Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

To revel with a Veela	By : Valehtelija Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 112966 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter, or any of the characters, nor am I making any money from this story.

Chapter List
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The night was far from over, but Fleur wouldn't have minded much if it ended there. After all, she'd just had her way with her would-be lover, teased him over the edge, had him begging for her, and in the end, she'd fed him his own ejaculate, an act which had made her dress robes wetter than they were before, though it was unlikely anyone would know.
For the moment, the two of them were content in simply being, rather than doing anything else.
Already, Fleur's mind had been set in motion, planning on how to exploit this, how to push him even further than she had thus far, how to tantalize him, how to provoke his reactions at just the right time, how to enthrall his entire being unto her... and yet she needn't have bothered for even when he was milked and still in a haze of pleasure induced, Harry retained some semblance of his senses, enough to at least ask, "What about you, Fleur?"
For a moment there, she couldn't believe her luck. "What of me, 'arry?" murmured Fleur, her hand quick to caress his face.
He gulped, bleary eyes staring up at her from behind glasses. "You..." said Harry, "you did this for me, and I haven't —"
Fleur pressed a finger against his mouth, shushing him. "Do you want to, 'arry?" whispered Fleur, heat flooding her limbs.
Without hesitation, without any sense of propriety, cock still hanging out of his robes, Harry said, "Yes," in a soft tone.
She was quick to replace her finger with her mouth, tongue diving in, while fighting hard to suppress a growl from rising in her throat, not daring, not yet, to let him know how much she had in store for him. Feeding him his own seed had just been the start, and the fact that he chose not to acknowledge it in words bode well for her. Though the taste was far from the worst she had ever had, there would be changes in his diet, subtly introduced, to make him all the more sweeter.
From beneath her robes, Fleur whisked her wand and swiftly cleaned both of them of his mess, and tidied his clothes back up, shuffling his flaccid member back beneath the robes, though if she had her way it would not remain hidden for much longer.
"Follow me," said Fleur against his mouth, hand in hand. He took only a moment to compose himself, set his glasses straight and follow her in a brisk stride. Harry hadn't seen her, what with her back turned against him, murmuring incantations for spells to avoid anyone noticing them; the last thing she wished for was to have an unscheduled interruption.
Just moments later, when they departed from the courtyard, she'd seen the wisdom of her act, as that ugly looking man, with the hooked nose and grease-stained hair, swiftly passed near them without giving a single glance in their direction.
No doubt on the prowl for any students having fun. Mustn't have that, Fleur remarked to herself, laughing on the inside.
The Beauxbatons carriage was completely empty when they arrived. After all, the night was still very young, and no couple from Beauxbatons would be returning so soon. Not to mention Madame Maxime's displeasure if they were obvious about it. But Fleur cared nothing for what pleased or displeased the half-giant headmistress of her school, she had a boy on her mind.
While his head whirled all around the hallway they passed, the paintings on the walls, the lanterns illuminating them, he'd completely missed how deep they were heading into the carriage, having gotten somewhat disoriented by the speed of their pace. Soon enough they were in front of a door, which Fleur unlocked with a brushing of her palm against the hardwood and a phrase familiar to only four people in the whole delegation of Beauxbatons.
"In 'ere," said Fleur and pulled Harry by the arm inside her room. He might have gone on to look around, to take in the sights as it were, to look and wonder at the magic of how it was made and sustained through all this time, the moonlight which came through the glass of the window, the vivid landscapes which came to life underneath his lingering gazes... if only not for Fleur.
Gone was the gentleness from her hands, gone the softness of her mouth.
She pushed him, forcefully, down onto her bed, on top of the duvet, on his back, leaving him looking up at her.
"You want to repay ze favour, 'arry?" asked Fleur. He nodded in response. "Bon. We must begin your lessons."
"Lessons?" asked Harry uncertainly.
In the dark of the room, she smiled. She moved one hand to the back of her head, pulling out the pin which held everything in place, letting loose her hair, with a wavy texture to it now, letting it fall down onto the shoulders of her dress.
"'ave you ever done anyzzing like zis before?" For a moment or two she searched for the right word. "Reciprocated?"
Warmth bloomed on his cheeks. "No, I've never..."
"Never what, 'arry?" teased Fleur as she slowly reached the bed herself and stradled him on top, her legs over his by the sides. "Never 'ad a girl 'old you in 'and?" Her fingers started slowly massaging his robed member. "Never tasted yourself?"
Of course you haven't, Harry. Not to fear, I'm here and willing to teach you so many wonderful things.
What he said was far from what she expected to hear.
In a tone that spoke of disbelief, Harry said, "I've never even kissed a girl. And then I met you and —"
He didn't have a chance to finish what else might have been at the tip of his tongue, as Fleur swooped down, viciously, clamming his lips shut with her own. Harry propped himself up somewhat, eager to keep the closeness between them.
His confession unfurled something dark within her, making the blood boil, making the dampness thicken and drip down.
His first. I shall be his first in everything. I will be his everything.
Thoughts of teaching him any sort of lessons went out the proverbial window.
She hadn't planned on that, no, most certainly not. In her mind laid dormant the idea of letting him kiss her only once his face had been coated with her own release, after she took him for a ride and poured her own juices down his throat. But now? Now she couldn't wait. Fingers crooked into claws and the robes Harry wore were ripped into shreds in a matter of moments, her own dress suffering the same fate soon after. She needed this. Needed to smell his bare skin in the moonlight, still untainted.
No, it was not the first time she had a pure boy in her grasp. Jacque was one such, but then again, at his age, it would have been a surprise if he had done anything before Fleur snatched him up. Even so, even he had kissed a girl before, even if it was just a peck on the lips. But Harry, sweet and innocent, apparently had never even done as little as that. She had to make sure.
Allure seeped into his skin, deep into the pores, deeper than skin and flesh, right into his blood, inflaming it.
"Not even a peck?" asked Fleur, hairsbreadth away from his mouth.
"No," answered Harry, and she felt him wanting to curl inwards, away from her... from shame?
Fleur almost laughed. Cackled, more like it. Like a banshee might howl, she wanted to give voice to her pleasure, to her unending satisfaction of having a boy of fourteen, pure and unclaimed beneath her... well, pure and unclaimed until now.
Instead, she chose to maul him with her mouth. He needed a softer touch, she knew, she knew but she couldn't resist. Everyone had breaking points and he had just touched upon one of hers. And she would discover what all of his were.
What had mere moments before been a mellow massage had turned into a hard vice around his cock.
"Oh, 'arry," breathed Fleur, even as she greedily devoured the gasp of pain from his mouth.
"Fleur?" asked Harry, perhaps a tad frightened by the sudden burst of raw passion from her.
His fear was like a drop of undiluted aphrodisiac for Fleur. Such a wonderful vortex of emotions and one above them all...
"Fleur," repeated Harry, voice no longer unsure, beckoning midnight-blue to emerald-green.
"Yes?" half-growled came the reply, as she stopped the change, keeping it beneath, because he was not yet ready for her.
Harry surprised her. Despite the rough grip she had on his organ, despite the brutality of her assault, his hand come to rest on one side of her face, pushing the white-gold hair back behind her ear, fingers just barely touching the shell of it.
And he smiled. A genuine smile, unpolluted of the Allure, of lust and passion evoked in the hour of the night.
"I trust you, Fleur," said Harry and sealed his fate.
He watched how the blue turned to black and suppressed a wince of pain that came from the piercing of skin in his side.
"Zen you are a fool, 'arry Potter."
How did he know? Was the change that far gone without her sensing it? No. He couldn't have known. He had never had a chance before that night to see a Veela in the throes of frenzy and lust, he had never endured the madness of a rutting.
Her unique brand of madness ran rampant, virulent. It infected him.
As hard and brutal as she was, so increased his desperation for her touch.
When she broke his lip with her teeth and drew blood he shuddered in ecstasy, unparalleled to anything he had felt before, as her tongue flicked past her own lips and licked it all up. The sharpness of her fingers-turned-claws left its marks on his pale skin.
But he did not shy away. He did not push the witch back, did not try to make her relent, did not constrain nor restrain.
Harry embraced her, even as she tore skin, even as her talon-hands roughly, painfully pushed him further up on the bed, while his manhood was pressed firmly against him, weighed down by Fleur's naked, lithe form. They'd only stopped when his head rested atop the pillow. Only then did she rise above him, giving him ample opportunity to gaze upon her nakedness.
One of his hand rose up, reaching for her breast, but she caught it at the wrist before he could lay a single finger on her.
"No," said Fleur and forced it back down, until it hit the pillow, right next to his head. She was quick to grab onto the other as well, until it too was placed near his head. "Stay still," she commanded and he did as she bid. And it absolutely thrilled her.
Fleur took great care in how she positioned herself, where she sat atop his body, and slowly, with minute gyration of her hips, she started to move. His reactions amused her; the way his breathing grew heavier, the racing pulse of blood in his veins, the widening of his pupils... and that cock of his, straining for an even greater hardness, leaking, and trying to press itself between her cheeks, even thought it didn't stand a chance in hell it would be getting anywhere near there. Not yet, at least.
However, Harry was not the only one whose body reacted in such a situation. Her own nipples had stiffened, turning into small pebbles, the dampness between her legs had long since started trickling down and left its slimy trail across his stomach, but the heat that lingered between her legs was growing by the second and she needed it properly taken care of, soon.
So she climbed up his body, dragging her weeping chatte all over him - marking him - and the friction only served to increase her pleasure, until finally, and somewhat reluctantly, she stopped, having reached her destination. Harry's face was a marvel to behold from above, held somewhere between disbelief, lust and - what Fleur prized most above all - worship.
Fleur brought herself even closer than she was just a moment ago, barely a breath away from Harry's mouth. She quite enjoyed his laboured breathing, as it had began to tantalize her properly, causing her to drip even more of her juices down onto him. His green eyes seemed unable to focus, wandering from looking up into her black eyes and dropping down to her hairless slit.
He wet his lips many times and his pretty eyes showed a unique kind of hunger growing within.

One of her hands found itself in Harry's hair, fingers tangling amidst the mess, and she pulled him towards her, daring him to see if he'd make the first move or if he'd wait for her. Either way, it would benefit her in ways yet unseen.
It came as no surprise that Harry managed to restrain himself and avoided thrusting his face nose-deep into her crotch, even while under the caress of the Allure. Though that is not to say that restraint of his would last a second more if she truly wished it broken. No, this was but one of the many little tests she had in store for him, to see how much she could prod at him.
"Is zat it?" asked Fleur, while his eyes full focused back onto hers. "You look, but you do not touch. Why? Ah, perhaps you wait for an invitation, a special summoning, just for you? Well zen, 'arry," her fingernails scratched at his scalp as she suddenly yanked him towards her and his mouth, with all of its warmth, was upon her, "you 'ave it."
So inexperienced, so eager, a boy true and through.
"Kiss me," she teased and then her face broke into a wide smile, as she gave out a gasp of delight at the sensation of his tongue protruding past his lips and into her. It was a pleasure of sorts, but it wasn't enough. Not for what she intended. She set her hips in motion yet again, grinding her dripping slit against his mouth, his nose, his chin...
"Deeper," she commanded and he obliged her, as much as he could.
Had it been anyone else at this moment, had he not been as pure, Fleur would not have found much pleasure in the act, as his tongue certainly didn't reach the depth that only Amy's bespelled tongue could, but the thrill of a new conquest, his smooth surrender thus far, the eagerness on his part, the expression of devotion on his face... it made her insides even more damp.
As his tongue continued to lap at her, sloppily, he stayed in place, breathing only through his nose. Fleur couldn't help but gaze at the sight below with a trickle of caring affection: Harry's eyelids were closed and his glasses seemed to have either fallen off or he'd taken them off on his own, and his face... his face was stained with her fluids, which glistened in the moonlight.
That had been yet another breaking point for her and she practically shrieked as she started to buck forward, smothering him even further with her pussy and its nectar-like juices. Harry didn't fare quite well in the act as Fleur neglected to inform him of one simple fact: she was a gusher. It may not have had the same thickness when compared to a wizard's climax, but it more than made up for it in sheer force and quantity. And dear Harry, whether on purpose or not, kept lapping it all up, kept taking it into his mouth as it hit the back of his throat and went further down, until it reached his belly; the thought of that, filling him with her own particular kind of cum and soaking him thoroughly, caused her body to be wracked by yet another orgasm.
Twice more Fleur drenched his throat, never giving up her spot atop his face, uncaring whether he felt filled to the brim, the only thing that mattered was her own release. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he never complained, never backed away from her sopping pussy, and only kept renewing his efforts in pleasing her each time she reached her peak. His hands had long since abandoned their position on the pillow and his palms rested on her derrière, pushing her even further into him, as if such a thing was possible to accomplish when already all he saw, all he smelled, all he tasted was Fleur...
But eventually, it had to end. She ceased her motions and let go off his hair, before she gently removed his hands from her behind and let them limplessly fall down onto the bed. Fleur then slid off from her perched up place and settled herself next to Harry, to lie on his right side, just slightly above him, while he took the granted opportunity to breathe more properly, if a tad bit loud, with his mouth. Fleur couldn't help but smile as she caressed his face, so thoroughly infused with her scent that she needn't have come close at all to scent it, but did it all the same, licking around his swollen lips with her tongue, occasionally teasing him with a probing, once or twice, inside his mouth. Her hand had moved from his face, down his chest, where she idly traced circles with her fingernails, occasionally sliding across his hardened little nipples. For a moment, and no more, she toyed with the idea of settling her face on his chest, teasing him further with her mouth, but discarded it in the very next one.
"You did so well, 'arry," murmured Fleur to him, kissing him on the top of his head, and just coincidentally so, aligned one of her breasts with his mouth. "You deserve a reward. Go on zen," she teased, "you seemed eager before."
Harry looked at her, as if waking from a daydream's daze, but all the same acknowledged her words with a feverish need.
Just like a hungry babe's, Harry's mouth found itself wrapped around her right nipple, suckling on her teat, as though there was milk in the soft flesh to be drained dry. He closed his eyes once again, hiding those pretty green eyes from Fleur, though she didn't mind, and pulled at her breast, fingers quickly settling as he pressed around it, trying to stuff his greedy little mouth with more than it was possible. It was pure instinct, no doubt, which made him so very good at the act he had only performed when he was but a baby himself, and that same instinct had him curl towards Fleur, one leg finding its way between the two of hers as his knee gently rocked back and forth against the wetness of the gap. Fleur appreciated the attention, and rewarded him with a soothing scratching at the back of his scalp, all the while uttering words in French, that sounded so pure and mellow, yet were anything but; they were promises of things to come, promises of what she'd do to him, the madness she'd wake within him, the sting of pleasue and pain he'd come to know, the well of sweetest of tortures she'd have him come to love.
Yet as one hand cradled his head and soothed him, the other had started moving further from his chest and down below, until it reached the stiff organ with which she'd have Harry play a most delightful tune of pleas and moans and gasps.
It didn't take long for her to work him to completion, for him to cover her hand and his own belly in pungent seed, and he'd moaned into the flesh of her breast upon the first spurt, and the second, and the third... all the way until the eighth rope of cum erupted from the slit of his cock-head, plastering both hers and his skin in pearly-white fluids.
Fleur chose to push him further into her body, as he was before, so that he could see nothing that was not of her, as her hand continued to apply pressure and motion against his cock, the Allure serving as a decent substitute, preventing the pliant flesh from turning flaccid. Harry gasped, from pain, as Fleur continued stroking his cock, past the tip of pleasure, just as she'd done earlier in the night, and she grinned when he tried moving away from her breast, no doubt wanting to tell her to stop.
But that was not his choice. He no longer had any. He should have realized as much when he first allowed her into his life, let alone when he proved such a willing recipient of her passions. All choices, all thoughts, all that he had of his body and mind and soul, all of it belonged to Fleur now. The sooner he realized that, the better it would be.
And if not? Well, let none say Fleur didn't enjoy a challenge, and breaking Harry Potter apart, tearing all that he was down into ruin, and then sculpting him anew into what she wished to see... that was mere child's play, and she was a grown woman now, her cravings and urges far more malevolent and taxing on her would-be-lover than that what her child-self once had.
He surprised her when he in fact did manage to dislodge the breast from his mouth and gasp out, "Fleur, please... it hurts."
It gave her great pleasure to hear that and she increased the pace of her stroking, turning into a jack-hammering speed, his cock growing harder, more swollen, by the second, the rush of blood finally allowing her to ease off with the Allure.
"I know, mon cher, I know. Endure it, for me," said Fleur, kissing him on the brow yet again as she started humming a song, her own juices trickling out of her pussy and onto the bed and Harry. "Just a bit more, just a bit more," she reassured him.
He cried and those eyes of his were brighter for it, as they gained an almost ethereal green shine, before he chose to hide his face and pressed it against her breast once more, perhaps finding some comfort in suckling at Fleur's flesh. Yet just as she continually increased the pace and the firmness of the grip on his cock, so too did Harry grow more feral in his tending to her breasts. Where but moments ago he suckled in vain for sweet milk that would never come, Fleur felt teeth start to graze against her skin, until they clamped down on her breast in such brute force she gushed once more between her legs, soaking the bed even more than it was before. She cried out in delight at such an unexpected reaction from the little boy, proving to her that her dalliances with him provide much entertainment and that surrender might not be so easily acquired.
Then again, what was easily gained, was also easily ignored. No, she'd wrest it away from him. All of it. All that he held dear.
Until there was naught but thoughts of her in his mind. Until his heart beat for her. Until his soul shone for her and her alone.
Until all that he was, and all that he was to become, would be imprinted with the madness that was Fleur Delacour.
And soon enough, just as she promised him, the night's passions were done with and finally over.
Harry Potter succumbed to sleep only moments after being made to clean the mess, that he made, with his own tongue.
He slept peacefully - despite all - his back turned to the front of the Veela, whose soft breasts with the hard pebbles atop them pressed into his shoulderblades, whom hummed with content and pleasure, having had her new lover tested and proven capable of surviving a minutia of her harsh loving, her talons-turned-hands petting him all over as one might a dog.
Her eyes had reverted to midnight-blue only moments before she too fell into slumber.
Fleur had such wonderful dreams that night: of a green-eyed boy, naked as the day he was born, and on his knees before her.

He had no idea how much of a temptation he was to her.
Even while he just slept there, naked beneath the duvet. His skin had a scent to it, a certain depth she had yet to fully explore. It was not the body of an average fourteen-year-old boy, not even for a wizarding one. No, he had nothing which would set him above his peers, or seniors, in terms of physical stature, in tone of muscle or its definition, and even if he had that never drew her interest to anyone in the first place. Had Harry Potter been awake, no doubt he would have been startled by the proximity of Fleur Delacour, who'd taken to delicately sniffing his naked skin, taking in the scent which laid atop his: hers.
She didn't fear him waking up all of a sudden, the little boy was bone-tired, exhausted beyond what any other could have done to him, driven to the brink of oblivion by Fleur's insatiable nature. You poor, poor boy, you couldn't have anticipated any of last night, could you? Sweet litte Harry, all mine now, and you've yet to grasp upon the fact. You will, soon enough.
He'd been so desperate for his own release the first time around, so eager and so pliable to whatever she thought of.
Fleur thanked the Fates, truly, for giving her such a wonderful night; she hadn't dared to imagine any of it could happen so soon, so much, at all. But that little jealous bitch of a muggleborn made it all possible, while trying in vain to warn her friend away from Fleur, never realizing how deep she had sunk her claws into Harry Potter, even before the night of the Yule Ball.
Oh he tried, the foolish boy that he was, he tried resisting, but in the end Fleur's manipulations had won out.
Minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, she layered the Allure on top of his whole being. Other, more arrogant and less intelligent, Veelas might have assaulted him with the ferocity of a firestorm, overwhelming his pleasure centers, making him succumb too swiftly, but where was the achievement in that, when she could have the far more pleasing, willing submission? Where was the joy in shattering his dignity and pride, rather than watch him strip it of his own free will, for her?
However, Fleur was not that quick to understimate the boy, despite the events of the night which led them to her room. After all, he had resisted her Allure well enough without any previous exposure, staving off his own self-satisfaction for unbearable minutes until Fleur finally let him go to seek it out in the first available spot. Once, and that was by far her favorite memory of him so far, Harry had not made it in time and she watched him, Disillusioned, from a small distance away, as he leaned his front against a wall, legs trembling beneath his robes, hand lost beneath the cloth, before he left a trail of white on the floor.
She craved him, deeply. To take him there, to appear from behind, snake one arm around his waist, while the other rose up to caress the skin of neck, to lean his head to the side so that she might leave her mark on him. It was unberable, horribly so.
Ever since from the first kiss she bestowed upon him, she had not allowed Amy and Dannielle back into her bed, not even for simple sleep-overs. She didn't dare, there lied temptation, and she wished to save all of it for Harry. All of her frustration, all of her lust. Solely for him to endure, to presevere through and learn to enjoy, as both of her friends had learned in years past.
Poor Harry thought he had it bad, but he knew nothing of Fleur's own struggles, knew nothing of how fragile the smiles she wore were in fact, how easy her whole image could crack at any moment, given the right, or wrong if you like, reasons.
He'd witnessed only a minute fraction of what slumbered within Fleur, just a trinkle of the savageness that lurked beneath.
As her hand slowly and gently stroked his hair, she thought of how much more she had yet to show him.
Just as her thoughts started turning towards things best left for night-time, she heard a knocking on the door, which caused her to suppress a groan. Amy and Dannielle, no doubt. Perhaps they think to ask me how the night had passed for me? Now, won't this be a rather delightful surprise for them? And for Harry, as well. Well, I planned on getting them introduced to each other properly, no sense in wasting an opportunity when one so readily presents itself.
Grinning, from ear to ear, and watching how her young lover slowly stirred towards awakening as he mumbled about something, Fleur took her wand from the night-stand and removed the spells for entry, but not privacy, from the door.
A moment later in came her two most trusted of friends and companions, their faces sporting grins of their own. The door shut behind them and was resealed again, preventing any others, save Madame Maxime, from gaining an audience with Fleur.
Amy started to open her mouth, no doubt a question in regards to Fleur's disappearance from last night, but then she saw the smaller, seemingly naked form next to Fleur's rather blatantly nude body and the way that Fleur smiled, well... it said enough.
"Oh you wicked, wicked girl," whispered Amy, in French, as she came closer. She shushed Dannielle before she said anything and fully waked the boy. Amy pulled her away by the arm and settled them on a sofa some small distance from the large bed.
"I wasn't all that wicked," muttered Fleur in her mock-defense, pearly-whites in an all-out display, her right arm finding its way around Harry's midsection, pulling him in closer to her - something to which he responded unconsciously and folded into her - an instinctive act of stating her possession, even for her two friends, who'd never try anything so silly as to take him away.
Danielle, for her part, giggled like a young schoolgirl. "Not all that wicked? Fleur, do take a look at his neck and say that again."
Fleur did so and then her face contorted into mock-contrition, as though she was ashamed of the rather obvious love-bites she left on him, when in truth all three of them knew Fleur loved nothing more than leaving some form of mark on her lovers.
Amy chose to intercede then as she took to sniffing the air. "You minx! How many times?"
Fleur gave her the answer when she raised a number of fingers on her hand.
Amy smiled, while Danni shook her head in amusement. "Three? Then how come the bed covers are dry?"
Fleur shrugged it off. "Vanishing charm and..." Fleur grinned. "Well, not much had managed to slip past his mouth."
Her friends had to press the palms of their hands against their mouths to contain the laughter that threatened to erupt.
"Oh shush," said Fleur, "he asked for it himself. Well, not in those words exactly, but he did offer to return the favor."
"The favor?" asked Amy. "What did you do, Fleur?"
"A bit of handywork, out in the courtyard, a bit of fluid swapping, nothing more." When Amy raised an eyebrow, Fleur responded with, "Don't look at me like that, he brought it up himself. I never would have said a word about it if he hadn't."
"And you, naturally," said Danni, "just felt like you had to oblige, yes? Not like that threatened to turn into a proper rut."
"Almost," whispered Fleur, her eyes darkening just by a shade, for a moment, brought there by the urge to indulge yet again.
"Almost?" repeated Dannielle, looking a tad concerned, though whether for the young wizard or her friend, none could tell.
"Not all the way," Fleur reassured her, "half, at worst." She directed an accusatory stare at Danni. "Do you think me so feeble?"
Dannielle admonished her. "Don't be stupid, of course not. I have a right to be worried for a friend, don't I?"
Fleur sighed. "Apologies, Danni, just a bit... twitchy, at the moment."
"Understandable," Danni nodded, "you've, after all, just taken a new lover, and he hasn't even vacated your bed yet."
"Nor would I have him do so at all," murmurred Fleur, her arm-hold tightening around Harry.
"I think people, specifically the Hogwarts headmaster, might object to such a notion, Fleur." Amy looked vaguely amused at her friend. "Tell me, what time do you think it is?" When Fleur shrugged, Amy said, "It's almost noon, Fleur. People will be asking questions. They'll be looking for him. Do you want them intruding into your relationship, so soon?"
Almost instantly, Fleur's face turned from pleased to scowling. "That's none of their business. I am of age and he... he is no simple-minded child that was led astray. Neither of us are toddlers to be coddled and watched over. Both of us are champions of the Tri-Wizard Tournament," whispered Fleur, eyes aflame, "and we have proven that we are worthy of our wands."
Rather than decrease the passion infusing her friend, Amy had only inflamed it. She knew Fleur's bad moods intimately well.
"Fleur, no one's saying that. All the same, people will wonder where he is." Amy then chose to look around the room before she said, "And now I must wonder something myself. Where are your clothes, Fleur?" with just a bit of teasing tone.
The French witch had no shame and only smiled, even laughed a tad loud, stirring Harry Potter further from his slumber.
"Gone, I'm afraid," said Fleur with no small amount of cheer. "Just another victim of passions from last night."
And just about as Amy was to inquire further into the matter, another's voice was heard.
"Fleur?"
All three pairs of eyes turned towards Harry Potter, who blinked rather slowly, his glasses perched atop his nose, back from whatever place he misplaced them at the night before. He seemed to be taking in the sights, as it were.
"Yes, 'arry?" asked Fleur, a grin spreading across her face.
"This isn't a dream, is it?"
"My oh my, Mr. Potter, what kind of dreams do you have to think this might be one of them?" asked Amy in perfect English.
Like a mole burrowing into the ground for safety, so did Harry retreat beneath the duvet, not even his head left peaking. He had even completely escaped from Fleur's armhold around him, a feat achieved by the suddennes of his actions.
All three witches burst into peals of laughter and for a moment there Fleur pondered whether to unveil her lover briskly, by pulling the cover away from him, but then decided to be merciful. He'd already done much for her the night before, the least she could do to him was repay the favor in kind. So she chose to pull it down just enough to reveal his head.
"Come now, 'arry, zese are my friends. No need to feel embarrassed, I certainly don't and I'm dressed for company as much as you are." Harry turned his head around for a moment and seemed to take full appraisal of the situation, for Fleur was indeed nude, breasts completely exposed, without regard for her friends sitting there, fully dressed in their Beauxbatons robes.
"Fleur!" said Harry, panic in his tone. Such was his level of concern that all three witches thought something truly awful happened, but then they saw Harry's hand partially reach out for Fleur's breast and then retreat at the last moment, shying away from touch, while spots of red bloomed most vividly across his cheeks. Only then did the witches see the cause for his concern: around Fleur's left nipple were teeth-marks, red and rather glaring when offset by the surrounding white skin.
She could have toyed with him if she wished to do so, but Fleur chose not to. She laughed instead and took to wrapping her arm yet again around him, this time across his back, while laying her hand on the back of his head, before she kissed him quite thoroughly. For a minute or two, both of them forgot about their guests, and nearly started recreating the stage of last night.
Amy cleared her throat and the lovers separated, with no small amount of reluctance.
"As amusing as that was, I believe proper introductions would be in order, Fleur."
"Spoilsport," said Fleur, sticking out her tongue playfully. "Zis insufferable wench, 'arry, is Amy Dubois, my very first friend since I enrolled in Beauxbatons." Harry nodded his head in Amy's direction, red in his cheeks again. "And ze redheaded mute would be Dannielle Fay, a distant cousin of mine, but a friend all ze same. Ladies," said Fleur mockingly, "my lover, 'arry Potter."
As predicted, the word 'lover' had him turning around again and looking at Fleur in wonder, as though last night had not happened and he just happened to lay naked in her bed by accident. He seemed to have been lost for words.
"What?" asked Fleur with a raised eyebrow. "Are you not my lover or does zat title insult you somehow?"
"I... I..." Harry faltered, at first, before a grin spread across his face, "I guess I am now, aren't I?"
Fleur joined in sharing his grin, as did Amy and Danni, before Fleur's face took on a somewhat lustful expression.
"Bon, I believe I have somezzing to repay from last night. A certain faux pas on my part?"
"A what now?" asked Harry, obviously confused.
"I promised lessons, but failed to deliver, and zen I took advantage of you, 'arry. I feel quite bad," pouted Fleur.
"Oh!" said Harry. "I didn't mind, Fleur, really! I.. I think I learned a lot."
Amy chose to intrude on the lovebirds with a quip. "Care to share with the rest of the class?"
Harry somehow managed to give out a, "No thanks," without a blush reappearing on his face.
But Fleur was feeling rather mischevious and wanted to see how far she could push her lover. She submerged herself beneath the covers and pushed Harry, until he sat right up, the pillow propped up against the headboard and Harry himself pressed against it. He struggled to pull the duvet higher up, to cover himself, but Fleur didn't allow him, instead choosing to move her head to his lap, where she took to distracting him with the aid of her mouth and tongue, rather effectively so.
Amy and Dannielle didn't restrain their laughters this time. How could they, reallly, when Harry's face shifted so swiftly from one expression to another: surprise to embarrassment to pleasure to shame to delight to lust and so on and so on...
Fleur was grateful that he had just recently awoken, for his cock did not require much tending to, having already been sitting upright ever since he spotted Amy and Dannielle, along with Fleur's naked body pressed to him from behind. She didn't waste her time on rousing it from any sort of daze and while her hands rolled his hairless sack in the palm of her hand, her mouth had come to envelope his whole member. She set her tongue to work, swirling it around the cock-head, just as her pouty lips pressed around the girth, squeezing in one moment and then widening in the next. When she brought her face low, with her nostrils flared, Fleur felt herself being slightly tickled by the few black hairs above his cock. His legs, upon which she laid across, tried pushing her away for a few moments, in vain, before he stopped resisting altogether, and Fleur raised her head up the length of his cock, leaving its slit just brushing against her mouth as she blew soft, small breaths against it, absolutely adoring the way the organ throbbed with need and desperation. Really, he was putty in her hands. She descended again, her pace increasing just by a little, her head bobbing up and down as her tongue continued lathering her spit all over Harry's cock.
However, Fleur didn't even have time to properly tease the many, many moans she desired to hear from him, as she found Harry erupting just as her face met his crotch for the ninth time. Some, but not all, of his cum hit straight at the back of her throat and she took to swallowing the bitter load, her tongue guiding the rest to pool just in the front of her mouth.
When she rose from beneath the covers, letting them fall back, uncovering them entirely, Harry was far too much overtaken by the surprise of the act, the pleasure and her swiftness at it, that he didn't respond at first when she pressed a kiss to his lips.
But when her tongue pushed out some of that bitterness that she saved up just for him, Harry finally responded, his own tongue plunging into Fleur's mouth, their mutual saliva mixing with his own thick and heavy cum. Both of them moaned at the exchange and each took a portion of Harry's release into their mouths, down their throats, and straight into their stomachs.
Needless to say, Fleur was pleasantly surprised at how acquiescing Harry was at accepting such an exchange and thus had not minded in the slightest when his hands had come to rest on Fleur's head, pushing her further down onto his mouth.
What a strange boy you are, Harry Potter. There I was, thinking and plotting on how to trick you, how to condition and bribe, if need be, and you've shown yourself so willing to do as I wished, even in front of people who were strangers to you only minutes ago. I was right - as always - you will be a magnificent lover.
The two lovers were temporarily oblivious of what their actions wrought to their two observers.
Dannnielle's underwear had grown damper than it was only minutes ago and Amy's robes even more so, as she had foregone wearing underwear of any sorts on that morn; a mistake as it turned out. She really should have known better.
So they watched them: two lovers lost to the world, pressed so firmly against one another that save for the markings on each of their respective bodies and the stark contrast of their hair colors, you could not tell where one began and the other ended.
Fleur broke it off, after a while, long past since they swallowed the last remnant of Harry's climax, contending to rest her forehead against his, grinning lazily, flicking out her tongue every now and again at his mouth, teasing him without thought.
"Am I forgiven for ze events of last night?" asked Fleur in a breathy voice.
Harry's response came slow, but no less sure for it, and in that same breathy tone. "There's nothing to forgive."
Just when Fleur was about to lunge towards him yet again, both Amy and Dannielle cleared their throats, bringing them both back to the world they shared with others. Sadly, that also reminded Harry of who had just witnessed such an obscene act and how he was completely bared for them to see. He almost managed to dive under the covers, content to hide away until the world perished or his deeds were forgotten, whichever came first, but Fleur wouldn't allow him.
"No," said Fleur, one hand firmly holding onto the duvet, pulling it away from him, while the other hand's palm pressed hard against Harry's chest, keeping him in place and in plain sight of their guests. "I am not ashamed, and neizzer should you be."
"But Fleur —"
"But what?"
"They saw us," whispered Harry, as though they couldn't hear.
Fleur's glare softened and her hand moved from his chest, up to his face. "Yes, zey did. And I still say I feel no shame. Zey are my friends, 'arry." She smiled. "Zey are witches, like me. Do you zink we never shared a bazzrom or a shower?"
He shook his head. "No, no, that's different. You're you, Fleur, I'm... I'm me," Harry weakly finished, with a faltering grin.
With a swiftness that a serpent would envy, Fleur's hand struck, the evidence of its passing left in the red on Harry's cheek.
"You are my lover and I am not ashamed. Do you think yourself repulsive? You are not. Would I 'ave taken you to my bed if you were? Non. So stop with... with zis foolishness, 'arry! Look at zem, just once."
When he did look at them, he seemed so surprised that their faces showed nothing but friendliness and smiles.
Was he expecting scorn? Disgust? With Fleur's friends, he would never come across either of those sentiments, so long as he stayed true to her. Fleur took advantage of his momentary distracttion and brought him forwards, right into her arms, while she pressed tender kisses to the skin of his neck, brushing her lips where numerous love-bites lingered behind.
"Repressed, you are so very repressed, 'arry," muttered Fleur, good naturedly. "We must work on correcting zis."
"Don't worry," said Dannielle, speaking for the first time, with only the slightest of accents, "you're among friends now."
"We can keep a secret," said Amy. "Besides, do you really think it's the first time for any of us to see a naked boy?"
He proceeded to mumble something to himself, and only Fleur heard, which had her in a small fit of giggling.
"No, most certainly not," said Fleur. "Vairy well, we shall keep your privates... private?" Another burst of giggling, this time from all three witches. "But zere is a problem, 'arry: I 'ave no clothes to offer you, save some of my own."
And while the idea certainly seemed like a great deal of fun for Fleur and her friends, Harry opted for another route.

One farewell kiss and a slap on his pert little behind later, Harry Potter vanished from sight and left the room behind.
When the door finally closed behind him and was resealed yet again, Amy said, "Your lover is an intriguing wizard, Fleur."
"It would seem so," said Fleur, more to herself than her friends, as she turned away from the door and joined her friends.
She would have transfigured some of her own clothes for him, if he had but asked, but Harry had chosen instead to summon a fairly odd looking, even for its kind, house elf, who bobbed its head so strongly it seemed like it might leap from his shoulders. The house elf was adorned in all sorts of socks, scarves and hats, and each seemed to be in clashingly different colors.
When it finally calmed down, and some charade of introductions had been made, Harry had asked the creature to fetch him some clothes - robes and underwear - along with his cloak. At first Fleur wondered why he had need of a cloak when he could simply use his wand, which they'd eventually found underneath the bed, for warming charms. But when said cloak was brought and Harry, a silly grin adorning his face, put it on, all three of them understood its true purpose and value.
Had they awoken at an earlier time, Fleur might have asked him to stay a while longer, and gotten him more at ease with Amy and Dannielle, though what transpired wasn't all that bad either. He certainly seemed to have adapted fast in the situation at hand. Though it was a shame he'd had enough presence of a mind to take a shower before getting dressed. Fleur would have preferred him to go unwashed and reeking of her scent for all who came close to him. No matter, the love-bites would suffice.
Not that any witch would doubt who had placed such markings on him, but Fleur planned to drive the lesson home, hard. And after that was taken care of, she would start pushing the boundaries with Harry, one in particular. For that she needed...
"What are you thinking about, Fleur, that's got you smiling?" asked Amy.
Fleur could almost feel her juices flowing downwards again as the plan formed fully in her mind.
"Tell me Amy, is there anything left from the last batch of potions that you and Dannielle brewed?"
"Which potion specifically?" asked Danni, intrigued by where Fleur was going with this.
Fleur wet her lips once, dragging her tongue across her lips in slow motion, before she answered, "Polyjuice."
"You'd make such a move so soon?" inquired Amy, only slightly uncertain on whether it could be accomplished.
"If there had been no need for him to leave my room today," said Fleur, "I'd have done it already, consequences be damned."
Danni, insightful as ever, was careful about how she phrased her thoughts aloud, as from her spot on the sofa, she could already see small trickles of the change on Fleur's face, summoned there by mere thoughts of the boy.
"You desire him that greatly?"
Her eyes had darkened. "More," growled Fleur, before she put her face in her hands. Her voice was unsteady, wavering between bouts of words hissed through clenched teeth and meek, soft whispers, never meant to be heard by any other than those closest to Fleur. "You've no concept of what he's like to me as he is now. Pure. Do you understand that? Pure and untouched and unclaimed. Even with what I've done to him. The Allure can hold him in my presence only so long as he wants it himself. He is still unfettered, still fair game for any bitch that might wander close by and decide she wants him as hers."
Both Amy and Danni felt uncomfortable. It wasn't often they saw this side of Fleur, and they didn't think anyone but them ever did to start with. She was torn in her desires, torn between her wants and needs and despair and rage. Truth be told, they'd only seen her once before like that: back when she was betrayed for the first time, but not the last, back when she thought to raise a boy above all others, take him and make him as close to an equal that she could. That betrayal had given birth to uncertainty, a thing most ill fitting for one alike Fleur. It was weakness, plain and simple, and weakness was to be abhorred.
Amy's hands parted Fleur's, moving them away from her face, before she took to embracing her friend, giving her the much needed support, and in that she was joined by Dannielle from the other side.
Each of Fleur's friends came to rest their heads on her shoulders, their hands stroking her beautiful hair.
"You know that's not true," began Dannielle, "in his mind, there can be no other. Only —"
"— you, Fleur, and no other." Amy finished. She took to smiling and pressed that smile against Fleur's bare skin.
"Didn't you see how he barely noticed Danni or me sitting in the room? His eyes were glued to you all along." Then she chuckled. "Of course, netiher me nor Danni had our tits hanging out, so there's that."
She knew she'd said the right thing the moment she felt Fleur shaking beneath her, before laughter bubbled out of her throat and filled the room with its sound. She was quick to grab her friends' hands and press light kisses on them, giving her gratitude a small way to vent. Fleur then chose to disentangle herself from the twin embrace and laid her back against the sofa, closing her eyes and fondly reminiscing about certain parts of last night.
"Oh and he was a delight in that too," said Fleur, her hand ghosting across her, now clothed, left teat, where the ache still managed to linger, an echo of his feral attentions, mimicking the cruelty she first displayed in her treatment of him.
Cruel to be kind, Harry.
"You loved it," teased Danni.
"And he loved it too, no doubt," said Amy. "Now then, shall we get back to the matter of hand, Fleur? Polyjuice, you said?"
She breathed in deeply, before opening her eyes and responding. "Yes, Polyjuice. How much of it do you have left?"
"How much do you need?"
Her eyes fleeted from Amy to Danni and back, a smile spreading across her angelic features. "Two doses should suffice, I think."
Amy found herself fighting a grin, with Danni not caring in the slightest, lust brazenly displayed on her face.
"Just two?"
Fluer nodded. "For now... but there's no reason not to be prepared in advance. Could you brew another batch?"
"Anything for you, Fleur," said Amy.
"Good!" said Fleur, with great enthusiasm, her cheerful mood infecting her friends. "We have much to plan then."

All three witches' faces bore smiles, the likes of which might have had their intended mark running for the proverbial hills, had he but known what they planned for him. Or not. Who but Harry himself knew how he would have reacted? Fleur hoped he would put up a struggle, up to a certain degree, resisting her ploys, as he resisted her Allure in the days before the ball, yet at the same time she wanted him subservient, obeying and listening to her every whim, no matter how frivolous or audacious it might have seemed. Such was the conflicting duality, the nature of witch and Veela, bound in one form together.
In her heart of hearts, Fleur knew one thing with absolute certainty: she would come to possess Harry Potter, regardless of the state of his mind and body, and he would love her for it, as was her due, her right and - that frailest thing of all - her hope.
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To revel with a Veela