had stepped into a trap he could never escape.

And Cho? Cho smirked against his lips, knowing. Because she had him now. Completely. Utterly. Forever.

Harry, who had been so sure of his victory, who had stood over her with such triumph, was now rapidly losing ground.

His mind was spinning, his body fighting against itself, trapped between the need to resist and the overwhelming desire to surrender.

Cho's lips ghosted over his jaw, his throat, her breath hot against his skin as she whispered,

"You truly thought you could win against me, darling?"

Her voice was dripping with amusement, with satisfaction, with the unshakable confidence of a woman who had never truly lost.

Harry gritted his teeth, his hands tightening against her, as though trying to anchor himself, trying to stop himself from falling completely.

"I did win," he rasped, his voice low, hoarse, defiant. Cho laughed. And that was when Harry knew he was doomed.

Because Cho's laughter was not the laughter of a woman who had been defeated. No.

It was the laughter of a woman who had never once been concerned about the outcome of this battle.

A woman who had merely allowed him to believe he had the upper hand, only to snatch it away the moment he had grown too comfortable.

Her fingers trailed up his chest, slow, feather-light, sending a sharp shiver through his spine, her smirk never fading.

"No, my love," she murmured, pressing a slow, agonising kiss to his jaw, "you did not win. You never had a chance."

Harry's breath hitched. And then? Then she pushed him down.

Harry had been the aggressor, the challenger, the fearless fool who had dared to take her down.

But now? Now, he lay flat on his back, with Cho above him, one hand pressing against his chest, pinning him effortlessly, her dark eyes gleaming with a fire that he had never seen before.

She looked down at him, her smirk slow, lazy, utterly unbothered.

"You poor thing," she purred, "you actually believed you had control, didn't you?"

Harry's jaw clenched, his breathing uneven, his entire body flooded with something he could not control, could not push away, could not resist.

Because he was losing. Completely. Cho's lips descended upon his again, this time taking her time, savouring his downfall, his helplessness, his inevitable surrender.

Harry groaned into the kiss, his fingers twitching, his mind screaming at him to fight back. But he couldn't.

Because this was Cho. Because this was always going to be the outcome. She broke the kiss just enough to whisper against his lips,

"You belong to me, Harry."

A shiver ripped through his spine, his fingers curling into the sheets, his resolve completely gone.

"Say it."

Harry swallowed hard, his mind waging one last, futile war against the truth. And then— Then, finally, he surrendered. His lips parted, his voice barely above a whisper, but carrying the weight of absolute defeat.

"I belong to you, Cho." Cho's smirk deepened, her fingers caressing his jaw as she whispered,

"Good boy."

And that?

That was the final nail in his coffin.

Fleur, who had recovered from her own battle against Harry, was grinning from ear to ear, shaking her head.

"Ah, mon amour," she sighed, "you truly are hopeless."

Lust, still reclining against the pillows, chuckled, her golden eyes twinkling with wicked amusement.

"Oh, he never stood a chance," she murmured, "but watching him try? That was delicious."

Angelica? Angelica simply smirked, tilting her head as she regarded Harry's utterly defeated form. She had known this was coming.

She had seen it the moment he had dared to challenge Cho. And now?

Now, she was simply enjoying the outcome. Her voice was soft, inevitable, golden.

"I do hope you've learned something from this, my love."

Harry, still breathless, still beneath Cho's unyielding gaze, still utterly lost, could only let out a small, resigned exhale.

Then, weakly, he muttered,

"I regret nothing."

Cho laughed, tilting his face up toward hers, her dark gaze burning with satisfaction.

"Oh, darling," she whispered, "you will."

And as she kissed him again, claiming him completely, ensuring he would never forget who truly owned him—

Harry realised that he had lost the moment he had ever dared to challenge her. Because Cho Chang never lost. She simply let him believe he had won—before taking everything from him in the end.

And Harry? Harry was never escaping her again.

The Celestial Bedchamber, which had already witnessed Harry's rise and fall beneath the hands of Fleur, Angelica, and Cho, now found itself holding its breath once more.

Because there was one more left. One last battle to be fought. And it was against the most ancient, the most powerful, the most dangerous force of them all.

Lust Incarnate. She had watched every moment unfold with amusement, had whispered temptations and truths, had played her role in shaping Harry's downfall. And now?

Now she had rolled over, resting her divine, golden form atop his exhausted, breathless body, her golden locks spilling down like waves of honey, her eyes burning with endless mirth.

Her smirk was slow, indulgent, victorious. She was enjoying every second of this. Her fingers trailed over his chest, slow and taunting, her voice a purr of satisfaction.

"Oh, my darling Emperor," she murmured, "how I have enjoyed watching you suffer for me."

Harry, still breathless, still recovering from Cho's merciless conquest, narrowed his emerald eyes.

This woman—this embodiment of temptation, this force of indulgence and destruction—was enjoying herself far too much. And that? That was unacceptable.

Because she had taken something from him.
Because she had made him weak before Fleur.
Because she had revelled in his downfall.

And Harry? Harry was not leaving this battlefield without revenge.

Before Lust could continue her torment, before she could draw out his misery just a little longer, Harry moved.

His hands, still shaking with exhaustion but fuelled by unbreakable will, shot up and gripped her wrists, flipping their positions in an instant.

Lust let out a sharp gasp, her golden eyes widening in genuine surprise as she found herself suddenly beneath then— Harry kissed her.

Not to tease.
Not to provoke.
Not to taunt.

To win. It was not a soft kiss. It was a declaration, a battle, a conquest—delivered with every ounce of power and dominance he had left.

Lust, who had expected Harry to be broken, who had expected him to crumble at her touch, who had expected him to kneel before her like all had before him—

Was not prepared for this .She shuddered beneath him, her breath stolen, her body archingly slightly, as he pressed deeper, as he took and took and took, refusing to let her have the upper hand.

She had kissed him before, had made him bend to her will, had revelled in the way his body had trembled beneath hers.

But now? Now it was happening to her. And she had no idea how to stop it.

Harry did not let up. He kissed her again. And again. And again.

Each kiss sharper, deeper, more unrelenting, pulling her into a storm she had no escape from.

Lust, the one who had always been in control, found herself gasping against him, her fingers curling into the sheets, her golden skin burning with something she had never quite experienced before.

This wasn't just desire. This was war. And she was losing.

Harry finally broke the kiss, staring down at her with triumph in his emerald eyes, his lips curled into a smirk of absolute, unshakable victory.

Lust, still breathless, still dazed, still completely undone, could do nothing but stare back at him. And then? Then, he spoke.

"I win."

His voice was low, husky, dripping with satisfaction, his dominance absolute. And Lust? Lust, the very embodiment of infinite mortal and godly desires, Lust, who had never once been truly conquered—

Lay beneath him, utterly shocked. For the first time in eternity, she had been overwhelmed. For the first time, she had not won. For the first time—she had been dominated.

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Fleur, Cho, and Angelica were watching with widened eyes, their expressions ranging from pure amusement to absolute fascination.

Lust, still beneath Harry, still processing what had just happened, let out a slow, breathy chuckle.

Her fingers moved, tracing up Harry's arms, slow, taunting, thoughtful, before she lifted one delicate golden hand and tapped his shoulder.

Harry, still smirking, raised an eyebrow. Lust tilted her head, her golden eyes now half-lidded, gleaming with something unreadable.

And then— She whispered the one question that made Harry's stomach drop.

"Are you sure of your victory, my darling?" Harry's smirk froze. Because there was something in her voice—something that suggested this was far from over.

Lust grinned, slow and predatory, her golden fingers sliding up his jaw, her touch feather-light, teasing, knowing.

"You may have conquered me once," she murmured, "but can you do it again?"

Harry's breath hitched. His mind screamed at him. And in that moment— He realised he had just made a terrible, terrible mistake.

Fleur let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head, utterly delighted.

"Oh, mon amour, you truly do not know when to stop."

Cho, still recovering from her own victory over him, crossed her arms, her smirk filled with nothing but satisfaction.

"He thinks he's clever," she mused, "but all he's done is make things worse for himself."

Angelica? Angelica simply sighed, shaking her head as she looked down at him with the kind of exasperated affection one has for an incorrigible fool.

"Oh, my love," she murmured, "you should have just accepted your loss."

Lust? Lust was still beneath him, but her golden fingers trailed against his skin, her smirk deepening, her confidence returning with every passing second.

She was not truly defeated. Not yet. Not at all. Because now?Now she was going to make him pay. And Harry? Harry knew, in that moment, that he had once again sealed his own fate.

There was no escaping her now. There was no escaping any of was the Heavens' he was about to suffer for it.

The Celestial Bedchamber, once filled with battles of domination, desire, and playful war, now stood at the precipice of something far more dangerous.

Harry had played his hand. He had overwhelmed Lust, had flipped the battle in his favour, had declared himself victorious.

And for a moment—just a fleeting moment—he had believed he had won. But then, she had asked the question. "Are you sure of your victory, my darling?" And in that instant, Harry knew he had made a terrible mistake.

His mind, sharp even in exhaustion, scrambled to lessen the impact of what he had done. He had gone too far. He had pushed too hard.

Lust, the ancient, unrelenting embodiment of all mortal and godly desires, had been taken off guard—but that would not last forever.

If he did nothing, if he let her regain her full composure, she would strike back in ways he was not ready to face.

And so—he changed the game. He softened his expression, his emerald eyes shifting from victorious to something far more dangerous.

Something deep. Something longing. Something Lust had never expected. His fingers moved, gentle now, tracing along her cheek, tilting her face toward his.

Her golden eyes widened, caught off guard by the shift, the tenderness, the intimacy. And then— He kissed her. It was not a kiss of conquest. It was not a kiss of challenge. It was a lover's kiss.

Slow. Passionate. Unbreakable. Lust gasped, her entire body stilling, her breath caught in her throat as she felt something she had never felt before.

Harry, the Heavens' Darling, was not taking her. He was giving himself to her.

And that? That shattered everything she had ever known. For eons, she had been the embodiment of lust itself, the one who took, indulged, consumed, and left without attachment.

For eternity, she had existed as a force of nature, worshipped, feared, adored—but never claimed. Never truly wanted. Never truly loved. And now?

Now Harry Potter had kissed her not as a conquest—but as a partner. Her fingers trembled, her golden form pressing against him instinctively, her lips moving in perfect synchrony with his.

She did not think. She did not plan. She only felt. Because for the first time in all of creation—she had a lover. And Harry was her first. The kiss lasted forever. Or perhaps only a second.

Time had no meaning in this moment, only the feeling of her golden form pressed against his, only the way her hands finally gripped onto him with something dangerously close to need, only the way her breath stuttered as she let herself be vulnerable for the first time.

And Harry, who had once believed himself the master of this battle, the one in control, felt something shift.

Something irreversible. Lust was not merely indulging in him. She was accepting him. She was allowing herself to feel. She was falling. And Harry?

Harry had just done the one thing no one had ever done before. He had made Lust fall in love. And that? That was when he felt the weight of his greatest mistake settle upon him.

Harry barely had time to process what he had done before he heard it. A soft, exasperated sigh. A voice smooth, golden, filled with the weight of absolute inevitability.

"Oh, my love," Angelica murmured, her words carrying the weight of an undeniable truth, "you truly are a fool."

Harry, still breathless, still reeling, turned his head sharply— Only to be met with Angelica's knowing gaze.

She was not angry.

She was not laughing.

She was merely watching.

With the eyes of someone who had seen the ending before it had even begun.

"What… have I done?" Harry finally whispered, the realisation finally crashing down upon him like an unstoppable tidal wave.

Angelica smiled, slow and devastating, her golden gaze flickering toward Lust, who was still pressed against him, her expression entirely unreadable. Then, she delivered the final truth.

"You did not defeat her, my love," she whispered.

"You gave her exactly what she always wanted."

Her eyes shimmered, as if she could already see what was to come, the endless, inescapable future that now lay before him.

"Lust has had many lovers, but none have ever loved her in return. None have ever seen her as more than a fleeting desire. None have ever kissed her the way you just did."

Angelica's smirk softened, but her words carried the weight of absolute judgment.

"You are the first, Harry."

"And now—she will never let you go."

Harry's stomach dropped.

He turned his gaze back to Lust, whose golden eyes had darkened, filled with something that could no longer be ignored.

There was no taunting smirk now. No playful indulgence. There was only acceptance. A woman who had finally been given what she never even knew she needed. A woman who would never let it slip through her fingers.

And Harry? Harry knew, in that moment— He had just sealed his fate forever. Because he had not won. Because Lust had not lost. Because there was no victory here.

Only the unbreakable bond that had just been forged. And Harry? Harry was now bound to Lust for eternity. There was no was no undoing this. And the worst part?

She had not taken him. He had given himself willingly. And that? That was the one thing he would never be able to take back.

The Celestial Bedchamber, the most opulent, extravagant, and impossibly divine resting place in all of creation, stood at the heart of a new battlefield of wills.

Not a war waged with swords.
Not a battle of flames, celestial might, or cosmic law. No—this was far more dangerous. This was a battle for space in the bed.

And Harry Potter, Heavens' Darling, Eternal Emperor, and Supreme Warbringer, was about to experience a new kind of suffering.

Harry, still exhausted from his endless nightly conquests and defeats, had finally—finally—believed he would get a moment of peace.

That delusion lasted precisely five seconds.

Because as soon as he had settled into the luxurious golden silk sheets, a divine scroll materialised mid-air, unfurling with a dramatic celestial chime.

"THE NEW BED ARRANGEMENT HAS BEEN DECREED."

Harry blinked, utterly confused.

Fleur, Cho, Angelica, and Lust all paused, their attention drawn to the sacred document that had appeared from seemingly nowhere.

Angelica, ever the paragon of celestial order, raised an eyebrow, her fingers brushing the scroll as she read aloud.

"In accordance with divine law and the established rights of equal affection distribution, the following positions shall now be enforced:"

"Fleur – Left Side, Primary Holder."
"Cho – Left Side, Behind Fleur, Tactical Positioning."
"Lust – Right Side, Primary Disruptor."
"Angelica – Right Side, Overseer and Regulator."
"Harry Potter – Centre. Eternal. Loved. Forever."

A heavy silence descended upon the room. Then— Fleur, smirking, turned her mischievous sapphire gaze towards Cho. "Ah, mon amour, I see they acknowledge my rightful place at your side."

Cho, arms crossed, merely narrowed her eyes. "For now," she mused, her voice smooth, calculating, dangerous. "It is a tactical advantage, after all. I can take over at any moment."

Lust, still luxuriating in her silken robe, stretched lazily, her golden eyes flickering with amusement. "Primary Disruptor, am I?" she mused, tilting her head. "Oh, I do like the sound of that."

Harry groaned. He was never going to sleep again, was he? It started off innocently enough. Harry positioned himself in the centre, as dictated by this absurd celestial decree.

Fleur, smirking like a victorious queen, curled into his left side, resting her head against his shoulder, her golden hair cascading over his chest like liquid fire.

Cho, strategically positioned behind Fleur, leaned in, her breath hot against his ear, whispering a single, ominous warning.

"Sleep with one eye open, darling." Harry gulped.

On his right side, Lust claimed her spot, sighing in satisfaction, her fingers lazily tracing along his chest, her golden gaze twinkling with mischief.

Angelica, perched just behind Lust, merely watched. Her presence was a silent warning, an ever-present reminder that nothing in this arrangement would happen without her knowing.

For a moment—just a single fleeting moment—Harry thought that perhaps this would work. And then? The real war began.

"Mon amour," Fleur purred, "you are too close to Lust." Harry barely had a chance to process the words before Fleur's grip tightened, pulling him firmly towards her.

Which meant—he was now too far from Lust. Which meant—Lust retaliated immediately. Her golden fingers curled into his shirt, effortlessly pulling him back towards her embrace.

"I don't believe we agreed on exclusivity, Fleur," Lust cooed, her lips dangerously close to his ear. "After all, I am his first."

"Oh, non, non, non," Fleur countered, "he was mine long before you arrived." Cho, watching from her strategic vantage point, sighed, resting her chin on Harry's shoulder.

"If you two keep fighting over him," she murmured, "I'll just take him for myself." Harry's entire body tensed. Fleur's sapphire eyes flashed. Lust's golden smirk deepened.

"Over my dead body," Fleur declared.

"Oh, I'd love to see you try," Lust purred. And before Harry could stop them, they both lunged at him. The room erupted into chaos.

Fleur, determined to assert her dominance, wrapped herself fully around Harry, ensuring that he was entirely, undeniably hers.

Lust, refusing to be outdone, retaliated with equal force, pulling him back into her embrace, her golden body pressing against his until the heat of her divine essence nearly consumed him whole.

Cho, watching with growing amusement, finally acted. With a swift, calculated motion, she swooped in, effortlessly unseating Fleur, positioning herself flawlessly against Harry's side, her smirk one of absolute victory.

Fleur gasped, betrayed. Lust blinked, impressed. And Harry?

Harry lay there, utterly helpless, trapped between celestial beings who refused to let him go. From her elevated position, Angelica finally sighed.

She had watched long enough. And so—she moved. With an effortless motion, she reached forward, her golden fingers brushing Harry's forehead.

A pulse of divine energy swept through the bed— And in the next instant, all movement ceased. A heavy silence fell over the room.

And Angelica, ever the sovereign of inevitability, merely smiled. "Are you all quite done?" she asked, her voice smooth, knowing, filled with just a touch of exasperation. No one spoke.

Not Fleur.
Not Cho.
Not Lust.
Not even Harry.

Because they all knew the truth.

Angelica had allowed this chaos to unfold, had watched from her throne of pillows, letting them fight for dominance—only to remind them, in the end, that she was still the one who controlled everything.

Harry, finally catching his breath, turned his exhausted gaze towards her.

"You could have stopped this at any time, couldn't you?" Angelica merely smirked.

"Oh, my love," she murmured, "where would be the fun in that?"

And Harry? Harry groaned, knowing that this was his fate now. Trapped. Surrounded. Eternally claimed by the most powerful women in existence.

And the worst part? They would never let him go. Not now. Not ever.

The Celestial Bedchamber, still thrumming with power struggles and shifting alliances, stood on the precipice of a moment that could change everything.

Lust, having spent eons as the embodiment of unrestrained desire, had never before needed to make alliances—she had simply taken what she wanted.

But this was different. This was Harry. And for him, she would play the long game. She turned, her golden locks cascading over her shoulders, and without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Angelica.

The Supreme Imperatrix, the architect of inevitability itself, did not react immediately. She merely tilted her head, her golden gaze calm, unreadable, as Lust pressed herself into her embrace, whispering:

"We needn't fight, my dear Angelica. After all, we are both inevitable in Harry's life." Her voice was smooth, persuasive, entirely confident.

"If we both hold dominion over him, why fight when we can rule together?" Lust's smirk was flawless, her confidence unshaken, because she truly believed her own words.

After all, wasn't it true? Angelica was inevitability itself.
Lust was desire incarnate. Harry could not escape either of them. So why fight? Why not share?

For a moment, all was still. Fleur and Cho, watching with wary curiosity, did not interfere. Because this was not a battle they could win. This was between the two most dangerous women in Harry's life— Angelica, who could rewrite fate itself.

Lust, who could consume even the mightiest gods with a single whisper. Angelica, still cradled within Lust's embrace, finally spoke.

"You presume much, my dear."

Her voice was calm, knowing, but carrying the weight of an unseen amusement. Her fingers traced against Lust's wrist, her golden gaze never breaking.

"You come to me seeking partnership—not out of love, nor out of trust, but because you know that without my favour, you will never fully secure your place in Harry's heart."

Lust's smirk flickered—only for a fraction of a second. Angelica had seen through her completely. And yet— Angelica did not pull away. Instead, she smiled, slow and dangerous.

"And yet…" she mused, tilting her head, "you are not wrong." Lust's eyes gleamed with triumph.

"Then we have an accord?"

Angelica's laughter was soft, indulgent, knowing. She leaned in, her lips just brushing against Lust's ear, and whispered:

"We shall see, my dear."

Then, with a fluid motion, she detangled herself from Lust's embrace, stepping back with all the grace of a queen who knew the entire board before the first move was made.

"For now," she murmured, "you may keep your place at Harry's side. But do not mistake my tolerance for true acceptance." Her golden gaze hardened, ever so slightly.

"Inevitability does not negotiate. It only allows." And with those words, Angelica turned away, a smirk lingering upon her lips. Because she had not said no.

She had simply left Lust to wonder if she had truly won—or if she had only just begun to play Angelica's game. And Lust? Lust, for the first time in eternity, did not know the answer.

But she knew one thing for certain. Angelica had not rejected her. And that? That was a victory in itself.

The Celestial Bedchamber, vast and resplendent, bathed in golden light, should have been a sanctuary of peace.

But for Harry Potter, the Heavens' Darling, the Eternal Emperor, and the Most Sought-After Man in Existence, it was a battlefield. A battlefield for sleep. And he was losing.

Harry had endured divine wars, eldritch horrors, and cosmic cataclysms, but nothing had prepared him for the nightly struggles of sleeping in this bed.

Fleur was relentless.
Cho was strategic.
Lust was insatiable.
Angelica was inevitable.

And Harry? Harry was exhausted.

So, in one last act of defiance against the forces conspiring to keep him awake, he snuck forward, reaching for the one person he believed would not resist him.

Lust. She was curled beside Angelica, golden and radiant, her divine presence an eternal source of temptation. But for once, Harry was not seeking passion. He was seeking rest.

So, without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Lust's waist, pulling her back into his embrace, burying his face into her hair. She stirred, blinking in surprise, before smirking.

"Oh, my darling Emperor, are you seeking my comfort at last?" she purred, turning to face him, her golden eyes gleaming.

Harry, too tired to even respond properly, mumbled into her skin.

"Angelica needs sleep. You belong in my arms now." Lust froze. Her smirk vanished.

Because she had expected many things from Harry— Lust, desire, passion, indulgence. But this? This was affection.

And Lust, despite all her power, despite all the centuries she had existed, had never once been held like this.

She was many things.
A goddess of temptation.
A queen of indulgence.
A force of insatiable longing.

But she had never been someone's place of rest.

She stared at him, utterly stunned, feeling the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his breath as he clung to her as though she were the only thing keeping him grounded.

And for once— For the first time in all of creation— Lust did not know what to do. The stillness did not last. Because as soon as Fleur and Cho realised what had happened, the bedchamber erupted into chaos.

"Excusez-moi?" Fleur hissed, her sapphire gaze flashing dangerously. Cho, her arms crossed, expression unreadable, merely sighed.

"Harry," she said calmly, though the warning was evident in her tone, "what exactly do you think you're doing?" Harry, who had finally found peace, groaned.

"Sleeping." Fleur did not look convinced.

"With Lust?" she repeated, her tone sharp, disbelieving. "You are choosing her for sleep over me?" Harry, still half-asleep, muttered something unintelligible into Lust's shoulder.

Lust, who had finally recovered from her initial shock, smirked.

"Why yes, my dears," she purred, "he is." Fleur's eye twitched. Cho's jaw tightened.

Harry, realising that he had just made his situation infinitely worse, slowly opened one eye to assess the damage. And what he saw? Was pure, unfiltered rage.

Fleur moved first. "Non," she declared, before lunging forward and seizing Harry's other arm, yanking him away from Lust with divine strength.

Lust, not one to be outdone, immediately tightened her hold, resulting in Harry being pulled in two different directions at once.

Cho, watching this with the patience of a strategist, finally decided to intervene. She swooped in like a shadow, slipping between them all, reclaiming Harry's other side before he could process what was happening.

"Enough," she said smoothly, "if anyone deserves to have him right now, it's me."

Fleur gasped. Lust tilted her head in amusement. Harry? Harry groaned in pure exhaustion.

At last, after watching the sheer absurdity unfold, Angelica finally acted. With a single motion, she raised her hand, and the room froze.

Fleur, mid-argument, stopped in place.
Lust, ready to retaliate, found herself unable to move.
Cho, in the middle of her claim, was locked in position.

Harry, who had no energy left to protest, sighed. "You're finally putting a stop to this, Angelica?" Angelica, still perched in her position of divine authority, smirked.

"Oh no, my love," she murmured, golden and victorious, "I just wanted to savour the moment a little longer."

Harry groaned again. This was his life now. Eternally loved. Eternally wanted. Eternally trapped. And the worst part? They would never let him go. Not now. Not ever.

The Celestial Bedchamber, grand and resplendent, stood frozen in perfect, divine absurdity.

Fleur, her fierce sapphire gaze burning with possessiveness, had seized Harry's left arm in an unbreakable grip, determined to reclaim her rightful place.

Lust, golden and utterly smug, had locked herself around Harry's right side, unwilling to surrender what she had just gained.

Cho, calm and composed yet ruthlessly calculating, had positioned herself between all the chaos, ensuring that if anyone emerged victorious, it would be her.

And Angelica? Angelica had simply paused time itself, letting the moment hang in eternal stillness, watching with the serene amusement of a goddess who knew this was only the beginning.

Harry, caught in the middle of this celestial disaster, exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to scream into the void.

"Angelica," he began, his voice tired yet filled with the last remnants of hope, "if you have even an ounce of mercy left, I beg you—fix this."

Angelica, still smirking, still victorious, tilted her head, her golden locks cascading around her in a display of effortless divinity.

"Fix?" she echoed, amusement dripping from her voice. "Oh, my love, why would I do that?" Harry stared at her, utterly betrayed.

"Because you're supposed to be the reasonable one!" he nearly shouted. Angelica's golden eyes gleamed. "Who told you that?"

With a single gesture, Angelica released her hold on time, allowing reality to snap back into motion.

Instantly, the struggle resumed. Fleur tightened her grip, yanking Harry further toward her.

"Mon amour belongs to me," she declared. "Lust, you 'ave 'ad your fun—now release him."

Lust, still locked around Harry's other side, let out a low, sultry chuckle.

"Oh, my sweet Fleur," she purred, "he came to me first. He said it himself—I belong in his arms now."

Fleur's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Liar."

Harry, still too exhausted to argue, muttered,

"She's technically not lying." Fleur's grip tightened even more.

"Traitor," she hissed.

Cho, who had remained patient for as long as she could stand, finally intervened.

"All of you are insufferable," she sighed, brushing a strand of raven-black hair from her face.

Then, with one calculated motion, she slid forward, positioning herself with deadly precision, and— Claimed Harry's lips in a swift, calculated kiss. Silence erupted in the room.

Fleur gasped.
Lust blinked.
Angelica smirked.

And Harry?

Harry, mid-struggle, mid-exhaustion, now mid-kiss, had absolutely no idea what was happening anymore. When Cho finally pulled away, her smirk was small, confident, and completely self-satisfied.

"Since none of you could come to a decision, I made one for you," she said simply.

Fleur bristled. "Non, non, non, non, non—this will not stand." Lust, recovering quickly, grinned, slow and wicked.

"Oh, I do like you, Cho. But I cannot allow you to take the lead so easily."

Harry, still stunned, finally snapped out of his daze.

"You all realise I was just trying to sleep, right?"

Three sets of eyes turned toward him. Fleur smirked. Lust grinned. Cho tilted her then, in perfect synchronisation, they all lunged at him at once.

What followed was complete and utter was seized, kissed, claimed, stolen, reclaimed, and fought over all in the span of minutes.

Fleur, her passionate nature in full force, took every opportunity to remind Harry who had first laid claim to him.

Lust, enjoying herself far too much, countered every advance with a challenge, a tease, and an unshakable presence that would not be ignored.

Cho, deadly and calculating, waited for every moment of distraction before reclaiming her position with perfect precision.

Angelica sat above them all, watching as her beloved Emperor was entirely consumed by his celestial lovers, amused beyond words.

"He wanted sleep," she murmured to herself, "and yet, he only invites more war."

At last, when Harry could endure no more, he burst out—

"ENOUGH!"

The room fell into silence. All three women stared at him, , completely done, completely exhausted, completely at his wit's end, made his final plea.

"I am going to sleep."
"Nobody is to fight."
"Nobody is to claim dominance."
"Nobody is to attempt celestial conquests of my body while I am unconscious."

Fleur, Lust, and Cho all exchanged glances. Then, after a long pause, Lust smirked.

"We make no promises."

Fleur giggled, curling into his side.

"Oui, mon amour."

Cho simply smirked, closing her eyes.

"We'll see."

And Harry?

Harry finally closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep—knowing full well that he would wake up in an even worse predicament. Angelica, ever the overseer of his fate, ever the embodiment of inevitability, leaned back against her golden pillows, smiling to herself.

"Sweet dreams, my love." And with those words, the battle for Harry Potter's rest continued— As it would. For all eternity.

The Celestial Bedchamber was bathed in an ethereal glow, golden light reflecting off the intricate carvings on the towering pillars, casting long shadows across the opulent silk sheets. The universe outside the arched windows shimmered in divine stillness, galaxies spinning in the endless void—silent witnesses to the battle that had played out for dominion over Harry Potter, the Heavens' Darling.

Yet for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the room was quiet.

Fleur, curled around his left side, her warm breath soft against his back, had surrendered to deep slumber, her possessive arms wrapped tightly around his stomach as though ensuring he could never escape her grasp.

Cho, further away, resting in peace for now, her presence an unseen force that lurked beneath the veil of sleep—silent, but ever-watchful, ever-calculating.

Angelica, reclining somewhere above them all, was undoubtedly aware of everything yet chose to remain in the shadows of inevitability.

And Lust? Lust was right beside him.

Her golden hair cascaded over the pillows, her radiant skin aglow in the ambient celestial light. She had been resting—or at least, pretending to—her beautiful face merely inches from his, her body so close he could feel the heat of her against him.

Harry knew what he was about to do was dangerous. Reckless. Inevitable. He turned toward her, slowly, ensuring that neither Fleur nor Cho stirred, and without hesitation, he captured Lust's lips with his own.

The moment his lips met hers, a shift rippled through the air—a silent, unseen disturbance in the fabric of this celestial realm.

Lust stiffened, her golden eyes fluttering open in surprise, yet she did not pull away. Instead— She kissed him back.

Not just as a reflex, not just to indulge him—but fully, deeply, passionately, as though this was the moment she had been waiting for since the dawn of time.

Her arms curled around his shoulders, pulling him closer, her fingers threading through his hair as she matched him kiss for kiss, a slow, luxurious exchange of temptation and acceptance.

Then—just as quickly—she broke away, her lips hovering near his, her golden eyes filled with something unspoken, something dangerous.

Her breath was warm against his skin as she whispered,

"Shhh, my love. Be quiet."

Harry, his pulse thundering in his ears, opened his mouth to respond, but Lust merely pressed a single finger against his lips, silencing him.

"I want you to be comfortable with me," she murmured, her voice low, husky, filled with something that wasn't just desire—but care.

"I will take great care of you, Harry."

Her promise wasn't one of conquest It wasn't one of indulgence. It wasn't even one of temptation. It was something far more dangerous. Something Harry had never expected from Lust.

It was devotion. His heart stilled. Because now? Now he knew. Lust wasn't here to simply have him. She was here to keep him. Forever. And the worst part? He didn't want to escape. Not anymore.

The Celestial Bedchamber remained in its quiet, golden glow, a sanctuary untouched by time, where gods and empires bowed to the will of the immortal lovers who lay within. The vast cosmic horizon outside the arched windows stretched into infinity, adorned with stars and swirling nebulas that bore witness to the unspoken promise exchanged in the depths of the night.

Harry's breath remained uneven, his heart thrumming beneath the weight of the irreversible choice he had just made. He had kissed Lust, not out of temptation, not out of some fleeting indulgence, but because he wanted to.

Because he needed to. And now? Now he had crossed a threshold from which there was no return.

Lust, still holding him close, watched him with an intensity unlike anything he had ever seen before. Her golden eyes, once filled with mischief and challenge, now held something deeper, something more absolute. She had teased, she had tempted, she had whispered provocations meant to make him stumble into her arms.

But this? This was no game. This was a moment of truth.

She brushed a hand through his hair, her fingers slow and deliberate, as though committing the very texture of him to memory. There was no urgency in her touch, no rush to claim victory, only the certainty that he was already hers.

"You do not realise what you have done, my love," she whispered, her voice like silk against his skin. "You have made yourself mine. And I do not share what is mine."

Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, because he knew—deep down, in the depths of his soul—that she meant every word.

He had spent his existence entangled in the affections of Fleur, Cho, and Angelica, each of them powerful in their own right, each of them shaping his world in ways he had never imagined. Fleur had consumed him in passion, Cho had sharpened his mind with her precision, and Angelica had guided him with the wisdom of inevitability itself.

But Lust? Lust had ensnared him in a way none of the others ever had.

Because she was the one thing he had never sought to possess—yet could never let go of.

The moment hung between them, charged with something greater than passion, more dangerous than mere desire.

And then— A soft sigh.A shift in the bed. Harry froze.

Fleur stirred beside him, her arms tightening around his stomach as though sensing something amiss in her sleep. She buried her face into his back, her breath warm against his skin, mumbling something incoherent but unmistakably possessive.

Cho, ever the silent sentinel, remained still, her breathing steady, but Harry knew—knew without a doubt—that she was never truly unaware of her surroundings.

Lust grinned, sensing his hesitation, relishing it.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear, her voice no more than a breath.

"They may hold you in the day, but I will own you in the night."

Harry shuddered, not from fear, not from resistance—but from the sheer gravity of the promise in her words.

He had never been claimed like this. Not by Fleur's consuming love. Not by Cho's calculated affections. Not even by Angelica's inevitable hold over him.

Lust did not ask. She did not wait. She simply took. And Harry— Harry let her.

The night stretched on, slow and eternal, yet Harry never returned to sleep.

Lust remained in his arms, her fingers dancing idly over his chest, a silent reminder that she was still there. That she would always be there.

When dawn finally approached, the celestial lights shifting in a slow golden cascade across the chamber, the first signs of movement began to stir.

Fleur, sensing the change in the air, tightened her embrace, her sapphire eyes fluttering open as she pressed herself closer to him. A slow smile crept across her lips as she murmured, half-asleep:

"Mmm… mon amour, you are so warm…"

Harry stiffened. Because he wasn't just warm. He was still wrapped around Lust. Fleur's sleep-heavy gaze slowly focused, and in an instant, the haze of rest cleared, replaced with something sharp.

Something furious. Harry felt his stomach drop. Lust, utterly unfazed, merely smirked.

And then, to Harry's absolute horror, she stretched like a cat, her golden body arching as she pressed even closer against him.

"Good morning, my dears," she purred, "I do believe Harry slept best in my arms last night."

Fleur's expression went from sleepy affection to unfiltered rage in the span of a second.

Cho, now fully awake, watching from her vantage point, narrowed her eyes.

And Angelica? From the far end of the bed, where she had been watching the entire time, the Supreme Imperatrix merely sighed, shaking her head.

"Oh, my love," she murmured, golden amusement flickering in her gaze, "you never learn."

And Harry? Harry groaned in sheer, unrelenting defeat. Because once again, he had sealed his fate. And this time? This time, there was no escape.

The Celestial Bedchamber, once peaceful in the embrace of twilight, now stood on the precipice of yet another war—one that had no victors, only a single sleepless Emperor, now trapped in a divine battle of love, possessiveness, and consequences far beyond his control.

Harry, still locked in Lust's arms, could feel the heat of Fleur's glare burning into him, the weight of Cho's calculating silence, and the unshakable presence of Angelica's knowing amusement.

Lust, ever the embodiment of indulgence and mischief, did not bother to hide her satisfaction.

She stretched languidly, golden and utterly unrepentant, her fingers tracing idle patterns along Harry's chest as though this moment belonged to her and her alone.

"You look so guilty, my love," she mused, "should I be offended? Or pleased?"

Fleur snapped.

In one fluid motion, she rose from her position, her sapphire eyes ablaze with celestial fury, her golden hair cascading down her shoulders like wildfire.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?!" she hissed, her accent thicker in her rage, her fingers already reaching for Harry's arm as if to yank him back into her embrace.

Harry barely had time to react before Fleur seized him, her grip unrelenting, her strength rivaling the very gods themselves.

"You 'ave some explaining to do, mon amour!" she demanded, pulling him away from Lust with a force that nearly lifted him off the bed.

Lust, however, was not one to surrender so easily.

She let out a soft, delighted laugh, propping herself up on one elbow, watching Fleur's fury with the relaxed amusement of a goddess who had won long before the battle even began.

"Oh, my sweet Fleur," Lust murmured, "do calm down. I simply kept him warm while you slept. It would have been cruel of me to leave our beloved Emperor shivering in the cold."

Fleur's eyes narrowed. "He does not shiver," she said, her voice dangerously low. "He is mine to keep warm."

Harry, still partially in Lust's grasp, felt like a prize being fought over by celestial goddesses who refused to yield.

Cho, having remained quiet all this time, finally moved.

With an exasperated sigh, she adjusted herself from her position behind Fleur, her dark eyes calm yet dangerously unreadable, as she studied Harry's disheveled state.

"Honestly, Harry," she said smoothly, "must you always be so easily taken?"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Cho merely raised an eyebrow, silencing him before he could even begin.

"You realise what you've done, don't you?" she continued, her tone sharp with accusation. "By indulging Lust, you have granted her exactly what she needed—confirmation that she is not just a lover, but a necessity in your life."

Harry froze. Because she was right. He had sought Lust out in the quiet hours of the night, not as a fleeting desire, but because he had wanted comfort.

And in doing so, he had given her what no one else had ever given her—undeniable proof that she belonged with him.

Lust, hearing this, merely smirked, the amusement in her golden eyes deepening with satisfaction.

She stretched again, rolling onto her stomach as she rested her chin against her hands, watching them with the gaze of a goddess who knew she had already won.

"Oh, Cho," she purred, "I adore you, truly. But there was never any doubt, was there?" Cho's expression did not change, but her silence was damning.

Harry, sensing the growing tension, tried once again to salvage what remained of his dignity.

"Look, everyone," he began, his voice firm but undeniably exhausted, "this is all a misunderstanding. I was just trying to sleep, and—"

"You kissed her."

The words came from Fleur, spoken with deadly finality. Harry immediately regretted everything. The room fell into a deep, unnatural silence.

Even Angelica, who had been watching with infinite patience, now tilted her head, intrigued.

Lust, utterly delighted, made no move to deny it. Instead, she sighed dreamily, as if reliving the moment, her fingers playing with the strands of her golden hair.

"And what a kiss it was," she murmured. "Truly, a moment to remember."

Harry barely had a second to breathe before Fleur's fury exploded.

"Traître!" she lunged at him, her strength overwhelming, her wrath divine.

Harry barely dodged, rolling over the silk sheets just as Fleur grabbed the empty air where his collar had been.

Cho, deciding that now was the time to strike, smoothly moved forward, intercepting Fleur before she could claim him again.

"If we are to punish him, let's do it properly," Cho said, her voice dangerously smooth.

Lust, still lounging effortlessly on the bed, merely laughed, her golden eyes filled with victory.

"Oh, I do love when you all fight over him," she sighed. "It's so entertaining."

Fleur's glare could have burned holes through the fabric of reality.

Cho's eyes flashed with unreadable calculation.

Angelica, still perched above the chaos, gave Harry a knowing look.

"You have done it again, my love," she said softly, shaking her head with an air of infinite patience. "Truly, you never learn."

Harry, now fully awake, fully aware of the disaster he had caused, buried his face into his hands and groaned.

Because this? This was never going to end. Lust had won. Fleur was furious. Cho was planning something. Angelica was watching, waiting, amused.

And Harry? Harry was utterly doomed. For all eternity.

The Celestial Bedchamber, once a haven of divine indulgence and celestial rest, had now become the site of an unavoidable reckoning.

Harry Potter, the Heavens' Darling, the Eternal Emperor, and the Most Wanted Man in Existence, lay ensnared in the arms of Lust, the very embodiment of mortal and godly desires.

Fleur stood before him, her sapphire eyes ablaze, her fury as radiant as the very flames of creation. Cho lingered just behind her, her calculating gaze sharp and unwavering, her mind already formulating the most efficient punishment. And Angelica, watching from her golden throne of pillows, radiated nothing but amused inevitability, waiting to see how he would attempt to survive this latest catastrophe.

And Lust? Lust remained reclined upon the bed, utterly relaxed, as though she were the only one in the room who had already won. Because in her mind, she had.

Harry could feel the pressure mounting, the weight of their judgment pressing down upon him like an unmovable force. He had no weapons, no army, no divine intervention to save him.

Only his wit. So, with the confidence of a man who had lost all fear of consequence, he exhaled slowly, sat up, and smirked.

Harry stretched, rolling his shoulders as if he had just awoken from the most blissful sleep of his life, despite the celestial storm brewing around him. He let the silence linger just long enough before turning his emerald gaze toward Fleur, the one most likely to attack first.

"Fleur, my love, you are angry," he said, his tone smooth, unshaken, calculated. "But tell me, truthfully—was there ever a world where you did not expect this to happen?"

Fleur's lips parted slightly, thrown off by the unexpected question. Harry pressed forward, unrelenting.

"You have always known that I cannot resist you, that I could never deny you."*"And yet, you expected me to resist her?"

Fleur's fury faltered, just for a moment. Harry, sensing the shift, turned next to Cho, who had remained still, her piercing gaze searching for the flaw in his words.

"And you, my brilliant strategist," he murmured, tilting his head, "you saw this coming, didn't you? You, of all people, should have anticipated every move before it was made. You always do."

Cho's brow twitched, but she did not respond. That was a win. Next, Lust, the one who thrived on his downfall.

He turned to face her fully, not with regret, not with hesitation—but with unwavering certainty.

"You claim victory," he murmured, "but tell me, Lust—did you really win, or was this always inevitable?"

Lust's smirk wavered, but only for a breath. And finally—Angelica. He met her golden gaze, his expression unreadable.

"And you," he whispered, "always watching, always knowing. What happens next?"

For the first time that night, Angelica's smirk faded. Because Harry had just done the impossible. He had broken their momentum. They had come into this battle as accusers, as judges, as executioners.

But now? Now they were questioning themselves. Now they were hesitating. And hesitation was all he needed.

With the tension in the air cracked but not yet shattered, Harry knew he had to strike the final blow.

He shifted his weight, letting his gaze sweep over them all, before speaking once more.

"You are all forces beyond comprehension—flames, minds, inevitability itself. And yet, you stand here fighting over me, when you all know there is no world in which I could ever deny any of you."

Fleur inhaled sharply, caught between rage and validation. Cho's lips parted, but no words came.

Lust, ever the picture of indulgence, merely watched, intrigued. Angelica tilted her head, studying him.

Harry leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, making them hang on his every word.

"So tell me," he whispered, "which of you truly holds me?"

The question hung in the air, heavy, dangerous, undeniable.

And then— Before anyone could react— Harry sat back, exhaled, and let his gaze shift toward the celestial windows.

His expression turned serious. His posture tensed. He furrowed his brows just enough to make them notice. And then, in the most deliberate, controlled tone possible, he murmured:

"Wait. Something's coming."

The reaction was immediate. Fleur's frustration vanished, replaced with battle-ready alertness. Cho, ever the tactician, straightened, her mind already analyzing the possibilities.

Lust, sensing the shift in energy, tilted her head, intrigued.
Angelica's golden eyes narrowed, scanning reality itself for any anomaly.

And Harry? Harry smirked internally. Because the moment they had turned their attention away from him— He had won.

For the next few moments, the bedchamber remained silent, all four women scanning for the unseen disturbance Harry had fabricated.

By the time they realised there was nothing, Harry had already shifted the battlefield completely.

The rage had dissipated. The tension had fractured. The balance had been restored.

Fleur, now more concerned with the nonexistent threat, sighed, crossing her arms.

"You should have said something earlier, mon amour."

Cho, still studying him, narrowed her eyes, but her focus had shifted.

"We will deal with you later," she muttered.

Lust, finally catching on, let out a low, delighted laugh.

"Oh, you clever, clever man," she murmured, her golden eyes gleaming. "I see what you've done."

Angelica, who had never been fooled before, simply sighed, shaking her head in both amusement and admiration.

"My love," she murmured, "you never cease to impress me." Harry, finally, allowed himself to breathe. He had escaped immediate disaster. For now.

Because they would never stop coming for him. And deep down? Harry knew he never wanted them to.

The Celestial Bedchamber, once charged with tension and divine fury, now hung in a delicate balance. The moment of accusation had passed, the threat had been neutralised, and Harry Potter, the Heavens' Darling, had done the impossible.

He had escaped divine judgment. But that was not enough.

Because Harry, now fully awake, now fully aware of the power he held in his hands, now understanding the game as well as those who sought to control him, was not simply going to survive. He was going to win.

Fleur, still standing before him, her sapphire eyes watching him with both frustration and lingering affection, had barely begun to lower her guard when Harry moved.

With one swift motion, he lunged, his hands grasping her wrists, his strength pressing into her as he toppled her onto the bed.

Fleur gasped, her golden hair spilling across the silken sheets, her breath stolen by the sheer force of his attack.

Before she could react—before she could summon fire, fury, or resistance—Harry claimed her lips. It was not a gentle kiss. It was not a kiss of appeasement.

It was a claiming, a declaration, a battle waged not with words but with the sheer force of his love.

His lips pressed firmly against hers, his hands tangling into her golden locks, his body looming over her, pressing her into the divine silk of the bed as if to leave no space between them.

Fleur, for all her fire, her fury, her indomitable will, melted instantly.

Her initial shock gave way to hunger, to need, to the same unrestrained passion that had always defined her love for him.

She kissed him back with equal force, her arms winding around his neck, pulling him even closer, as if the space between them was unbearable.

The moment stretched, deepened, became something far more than just a kiss.

It was an affirmation, a war, a surrender—all at once. And then—

Harry broke away, just enough to speak, his lips brushing against hers.

His voice, low, husky, filled with wicked intent, sent a shiver through her very soul.

"Did you think I had forgotten you, mon amour?"

Fleur's breath was ragged, her sapphire eyes blazing, but not with anger. Not anymore.

"You are a dangerous man, mon cœur," she whispered, her fingers tightening in his hair. "And I 'ate you for knowing exactly 'ow to make me forget my own anger."

Harry grinned, triumphant.

"I love you too, Fleur."

And then, he kissed her again. And this time— She let him.

The Celestial Bedchamber, once an arena of divine accusation, now pulsed with an entirely different kind of energy—one that crackled through the air, burning with passion, possession, and an unstoppable, consuming force.

Fleur Delacour, the woman of fire and devotion, the first to lay claim to the Heavens' Darling, had been conquered.

Not by force. Not by argument. Not by celestial decree.

But by the sheer, undeniable weight of Harry's love.

Pinned beneath him, her sapphire eyes darkened with something deeper than rage, something far more dangerous than her fury.

Desire. Longing. A hunger that could never be sated, only indulged, only worshipped.

She had intended to punish him, to make him suffer for his betrayal, for his reckless affections, for the way he had given himself to Lust in the silence of the night.

But now? Now, she could think of nothing else but him.

Harry, his emerald gaze gleaming with wicked intent, hovered over her, his breath warm against her flushed skin.

He had never played this game before. But now? Now he understood it.

He had spent his nights at the mercy of the women who sought to dominate him, to own him, to claim him.

But here? Now? This was his moment. Fleur had demanded an explanation.
Fleur had demanded his penance. Instead, he had given her something far worse. He had taken control.

His fingers brushed against her cheek, slow and deliberate, tracing the contours of her skin as though memorising every inch of her.

She shuddered beneath his touch, her body betraying her, her breath quickening as he leaned closer, his lips ghosting over hers but never quite meeting them.

"You wanted to punish me, mon amour," he murmured, his voice nothing but a breath against her lips. "But tell me—do you still want to?"

Fleur's eyes blazed, her hands tightening around his shoulders as if to hold herself together.

Her pride warred with her need. She was Fleur Delacour.

She did not yield. She did not surrender. She did not forgive easily. But Harry? Harry was not asking for forgiveness. He was taking what was already his.

"You are insufferable," she whispered, her voice breathless, "you always find a way to turn my fury into this." Harry grinned against her lips.

"That's because you love me."

Fleur let out a soft, frustrated sigh, her fingers curling into his hair.

"And that is why you are dangerous, mon cœur." And then— She gave in.

Her lips crashed against his, no longer a battle but an embrace, a surrender, a declaration of war that only they could understand.

She kissed him with the full weight of her love, her devotion, her undying need to consume and be consumed by him.

Harry, never one to be outdone, kissed her back with equal force, with every ounce of passion, of certainty, of knowing that she had been his long before this moment.

The moment should have belonged to them alone. But they were not alone.

A soft cough broke through the heat of their embrace. Harry barely pulled away, his breath still mingling with Fleur's, as he turned his head.

And there, still perched on her throne of pillows, watching with endless, golden amusement— Angelica. Beside her, Cho remained seated, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

And further still, lounging as though she had orchestrated this entire thing—Lust. Harry's stomach dropped. Fleur's eyes widened.

Angelica merely smirked, tilting her head in that way that always made him nervous.

"Oh, my love," she murmured, "I do hope you did not think you would get away with this unnoticed."

Cho, her dark gaze flickering between them, sighed, as though she had expected nothing less.

"So," she mused, "you decided that tackling Fleur and devouring her in front of us was the best course of action?"

Lust, ever the agent of chaos, let out a delighted laugh, stretching lazily.

"Oh, let him have his fun," she purred, "he's finally learning to play the game properly."

Harry, still hovering over Fleur, still trapped beneath their judgment, realised something in that moment. He had not escaped his fate. He had merely set fire to it.

And Fleur, beneath him, her sapphire eyes still smouldering with love and anger, whispered the final truth into his ear.

"Mon amour, you have no idea what you have just done."

And Harry? Harry knew she was right. Because this was far from over. This was only the beginning.

The Celestial Bedchamber, still humming with the aftershocks of Harry's reckless conquest over Fleur, now teetered on the edge of something even more dangerous.

The moment Fleur had fallen beneath him, surrendering to his love, the entire balance of power had shifted.

No longer was Harry the cornered prey, desperately escaping divine judgment.

No. He had become the hunter. And now? Now it was Cho's turn.

Cho had watched everything. She had seen how Harry had turned the battlefield in his favour, how he had tamed Fleur's fury with nothing but the force of his affection.

She had anticipated a thousand different ways he might try to escape, a thousand calculated moves that would allow him to minimise his suffering and survive until the next encounter.

But this? She had not predicted this. Harry, still burning from his victory over Fleur, turned toward her with wicked, unrelenting intent, his emerald eyes gleaming with something dangerous.

Cho barely had time to react before he lunged, his hands grasping her waist, pulling her into him with a force that left no room for resistance.

Before she could even formulate a response, before she could even draw breath to speak— His lips crashed into hers. The moment their lips met, Cho's world fractured.

Harry kissed her with the full force of his love, with the kind of unrestrained passion that shattered every calculated thought, every carefully constructed plan, every piece of logic she had once relied on.

Her mind, always sharp, always in control, failed her. There was no counter to this. No strategy, no retreat, no move that could undo what he had just done. And for the first time in her entire existence, Cho Chang surrendered.

She melted into him, her fingers curling into his hair, her body pressing against his as she kissed him back with an intensity that was both furious and desperate.

She had expected him to run, to retreat, to calculate a way out. Instead, he had attacked. And she? She had never stood a chance.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless, both trembling from the sheer intensity of the moment, Cho stared at him, her dark eyes burning with something unreadable.

Harry smirked, knowing exactly what he had done.

"Did you predict that, my love?" he murmured against her lips.

Cho, still trying to rebuild the walls he had just shattered, let out a slow, measured breath. Then— She smiled. Not a soft, affectionate smile. Not an amused, entertained smile. But a smile of absolute, deadly intent.

"You have no idea what you've just started, my darling," she whispered. And Harry? Harry knew. He had just waged war upon the strategist. And now? Now he would have to survive the consequences.

The Celestial Bedchamber, still charged with the aftermath of Harry's reckless conquests, pulsed with an unspoken challenge—one that would not end in kisses or whispered confessions.

No. This was now a battle. A battle of wills. A battle of control. A battle Cho had never expected Harry to engage in. And yet—here he was.

Standing before her, smirking like a victorious conqueror, his emerald eyes gleaming with a challenge so bold, so dangerously confident, that it nearly stole the breath from her lips.

Harry, knowing full well the beast he was provoking, leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear, his voice smooth, unshaken, dripping with amusement.

"You're welcome to try whatever you want, my love," he murmured, his fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns along her arm. "But we both know how this ends."

Cho, still recovering from the kiss that had unraveled her, narrowed her eyes, her mind already calculating every possible response, every possible counter.

Harry smirked. And then— He struck the final blow.

"No matter what you do to me, no matter how hard you fight—"

His hands glided over her waist, possessive yet teasing, his voice dropping into something dangerously soft.

"I will always… always… end up in your bosom."

A beat of silence. Then— Cho scoffed. She tried to keep a straight face.
She tried to maintain her deadly composure. She tried to formulate a sharp, tactical response.

But Harry, sensing the hesitation, the flicker of amusement hidden beneath her stern gaze, tilted his head and smirked even wider.

"Yet not without a fight."

And that? That was the final challenge. Cho's lips curled into a dangerous smirk of her own.

She stepped forward, closing the distance between them in one fluid motion, her eyes flashing with the cold precision of a strategist who had just accepted a war she intended to win.

"Oh, Harry," she purred, her fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him close, "you think you have mastered the game."

Harry grinned, entirely unafraid.

"No, my love," he whispered, "I am the game." And then— The battle truly began.

The Celestial Bedchamber, once the scene of whispered accusations and burning judgment, had transformed into something else entirely.

No longer was Harry on the defensive. No longer was he the one caught, cornered, outmaneuvered.

He had tackled Fleur, claimed Cho, and now—now he stood before them with the confidence of a man who had just declared war upon the very forces that once sought to control him.

And the most dangerous part? He was winning.

Fleur, still recovering from the kiss that had shattered her fury, sat upon the silk sheets, watching Harry with an intensity that threatened to consume him whole.

Her sapphire eyes were no longer filled with anger. They were filled with hunger. With a renewed, unshakable possessiveness.

With the understanding that if Harry was going to play this game, then he would have to answer for it.

Her fingers, delicate yet dangerously strong, traced her own lips, as if committing the sensation of his kiss to memory.

Then, with a slow, sultry smile, she tilted her head, her golden locks spilling like wildfire over her shoulders.

"Mon amour," she purred, her voice thick with something far more dangerous than jealousy. "You 'ave set something ablaze in me that will not be extinguished so easily."

She pushed herself up, stalking forward, her every step deliberate, predatory.

"You claim you will always end up in Cho's bosom," she mused, her voice deceptively soft, "but 'ave you forgotten, mon cœur?"

Her fingers slid over his chest, possessive, territorial.

"You belong to me first." Harry smirked, knowing full well what he had just reignited. And yet—he did not retreat. Instead, he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing against hers as he whispered,

"Then prove it, my love." And Fleur? Fleur grinned, wicked and victorious. Because she would. She would prove it again and again until he forgot the very idea of resisting her.

From her throne of pillows, Angelica had watched everything. She had watched as Harry shattered Fleur's fury with love, as he conquered Cho's calculated mind with passion, as he now stood before them, bold and unshaken.

And for once— For the first time in all of existence— Angelica did something she had never done before. She moved.

The golden sheets rippled as she rose, her presence shifting the very air itself, bending reality to her will as she descended upon the battlefield.

Harry, feeling the shift, turned to face her. Their eyes met—emerald and gold, mortal and inevitable. Angelica smiled.

"My love," she murmured, her voice neither soft nor loud, but carrying the weight of something far greater than any declaration of war.

"Do you truly believe that you can play this game without consequence?"

Harry held her gaze, unflinching.

"I do not believe, my love," he whispered. "I know."

Angelica let out a slow, knowing hum.

She reached forward, her fingers brushing over his chin, tilting his face toward hers with the effortless authority of a goddess who had just decided that she, too, would claim what was hers.

"You are mine as much as you are theirs," she whispered, her lips mere inches from his. "And I will not allow you to forget it."

She pressed the faintest kiss against his cheek—soft, fleeting, yet carrying the force of inevitability itself.

And when she pulled back, her golden gaze burned with promise.

"You have started something you cannot stop, my darling," she murmured.

And Harry? Harry knew she was right.

And then, of course— There was Lust. Still reclining lazily upon the sheets, golden and radiant, her smirk never once fading as she observed the chaos Harry had unleashed.

She had seen Fleur fall. She had seen Cho surrender. She had seen Angelica finally claim her piece of him. And now— Now, she was simply waiting for her turn.

She let out a soft, delighted laugh, stretching her golden limbs as she finally sat up, her fingers running through her long, silky hair.

"Oh, my darling Emperor," she purred, tilting her head in amusement, "you truly have no self-preservation instincts, do you?"

Harry, still surrounded by the forces he had just provoked, turned to face her.

And Lust, ever the one who saw desire before it could even be named, merely grinned.

"You have made yourself our equal," she whispered, "but tell me, my love—did you ever stop to think what would happen when we finally start fighting back?"

Harry's smirk faltered.

Just for a second.

Just long enough for Lust to catch it.

And then—

Then, she laughed.

Low.
Sweet.
Sinister.

"Oh, you poor, beautiful fool," she murmured, crawling toward him with the grace of a predator that had just caught the scent of something truly irresistible.

Her fingers traced over his collarbone, her golden gaze shimmering with mischief.

"Did you think you were the only one who could play this game?"

She leaned in, her lips grazing over the shell of his ear as she whispered,

"Darling, we invented it."

Harry, now trapped between Fleur's possessiveness, Cho's ruthless calculation, Angelica's inevitability, and Lust's insatiable indulgence, exhaled slowly.

This had not gone according to plan. He had thought himself clever.
He had thought himself victorious. He had thought he had finally taken control.

But now— Now, he was surrounded. And all four of them were looking at him with a single, undeniable truth burning in their eyes.

He had made himself their equal. He had played the game. He had won the battle.

But now? Now, he had started the war. And there was no turning back.

The Celestial Bedchamber, once a place of divine rest, had now become a war zone of love, desire, and relentless conquest.

Harry Potter, the Heavens' Darling, the Eternal Emperor, the Most Wanted Man in Existence, had fought valiantly through the night, navigating love, power, and temptation.

But now? Now, he faced his greatest challenge yet. Morning. And with morning, came consequences.

Lust, still glowing from her night of indulgence, slid closer, her golden eyes locked onto Harry with something deeper than mere affection. Something unchanging. Something eternal.

Her fingers, warm and impossibly soft, cupped his cheeks, tilting his face toward her as if she were admiring a priceless treasure she would never part with.

"My darling," she murmured, her voice a slow, delicious drawl, "I promise you, I shall never leave your side."

Harry barely had time to process her words before she captured his lips with a kiss so deep, so all-consuming, that his entire world tilted.

His breath hitched. His thoughts shattered. For a single moment, he was lost in her.

Lust kissed him as if she had all the time in the world, as if she were savoring a victory that had already been written in the stars. And for that moment? Harry let himself fall.

He kissed her back with equal passion, his hands instinctively pulling her closer, losing himself in the warmth, in the taste, in the dangerous pleasure that was Lust herself.

But then— Before the moment could deepen, before Lust could secure her victory, before Harry could succumb completely—

A strong hand seized his left arm. Another grabbed his right. And suddenly— The world shifted again.

Harry barely managed to break the kiss, his breath ragged, his mind fogged with the remnants of Lust's embrace, before he felt himself being yanked from both sides.

Two familiar voices, firm and unrelenting, cut through the haze.

"That's enough of that."

"You're coming with us, darling."

Harry blinked, dazed, as he turned to find Fleur gripping his left wrist, her sapphire eyes gleaming with determined amusement.

On his right, Cho held firm, her dark gaze steady, expectant, and filled with the kind of authority that could not be denied.

Lust, still lounging like a golden goddess upon the bed, let out a low, sultry chuckle, watching them with an infuriatingly satisfied smirk.

"Oh, my dears," she sighed, stretching lazily, "must you ruin such a perfect moment?" Fleur, still firmly holding Harry's arm, glared.

"He 'as spent all night being claimed, fought over, and kissed senseless." Cho nodded in agreement.

"Now, it's time for him to do something actually useful." Harry, still trying to catch his breath, furrowed his brows.

"And what exactly am I doing?" Cho and Fleur exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between them before they turned back to him.

"You're making breakfast," they declared in unison. Harry stared. Lust laughed. Angelica, still lounging above them all, finally sighed, shaking her head in quiet amusement.

"Oh, my love," she murmured, golden and knowing, "you never learn."

Harry, dragged from the warmth of the bed, from Lust's lingering touch, from the sanctuary of silk sheets and celestial indulgence, groaned in sheer, unrelenting defeat.

Because once again— He had lost. And now, he was destined for the , the hardest battle of all.

The Celestial Dining Hall, a place of resplendent opulence, where golden chandeliers bathed the vast expanse in warm, shimmering light, was now the scene of a rare moment of peace.

Or, rather, a temporary ceasefire. After what had felt like an eternity, the most unlikely of coordinated efforts had produced something that was both miraculous and utterly mundane.

Breakfast. Harry, Fleur, and Cho—a trio that had spent the night fighting over dominance, love, and possession— had, against all odds, managed to work together.

Not for war. Not for conquest. Not even for battle. But for food. And now?

Now, it was time to serve the queens who had spent the morning watching in amusement.

Harry, carrying two silver trays, moved toward the large celestial dining table, where Angelica and Lust sat in effortless supremacy.

Angelica, reclined upon her seat as if she ruled the entire cosmos from this very moment, watched him with the serene amusement of a goddess who had orchestrated this entire thing from the beginning.

Lust, lounging as if she had already claimed victory, rested her chin on her hand, golden eyes gleaming as she waited for what she undoubtedly saw as her rightful spoils.

With a practiced ease, Harry set the trays down before them.

Golden plates of perfectly cooked eggs, fresh fruit, and warm pastries now graced the table, alongside glasses of ambrosial nectar, a drink that shimmered with an otherworldly glow.

Fleur and Cho, standing beside him, crossed their arms in satisfaction, their coordinated efforts finally complete.

Harry, still recovering from his sleepless night, his battles, his losses, his victories, and his inevitable fate, exhaled slowly.

"Breakfast is served."

Angelica, ever the overseer, ever the divine adjudicator of his fate, merely tilted her head.

She picked up a silver fork, slicing into the eggs before her with the same measured grace she applied to all things in existence.

She took a bite. The moment stretched. Harry, Fleur, and Cho held their breaths. Then— Angelica smiled.

It was a slow, pleased smile, filled with the kind of satisfaction that sent both relief and warning through Harry's bones.

"Delightful," she murmured, golden and knowing. "My love, you are quite talented with your hands."

Harry, for once, decided not to take the bait. Instead, he merely inclined his head, suppressing the smirk that threatened to rise.

"Only the best for you, my love."

Angelica hummed, pleased. And then— Lust, who had remained silent until now, picked up a grape from her plate, rolling it between her fingers before slowly pressing it past her lips.

She chewed, swallowed, and then— She smirked.

"Oh, Harry," she purred, her golden eyes locking onto his, "are you sure you should have served me breakfast in bed? You wouldn't want to make a habit of pampering me, now would you?"

Harry, despite himself, groaned. Fleur huffed, crossing her arms. Cho let out a long sigh. Angelica merely laughed. And so, the morning continued. The battle was over.

For now. But the war? The war was far from finished. The Celestial Dining Hall, still bathed in golden light, now held a new kind of tension.

Not the heated, fiery conflict of the previous night.
Not the strategic maneuvering of whispered claims and stolen kisses.
Not even the possessive fury of celestial lovers battling for dominance.

No. This was something far more insidious. A silent war. A battle of wills.

And Harry Potter, the Heavens' Darling, the Eternal Emperor, the object of relentless affection, had just made his move.

Instead of indulging Lust's provocations, instead of offering her the reaction she so clearly sought, he did the unthinkable.

He ignored her. With deliberate ease, he lowered himself into the chair opposite of Lust, his emerald gaze never once meeting her golden eyes.

On his left, Cho, her posture poised, her dark eyes gleaming with a victorious satisfaction as she settled comfortably into her seat.

On his right, Fleur, her golden hair cascading over her shoulder, her lips curled in a knowing smirk, as if she, too, knew exactly what Harry was doing.

And Lust? Lust noticed immediately. The goddess of desire and indulgence, the very embodiment of mortal and divine temptation, was not a woman accustomed to being ignored.

She had watched, with delight, as Harry unraveled beneath her touch, as he gave in to her whispers, as he let himself be lost in the fire she ignited.

And now? Now, he dared to turn away? Her golden eyes narrowed, just slightly, before she let out a soft, indulgent sigh.

She picked up a berry from her plate, rolling it between her fingers, her gaze never leaving Harry as she brought it to her lips, slow, deliberate, knowing.

She took a bite. Then, with the same effortless confidence, she spoke.

"My love," she purred, licking the remnants of fruit from her lips, "I do hope you're not trying to punish me with silence. It would be terribly ineffective."

Harry, without looking up, simply took a sip of his drink.

He did not answer. Cho, beside him, smirked. Fleur, on his other side, let out a pleased hum. Lust's eyes flashed with something dangerous.

"Oh, darling," she continued, tilting her head, "you truly believe you can resist me?"

Still, Harry did not look at her. Instead, he turned to Cho, picking up his fork as he spoke in the most casual tone imaginable.

"Cho, my love, did I not promise you I would make breakfast with you again sometime?"

Cho, barely containing her amusement, gave a small, pleased nod.

"You did, darling," she confirmed, cutting into her food with precise, calculated ease. "And you always keep your promises, don't you?"

Harry smiled. "Of course." Lust's fingers tightened around her wine glass.

Not in anger. Not in frustration. No—this was something else entirely. This was amusement.

Because Harry had just made himself far more interesting than he had ever been before.

Fleur, watching the battle unfold with sheer satisfaction, finally decided it was time to add fuel to the fire.

She placed her fork down, shifting slightly closer to Harry, her fingers grazing his arm with featherlight precision.

Lust noticed. Cho noticed. Angelica, still watching from her throne of golden pillows, simply smirked.

"Mon amour," Fleur purred, "I do believe ignoring Lust is proving to be quite enjoyable, non?"

Harry, ever the master of escalation, turned his head toward her, offering a low chuckle.

"It certainly has its benefits." Lust laughed. Not soft. Not amused. Not even annoyed.

No. It was something richer, deeper, more knowing. A laugh that spoke of challenges yet to come.

She leaned back in her chair, golden and radiant, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass.

"Oh, my darling," she murmured, "you truly are learning to play the game, aren't you?"

Harry finally—*finally—*looked at her.

His smirk was slow, deliberate, filled with unspoken defiance.

"What game, my love?" he asked, voice silk and steel. "I was just enjoying breakfast."

Lust's eyes gleamed. "Mmm," she hummed, setting her glass down. "Enjoy it while you can."

Harry's smirk never faded. Fleur, pleased with the power shift, sipped her drink in victory. Cho, ever the strategist, merely watched, waiting for the next move. Angelica, still reclining, let out a slow, knowing chuckle.

And Harry? Harry had just started a war he had no hope of winning. And he loved every second of it.

The Celestial Dining Hall, vast and opulent, shimmered under the golden glow of morning light, yet the warmth did nothing to mask the silent war brewing across the dining table.

Harry, seated between Cho and Fleur, had made his move. By ignoring Lust, by turning his attention elsewhere, he had sent a clear message—one that had shifted the entire battlefield in his favour. And yet— The game was far from over.

Lust, still lounging across from him, golden and utterly unbothered, twirled her glass of wine between delicate fingers. Her golden eyes, once teasing, now held something sharper, something more deliberate.

She had lost this round. But she would not lose the war. She let out a slow, rich sigh, stretching with the kind of effortless elegance that only an eternal goddess of indulgence could manage.

"Enjoy it while you can, my darling," she purred, taking a small sip from her glass. "Because I always play the long game."

Harry, ever the master of defiance, simply smirked, raising his own drink to his lips without acknowledging her further.

Fleur, watching this unfold with gleeful satisfaction, leaned in slightly, her fingers grazing his arm once more, a deliberate display of possession.

Cho, still calculating, remained silent, but the way her dark eyes gleamed meant she was already three steps ahead of everyone else.

And Angelica? Angelica simply observed, as she always did, watching with the same kind of amusement that suggested she knew exactly how this would end.

"Oh, Lust," she murmured, golden eyes flickering between them, "you should know by now that our dear Emperor is not so easily swayed."

Lust smirked. "Oh, Angelica," she countered, setting her glass down with an elegant clink. "And you should know by now that I enjoy the chase."

The table fell into a moment of stillness. A waiting game. A standoff. And then— Harry broke it.

He set his fork down, leaning back in his chair with the ease of a man who had just set the entire board aflame and was watching the pieces scramble. He turned toward Cho first, offering her a slow, knowing smile.

"My love, what do you think? Am I truly the prey here, or have I just set the perfect trap?"

Cho laughed softly, the sound dangerously smooth.

"You are playing well, darling," she admitted, sipping from her glass, "but playing against four of us?"

She tilted her head, her smirk laced with challenge.

"You are outnumbered, my love."

Fleur chuckled beside her.

"Oui," she agreed, "and I do not believe you realise just 'ow much trouble you are in."

Harry exhaled slowly, dragging his fingers through his messy hair, feigning thoughtfulness. Then, with the same wicked smirk that had ignited this entire war, he turned to Lust at last.

"Then I suppose I should be worried, shouldn't I?" Lust's eyes flickered, interest sparking leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, chin perched atop interlaced fingers.

"Oh, my dear Harry," she purred, "worrying won't save you now."

The war had begun in earnest. The moment Harry had taken control, had defied the forces that had once ruled over him, he had changed everything.

No longer was he the passive ruler, caught between divine affections.

Now, he was a contender. A player on their level. And they— They would not let him forget it.

Cho, ever the tactician, was already formulating her next move, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Fleur, passionate and possessive, would not be outdone, ensuring that she reclaimed every part of him that had ever been hers.

Lust, golden and indulgent, now saw him as more than just a conquest—he was a worthy opponent, one who had just proven himself far more dangerous than she had expected.

And Angelica? Angelica watched. Because she knew, in the end, Harry would never truly win. Because they would never let him.

And the worst part? He didn't want to. He wanted this. The game. The war.

Because for the first time in his existence, he was no longer just surviving. He was thriving. And this? This was only the beginning.

The Celestial Dining Hall, once a battleground of words and dominance, now hummed with an undercurrent of silent warfare.

Harry Potter, the Heavens' Darling, the Eternal Emperor, the man who had defied and conquered in equal measure, sat between Fleur and Cho, his posture composed, his smirk unwavering.

But beneath the table— Beneath the golden tablecloth that shielded the unseen battlefield— A far more insidious assault had begun.

Harry had been so focused on maintaining his advantage, on ensuring his control remained intact, that he had not noticed when Lust moved.

She did not lean forward. She did not speak. She did not taunt him with words.

No. She simply acted. Her foot, bare and impossibly smooth, brushed against his ankle, featherlight at first.

A test. A probe. A warning of what was to come. Harry stiffened—only slightly.

Not enough to be noticed. Not enough to give away his position. But Lust was a master of her craft. She felt that hesitation, that fraction of a second where his control wavered.

And she pounced. Her foot slid upward, slow and deliberate, gliding along his calf with unshaken confidence, never breaking contact.

Harry exhaled quietly through his nose, forcing himself to remain still. She was testing him. She was waiting. Waiting to see how long he could last before he broke.

Fleur, on his left, was unaware of the silent war unfolding beneath the table.

She had returned to casually sipping her drink, completely at ease, believing that Harry was still firmly in her grasp.

Cho, on his right, was far too focused on her next calculated move, her attention locked on analyzing every detail of his expression, waiting for the next opportunity to strike.

Neither of them saw it. Neither of them noticed how Lust's slow, tantalizing assault continued unabated. But Angelica did.

From across the table, Angelica, ever the observer of inevitabilities, saw everything. She saw the subtle shift in Harry's posture, the minuscule tightening of his jaw, the careful way he gripped his drink as if trying not to react.

And she knew. She knew exactly what was happening. And, as always, she found it delightful. A smirk—small but devastating in its meaning— graced her lips.

She did not speak. She did not warn him. She did not interfere. Because this was too entertaining.

Harry, still maintaining his composed façade, risked a glance toward Angelica.

And when he saw her expression— The sheer gleeful amusement written in her golden gaze— He knew. He knew she would not save him. Not now. Not ever.

Lust, emboldened by his lack of resistance, continued her silent assault.

Her foot traced upward, brushing along his calf, then his knee, then—

Harry, without missing a beat, casually picked up his fork and took a bite of food.

It was a powerful act of defiance. A declaration of endurance. A refusal to succumb. But Lust was not so easily deterred.

Her touch lingered, slow, relentless, promising something far more dangerous than mere teasing.

And then, she spoke. "Harry," she purred, tilting her head, golden eyes gleaming with mischief. "You seem distracted."

Harry, to his eternal credit, merely smiled.

"Do I?" he replied, his voice smooth, unreadable.

Lust's grin widened.

"Mmm," she hummed, taking a slow sip of her drink. "Perhaps it's just my imagination." Harry said nothing. Because if he did, if he so much as let his voice waver, he would lose.

Harry, knowing he could not let Lust win this round, made his move.

Without breaking eye contact, without giving any indication that he was affected, he shifted slightly in his seat.

And in one perfectly executed motion, his foot brushed against hers.

Lust's eyes widened—just barely. Not in shock. Not in alarm. But in acknowledgment. Harry, ever the master of the unexpected, smirked.

"Lust, my love," he murmured, his voice dangerously low, "you should know by now—"

His foot pressed *gently but firmly against hers, trapping it in place.

"—I never lose."

Lust let out a low, sultry laugh, delighted by his audacity. Angelica, across the table, watched with pure amusement, sipping her drink as if enjoying the finest entertainment the heavens had to offer.

Fleur, now suspicious of the tension in the air, narrowed her sapphire eyes.

"What is going on?" she asked, gaze flicking between them.

Cho, ever the strategist, also picked up on the shift, her dark eyes calculating. Lust, never one to admit defeat, merely sighed dramatically.

"Oh, nothing, my dear Fleur," she purred, flashing Harry a knowing look. "Harry is simply… learning how to play."

Fleur's eyes narrowed further. Cho merely arched an eyebrow. And Angelica? Angelica simply laughed. Because she knew.

She knew Harry had just won this round. But she also knew— Lust would never stop playing. And neither would she.

Because in the end, Harry was theirs. And they would never let him forget it.

The Celestial Dining Hall, still bathed in the golden glow of morning, had become a battlefield of unseen battles, unspoken challenges, and a war of wills where victory was measured in patience, subtlety, and control.

Harry, the Eternal Emperor, the Heavens' Darling, the man who had been fought over and conquered, had now turned the tide.

Lust had struck first, probing his defenses with the soft, tantalizing touch of her foot beneath the table.

But he had not faltered. He had countered. And now—now she was the one caught in his trap.

Lust, golden and radiant, did not move. Her foot, once a weapon of silent seduction, was now pinned beneath his.

She could have pulled away. She could have surrendered the game. She could have let him take this victory.

But Lust did not surrender. She thrived on the struggle, on the challenge, on the hunt. So instead of retreating—she doubled down.

Her golden gaze never wavered, never flickered with uncertainty. Instead, she smiled. A slow, sultry, knowing smile. And then—she pressed foot curled slightly, tracing along his in a way that sent an undeniable message.

A silent whisper of "you're not getting rid of me that easily." Harry, to his credit, held firm. He met her gaze with equal defiance, his smirk unwavering, his grip over the situation unshaken.

But this was no longer just about winning. This was about who would break first.

Angelica, perched across from them like a goddess who had foreseen every move before it was made, watched the battle unfold with unconcealed amusement.

She had seen Harry shift from prey to predator. She had seen Lust refuse to back down. She had seen the subtle flex of their bodies, the tensed muscles, the small but telling reactions that betrayed their struggle.

And she was thoroughly entertained. With a slow, deliberate motion, she picked up her goblet, swirling the golden liquid inside before taking a sip.

Her golden eyes gleamed, flickering between them. "Fleur, Cho," she mused, her voice warm, knowing, "do you not find it fascinating how silent they have become?"

Cho, ever the strategist, did not miss the shift. Her dark gaze flicked between Harry and Lust, sharp, calculating, reading the unspoken tension with deadly precision.

"I see," she murmured, tapping her fingers against the table. "Something is happening, but neither of them will admit it." Fleur, always passionate, always possessive, narrowed her sapphire eyes.

"What are you two doing?" she demanded, her voice carrying the weight of suspicion. Harry, unmoved, picked up his fork and took a calm, deliberate bite of his food.

He chewed. Swallowed. Smirked. "Nothing at all, my love."

Lust, her amusement only deepening, sighed dramatically.

"Oh, my dear Fleur," she purred, stretching her arms lazily, "Harry and I are simply enjoying a pleasant breakfast."

Her foot pressed firmer against his beneath the table. Harry, without missing a beat, pressed back. Neither flinched. Neither gave an inch. And Fleur? Fleur did not believe a word of it.

Cho, always the one who saw through Harry's deflections, always the one who noticed the hidden plays on the board, narrowed her gaze.

She studied Harry's relaxed posture, the barely perceptible tension in his shoulders, the way Lust seemed far too pleased with herself.

And she knew. Something was happening. Something unseen. And she did not appreciate being left out of the game. With a slow, deliberate movement, she reached beneath the table.

And then— She placed her hand on Harry's knee. Harry froze. Lust's eyes sparkled with mischief. Fleur's gaze sharpened as she caught the sudden change in atmosphere. And Angelica? Angelica let out a low, delighted laugh.

Harry had entered this battle willingly.

He had allowed Lust's silent challenge.
He had countered her attack.
He had held his ground.

But now?

Now, Cho had entered the fray.

Her fingers, deceptively gentle, yet undeniably deliberate, traced slow circles over his knee, a silent question hidden in the was testing him.

"You are very composed, darling," she murmured, her voice smooth, teasing, laced with a knowing smirk.

"But let's see how long that lasts." Harry exhaled through his nose. He was under attack from both sides now.

Lust, ever relentless, continued her silent assault beneath the table, her foot still pressing, still tracing, still challenging.

And Cho, ever the strategist, had found her own way to push him toward the edge. And Fleur? Fleur, now completely aware that something was happening, let out a huff of impatience.

"That is it," she declared, slamming her fork onto the table. "Someone is up to something, and I will not be left in the dark."

Angelica, grinning like the true mastermind she was, picked up her goblet once more, her laughter soft, yet filled with endless amusement.

"Oh, my love," she mused, directing her golden gaze to Harry, "I do believe they have you surrounded."

Harry, still stubbornly composed, still refusing to surrender, simply sighed. He had walked into this war willingly. He had thought himself ready.

But now? Now, he had three of them closing in. And Angelica? Angelica would never intervene. Because she was enjoying this far too much.

Harry, still smirking, leaned back in his chair, composed, unshaken, and yet—undeniably trapped.

"Well, ladies," he drawled, tilting his head, "whoever wins this round better make it worth my while."

Fleur's eyes flashed. Cho's smirk deepened. Lust leaned forward, intrigued. And Angelica? Angelica simply whispered.

"Oh, my love, you never learn." And with that, the war for the Emperor's composure had truly begun.

The Celestial Dining Hall, already brimming with unspoken wars and hidden battles, now teetered on the edge of something even more dangerous.

Harry, seated between Fleur and Cho, locked in an ongoing war beneath the table with Lust, had thus far held his ground.

But his confidence was growing. Too much, perhaps. And with confidence came recklessness.

So, when he lifted his gaze across the table, past Lust's knowing smirk, past the power struggle unfolding in the unseen battlefield below— He looked directly at Angelica. And then—

With a smirk that could only be described as pure, unfiltered audacity, he spoke.

"You know, Angelica, you're missing out on all the fun."

The room fell into silence. Fleur, her fingers still curled around his wrist, turned her head sharply. Cho, her dark eyes gleaming with quiet calculation, let out the softest hum.

Lust, whose foot was still locked in a battle with his beneath the table, froze—only for a second. Because they all knew what he had just done. He had poked the Supreme Imperatrix herself.

He had dragged Angelica into the war. And Angelica?

Angelica, seated atop her throne of golden cushions, draped in celestial radiance, had been watching with the serene amusement of a goddess untouched by mortal concerns.

But now? Now, her golden gaze lifted, locking onto his with something far more dangerous than amusement. Interest.

Harry, despite his calm expression, felt the weight of her attention settle upon him.

It was not like Fleur's fury-turned-affection.
It was not like Cho's calculating mischief.
It was not like Lust's relentless pursuit of indulgence.

No—Angelica's attention was absolute.

She did not flirt.
She did not tease.
She did not play games like the others.

Because she did not have to. And yet— She smiled. A slow, knowing, impossibly radiant smile. And that? That was far more dangerous than anything Lust, Fleur, or Cho had done.

"Oh, my love," she murmured, tilting her head slightly, "is that an invitation?"

Harry, sensing that he had just walked onto thin ice with no way back, raised an eyebrow, keeping his voice steady, unshaken.

"If it is, what would you do about it?"

Angelica leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand, her golden gaze never breaking from his.

The very air seemed to shift. Not with anger. Not with mischief. But with something far more inevitable.

Angelica's smile did not fade. Instead, it deepened. Her fingers, elegant and effortless in their grace, traced the rim of her goblet. And then— She moved.

Not like Lust, who prowled with the sensuality of a huntress.
Not like Fleur, whose passion burned bright and consuming.
Not like Cho, who struck with the precision of a tactician.

No—Angelica moved like inevitability itself.

She reached out, her fingers barely brushing the edge of Harry's sleeve, an impossibly soft touch, a whisper against reality itself.

And it was enough. Enough to make the very air grow heavier. Enough to make time itself seem to pause.

Harry, for all his confidence, for all his victories thus far, felt the weight of her presence like a celestial force pressing upon his very soul.

Angelica, ever the patient observer, ever the Supreme Imperatrix, finally spoke.

"You misunderstand something, my love."

Her voice was gentle, soft—but behind it, the weight of eternity itself lingered.

"I do not stay above and aloof because I am missing out."

She leaned in closer, her golden eyes gleaming, her voice dropping into a whisper only for him.

"I stay above… because the moment I choose to step down, you will never escape me."

A shiver ran through him. Not of fear. Not of hesitation. But of understanding.

Because Angelica did not chase. Angelica did not demand. Angelica did not fight for his attention.

Because she knew. She knew that when she finally decided to claim him— It would be over.

Fleur, sensing the shift in energy, sensing that she had let things slip too far, immediately gripped his hand tighter.

"Non," she said firmly, her sapphire eyes flashing. "He is mine."

Cho, ever composed, merely smirked, but there was a sharpness to it now.

"Oh, Fleur," she mused, her fingers tracing slow circles against Harry's wrist. "If he was truly yours, would Angelica's words have rattled you so?"

Fleur's eyes darkened. Lust, who had been watching all of this unfold with pure delight, let out a low, indulgent laugh.

"Oh, this is delicious."

Harry, suddenly feeling the weight of not one, not two, but four immensely powerful women all converging upon him, let out a slow breath.

This was not what he had planned. This had been meant as a joke. A light jab at Angelica's untouchable nature.

And now? Now he had every single one of them focused on him in a way that guaranteed he would not be getting out of this unscathed.

Angelica, still watching him with that knowing smirk, merely hummed.

"You are reckless, my love."

Harry, for all his charm, for all his clever maneuvering, for all his recent victories, could only let out a quiet groan. Because once again— He had lost. And they had won.

Lust's foot slid forward again.
Cho's fingers tightened around his wrist.
Fleur leaned in, her grip unyielding.
Angelica merely smiled, ever patient, ever inevitable.

Harry, knowing full well there was no way out, exhaled slowly.

And then—

He smirked.

Because if he was going to lose this battle,

He would at least make them fight for it.

The Celestial Dining Hall, once a place of mere indulgence and whispered rivalries, had transformed into something far more dangerous.

For too long, Angelica had watched. For too long, she had been the silent observer, the knowing entity, the inevitable force that loomed above all things.

But now? Now, she descended. And the battlefield shifted because of it.

Harry had done something reckless. Something bold. Something that no sane man should ever have dared. He had mocked Angelica.

"You know, Angelica, you're missing out on all the fun." A simple tease. A playful prod. And yet, the air shifted.

The weight of inevitability itself turned toward him, settling over the space with an almost imperceptible gravity.

Fleur, ever attuned to power, straightened slightly, her sapphire eyes narrowing—not in fear, but in sharp anticipation.

Cho, keenly aware of the misstep Harry had made, let out the softest hum, her fingers tightening around her goblet.

Lust, ever the agent of indulgence, merely smiled, a slow, knowing curl of her lips, because she could already taste the chaos unfolding.

And Angelica? Angelica simply laughed. Not the amused hum she often gave them. Not the elegant chuckle of an entity who had foreseen all things.

No—this was different. This was Fleur's laugh. Musical, rich, teasing—the kind of laugh that promised trouble.

Harry stilled. Because he realised, far too late, what had just happened. Angelica was no longer merely watching the game. She was playing it.

Angelica leaned forward, her golden eyes brimming with amusement, her lips curling into something dangerously familiar.

It was Fleur's smirk, and yet—it wasn't. It was something entirely her own.

"Ah, mon amour," she purred, the accent rolling off her tongue with an ease that sent Fleur into delighted laughter. Harry blinked. Fleur snorted, delighted.

"She has taken to my way of speaking!" she declared, grinning. "You see, mon cœur, she is finally one of us."

Angelica sighed dramatically, placing a hand to her chest as if she had only just realised it herself.

"Ah, mais oui," she mused, her golden gaze never leaving Harry's. "And truly, I must say—it is quite liberating."

Cho, watching this unfold with the sharpness of a tactician realising she had overlooked a crucial shift in power, exhaled slowly.

"We may have made a mistake," she murmured, ever the strategist.

Lust, still lounging as if she were the only one in the room who had already won, let out a low, sultry chuckle.

"Oh, no, my dear Cho," she corrected, eyes glinting with mischief. "We have created something wonderful."

Harry, finally recovering from the sheer audacity of what he was witnessing, leaned back slightly, his smirk forced into place.

"You do realise, Angelica, that you're in dangerous territory now?" he remarked, arching a brow.

Angelica tilted her head, mock innocence dripping from every movement.

"Oh, mon trésor," she cooed, "but of course. That is what makes it fun."

Fleur leaned into Harry's side, nudging him playfully.

"She is learning quickly, non?" Harry sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

"This is an absolute nightmare." Angelica, ever the goddess, ever the inevitable force, merely laughed again.

"Mais oui," she murmured, "but mon amour, you adore it." And Harry Potter, Eternal Emperor, Heavens' Darling, Most Desired Man in All of Creation—

Could not deny it. Because he truly, truly did. And that?

That was what made Angelica's descent so terrifying. She had joined the game. She was playing by their rules. But— She was still the one who would win. And Harry? Harry had just sealed his fate. Forever.

The Celestial Dining Hall, once a place of indulgence, now simmered with unseen warfare, a battlefield where words were swords and glances were silent declarations of conquest.

Harry had played his hand boldly, teasing Angelica, daring her to step into the game. And she had.

She had descended from her celestial throne, laughing, teasing, mimicking Fleur's language with such flawless precision that it was no longer mimicry—it was her own.

She was fully immersed now, no longer the untouchable goddess watching from afar.

Now, she was a player. And that? That was a problem. Because Angelica was inevitable. And now? Now, she was inevitably dangerous.

Harry exhaled slowly, sitting between Fleur and Cho, feeling the weight of their presence on either side of him.

Fleur, ever the embodiment of passion and indulgence, had taught Angelica well.

She had pulled her into her world of play, her world of teasing and provocation.

And Angelica, being the supreme being that she was, had mastered it instantly. Now, there were two of them.

Two radiant, golden-haired women who spoke the same language, wielded the same charm, and had the same ability to unravel him at will.

This was no longer a fair fight. Harry needed a counterbalance.

Someone who was not driven by indulgence, not ruled by passion.

Someone who would anticipate every move before it was even made.

Someone who could see what even he could not.

His emerald gaze flickered to Cho. And in that moment, a silent understanding passed between them.

She knew. She had already seen the same shift he had. And she was already calculating the solution. Harry leaned in slightly, his voice low, meant only for her.

"This is getting out of hand." Cho, ever composed, took a slow sip of her drink before responding, her tone calm, knowing.

"Yes, darling, I had noticed." Her dark eyes flickered towards Fleur and Angelica, who were now engaged in a lively, almost conspiratorial discussion, both of them casting amused glances toward Harry as they spoke in their shared language of seduction.

Cho sighed. "You do realise you've made this worse for yourself, yes?" Harry rubbed his temple, already regretting everything.

"I had hoped teasing Angelica would keep her distracted." Cho finally set down her goblet, turning fully toward him.

"Distracted?" she repeated, arching a brow. "You didn't distract her, Harry. You unleashed her."

Harry groaned, tilting his head back. "Brilliant."

Cho leaned in slightly, her fingers resting lightly against his wrist.

"It's not unwinnable," she mused. "But if you're expecting to take on both of them alone, you'll be torn apart within days."

Harry grinned slightly, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Then perhaps I need an ally."

Cho's expression did not change, but he saw the sharpness in her gaze, the careful way she studied him. She was considering. Calculating. And then—she smirked.

"And what exactly are you offering, darling?" Harry matched her smirk, sensing her acceptance.

"Mutual survival," he murmured. "You and I, together. If we watch each other's backs, we won't be caught off guard.

Cho hummed, tapping a finger against the table in mock thoughtfulness. "Interesting."

Her dark eyes gleamed. "And tell me, darling, what makes you think I won't betray you the moment it becomes convenient?"

Harry chuckled, lowering his voice. "Because, my love, you know as well as I do that I'm your greatest asset."

Cho grinned. And then—she held out her hand.

"Very well, darling. You have yourself an alliance." Harry took her hand, shaking it lightly. And just like that—the game changed.

With their silent alliance sealed, Harry and Cho exchanged a look, one that carried the weight of unspoken plans.

And just in time— Because Angelica, still grinning, turned to them with a smirk that promised trouble.

"Mon amour," she purred, her accent flawless, her golden eyes alight with mischief, "have you recovered from your little shock?" Harry, this time ready, merely smirked back.

"More than you'd think, my love." Fleur snickered.

"Oho, 'e thinks 'e can still win."Angelica laughed softly, shaking her head.

"Ah, 'ow foolish," she mused. "But I do love 'im for it." Cho, ever composed, finally spoke, her voice silky smooth.

"You shouldn't underestimate him," she murmured, "Harry is far more unpredictable than you think." Angelica's eyes gleamed.

She leaned in, resting her chin against her hand, watching them both with quiet amusement.

"Mmm, perhaps," she conceded. "But mon trésor, I 'ave never been surprised before."

Harry, for the first time in this entire war, felt a surge of confidence.

Because now, with Cho by his side, he would not be taken off guard again.

Now, he had a counter to Fleur's passion. Now, he had a counter to Angelica's inevitability. Now, he wasn't fighting alone.

And as he leaned back in his chair, his smirk firmly in place, he realised something. This game? This had only just begun.

The Celestial Dining Hall, a place of indulgence and silent battles, had once again shifted into dangerous territory.

Harry, seated between Cho and Fleur, had just secured a powerful alliance.

With Cho by his side, he had finally gained an edge, ensuring that Fleur and Angelica could no longer catch him off guard.

For the first time in what felt like eternity, he had a countermeasure.

But— There was one problem. Lust. Lust, ever the patient predator, had not been idle.

She had watched him carefully, studying the battlefield, waiting for the perfect opportunity. And now? Now, she saw her opening.

Harry was distracted. Fleur and Angelica, their teasing voices, their shared language, their playful camaraderie, had pulled his attention entirely toward them.

He was smirking, laughing, countering their words with newfound confidence. And that? That was when Lust struck.

She had already been pressing against him beneath the table, testing him, seeing how long he could hold out. But now— Now she changed tactics.

Her foot, already tracing along his calf, shifted upwards, her touch more precise, more deliberate.

She knew exactly where to apply pressure. Exactly where to graze, where to linger, where to make him feel it just enough.

It was not overwhelming, not obvious— No, it was calculated.

Subtle enough to keep it hidden. Subtle enough to avoid detection. Subtle enough to make him notice her—only her.

And Harry? Harry noticed. His body tensed, his breath catching for just a fraction of a second. It was not much, but to Lust? It was everything. Because she had just gained ground.

But then— Before Lust could press further, before she could take full control of the moment, before she could trap him entirely in her web—

Cho moved. With the precision of a seasoned strategist, the instincts of a woman who had spent years studying Harry, she acted without hesitation.

Her hand dropped beneath the table, her fingers finding his knee, her touch firm, grounding, possessive.

Harry barely had time to react before Cho's voice, calm and laced with amusement, cut through the air.

"You're quite bold today, Lust." Lust, caught mid-strike, tilted her head slightly, though her smirk did not fade.

"Whatever do you mean, darling?" she purred, feigning innocence.

Cho, ever the master of subtlety, merely exhaled through her nose, tilting her head slightly as if considering.

"I mean," she murmured, her fingers pressing ever so slightly into Harry's thigh, "that you seem to think I wouldn't notice."

Lust's smirk widened. She leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, her golden gaze gleaming with pure amusement.

"My dear Cho," she sighed dramatically, "I do so love how sharp you are. Truly, you're one of the very few who can keep up with me."

Cho smiled. It was not a soft smile. It was the smile of a woman who had just taken full control of the battlefield.

Her fingers dragged slowly against Harry's knee before pulling away, ensuring that he was no longer under Lust's influence.

Lust watched this with interest, but she did not protest.

Because she knew. She had been blocked. And Harry?

Harry exhaled slowly, knowing full well that Cho had just saved him from disaster. Again. For a moment, the table fell into silence.

Harry, still recovering from the near-trap Lust had set for him, casually lifted his goblet, taking a slow sip to compose himself.

Lust, ever the picture of indulgence, merely laughed softly, reaching for a grape from her plate and popping it into her mouth with leisurely satisfaction.

Cho, victorious yet unshaken, returned to her drink, her expression composed, but her silent warning had been given. And Fleur?

Fleur, who had sensed something but had been too engaged with Angelica to see the full play, narrowed her sapphire eyes slightly.

"Qu'est-ce qui se passe ici?" she muttered, tilting her head. "Something 'as 'appened."

Angelica, still smirking in amusement, merely leaned in slightly, resting her chin against her hand.

"Ah, mon amour," she murmured, golden and knowing, "I do believe Lust tried to make a move."

Harry sighed. Fleur's gaze snapped toward Lust, eyes flashing.

"Tsk, Lust," she mused, shaking her head as she crossed her arms. "You think you can just take 'im while we are distracted?" Lust grinned, unrepentant.

"Oh, my dear Fleur," she cooed, "I do not think. I simply try until I succeed." Angelica laughed softly, tilting her head toward Harry.

"Mon chéri, you are being 'unted from all sides." Harry, finally composed, set his goblet down and smirked.

"Nothing new there, my love." Fleur huffed, flicking her golden locks over her shoulder.

"Good thing Cho is 'ere to watch your back, non?" Harry glanced toward Cho, who merely raised a brow at him, her dark eyes gleaming with the silent promise that she would always be one step ahead.

He smirked. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Lust, still entirely unbothered, leaned forward, her golden eyes glinting.

"Oh, Harry," she purred, "I do so love it when you think you've won."

Harry exhaled, shaking his head. Because he knew— This was not over. Lust would try again. Cho would counter. Fleur and Angelica would continue their onslaught.

And him? He was trapped in a war that had no end. But deep down? He wouldn't have it any other way.

The Celestial Dining Hall, once a stage for indulgence and whispered affections, had now become a battlefield where no sword was drawn, yet every moment was a calculated attack.

Harry sat at the centre of it all, his mind working at full capacity, not to plan military conquests or celestial decrees—but to survive the relentless siege of the four most powerful women in existence.

Each of them had their own style of warfare.

Fleur, passionate, possessive, and utterly unapologetic, had mastered the art of keeping him ensnared through sheer devotion.

Cho, calculated, strategic, always ten steps ahead, had ensured that she would never be caught unaware, nor would Harry ever fall victim to Lust's traps again.

Lust, sensual, indulgent, persistent, would never stop her silent attacks, her ever-tempting presence a constant pressure against his self-control.

And Angelica? Angelica was inevitable. Now armed with Fleur's teasing speech and carefree mannerisms, she had transformed into a far greater threat than ever before.

She had once been an observer. Now she was a player. And Harry had no idea how to stop her.

Lust, though temporarily foiled by Cho's intervention, had not retreated. No—she was watching. Waiting.

Sitting with an air of utter amusement, her golden gaze locked onto Harry as if he were a puzzle she had yet to solve, a challenge she refused to lose.

And then, ever so subtly, she smirked. A slow, deliberate thing. Harry saw it. And he knew. She was planning something. And with Lust?

It would be bold. It would be dangerous. And it would be completely unavoidable.

But before he could dwell on what was coming, Angelica stretched languidly, her golden locks cascading down her back, her radiant presence impossible to ignore.

She let out a soft hum, as though she were merely thinking aloud, and then— She smirked.

"Ah, mon amour," she purred, tilting her head slightly as she locked eyes with him, "you truly are quite the lucky man, non?" Harry narrowed his eyes slightly, already sensing the trap.

"Am I?" he mused, lifting his goblet for a sip. Angelica leaned in just slightly, her golden eyes alight with amusement.

"Mais oui," she murmured, "you are at ze centre of our world, loved by ze most powerful women in existence." Fleur laughed at that, reaching to brush a hand against Harry's arm possessively.

"She is not wrong, mon cœur," she teased, "you would be naught but a king without us, non?" Cho, ever the strategist, merely observed the exchange with cool amusement.

She could see it for what it was. A slow, creeping maneuver. Angelica was not merely teasing Harry. She was unbalancing him. Fleur was not merely playful. She was reinforcing Angelica's play.

Lust was watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And Cho? Cho knew. If she did not intervene, Harry would be utterly consumed.

Harry, ever the stubborn warrior, knew better than to let this go unanswered.

If he sat in silence, if he let them dictate the flow, he would lose this war completely. So he countered.

Setting his goblet down, he let out a long, exaggerated sigh, stretching his arms slightly before glancing between Angelica and Fleur with mock exasperation.

"You say I am lucky, my loves," he mused, "but you mistake something."

Fleur arched a delicate brow. "Oh?"

Angelica's smirk did not falter. Cho, intrigued, watched him carefully. Lust, now leaning forward slightly, rested her chin on her hand, interested in where he was going with this.

Harry grinned. Not just any grin—a victorious one.

"You say I am the lucky one," he murmured, his voice rich with confidence. "But really… aren't you the lucky ones?"

A pause. Then— Fleur blinked. Angelica tilted her head slightly. Cho, who had seen the play coming but was still impressed, let out a quiet chuckle.

And Lust? Lust laughed outright. Fleur, ever possessive, was the first to recover. She huffed, eyes flashing, but there was amusement beneath it.

"Ah, 'ow 'umble you are, mon amour," she teased, "you truly believe you are ze grand prize, non?" Angelica, still grinning, tapped a delicate finger against her chin.

"Mmm, 'e 'as a point," she mused. "Zere is no one quite like 'im, after all." Cho sighed theatrically, shaking her head.

"And now you've encouraged him, Angelica," she muttered. "You realise what you've done?" Lust, who had been watching with delight, smirked and spoke at last.

"Oh, I do believe our dear Emperor has finally learned how to fight back," she purred, "and I must say—I am thoroughly enjoying it."

Harry exhaled, rolling his shoulders slightly, trying to suppress the triumphant feeling in his chest.

He had won this round. For now. But then— Angelica simply smiled. Not just any smile. A knowing one. The kind that sent a shiver down his spine. And then she laughed softly, shaking her head.

"Ah, mon chéri," she murmured, her voice dropping just slightly, "but do you truly believe zat?"

Harry's smirk faltered. And then, before he could react— Fleur's lips ghosted against his cheek. Lust's fingers traced along the rim of her glass, her golden eyes promising retribution.

Cho, still grinning, leaned in just slightly. And Angelica?

Angelica, still beaming with mirth, simply whispered,

"Because we 'ave already won." And Harry? Harry realised. This war was never ending.

And he? He would never escape it. And deep down— He didn't want to.

The Celestial Dining Hall, still heavy with the lingering tension of unspoken truths and unrelenting battles of affection, grew quieter as Harry leaned forward, his emerald gaze locking onto Lust.

She had played her games.
She had tested his resolve.
She had teased and tormented, delighting in the chaos she wove around him.

But there was one question he had never asked. And now, with the confidence of a man who had learned to fight back, he finally did.

"Tell me, Lust." His voice was smooth, steady, edged with curiosity but firm in its demand.

"Where have you been since the beginning of creation? And why here? Why now?" The air shifted.

For the first time, Fleur, Cho, and Angelica paused, their amusement flickering into something else—curiosity, intrigue, even the slightest edge of wariness. Because this was not just a game anymore.

This was truth. And Lust? Lust smiled. Not her usual teasing smirk, not the indulgent curve of lips meant to provoke—but something deeper.

Something older. Her golden eyes darkened slightly, glimmering with something beyond mere mischief, something vast and unfathomable, like the very essence of yearning itself. And then— She spoke.

Her voice, rich and smooth, carried across the table like a slow-burning flame.

"Where have I been?" she echoed, tapping a single finger against the rim of her glass.

She tilted her head, letting her gaze drift beyond the room, as if peering into the infinite stretches of time itself.

"Darling, I have been everywhere. I have always been.

Before the stars burned, before the first gods whispered their will into the void, before the concept of love was ever known—there was desire.

The need for warmth. The hunger for more. The yearning to create, to take, to consume.

I have watched civilisations rise and fall under the weight of it.
I have seen gods build empires just to taste what they were denied.
I have felt every whisper of longing, every aching wish that was never spoken aloud.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin in the palm of her hand, her golden eyes locking onto his.

"Desire moves the universe, my darling. And I am desire."

Silence. Harry felt the weight of her words settle upon his chest, heavier than expected. Fleur, for once, did not interrupt with her usual playful teasing. Cho, ever the analyst, merely watched.

Angelica, the only one who could possibly match Lust in knowledge, smirked, her golden gaze glimmering in silent understanding. But Harry? Harry was not finished.

"And yet you are here." His voice remained calm, but there was no mistaking the challenge in his tone.

"Why now? Why me?" Lust let out a low, sultry chuckle, the sound dripping with amusement. She lifted her glass, took a slow sip, then placed it back onto the table with deliberate ease.

"Oh, my love." Her golden eyes gleamed.

"Because you have finally reached the point where you can no longer deny what you truly want."

Harry's jaw tightened slightly. And then— She leaned in, her voice dropping into a soft, almost reverent whisper. And she spoke the truths he had never dared to say aloud.

Her voice was silk and fire, wrapping around him with an almost unbearable intensity.

"You desire Fleur," she murmured, her words a caress, "not just to love her, but to let her devour you whole. To be consumed by her love, to belong to her entirely.

To be hers, body and soul, no escape, no control." A single heartbeat passed. Harry did not answer. Because deep down, he knew it was true.

Fleur's breath hitched, her fingers tightening around his wrist, her sapphire eyes filled with a fire that had never truly been tamed. Lust continued, her gaze shifting toward Cho.

"And Cho?" The strategist did not flinch, but her fingers pressed just slightly against the table, betraying the quiet tension in her frame.

"You want her to give herself to you fully. Not in submission, but in surrender.

To break past the walls she has built, to make her fall, to make her realise that she is yours, that she has always been yours." Cho's lips parted slightly, but she did not speak.

She did not deny it. Because Lust spoke only truth. And then—Lust's gaze slid to Angelica. And for the first time, the room felt smaller, heavier. Because there was no avoiding what was coming.

"And Angelica?" Lust murmured, her smirk slow, predatory. Angelica, ever serene, simply watched her with mild amusement, her golden hair spilling effortlessly over one shoulder.

"Go on," she invited, voice smooth. Lust did not hesitate.

"You want her love, her godly love, true and eternal.

To be claimed not just as a lover, but as the one she cherishes beyond all things. To be wanted by her in a way that no man has ever been wanted by a god.

To feel her inevitability—not because it is forced upon you, but because she has chosen you." The air stilled. Because there was no escaping the truth now.

Harry's fingers curled slightly against the table, his breath measured, controlled—but inside, he knew. Lust had stripped him bare.

Fleur's grip on him tightened, her body thrumming with possession. Cho's dark eyes held his, knowing, seeing.

And Angelica? Angelica simply laughed. Soft, golden, warm. And then— She spoke.

"Oh, Lust," Angelica purred, "you 'ave such a way with words."

She tilted her head slightly, watching Harry with the patience of eternity itself.

"But 'ere is what you do not say." Lust's smirk widened. Because she knew.

She always knew. Angelica leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, her golden eyes filled with something far greater than amusement.

"Ze truth is, mon amour," she said softly, "we 'ave all known."

Her eyes held the weight of everything—of godhood, of inevitability, of something far beyond mere love.

"And ze truth is, my love," she whispered, "you do not 'ave to ask for it. Because you 'ave already won it."

Harry exhaled. And in that moment, he knew. There was no escape. There was no denial. He was theirs. Fully. Completely. And forever.

The Celestial Dining Hall, once buzzing with playful teasing and light-hearted banter, had fallen into something deeper, heavier, more inevitable.

Lust had spoken. She had stripped Harry bare with nothing more than her words, revealing the truths he had never dared voice himself.

And now— Now, Fleur and Cho would not let this go unanswered.

Fleur, who had sat so still, so quiet as Lust spoke, finally moved. Her fingers, already curled around Harry's wrist, tightened.

Her sapphire eyes, once playful, once teasing, were now burning, consuming, devouring. Because Lust had spoken something Fleur had always known—

That Harry wanted to be consumed. That he craved to be devoured. That he longed to belong to her entirely.

And Fleur? She would grant him that wish. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned in, pressing her lips to the edge of his jaw, just below his ear.

Her breath was warm, slow, possessive. And then she whispered—

"You 'ave no idea 'ow long I 'ave waited for you to admit zat, mon amour."

Harry swallowed, his body tensing under her touch.

Fleur's lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk as she trailed her fingers along his wrist, grazing over his pulse point.

"You want me to devour you 'ole?" she murmured, her voice like silk and fire, "To take you, to claim you, to make you mine in every way imaginable?"

She tilted her head, her golden locks spilling over her shoulder as she stared at him through half-lidded eyes.

"You 'ave always been mine, mon amour. From ze moment I laid eyes on you. From ze moment you let me 'old you in my arms.

I will not take you, 'Arry.

Because you were already mine to begin with." Harry exhaled slowly, his grip on the table tightening. Fleur's words settled over him, wrapping around his soul like a brand. Because there was no arguing with her. No denying it. And deep down, he didn't want to.

But then— Before Harry could process Fleur's absolute declaration, another force moved.

Cho, who had been watching, listening, calculating, waiting, finally made her move.

She did not lean in. She did not press against him. She did not need to.

Because Cho had never been about passion alone—she was about control, about understanding, about precision.

And now, her gaze locked onto Harry with something far sharper than Fleur's consuming fire.

Something more dangerous. Something he could never escape.

"Fleur is right." Her voice was smooth, unwavering, a soft blade against his skin. Harry turned toward her, his breath still uneven from Fleur's words. Cho, unfazed, unreadable, tilted her head slightly.

"You've always wanted me to surrender." Harry stiffened. Because Lust's words echoed again.

"You want her to give herself to you fully. Not in submission, but in surrender."

Cho's dark eyes studied him, searching him, reading him like she always had.

And then—she smiled. A slow, deliberate smile.

"Darling, I have never once considered giving myself fully to anyone."

Her fingers, still resting near his, curled slightly.

"Because no one has ever deserved it."

She shifted closer, her lips now only inches from his ear.

"But you?" Her voice was barely a whisper now, but Harry felt it—like a shock running down his spine, like a command that could not be ignored.

"You are the only one who could ever take it from me." Harry's breath caught. Because he knew— That was not a was a challenge.

A declaration that he would have to earn it, would have to fight for it, would have to break every last wall she had ever built.

And that? That was what he had always wanted. Lust, watching all of this unfold, smirked as she leaned back in satisfaction.

Angelica, who had already known where this was leading, chuckled softly, shaking her head in amusement.

"Ah, mon amour," she murmured, golden and knowing, "you 'ave set yourself up beautifully."

Fleur's grip did not loosen. Cho's gaze did not waver. And Harry? Harry knew. There was no escape. There was no denial. He was theirs. Fully. Completely. And forever.

The Celestial Dining Hall, a place of indulgence and whispered rivalries, was no stranger to surprises. But this? This was something even Harry Potter had not seen coming.

Lust, ever the playful tormentor, had been watching him, golden eyes gleaming with something far too knowing. And then— She spoke.

"Tell me, darling," she purred, lazily swirling the wine in her goblet, "what do you think our children would be like?"

Harry stiffened. Fleur, Cho, and Angelica all paused, their gazes snapping toward Lust with varying levels of suspicion and alarm.

Harry opened his mouth—to deflect, to joke, to do anything to avoid stepping into whatever trap she had set— But before he could utter a single word— The entire room shook.

A deep pulse of energy reverberated through the air, vibrating through the golden walls, the very fabric of reality itself bending, twisting— And then— They appeared.

Twelve radiant figures materialised in the centre of the hall. Not mere visions. Not illusions. No—they were real.

Twelve women, each different, each unique, yet unmistakably connected—radiating power, beauty, and presence that felt far too familiar.

Their eyes—golden, piercing, unrelenting—were Lust's.
Their strength, their divine presence—it was Harry's. Harry's breath caught.

And then—one of them stepped forward. A woman draped in white silk, regal and unbreakable, the embodiment of perfect, untouchable love.

Her eyes met his—unwavering, eternal. And she spoke.

"Father."

Harry's soul nearly left his body. Fleur, Cho, and Angelica stared in complete shock, their expressions frozen as reality crashed down upon them.

Lust? Lust simply smirked. "Oh, darling," she sighed, resting her chin in her palm, "I did warn you that you would never escape me."

The woman in white, Bái Jǐn – Diamond, the eldest, turned to the others, gesturing calmly, as if this were merely an ordinary family gathering.

"It is time," she said softly. "They must know."

Another woman, draped in crimson silk, stepped forward next—fiery, commanding, untamed.

"You still don't get it, do you, Father?" she said, her voice rich with amusement. Harry's eye twitched.

"Excuse me?"

The red-clad woman—Yán Hóng – Ruby, the Goddess of Burning Passion—crossed her arms, lips curving into a smirk eerily similar to Lust's.

"We are your future. The twelve daughters Lust will bear you—*all at once, mind you—in the distant future."

Harry felt his entire soul exit his body and return within seconds. He turned to Lust, desperation creeping into his voice.

"Twelve?! All at once?!" Lust laughed, delighted.

"Oh, my love," she purred, "did you really think I would give you anything less than a masterpiece?"

Harry groaned, rubbing his temples. Fleur, still processing the sheer madness before her, finally found her voice.

"You—you 'ad twelve daughters? With 'Arry?" She turned to him, disbelief etched in every syllable.

"Mon amour, you truly did not 'old back, non?!" Harry snapped his gaze to her, outraged.

"I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THIS HAPPENED!"

Cho, still eerily calm, merely observed the twelve daughters, her analytical mind processing at full speed.

"This is impossible," she murmured, "but…" Her eyes narrowed as she studied them.

"No. It is not." Harry turned to her, desperate for a voice of reason.

"Cho, don't say that, please. I need at least one of you to say this is completely absurd." But Cho shook her head.

"They exist. They are real." She turned to Bái Jǐn, eyes sharp.

"How far in the future do you come from?"

The eldest daughter—*composed, regal, untouched by mortal panic—*tilted her head slightly.

"A time beyond your comprehension," she answered, her voice calm. "But do not be afraid." She smiled, soft yet knowing.

"We are not here to change your present." She turned her golden gaze back to Harry, who was still visibly malfunctioning.

"We are simply here to ensure you understand that your fate is set in stone." Harry groaned again.

Angelica, who had thus far been silent, finally laughed. Not a small chuckle. No—a full, delighted, deeply entertained laugh.

She leaned back in her chair, golden hair spilling over her shoulders, watching Harry's torment with nothing short of pure joy.

"Ah, mon amour," she purred, "you truly 'ave ze most magnificent destiny, non?" Harry dragged his hands down his face.

"Twelve. TWELVE daughters. From Lust." Lust sighed dreamily.

"Ah, yes," she said, "twelve perfect daughters. A masterpiece of divine desire."

Harry turned to Fleur, then Cho, then Angelica, pleading silently for one of them to say something—anything—that might give him an escape.

Fleur simply smirked. Cho shrugged. Angelica grinned. And that was when Harry knew. There was no escape. Not now. Not ever. And Lust? Lust simply reached forward, tapping his nose playfully.

"Get used to it, darling," she purred. "Because they're inevitable."

And Harry? Harry accepted his fate. Because what else could he do?

The Celestial Dining Hall, still thick with the tension of revelations and futures laid bare, had not yet settled.

Harry had barely recovered from the shock of learning that he would father twelve daughters with Lust—all at once.

Fleur, delighted in his torment, had claimed the moment as a personal victory.

Cho, calculating and composed, was already assessing what this meant for the power balance in the future.

Angelica, amused beyond words, had done nothing but laugh, knowing full well that this was a fate Harry would never escape.

And Lust? Lust, for all her confidence, for all her playful arrogance, for all her dominance over the domain of desire itself, had simply reclined in satisfaction, as though this were merely an inevitability she had already accepted.

But then— The future changed again. Because two of the Twelve Jewels of Desire stepped forward.

"Mother," Yán Hóng – Ruby, the Goddess of Burning Passion, said, her voice rich with amusement, yet weighted with something more.

Lust arched a brow. "Oh? Already calling me that, are you, darling?" Ruby smirked.

"It is already truth," she said simply. "And besides, you'll need time to accept what is coming." Lust let out a low, indulgent chuckle, shaking her head.

"Oh, sweetheart, there is nothing I cannot handle." Ruby tilted her head slightly.

"Are you sure?" Her golden gaze glowed faintly. And for the first time, Lust hesitated. Not much. Not visibly. Not in a way that anyone else might have noticed. But Ruby did. And so did Bai Jin.

Bái Jǐn – Diamond, the eldest, the Queen of Eternal Desire, stepped forward next.

Unlike Ruby, who burned with the fire of passion, Diamond was something unshakable.

She moved with an air of absolute certainty, as though she had long since made peace with what must come.

And then—

She held out a diamond.

Not a mere gem.
Not a trinket of wealth or power.

No—this was something else.

It radiated a presence Lust had never felt before.

Something beyond her understanding, beyond even her dominion over desire. And that? That was impossible. Lust stared at it, her golden eyes narrowing slightly.

"And what, exactly, am I supposed to do with this?" Bai Jin smiled.

"Keep it."

Lust scoffed, flipping her golden locks over her shoulder.

"Darling, I am far beyond the need for mere gemstones."

"This is no mere gemstone."

Bai Jin's voice was gentle, yet absolute. She placed the diamond in Lust's hand. And the moment Lust's fingers curled around it— A pulse of energy surged through her.

She inhaled sharply, feeling something foreign, something unfamiliar, something that should not have existed within her realm— And yet, it did.

She pulled her gaze back to Diamond and Ruby, her smirk still in place, but her confidence now laced with something else. Something guarded.

"You're being very cryptic, my dears," Lust mused, twirling the diamond between her fingers. "Why not simply tell me?" Ruby's smirk widened.

"Because you wouldn't believe us even if we did."

Bai Jin nodded.

"You are much more than you are now." Lust let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, how ominous. Really, darlings, if you're going to leave me in suspense, at least make it worth my time."

Diamond's expression did not change. She simply reached out, tapping the diamond lightly with her fingertip.

"When it glows," she murmured, "that is when you will complete your transformation."

Silence. Lust's fingers tightened around the stone, just slightly. She did not like this. Not because she feared it. Not because she doubted her daughters.

But because for the first time in eternity, she did not know what would happen next. And Lust? Lust had never been on the receiving end of inevitability before.

But now? Now, she was. And that? That was something even she could not seduce her way out of.

Harry, who had been trying to recover from the revelation that he would father twelve goddesses, now found himself watching Lust in a way he had never done before.

Because for the first time, she was uncertain. And that? That was terrifying. Fleur, eyes flickering to the diamond in Lust's grasp, exhaled slowly.

"I 'ave seen many things, but zis… zis is new."

Cho, ever the strategist, studied Lust carefully. She had always seen her as an unshakable force, an entity without weakness. But now? Now, she was something else. Something more.

And Angelica? Angelica simply smirked. Because she knew. She always knew.

And for the first time, Lust turned her gaze to Angelica—not as a rival, not as a player in the game, but as though she were searching for an answer. And Angelica, still grinning, only laughed.

"Ah, ma belle Lust," she purred, "you 'ave no idea what is coming, non?"

Lust's golden eyes narrowed. And the diamond, resting in her palm— Glimmered. Ever so slightly. And Harry? Harry knew. This was far from over.

The Celestial Dining Hall, already a place where the boundaries of time, fate, and reality were being rewritten, fell silent once again.

Lust's revelation of her twelve daughters had already sent shockwaves through Harry, Fleur, Cho, and Angelica. And now— Now, it was Fleur's turn.

Because Diamond and Ruby, standing with the poise of goddesses yet to be born, turned their golden gazes toward Fleur. Their voices, always rich with certainty, always woven with cryptic foresight, spoke again.

"Aunt Fleur," Diamond began, her tone ever unshaken, ever unbreakable, "do you wish to know your fate?"

Fleur's sapphire eyes narrowed slightly, her fingers instinctively tightening around Harry's wrist.

She was not afraid. She was never afraid. But she knew—whatever came next would be irreversible. Lust, still lounging in amusement, smirked.

"Oh, this is about to be good." Cho exhaled, her gaze flickering between Fleur and the daughters of Lust.

Angelica, ever composed, simply leaned in, her golden gaze alight with curiosity. And Harry? Harry was still processing the fact that his lineage was rapidly expanding before his very eyes.

Ruby, standing beside Diamond, tilted her head, lips curling into a knowing smirk.

"You and Father will have three children." Fleur blinked. Then—she scoffed, flipping her golden hair over her shoulder.

"Ah, trois?" she mused, tapping a finger against her chin. "'Arry, mon amour, 'ave we not discussed 'aving a full brood?"

Harry, already bracing for this conversation, let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Fleur, my love, you quite literally want an army." Fleur huffed.

"And? We 'ave eternity!" Lust laughed outright. But before the teasing could spiral further, Diamond continued.

"Oh, you will try, Aunt Fleur." Fleur paused. Diamond's golden gaze met hers, unwavering.

"He will convince you to have ten." Silence. Then— Fleur's expression flickered. Harry's jaw dropped.

Cho choked on her wine. Angelica, for the first time in a long while, looked genuinely surprised. And Lust? Lust was stared at Diamond, lips parted slightly, as if she had misheard.

"…dix?"

"Ten."

Fleur's hand twitched. She turned to Harry so slowly it sent a shiver down his spine. Her sapphire gaze, always filled with warmth and indulgence, was now sharp, calculating, almost unreadable.

Harry, knowing full well that he was staring at a battlefield he had yet to fight, held up his hands.

"Let's… let's focus on the first three first, my love." Fleur's gaze narrowed. Then, ever so slowly, she smirked.

"Mon amour… you are going to 'ave to convince me, non?"

Lust burst into laughter. Cho exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple.

"This is absurd," she muttered. "But I believe it." Diamond, still calm, still composed, simply lifted a hand. And then— A radiant light filled the room.

And before them, stepping out of the very fabric of time itself, appeared—

Fleurie. She was brilliance incarnate.

Not just because she was born of Fleur and Harry, but because she carried their essence in a way that was utterly unique.

Her golden hair shimmered with an almost ethereal glow, cascading in waves that mirrored her mother's radiance. Her eyes—not purely sapphire, not purely emerald—but a fusion of both, a celestial dance of blue and green that saw everything.

She was the eldest of the triplets. She was the embodiment of their love. And as she stepped forward, her gaze landed directly on Fleur.

"Maman."

Fleur's breath hitched. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty.

She took a single step forward, reaching out with a hand that did not shake, that did not waver— And Fleurie took it. Their fingers intertwined, a bond that transcended time itself.

And then— Fleur laughed. Not in amusement. Not in disbelief. But in pure, overwhelming joy.

She pulled Fleurie into her arms, embracing her like she had always been waiting for this moment.

Harry, watching in stunned silence, finally exhaled. Because for the first time in all of this chaos, something felt natural. Inevitable. And Fleur?

Fleur, still holding her daughter, turned back toward Harry, her gaze filled with something unshakable.

"We 'ave three," she murmured, voice rich with certainty. Then—she smirked.

"But mon amour, you are still going to 'ave to convince me for ze rest."

Harry groaned, running a hand down his face. Lust, grinning like she had just won an entire war, clapped her hands.

"Oh, this is exquisite."

Cho simply sighed, shaking her head. And Angelica? Angelica beamed. Because now? Now, she was truly excited for what was to come.

The future had already been written. And Harry Potter? Harry was doomed.

The Celestial Dining Hall, already a whirlwind of revelations and prophecies, had not yet recovered from Fleurie's arrival before another ripple of fate unfolded.

A sharp, commanding voice echoed across the chamber.

"Fleurie, hand over my chocolate croissants. Now." Heads turned. And there, standing with all the confidence and authority of someone who knew she was destined for greatness, was Tai Xan.

She stood tall, her presence radiating sharp intelligence, unwavering confidence, and the sheer weight of destiny.

Her uniform—elegant yet unmistakably reminiscent of a Hogwarts student, bore insignias that none of them had ever seen before.

Her dark eyes flickered with unmistakable purpose, a woman who had already calculated every possible outcome before even stepping into the room.

Fleurie, still holding the stolen croissants, smirked.

"Ah, ma chère Tai Xan, you 'ave finally arrived." Tai Xan's gaze narrowed.

"You stole my breakfast." Fleurie tilted her head, entirely unrepentant.

"I borrowed it." Tai Xan crossed her arms.

"You didn't intend to give it back. That's called theft." Lust, watching this exchange with amusement, sighed dramatically.

"Oh, this is exquisite. Sibling rivalries never change, even across time." Harry, already overwhelmed by the sheer number of future children appearing before him, groaned.

"Another one? How many more of you are going to show up?" Tai Xan turned to him without hesitation, her voice crisp and unwavering.

"Father, you should know by now. There is no limit." Harry groaned louder. Tai Xan finally turned to Cho, her sharp features softening slightly.

"Mother," she greeted, with the respect of a student greeting her greatest teacher.

Cho studied her carefully, already piecing together what was to come. Tai Xan did not hesitate.

"You are going to build a new Hogwarts, one that spans an entire galaxy." Silence. Cho's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"Explain." Tai Xan's expression remained calm.

"The Hogwarts you create will not be bound to a single world, nor a single species. It will be an academy where gods and mortals alike will study, where all knowledge—divine, arcane, scientific—will converge.

A beacon of learning that stretches across time and space, teaching those who seek wisdom, no matter their origin." Angelica laughed softly, intrigued.

"Ah, ma chère Cho, I do believe your destiny just became more grandiose."

Cho, for once, was silent, her mind racing through possibilities. And then—she smirked.

"A Hogwarts that spans the stars?" she mused. "Yes… I can see it now." Harry exhaled, rubbing his temple.

"Oh, fantastic. Now we're building an entire galactic empire of education." Tai Xan simply smiled.

"You underestimate Mother. She was always going to do something beyond comprehension." Cho, ever the strategist, simply leaned back, tilting her head toward Harry with amusement.

"And you, my love, were always going to be dragged into it."

Harry sighed, resigned to his fate. And Fleur? Fleur, still holding Tai Xan's stolen croissants, finally took a slow, deliberate bite.

Tai Xan's eye twitched. And with that— The battle of the future daughters had truly begun.

The Celestial Dining Hall, still adjusting to the presence of the future children, had reached yet another turning point.

Fleurie, ever radiant, ever effortlessly confident, turned toward Fleur, her mother, and smirked.

Tai Xan, still reclaiming her breakfast from her thieving sister, gave a knowing glance to Cho.

Ruby and Diamond, standing side by side, their presence both fiery and unshakable, shifted their gazes between Lust and Harry. And then— They spoke.

"Maman," Fleurie began, her voice carrying a soft warmth, admiration woven into every syllable.

"You are the one who made sure we were always dressed in perfection." Fleur blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

"Oh?" she mused, tapping a manicured finger against her chin. "But of course, my darlings, what kind of mother would I be if I did not ensure you looked absolument magnifique?"

Fleurie laughed. Tai Xan, who was not as amused by Fleur's indulgence as her sister, simply exhaled.

"Maman did not just design our clothing," Tai Xan clarified. "She crafted them herself. Every stitch, every embroidery—woven with celestial essence, tailored for each of us, ensuring that no matter where we walked, we carried a piece of her artistry with us." Fleur preened, flipping her golden locks over her shoulder.

"Ah, mon amour," she teased Harry, "do you see? Even in ze future, I 'ave spoiled our children perfectly." Harry, still grappling with the idea of how many future children he had already met, simply sighed.

"Why am I not surprised?" Lust, watching this, laughed softly, nudging Diamond.

"And you? What about your father?" Diamond, ever composed, ever poised, simply smiled.

"Father ensured we were strong," she said, her voice as steady as fate itself. "But it was Mother who made sure we were always radiant." Fleur huffed.

"Ah, bien sûr. 'Arry provides ze strength, but I provide ze elegance, non?" Tai Xan, rolling her eyes, turned toward Cho.

"And you, Mother, ensured we were always prepared for the future." Cho simply smirked.

"Of course I did." Harry groaned.

"Oh fantastic, all of you are too powerful for me to even argue with." Fleur patted his cheek, laughing.

"Oh, mon amour, you knew zis would be ze case."

Ruby, eyes burning with memories of countless adventures, crossed her arms and leaned against the grand table.

"But it wasn't just clothing." She turned toward Fleurie and Tai Xan, who nodded.

"Maman took us on grand holidays across all seventeen heavens," Fleurie said with a sigh, "from the celestial gardens of the Thirteenth Heaven to the floating palaces of the Ninth." Tai Xan nodded.

"It was… extravagant." Fleur smirked, pleased with herself.

"Ah, but of course! My darlings deserved to see ze absolute best zat existence 'as to offer." Harry arched a brow.

"All seventeen heavens? You took them to places even I haven't seen?" Fleur gave him a slow, knowing smile.

"Mon amour, you are ze Emperor of war, judgment, and fire. But I? I am ze architect of beauty, love, and pleasure. Of course, I 'ad to show our children ze best parts of eternity." Lust laughed softly.

"I approve. Teaching them to indulge properly is important." Cho, ever the pragmatist, merely exhaled.

"And Angelica?" she asked. "Where does she fit into all of this?"

And that— That was when all four daughters turned toward Angelica. And grinned.

Angelica, ever the picture of celestial elegance and inevitability, merely smiled as she folded her hands under her chin.

And yet— There was a mischief in her golden eyes. And Tai Xan, knowing her far too well, simply sighed.

"You, Aunt Angelica, were the most fun." Angelica laughed.

"Ah, but of course! Someone 'ad to make sure you enjoyed yourselves properly, non?" Ruby shook her head.

"You didn't just make sure we enjoyed ourselves." She pointed at Angelica, accusingly.

"You made sure we broke nearly every rule that existed in the higher heavens!" Harry choked.

"What?!" Angelica grinned.

"Ah, mon chéri, zey needed to learn ze reality of ze higher realms, no?" Diamond, ever the responsible one, merely sighed.

"She snuck us into the Celestial Archives of the Twelfth Heaven. No one is supposed to enter those halls without permission from the Grand Celestial Judges."

Tai Xan, rubbing her temple, added, "We also may have… hijacked a cosmic storm in the Eleventh Heaven and redirected it as a celestial firework display." Fleurie, grinning, nodded proudly.

"Zat was ze best moment of all." Harry turned to Angelica, exasperated.

"You were supposed to guide them responsibly!" Angelica simply laughed, utterly unbothered.

"Ah, mon amour, 'ow else were zey to learn ze true secrets of ze cosmos? Zey are our future! Zey needed to know everything."

Lust, laughing herself to tears, leaned back in her chair.

"I cannot believe you let them hijack celestial storms! That is magnificent." Fleur, still smirking, shrugged.

"What can I say, mon amour? Zey 'ad ze best childhood possible." Harry rubbed his temple, trying to comprehend all of it.

"So to summarise—Fleur made sure they were the most elegantly dressed divine beings in existence, took them on holidays across every single heaven, and Angelica was the most chaotic fun aunt in the cosmos?" Tai Xan, Ruby, Diamond, and Fleurie nodded in perfect synchronisation. Harry groaned.

"I give up." Angelica, ever the playful inevitability, leaned in toward him.

"Ah, mon amour, you 'ave not even met ze rest of your children yet."

Harry stared at her, horrified. And Fleurie? Fleurie simply grinned. Because there was no escape. Harry Potter was truly, utterly doomed.

The Celestial Dining Hall, already overwhelmed with revelations, had barely settled before Diamond and Ruby turned their golden eyes toward Harry once again.

He had been bracing himself for another prophecy, another mind-shattering truth about his future, another confirmation that his fate was set in stone.

And yet— Their next words shook him to his core in an entirely different way.

"Father, we bring you good news." Diamond's voice was as calm and absolute as ever, while Ruby's smirk promised something dangerous and unpredictable. Harry, already tired of revelations, pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Let me guess—more children? Another celestial empire I have to build?" Ruby laughed.

"No, nothing so grand. But something just as important."

Bai Jin's gaze never wavered.

"You will finally get sleep each night." Silence. For a moment, all movement in the hall ceased. Fleur, Cho, and Angelica all turned toward Harry.

Even Lust, who had been lounging with the grace of an untouchable goddess, suddenly sat up, golden eyes gleaming with intrigue. Harry's breath caught.

Sleep? Was this finally the prophecy he had been waiting for?

"What's the catch?" he asked cautiously. Diamond's lips curled slightly.

"You must learn to play the game correctly." Ruby's smirk widened.

"And if you do it right, Father… Fleur and Lust may even become best friends."

The words hung in the air like a suspended heartbeat, the sheer weight of them almost laughable in their absurdity. Fleur froze. Lust's smirk faltered. Harry's soul nearly left his body.

Cho, ever the strategist, tilted her head, analysing the implications immediately. Angelica, watching all of this unfold, could barely contain her amusement. Then—

"Pardon?"

Fleur's voice was smooth, controlled, but the sharpness in her sapphire gaze spoke volumes. She turned toward Lust, arching a delicate brow. Lust, for once, seemed momentarily caught off guard. Then—she laughed.

"Oh, darlings, I appreciate the ambition, but you must realise that your father has a better chance of conquering the unknown realms beyond existence than making this happen." Fleur smirked.

"Ah, I agree. For once, Lust and I 'ave found common ground." Harry let out a long, suffering sigh.

"Brilliant. The one thing you two agree on is that you'll never be friends."

Ruby leaned forward, amusement dancing in her golden eyes.

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, Father." Diamond, ever composed, nodded.

"You see, we come from a future where you have already succeeded."

Harry blinked. Fleur and Lust immediately turned toward Diamond, their gazes sharp.

"Excusez-moi?" Fleur said, crossing her arms. Lust, eyes narrowing, leaned forward with interest.

"Oh, now you have my attention."

Diamond and Ruby exchanged a glance, their synchronised movements too perfect, too calculated, as if they had already had this conversation a thousand times before. Then, Diamond spoke first.

"The answer is simple, Father."

"You must make them allies through indulgence." Harry tilted his head.

"Elaborate." Ruby's grin widened.

"You must convince them that they are both necessary to your happiness, that one complements what the other provides."

Diamond continued, her voice even, "They are different but equal forces in your life. Fleur is passion, devotion, love that claims and consumes, love that shields and protects. Lust is indulgence, untamed desire, the force that ensures love never fades, that temptation always lingers." Ruby nodded.

"They are opposites, but they are not enemies. If you play this correctly, they will begin to see each other not as rivals, but as sisters in purpose."

Harry stared. Cho, now deeply invested, let out a slow breath.

"A fascinating concept," she admitted. "But highly risky." Fleur, still unconvinced, scoffed.

"And what makes you so certain zat I will ever accept Lust as an equal?" Lust arched a brow.

"Indeed. Why would I waste my time indulging a woman who so clearly despises me?" Ruby laughed softly.

"Because in the future, you both realise something important." Bai Jin's gaze softened.

"You both love him more than you dislike each other." Silence. Fleur's fingers twitched. Lust's smirk returned, but it was slower this time, thoughtful. Harry exhaled, rubbing his temple.

"So you're telling me that if I somehow convince Fleur and Lust that they are both irreplaceable in my life, I will not only get sleep but they will become best friends?"

Bai Jin and Ruby nodded in perfect unison. Harry groaned.

"That's impossible." Ruby grinned.

"You said the same thing about Angelica ever speaking like Fleur." Angelica, laughing behind her goblet, smirked.

"And yet, 'ere I am, mon amour." Fleur exhaled sharply, her arms still crossed. She turned toward Lust. Lust, for once, looked back at her without an ounce of challenge.

Instead, she was intrigued. Fleur narrowed her eyes. Lust tilted her head. The tension between them thickened. And then— Lust smirked.

"Well, well, well, Fleur," she murmured. "It seems we have a very interesting future ahead of us." Fleur huffed, flipping her golden hair over her shoulder.

"Do not get used to it." Lust simply grinned.

"Oh, I will." Harry, watching all of this unfold, sighed.

"I have so much work to do." Diamond smiled.

"Yes, Father. But if you do it correctly—" Ruby laughed.

"You will sleep like a king every night." Harry groaned louder. And Fleur? Fleur simply smirked. Because whether she admitted it or not— The game had already begun.

The Celestial Dining Hall, still buzzing with tension from Diamond and Ruby's revelation, suddenly shifted again as Tai Xan stepped forward.

Cho, ever the strategist, ever composed, had been silently calculating every possible consequence of what had just been said.

Her mind, always sharp, always seeking the next move, was already racing toward how best to approach this so-called "game" Harry had to play.

And then— Tai Xan broke the moment completely. She stepped forward with the confidence of someone who had led armies, who had debated scholars, who had carved her own future from the stars themselves.

Yet, as she reached her mother— Her expression softened. And then, without hesitation— She hugged Cho.

Cho, stiffening slightly at the unexpected embrace, did not move at first. She was not unaccustomed to affection, but Tai Xan's presence carried so much certainty, so much quiet love, that for a moment, she was simply still.

Then, slowly, Cho's arms wrapped around her eldest daughter. Tai Xan sighed against her mother's shoulder, her voice filled with the warmth of nostalgia.

"Mum," she murmured, "you were always the stricter one." Cho raised a brow.

"Stricter than your father?" Tai Xan pulled back slightly, laughing.

"Oh, without question." Harry snorted from the side.

"Finally, someone acknowledges that I am not the strictest parent."

Tai Xan grinned but continued, "It's true. Mother, you kept everything in order, always ensuring we were disciplined, always making sure our studies came first." She tilted her head, golden eyes gleaming.

"Which is why Fleurie and I would often sneak into our siblings' rooms for sleepovers." Cho's expression did not change.

"Without my permission?" Tai Xan smirked.

"Of course. You would have never allowed it." Fleurie, sipping her drink, hummed with amusement.

"Tai Xan speaks ze truth. We 'ad to be very careful about when and 'ow we escaped." Lust, laughing softly, leaned in with interest.

"And whose rooms did you sneak into?" Tai Xan shrugged.

"Sometimes Fleurie's siblings. Sometimes Lust's daughters. Sometimes… both at once." Cho's eye twitched.

"You are telling me," she said, voice far too calm, "that you broke curfew, evaded my watch, and routinely snuck into Lust's children's rooms?" Tai Xan smiled sweetly.

"Yes." Harry choked back laughter Angelica, smirking, merely swirled her wine. Lust, clearly delighted, let out a dramatic sigh.

"Oh, I always knew you would be a force of nature, Tai Xan." Cho exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple.

"Unbelievable." But before Cho could lecture her eldest daughter, Tai Xan took her hands gently, squeezing them.

Her mischievous smirk softened, and her voice became something else entirely—something warm, something reverent.

"But Mother." Cho's breath caught.

"You may have been the stricter one, but when you did let go… you outshone Fleur."

Silence. Fleur, who had been leaning back, confident in her position as the most indulgent parent, immediately sat up.

"Pardon?" Tai Xan smiled knowingly.

"It's true." She turned back to Cho, her golden gaze filled with an admiration that could not be faked.

"When you finally let yourself have fun, when you gave in and stopped holding back—no one, not even Fleur, could match you."

Cho blinked, visibly caught off guard. Fleur scoffed, flipping her golden hair.

"Zat is impossible." Tai Xan grinned.

"Oh, but it happened. And when you let loose, Mother—you were unstoppable." Angelica laughed softly, leaning in.

"Ah, ma chère Cho, perhaps you 'ave been 'iding your true potential, non?" Lust, intrigued, studied Cho with new interest.

"I must admit, I am very curious about this side of you." Cho, ever composed, ever unreadable, simply tilted her head toward Tai Xan.

"How exactly did I outshine Fleur?" Tai Xan smirked.

"I could tell you now." Her golden eyes glowed mischievously.

"But wouldn't you rather prove it yourself?" Cho's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.

And Fleur? Fleur huffed.

"Oh, mon amour," she said, eyeing Harry with amusement. "I do believe our daughter is challenging me." Harry, watching all of this unfold, merely sighed.

"I have a feeling this isn't over." Tai Xan, grinning, patted his shoulder.

"Oh, Father, it's only just beginning."

The Celestial Dining Hall, already filled with laughter, revelations, and future prophecies, once again shifted as Fleurie stepped forward.

She turned to Fleur, her sapphire-green gaze filled with mirth, nostalgia, and just a hint of mischief. Harry, still bracing for whatever chaos was about to be unleashed, sighed heavily.

Fleur, ever composed, ever radiant, raised an elegant brow as her daughter smirked knowingly. And then, with deliberate ease, Fleurie spoke.

"Maman," Fleurie purred, "I believe it is time I tell you of something you did in ze distant future."

Fleur's expression did not change, but her fingers, elegantly resting on the table, drummed lightly.

"Ah? And what is zis great revelation, ma chère?" Fleurie grinned.

"One time, you stole Tai Xan." Silence. Harry froze mid-drink. Cho's entire body went still. Tai Xan tilted her head, clearly interested in where this was going. Lust, sensing the utter absurdity of what was about to unfold, leaned forward, delighted.

"Oh, do go on." Fleurie, still grinning, continued.

"You stole Tai Xan for a couple of nights, hugged her warmly, and took her away from Mum while she was busy on vacation—travelling through many paradises beyond even Risa."

Fleur did not flinch. Cho, now narrowing her eyes, turned to Fleur.

"You kidnapped my daughter?" Fleur, still utterly unbothered, took a slow sip of her wine. Then, she set the goblet down and tilted her head slightly.

"Ma chère Cho, kidnapped is such a strong word. I would say… borrowed." Tai Xan raised a brow.

"Without permission?" Fleur smirked.

"Ah, bien sûr." Harry groaned, rubbing his face.

"Fleur, you can't just steal our daughter." Fleur rolled her eyes.

"Mon amour, do you truly believe I 'ave any regrets?" She turned to Fleurie, arching a single brow.

"And what did we do in zis grand 'kidnapping'?" Fleurie laughed.

"You took Tai Xan on a 'mother-daughter' vacation across ze higher paradises, showing 'er all of ze best luxuries zat existence 'ad to offer.

And ze entire time, you kept complaining zat Tai Xan was too much like Mum."

Cho's eyes glowed dangerously. Harry felt real fear creep into his soul. Fleur, entirely unapologetic, merely smirked.

"And? Was I wrong?" Tai Xan, grinning now, crossed her arms.

"You kept telling me I needed to 'loosen up' because I was too structured, too strict, too strategic." She leaned forward slightly.

"And yet, Maman, in ze end… you turned me into ze perfect balance between fun and discipline." Lust sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart.

"Oh, Fleur, that's beautiful." Angelica, laughing softly, shook her head.

"Ah, mon amour, you truly do not 'old back, non?" Harry, still trying to comprehend this madness, turned to Cho.

"You're not going to let this slide, are you?" Cho, calm, calculated, utterly terrifying, merely sipped her tea. And then— She smirked.

"Oh, I will have my revenge." Fleur, utterly fearless, merely laughed.

"Ma chère, you are welcome to try." And in that moment, Harry knew. The rivalry between Fleur and Cho had just evolved to an entirely new level.

And he? He was well and truly doomed. The Celestial Dining Hall, already a place where prophecies and chaos thrived, had never seen such a dramatic shift in tone—

Until now. Tai Xan, standing tall with the confidence of the eldest Quintuplet, turned to her mother, Cho, with a mischievous glint in her golden eyes. Harry, sensing an incoming catastrophe, leaned back in his chair.

Fleur, entirely unaware of the doom about to descend upon her, sipped her wine with the grace of a queen. Lust, delighted, had already settled in comfortably, eager to watch yet another grand spectacle unfold. And then— Tai Xan grinned.

"Mum, you already had your revenge." Silence. Cho, calm and collected, merely raised a brow.

"Did I?" Ruby and Fleurie exchanged glances, their golden eyes widening in alarm. Ruby, voice laced with genuine concern, immediately stepped forward.

"Tai Xan, don't do it—" Fleurie, laughing nervously, held up a hand.

"Zis is dangerous, mon amour! Do not provoke 'er!" Tai Xan, utterly unbothered, ignored both of them.

She lunged. Her fingers struck Cho's side like a well-trained warrior—hitting precisely the ticklish spot she knew would cause instant reaction.

Cho twitched violently. Harry's eyes widened in realisation. Fleur, still entirely unaware, tilted her head curiously. Angelica, who had already foreseen what was about to happen, laughed softly. And then— It began.

Cho, who had always been composed, always been the most controlled force in the room, suddenly shifted. A rare glint flashed in her dark eyes.

Tai Xan, only now realising she may have severely miscalculated, tried to retreat. Too late. Cho struck back with terrifying precision.

"Oh, darling," she murmured, her voice smooth, dangerously amused, "you just started something you cannot win."

Tai Xan barely had time to yelp before her mother's fingers danced along her sides with expert skill.

Harry choked on his drink. Lust, watching in sheer fascination, gasped in delight.

"She fights back?! Oh, this is even better than I imagined!" Tai Xan squealed, twisting in an attempt to escape, but Cho had already calculated every possible movement she could make.

Her fingers dug into her ribs, her stomach, her shoulders—hitting every single weak point that Tai Xan herself had perfected.

Ruby, watching the eldest of the Quintuplets crumble into a laughing mess, sighed.

"I warned you." Fleurie, arms crossed, shook her head.

"Ze fool underestimated ze strategist." Harry, laughing at the sheer absurdity, leaned back.

"Cho outplaying someone? Who could have guessed?" Angelica, chuckling, grinned.

"Ah, mon amour, she is not just outplaying. She is dominating." And it was true.

Tai Xan, who had walked into this battle with confidence, was now gasping for air, twisting helplessly in her mother's iron grip.

"MUM—MUM, STOP!" she shrieked, laughing uncontrollably, tears forming in her golden eyes. Cho did not stop. Instead— She laughed. Not the usual calculated, knowing chuckle.

No—this was pure, unfiltered amusement, a sound so carefree, so light, so uninhibited— That Fleur froze. Fleur, who had been watching with mild amusement at first, suddenly realised something horrifying.

Cho was having more fun than she ever had. Cho, who had always been the more composed, more strategic, more structured one, had completely let go.

And now— She was utterly, undeniably winning. Fleur's eye twitched.

Tai Xan finally collapsed, completely breathless, defeated, and twitching from exhaustion.

Cho, finally satisfied, sat back with a victorious smirk. Harry, still laughing, shook his head.

"And people think I'm the dangerous one in this relationship." Lust, still watching in utter delight, placed a hand on her chest.

"I must admit, Cho, you are now my favourite entertainment source." Fleur, who had not spoken in a full minute, suddenly stood.

She crossed her arms, exhaled sharply, and turned toward Cho. And then—

"Non. I refuse." Cho, utterly relaxed, merely raised a brow.

"Refuse what?" Fleur pointed a manicured finger directly at her.

"Zis is unacceptable. I 'ave always been ze most fun one.

And yet 'ere you are—winning." Cho smirked.

"Oh, Fleur, were you feeling threatened?" Fleur's eye twitched again. Harry, watching this unfold, immediately realised something terrifying.

"Oh no." Lust, grinning wider, clapped her hands.

"Oh yes." Fleur, still staring Cho down, tilted her head.

"I will not stand for zis. Tai Xan, ma chère, prepare yourself. You and I will 'ave our revenge." Tai Xan, still recovering from her defeat, groaned.

"Maman… no." Cho, utterly amused, shrugged.

"Try, if you like, Fleur. But we both know—" She leaned forward slightly, her smirk deepening.

"I will always win." Harry, knowing that his life had just become exponentially more dangerous, sighed. Angelica, watching the chaos unfold, simply laughed.

"Ah, mon amour," she purred, "zis is only ze beginning." And Harry? Harry knew. There was no peace. Only war. And Cho was winning.

---

"I present to you all of Lust's Daughters in the distant future which all of you will get the pleasure of seeing, knowing and enjoying their company!"

Bai Jin, White diamond of Purity. By SirOnslaught77

Lan Qin, Mistress of Deep Devotion By SirOnslaught77

Yan Hong, The Goddess of Burning Passion By SirOnslaught77

Cui Hua, The Enchantresses of Verdant Love By SirOnslaught77

Mu Lan, The Seductress of Twilight Lust By SirOnslaught77

Zhu Li, The Queen of Exquisite Rarity By SirOnslaught77

Yan Xuan, The Trickster Queen of Love's Madness By SirOnslaught77

Cho Lian, The Keeper of Forbidden Passions By SirOnslaught77

Ying Yao, The Illusionist of Ever Changing Beauty By SirOnslaught77

Jin Yuan, The Bringer of Golden Warmth. By SirOnslaught77

Zi Luo, The Dreamer of Celestial Dance By SirOnslaught77

Qing Yan, The Whisperer of Jealous Love By SirOnslaught77

Yu Wang - Lust Incarnate BySirOnslaught77

---

Tai Yan, The Primordial Sunfire Monarch By SirOnslaught77

Fleurie Delacour, The Empress of Eternal Light. By SirOnslaught77

"These 2 are both Fleur's and Cho's eldest children and the brightest and smartest there is thus far and will always be such!"