Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

To revel with a Veela	By : Valehtelija Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 112967 -:- 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
- 4
- 5
It was early in the morning when Fleur opened her eyes.
The first thing she noticed was Harry's arm around her midsection, wrapped firmly, pressing her back to his front. She had no recollection of when they moved about in the bed and switched positions, but she didn't mind.
She would have twisted and turned, until they were face to face, if she only hadn't wished him to remain asleep some more.
It was hard to fight against the grin that was to adorn her face. Harry had been, just as she confided in him, perfect. No, more than perfect, more than magnificent, more than just... Harry. Even now, while he slept and dreamed (dreamed of her) she knew that she had wrought change within him, that the boy who had once looked upon her countenance with eyes full of scorn and contempt was resting peacefully by her side, in her bed, where the two of them had made their madness manifest.
His passion, she still felt: that delightful soreness nestled between her legs; the ache in the tendon of her neck, where his teeth had left their mark; the racing pulse of blood in her veins which he had set aflame without any effort whatsoever.
These thoughts alone - of things he had done, of deeds in the night - almost provoked a moan, almost made her initiate a change within herself and bend him over the bed, bend him over any flat surface in the room and take him, as was her right.
Fleur might have delved more deeply into her plans, mused on what the next step would be in their unusual courtship, if only Harry's arm hadn't tightened its hold around her waist and if his palm hadn't covered one of her still sensitive breasts.
"I'm not sorry."
She only turned her head slightly to the side, to take a glimpse of his face, but found him assisting her in turning her whole body, until they were face to face, until she witnessed that the fire that raged in his eyes from last night still lingered, burning quietly. His hold on her remained, though now his hand rested on the small of her back, rather than her breast.
His other hand she took in her own and brought it to her mouth where she gave it a small peck across his knuckles.
"And what made you zink zat I would want you to be sorry for anyzzing?"
He shook his head slightly. "I don't know. All I can say is," he hesitated for a moment, "that I won't apologize for anything from last night." His otherwise brilliant eyes darkened by half a shade. "You used me. And I used you."
"And you loved every second of it," stated Fleur, pleased and self-assured.
He nodded and said, "I did," without a single tremble in his voice, "both parts. I want you, Fleur." His body pressed against hers, cock already hard against her flat stomach. The fire in his eyes bloomed. "I want you and I hate you for it."
"I know." She kissed his hand again, smiling. "'ate me all you want, mon cher, but be 'onest about it. Zat is all I ask."
Harry laughed; a small but understandable reaction. He closed his eyes and when he opened them the fire was all but gone. "You're a very strange witch, Fleur, to be content with hate, and not love, from a lover."
She shrugged. "Two sides of ze same coin and it is known zat ze line is zin between love and 'ate." Her face came close to his, her breath falling upon his mouth. "And you will come to love me, 'arry, zat I know wiz absolute certainty."
His smile was a rueful one when his mouth twisted that way. It looked like he wished to say more, but restrained himself.
Let him keep his words, whatever they were, ultimately they're unimportant. You will love and worship me before summer comes, Harry Potter, this I swear on all that is dear to my heart, this I promise. I will have you and you will preen at being claimed mine.
What followed surprised neither of them: her proximity prompted a kiss and one kiss turned into dozens which turned into their legs being entangled, which turned into roaming hands, which turned into yet another rutting of pure pleasure.
But this time, it was different.
Fleur was atop him, like the Valkyries of old rode upon their steeds, in absolute command of the task at hand. And whereas those mythical beings collected the slain brave and valourous from fields of battle, Fleur took her due in Harry's most essentials: his words, his moans, his gasps, his cock's throbbs, his balls' ache and ultimately his seed woud be hers too.
It did not take long until Fleur was howling with pleasure, having bounced up and down on her lover's cock with extreme fervor, impaling herself upon its full length, having felt him thrust upwards at her with his hands on her hips to bring her back down and his thumb brushing and flicking her clit tenderly; quite contradictory to the whole event, but highly pleasurable.
Her sharp fingernails left their angry red marks across his pale, hairless chest, but she did not contend herself with merely just this simple act, for in his eyes she saw that he enjoyed the streaks of pain when her nails bit too deep. Still riding him, though now her flesh clung to his as she gyrated her hips around, she bowed low and took to lavishing one of his nipples with her tongue, until she deemed it just receptive enough to the sensation she wished to evoke, and bit down, hard.
It was Harry this time who howled, his hand finding itself fisted in Fleur's hair as he held onto her, but instead of pulling her away he pushed closer, where Fleur's puckered mouth gave kisses with moistened lips to bruised and teeth-marked flesh, to soothe the sting of pain, but at the same time keep it fresh, and make his blood flow faster, his heart beat harder, his cock twitch more often, until his balls spent their precious load inside her, where it belonged.
Thoughts of what she'd have him do after he spent himself pushed her over the peak, and she fought hard to stay atop him, even as her juices gushed out from between her folds. Her own orgasm had almost pushed his cock out, but Harry endured.
The fact that she climaxed didn't stop her lover for one second; in fact, it invigorated him further to pound at her now sloppy-feeling cunt, soaked as he was in its juices, with a rhythm so feral it belied his physical stature; more fit for someone with giant's blood in their veins rather than that of any wizard. His ferociousness Fleur took to all too gladly, not even bothering to hide her grin as she felt him push deeper, desperate to reach some previously untouched place within her.
And soon it was that she felt it, that one last tremor that ran through his whole body, the widening of his cock-head, the eruption of cum from his slit and right into her pussy, which was quite welcoming and starving for such a generous treat.
She did not anticipate his teeth sinking into her shoulder, though she minded it not.

Fleur counted each of his spurts, luxurating in the warm feeling of being so deliciously filled with cock and cum.
Her eyes filled with lust yet to abate, Fleur looked at him: exhausted but not without presence of a mind.
"You know what I'd 'ave you do now, non?" asked Fleur, with a purr to her voice, fingers teasing at his mouth lazily.
Harry's lids grew heavy and they lowered themselves halfway. He looked keenly at her, before he nodded.
A moan escaped past her lips as she carefully lifted herself upwards, extracting his cock in the process and clenching the walls of her pussy shut, so that it might hold its precious loads within, without seeping out a single drop.
"Do you remember what we did last night?" Fleur bit her lower lip. "Four times, 'arry, and all of zem inside me, still."
"I remember," said Harry quietly.
His hands settled on Fleur's slender legs, right below her waist, as he pulled her up, towards his face, and until she reached her destination, her hand remained firmly pressed against her lower lips, keeping them closed. She felt his seed trying to squirm its way past and drip down, but she would not allow it. Only when his lips brushed the back of her hand did she move most of her fingers out of the way; all but two of them. With her index and her middle finger she spread herself fully open, breathing heavily in anticipation for when the first dollop of the thick, white cream passed outside her.
Harry, however, was not one to wait, as it turned out. He pressed his mouth to her pussy, his lips between her fingers, and his tongue swiftly struck out, reaching inside her, catching what would have dropped down moments later if he'd merely kept his mouth open and waited for her to move first. But he hadn't and Fleur moaned again, her throat giving voice to the rapture she felt as Harry's tongue burrowed within, scooping up their mixed cum and swallowing it without hesitation.
"Clean me," she bid him, her breath quickening as her breasts rose and fell. "Eat me out, mon cher, and enjoy ze creampie zat we worked so 'ard for zis past night and morn." Her eyes stared into his, unblinking and full of hunger. "Let me feed you."
Her moans started growing louder and louder as Harry took to pressing her crotch against his face, as his tongue swirled inside her, the residue of last night's pleasures and those of this morning, still so very fresh, mingled and turned bitter in his mouth. The more he ate her out, the more he cleaned her of their messes, the more voracious he was, the louder Fleur was.
And all the while, his eyes looked up into hers, neither daring to break contact, to lose a single moment of their shared ecstasy.
Unsurprisingly, Fleur had reached her peak swiftly, and squirted copious amounts of cum in her lover's mouth; his and hers. That did not mean that he relented, that he paused to give her breath. He renewed his efforts, though his tongue now strayed outside as well, engulfing her clit with his wet organ, occasionally even suckling on it, eager for another serving of her release.
For all the times that he came the night before and the morning after, Fleur surpassed him. Not once, not twice... but seven times. Seven times she'd flooded his mouth. Seven times she rode his face raw, until his skin reddened from friction, until his lips were swollen, until he reeked of her. Her throat was shouted hoarse with screams of pleasure.
This time it was her who collapsed and he was all too ready to catch her in his arms, only to find it a ruse of sorts.
Her mouth sought to devour his. "We taste good," she'd whispered to him, soft breath against his lips, tongue flicking out.
"You taste better," said Harry, teasingly.
She couldn't help but smile. "We'll remedy zat, not to worry. Now," she lifted herself up, "I zink zat I 'old an unfair advantage in ze count, and I do believe in equal traitement in zese matters. Come, mon cher, again, for me..."
And so it started again and again and again until she settled the difference, until Harry was utterly wrung dry, though Fleur herself was far from it; a boon of her Veela heritage - one that saw all of her lovers exhausted and so very pliant - that she would come to impart, a semblance of it at least, to Harry in the coming weeks, for like her madness it too was virulent.

They laid in Fleur's bed, clean as they could be after their extensive shower session, with him lying next to her and his head resting on her breasts, her fingers soothingly scratching at his scalp as she whispered the words.
"Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above ze ground, and while you're searching, ponder zis: we've taken what you'll sorely miss, an 'our long you'll 'ave to look, and recover what we took. But past an 'our — the prospect's black, too late, it's gone, it won't come back."
Her lover was silent, though his lips moved as he repeated the words, over and over, in order to memorize them. When he was done, Harry lifted his head up from her chest and turned around to face her.

"Why tell me this?"
Fleur shrugged. "I would razzer you not spend any more time on what zat foolish boy talked about, and in ze end I would 'ave told you about it, regardless of whezzer he had spoken or not. And let's be 'onest, 'is way of 'elping wasn't all zat good to start wiz." She snorted. "'Take a bazz'? Non, that wasn't 'elpful at all, and what little he said was to assuage his conscience."
It was not the whole truth, of course. Fleur had certainly mused about telling him the clue for the Second Task, but it was her Headmistress' intrusion that made up her mind. What business was it of hers or anyone else whom Fleur bedded?
She saw her words take root, deep and true, in Harry, the glimmer of bitterness and contempt for the Hufflepuff welling up, and she delighted in knowing she had been the one to bring it about. But those emotions were smothered when he blinked and in their place she saw affection, burning with a quiet flame. All for her, and her alone, of course.
He pressed a kiss to her lips and she let it remain chaste. "Thank you."
Her mouth curved upwards, into a smile, against his own. "Do not zank me yet. Ze task is not done, and I will not go easy on you, simply because we are lovers, 'arry. But you already knew zat, didn't you?"
"I did," answered Harry, "but if it's all the same to you," his mouth started curving into a small lopsided grin, "I'd like to properly express my gratitude." His fingers were busy, trailing a path across the line of her waist.
"Oh, and 'ow would you go about doing zat, mon cher?" asked Fleur sultrily, as she pressed herself further into his touch.
His grin had turned into a smile that she would come to like best about him: full of hunger and all teeth.
"I think I can come up with something, and if not... well, you can always tell me what you want and I'd oblige."
I want you spread-eagled, Harry. I want you collared and leashed, I want you tied down and blindfolded and gagging for me.
But Fleur voiced none of her thoughts and her inner wants. She merely said, "I'll zink of somezzing zen," and added in a remorseful voice, "for anuzzer time. I'm afraid I've kept you too long by my side," she smiled mischeviously, "again."
Harry groaned and buried his face back in between her breasts. "Merlin, I hate this."
She ran her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp, twisting the strands of blackness around her digits. "I assume you're talking about 'aving to leave from my illustrious presence, razzer zan you indulging yourself wiz my breasts."
He laughed, gusts of warm breath making her skin flush, making her feel the familiar tingle as it started to spread, slowly. She thought, at first, to push him away, for temptation was all too sweet of a thing for her, but then his mouth was no longer open from the bout of laughter and instead it closed around one of her nipples and the soft, milky-white flesh around it.
Fleur's hold on his hair turned rougher as she yanked him upwards.
She warned him, "Do not start somezzing we cannot finish now, mon cher," for she knew that if he were to try and play the part of the ravaging beast yet again, she would have no other recourse but to respond in kind and in turn ravage him.
"I'm not sure I can finish anything, you've drained me to the bone, but you, Fleur, on the other hand," his tongue went past his lips, gently lavishing her sensitive flesh with its wetness, "you're practically impossible to satiate."
Her laughter tinkled. "True. But not entirely impossible, I assure you, 'arry. And you've more zan done your part."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but then they heard a knocking on the door, and a familiar voice calling to them.
"Now, now, lovebirds, you've had a whole day, and night, to yourselves. Time to get out of bed."
Fleur's hand was already rising from beneath the duvet, to let them in, but then she saw Harry's grinning face. When she raised an eyebrow at him, he only mouthed 'Let them in' and then sank fully beneath the covers. A moment or two later, his reason for this was revealed, as her legs were spread, her knees pushed up and Fleur herself pushed against the headboard. She forced back a loud moan in her throat and then continued the motion of her arm, letting both Amy and Dannielle inside.
They were barely beyond the door when Fleur shut it closed, with great force.
"Well now," said Amy, her eyes already scouring across the room, "where is that lover of yours, Fleur?"
"Maybe he'd already left," speculated Danni, as she followed right behind Amy, both of them settling down on the sofa.
Fleur fought back a smile, as Harry's tongue was dragged slowly across her folds and his fingers pressed more firmly into her thighs, keeping her down on the bed. Her two friends suspected nothing for the moment, since Fleur's knees upholstered the bed's covers in the air, giving Harry ample space to hide himself for a few moments, before his presence was unveiled.
"Or," replied Fleur, in French, "he's beneath the duvet, between my legs, with his mouth on my mound."
Amy's and Danni's jaws went slack, their eyes wide. The silence did not last all that much before the sound of a sloppy cunnilingus started echoing in the room and Fleur herself no longer fought down any of her moans as she arched her back up from the bed. Her hand vanished swiftly beneath the covers, and her friends could then clearly see the outline of a masculine form and the movement of the head that was settled between Fleur's legs.
One of her legs found itself draped over his shoulder, the heel of her foot pushing his face further into her. Though she could see his bright green eyes from beneath the shallow darkness of the covers, peering up into her dark blue ones, Fleur wanted far more than that. So she used the leg that was already on top of him and pushed the duvet further down, until Harry himself was uncovered, along with Fleur's own nudity. For a moment and no more, she saw a sliver of panic in his eyes, but it vanished as fast as it appeared, smothered by his own lust for her. Was it any wonder that Fleur's hand found purchase in his hair? Fingers roughly tangled themselves in his hair, urging him to do more than just mere lapping between her folds.
From the corner of her eye she looked at her two friends, still sitting on the sofa, albeit quite distracted with one another rather than the sight that Harry and Fleur provided. No matter, what Amy and Dannielle did with each other was of little importance, as their presence had provided a catalyst for yet another change, small though it might have been, in Harry.
In a way, Fleur could not believe that the same boy who needed several days to muster up the courage to even approach her, for that fateful first time, was the same boy whose tongue now dived fully inside her wet pussy, swiping across its walls and scooping up its juices before he brought it back inside his mouth and gulped them down; in front of an audience, at that.
Not once did his eyes stray from hers, not once did he fully part from her cum-slick folds, not until he brought her to the edge of an orgasm. Only then did he remove his tongue from within her. Only then he lapped at her clit, while two of his fingers worked diligently at spearing and stretching her in a most pleasant way. She was proud at how swiftly he learned.
In one moment, his fingers were pushed fully inside, to the last knuckle, and his moist lips wrapped themselves around her clit.
Her leg, which until then remained beneath him, was quick to join the other on his shoulder and Fleur locked them around his head with haste, not willing to let a single drop of her yet-to-gush cum land anywhere but in his mouth as he sucked on the sensitive flesh. Fleur was not shy about voicing her pleasure, telling him to, "Suck it all out, 'arry, all of me!" even as her whole body shook, her sweet juices squirting straight into her lover's already open and receptive mouth.
For half a minute, Fleur fed Harry her cum and a vision - solely within her mind, though she would seek one day to make it a reality that both of them would come to enjoy - of his otherwise flat stomach acquiring a small paunch from the volume she unloaded inside him only served to protract her body-wracking orgasm; her breathing ever so short, ever so sharp.
When her leg-lock on his head slackened, Harry used that opportunity to move upwards and soon he laid atop of Fleur.
Through a haze of pleasure which did nothing to dim her faculties, Fleur saw her lover lower his lips to hers and she soon tasted her own sweetness as she was fed in very much the same manner that she had fed him on several occasions before. Of course she allowed it. How could she not, when all of this gave her hopes for so much more yet to be done?
And to think, her lover had not even kissed a girl before meeting her. How far he had come...
What a delightful lover you are, my Harry, and yet we've only scratched the surface.
She clung to him, her arms wrapped around him, her hands caressing his back.
His breath carried her scent and she thrilled in it. All was as it should be.
"You realize," said Fleur, "zat zis is only ze start, non?" His cock twitched between them. "Look at my friends, 'arry."
And he did.
Both of the witches were entirely divested of their robes, but only Dannielle sat on the sofa, while Amy kneeled down on the floor, her head positioned firmly between Danni's legs. The sounds, the sight... they left very little to imagination. Harry's cock throbbed against her, even though both of them knew that it had nothing more to give and would only hurt him if they tried to milk it again. And yet... she craved that. Craved to push him to the edge of pain and over it, wanted to give him so many sensations, so that no other that came after could ever compare. And was she not fair? She took her time with him, was gentle when she wanted to be truly vicious, wanted to hurt him, wanted to bleed him and make him cry, wanted to love him.
An involuntary shudder passed through her body and several of her fingers raked themselves across Harry's back.
She breathed in his burst of agony and bliss, so effortlessly evoked by one simple act.
She breathed out nothing but love, spoken in her mother tongue, both of which he had yet to understand.
In her heart of hearts, she feared for Harry. Her love unleashed was never a gentle thing.
In her heart of hearts, she knew that her fear was for naught, and what would be, would be.
Fleur shifted in the bed and moved Harry to lie next to her, his back to her front, his face straining to look back at her, as though looking forward, at the scene that Amy and Danni so passionately orchestrated for them, would be a betrayal.
Her hand cupped his cock. "Look all you want, mon cher, no 'arm in zat, else I would not 'ave positioned us so. Look, but don't touch," her fingernails pressed sharply into his thigh, "and always remember zat zis," she squeezed him playfully, "is mine, and no ozzer's. Understood?" All mine to hold, all mine to play with as I see fit. Say 'yes', Harry. Say 'yes'.
He managed to turn around, though her hold on his cock remained.
"I understand, Fleur." His hand cupped her mound, fingers touching her clit. "And this? Is this mine, Fleur? Are you mine too?"
Her reply was a soft kiss and whispered words between breaths yet to be taken. "For as long as you want me. Now, watch."
Once more, she turned him about and made him spoon into her, one of her hands stroking his chest, while the other fondled his cock and balls. She was gentle, despite her fervent desire to be anything but gentle with him. When she kissed the back of his neck, she felt his breathing grow more erratic. With her fingers she kneaded and caressed his poor, aching member, knowing full well that completion would elude him in such a manner, though both of them wished it were otherwise.
Fleur was sorely tempted to ignore his cock and instead allow her fingers to roam below his, sadly still empty, sack, until her finger circled around his pretty little rosebud, until she plunged it inside. Just the thought of it alone was enough to turn one of her gentle kisses into a not-so-gentle bite and her fingers to pinch his nipple. The way he arched underneath her touch, the sudden blaze in his eyes and the feverish need in his mouth for her tongue... he was perfect, just as she'd told him before.
Reluctantly, she turned his head to the front yet again, and just in time as Amy had gotten up from the floor and turned around, to look at the both of them with a grin on her face, Danni's release quite evident on her lips and chin, while Dannielle rested with her head on the sofa, a sheen of prespiration on her heavy breasts as they rose and fell with belaboured breaths.
"You two are adorable," Amy - amusing sight that she was in all her naked glory - gushed at the sight of them.

Fleur was a tad surprised by Harry's laughter, but found herself joining in it, while her arm wrapped itself around his chest.
"You are," Amy repeated herself, gigglingly. The brunette bit her lower lip. "Don't suppose you'd share?"
Harry's laughter abrutply ended, mouth agape. "Wait, what?"
Fleur's smile went unnoticed by Harry, but not by Amy. "Too soon?" she asked wistfully. Amy nodded to herself when Fleur said nothing in reply, and her hold on Harry only intensified. "Too soon. Now then, since you won't share... which drawer?"
"Second from ze bottom."
Her lover was undoubtedly confused about what was going on, but he said nothing. He observed Amy rumaging through the drawer - in search of something that Fleur herself was familiar with - or at least as much as she allowed him to, occasionally encompasing him with the full flare of her own wants and needs, and Allure, stoking the embers within him to a full flame.
Grunts, groans and moans; these she took from him.
Teasing him was a delight.
She relented a little when Amy let gasped and attracted both of their attentions. The brunette witch turned about and the reason for her sharp intake of air became evident: the enchanted sex toy, that both her and Danni had used on numerous occasions before, was already embedded firmly inside her, its flesh-pink length, with no small amount of girth, standing proudly at attention. Amy's fingers daintily toyed with her new cock and the cum-filled sack hanging beneath it.
Beneath her hand, Fleur felt Harry's heartbeat quicken, though his cock remained still, at least for the moment.

Fleur said nothing, asked nothing, and only increased her feverish desire to make Harry lose himself to a bout of passion, even as the two of them watched Amy approach Danni, a not so subtle sway in her hips. She sank low, though not quite as low to go down on her knees again, as she took to kissing Dannielle. It would have gone unnoticed when she slipped inside her redheaded friend were it not for Danni's prolonged moan, with her legs rising and locking around Amy's waist.
What followed... the sounds of the voluptious and the willowy flesh joining together in shared motions. It happened again and again, in different strides, at unequal paces, a harmony of disunion as the union of two witches progressed. The room echoed with their voices and though the exact meaning of their words might have been lost on her lover, Fleur knew it did not matter, for his cock had finally started throbbing again beneath her hand, and she smiled.
She turned him around, laying him on his back, and draped herself over him.
His eyes, burning brightly, did not stray from hers and she pressed her lips against his.
Though she was gentle and soft in her approach, the claiming to come - Mine, all mine - would be anything but.

Fleur was no longer content with bringing Harry back to the Beauxbatons carriage and having her way with him back there.
The fortuitous moment that led to exposing him to Amy and Dannielle's relationship with one another was just a minor step.
If she wanted her conquest of him to be lasting, to mean something more than a mere fling, she would have him take them to places important to him and then take him there, where the memories of what they'd done would last far, far longer than any scent of hers could linger across his body. But that is not to say that Fleur would give up such an approach either, for she took great pleasure in seeing all those witches of Hogwarts flare their nostrils at her scent marking Harry. She doubted any of them knew what was happening, what caused their inexplicable reactions to Harry's presence. Maybe a few would, but the rest... what reason would they have, to search among ancient texts for snippets of knowledge concerning a Veela and her lover?
Perhaps it was childish of her, this particular little game that she played, but she would not give up, would not give him up. What was hers was hers. And she meant her words when she'd spoken them to Harry, none would part the two of them, not unless she wished it, not unless she, and she alone, allowed it. All in all, it was an unlikely prospect for the time being.
She knew what was happening to her, of course. She'd been expecting it the whole time.
She was in love and love, no matter that it was not her first time, had a madness of its own.

Harry told her its name: the Shrieking Shack.
A decreipt, forgotten place, where the passage of time was not the only element which contributed to its ruin.

They made love there, down on the floor, though a small blanket separated them from the dust and grime and spells woven into the ratty windows, the holes in the walls, prevented winter from encroaching and robbing them of their warmth.
And Harry was ever so warm, ever so gentle when he undressed her. For reasons unknown, he tread carefully around her, as if to touch her more firmly would bruise her, would diminish her. Foolish boy - he unbuttoned the front of her robes, parted them and with the flat of his thumb brushed across her bare breast - bruises would pass and I can not be diminished. Foolish boy, she thought once more and then opened her mouth for him, welcoming his tongue with hers, as surely as her body welcomed his questing hands, burning steadily in the tips of his fingers, a path with no pattern to it blazing up and down.
Up and down - his smile against her lips as he held one of her breasts in his hand and squeezed it tenderly - and to the side and underneath and all around. Warmth poured out of his mouth and into hers. Words followed the warmth and though the words were familiar, oft repeated by others and him as well, they lost none of their importance, not in this moment for sure.
"You're beautiful. You're so bloody beautiful," he repeated, almost whispering, as he went in for another kiss. And another and another and another. He was slowly learning what it was to be greedy, yet still affectionate, in love-making.
His hair was a mess, as always, and her fingers all too easily caught in the tangles of black as his head went lower, kissing her lips one more time, kissing her along the line of her jaw, kissing her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, her stomach, her legs, her... it took her a moment to realize that this was his way of worshipping her, paying obeisance that was her due.
She looked down at him, so pretty and perfect on his knees, with only those glasses obscuring his lovely eyes.
On his knees, where he belonged with her. On his knees as his mouth approached her mound. On his knees, he kissed her.
It was not long before she joined him down on the floor (his robes discarded, atop of hers nearby) and he laid beneath her.
"You're beautiful," Fleur had told him - one of her hands cupping his face - just as she was gliding down his cock, slick with her own juices. She was moving slowly, torturously so, with every motion calculated, every movement precise.
She was milking him for all his worth.
His eyes were nothing but flames of pure emerald when he suddenly sprung upwards, still buried inside her, his face now hidden between her breasts as she felt him come undone. Her own release had yet to come, but her heart had soared high all the same, for she'd seen it blazing in his eyes, seen that which he sought to hide (miserably so) away: love.
Love unspoken, but true. Love choked back, but very much alive.
So much love, and all for her.
Fleur stroked her lover's hair, her face resting amidst the black; far from done though, for he was still hard and she was ever so hungry. Up and down, up and down she went, shifting gently in Harry's lap, his cock's length refusing to turn soft and slip out. Up and down, up and down, Fleur went. Up and down, up and down, until there was nothing left to take.

The first time they used one was completely unplanned and unexpected.
Fleur had pushed him down on her bed, smiling wickedly as she straddled him, but then a moment later, Harry yelped in pain.
Confused over what might have caused it, for she'd yet to discard with either of their clothes and touch him properly, she pulled him up to her and there lying on the bed, where mere moments ago she'd laid him out on his back...
"What—" Harry started to ask, but then he turned his head and looked at the sex toy that laid atop the duvet. "Oh".
Somehow, despite all that she'd exposed him to previously, Harry still managed to flush mildly red in his cheeks.
She laughed at the sight and teased him. "You 'ave no reason to color up, mon cher. I would've zought I cured you of zat, what wiz all we've done togezzer, non?" Then she inched closer, eyes half-lidded, her mouth brushing against his. "Or do you flush so prettily for anuzzer reason?" Fleur saw him look at the toy again from the corner of his eyes, his gaze lingering on it a moment longer than she'd expected. Inwardly, she grinned. "Enough of zat for now," said Fleur and pushed him down again, but made sure to reach out first with her hand and move the toy aside, rather than simply remove it from her bed.
Soon enough, both of their robes were piled down on the floor, discarded in haste and with great passion.
At first, she'd sucked his cock, her tongue swirled around his glans while her fingers squeezed and kneaded his swollen sack. Despite that it was far from the first time she'd done it to him, he still managed to fill up her mouth quickly with his cum, his first load of the day deposited right atop of her tongue. When she opened her mouth and showed him the amount that still remained inside he'd bent down on his own and plunged his tongue inside her mouth. They shared his seed, strings of cum and saliva connecting them even when they parted for breath. Fleur's pussy started dripping as he gulped it down.
When it was her turn to be satisfied orally, Harry had been all too glad to let her wrap her legs around him and press most of his face in as deep as possible. His tongue continued to dive in and tease her, though he did occasionally reach out and lap at her clit in slow motion, the flat of his tongue surrounding it from all sides as it became engorged from arousal. She had thought to perhaps direct him once or twice, but he pleasantly surprised her by changing his tempo, by using fingers alongside his tongue, by never ceasing to build up the flood of pleasure that was slowly carrying her to the treshold of climax.
He'd learned so well, her precious boy, learned that she craved to feel the sensation of being stretched with his fingers scrunched together, that she moaned more vocally when he sloppily kissed her sopping wet cunt as though he was kissing her mouth. But most of all, he'd learned never to break eye-contact with her, letting her see the lust within him build up, imagining his cock straining against the sheets, begging for attention, yet never receiving it because her pleasure always came first.
Once she started shuddering, Harry had readied himself and opened his mouth wide, covering as much of her slit as he could. Fleur moaned in content, light tremors coursing through her whole body, as she fed Harry her cum. Her hand clenched and relaxed around his hair as each new squirt sprayed out and sunk into Harry's mouth and throat.
"Such a good boy," Fleur muttered through a fog of satisfaction, eyes barely open, but still keen, as the shivers subsided and her orgasm came to an end. Yet Harry still lapped at her soaked pussy and embedded his face in between its folds as much as he could. Such a hungry boy he was, so starving for all that Fleur offered him.
Though she could have easily achieved another orgasm with Harry's ever-improving skills with his mouth, she forewent it and instead gently held onto his hair as she dragged him up towards her. His nose, mouth and chin were splattered in her juices and her scent that soaked his face so thoroughly made Fleur shiver from how right it felt to have him like that.
They indulged in some mild kissings, sweet nothings and wicked promises exchanged in the murmurs and rustles of bed sheets. When Fleur lowered her hand to Harry's rump, he'd tensed up for a moment, before the tension left him entirely. She moaned into his mouth as her tongue entangled itself with his, while with her hand she took it upon herself to knead the firm cheeks of his ass, with the occasional phantom caresses of her finger across his pink hole, to which his cock twitched.
Blindly searching at first for her wand, Fleur barely had to whisper the incantation for the spell to cleanse Harry's insides. He reacted quite lovely at that, and she felt his cock harden further as it began to leak its watery-like pre. The brief look of surprise on his face when she moved her hand away from his rear entry was dispelled as soon as she brought it to his face and placed the tips of her index and middle finger atop his lips. She said nothing and waited for him to deduce what she wanted of him.
Like the good boy that she'd called him earlier, Harry had opened his mouth and took in her fingers, licking them slowly with his tongue, swirling it around each digit, sucking them in whole as Fleur clung to him with her other arm. Her moans accompanied his mouth moving up and down her fingers, and when he let them slip out for one moment she wondered what his purpose for that might be, but she only had to wonder for a moment before Harry stuck his tongue out of his mouth and allowed drool to leak from the tip of it and down onto her fingers.
Growling harshly, Fleur took him by his face and savagely attacked his mouth.
"Slut," she called him, her voice thick and rough with passion bubbling up. She saw the flare of indignation bloom in his eyes and bit him on his lip, not quite gently. "You are a slut, 'arry," she repeated, in a bolder voice, "but zat is a good zing for us. So long as you are wiz me, and only me, I see little reason for you to restrain yourself. Be all that you wish to be, mon cher."
"Fuck," Harry had whispered to himself as he closed his eyes, no doubt thinking poorly of himself for his pleasure. Denial. Denial was useless, so very useless for his cock had throbbed strongly at her outing his baser urge, his hunger for his fingers.
Fleur teased him "What was zat, 'arry? 'Fuck'? Do you want me to fuck you, 'arry? Is zat it?"
But he chose not to respond with words and instead resumed to suck on her fingers with his mouth, far more urgently this time.
"Oooh, I zink I have my answer, non? That's it, my 'arry," she encouraged him, parting her fingers inside his mouth and stretching them about, "suck on zem. Lube zem up for me, mon cher, so I can fuck your arse properly."
When he opened them, rage and lust warred with one another in his eyes.
But in the end, it was Fleur who won.
It was Fleur who suddenly took her fingers out of his mouth and pushed Harry off her, laid him low on his belly.
It was Fleur who draped herself across him, her breath scalding his neck and right cheek as she placed her fingers, again, inside his mouth. When she took them out, she bid him to, "Spit," and he did. Fleur quickly took to lathering his rosebud with his own saliva, pressing the flat of her fingers against the twitching hole before she brought them back to his mouth for more.
It was Fleur who'd rammed her fingers inside him, stretching them out to reach and press against his prostate.
It was Fleur that told him, over and over, how beautiful, how brave he was.
It was Fleur who whispered in his ear, grinning, "Do you want more, mon cher?" with her fingers buried all the way in.
When she'd finally coaxed an answer from him, that partly self-loathing, partly lustful, "Yes!" Fleur kissed him.
Fortunately, the toy was in its original state, neither enlarged (she doubted he could handle it) nor shrunk (though she wished to see his hole stretch around the fleshy girth), but Harry remained somewhat warry when he saw Fleur bringing it close.
"It's fine, 'arry," she reassured him, "it's not zat large and you will enjoy it, I promise," and gave him a small peck on the lips.
He squirmed and he fidgeted, but he stayed still while Fleur applied enough lubrication to both the toy and his hole with her wand. It was easier this time to push her fingers past the rim and she kept chanting the spell under her breath to make certain no harm would come to him, no matter how rough or how unaccustomedly big the upcoming insertion would be for Harry.
Harry had taken a few peaks at the toy, which Fleur encouraged with, "Go on, 'arry, touch it. After all, you're going to be very well acquainted wiz it fairly soon." She even brought it near his face, wondering if his mouth might brush against it, but sadly he stayed away and was content only to look at it and touch with the tips of his fingers. At the moment, the toy remained inanimate, looking like nothing more than one of the muggle counterparts, but when certain triggers were activated, well...
Harry would soon find himself the beneficiary of Fleur's own experience with the toy.
"Fleur," Harry uttered her name in a tone thick with arousal, even as anxiety brimmed in his eyes, "don—"
She shushed him with a finger on his lips. "I won't. You are safe with me, 'arry. I would never 'arm you."
A lie, and we both know it.
He opened his mouth to speak, but the words never came for Fleur claimed his lips with her own. It had to be done, for she chose that moment to start pressing the head of the toy against the entrance to his hole. Harry shivered beneath her and one of his hands found its way to hers; fingers intertwined, he held hers in a tight grasp.
"Good boy," she breathed out against his lips before she pushed it forward and his rosebud opened.

Fleur greedily sucked in his tongue into her mouth as she worked the toy deeper, its smooth surface barely encountering any resistance save the natural tightness of the flesh that gripped it. "Such a good boy," she repeated in between kisses as she took to twisting the dildo around as it was slowly inserted further. "And so tight, mon cher," breathily Fleur told him, "so much tighter zan when you 'ad only my fingers inside you. But it feels good, non?"
The toy pressed harder against his prostate and he grunted in reply, though she'd have preferred a moan.

Stealing a peek downwards, she saw Harry pushing himself up and it only served to fan the flames of her lust higher. Pure animalistic desire flared within Fleur and she bit him on the neck as she shoved almost the full length of the dildo inside his ass. Whatever sound he might have made from that was swallowed by the pillow in which he buried his face.
My little boy, you take so well to new experiences and I am glad for it.
Pretty red bloomed on his neck where she bit him, skin torn open by her teeth, and Fleur grew rougher with her lover, the force with which she used the toy increased as she shoved it harder and faster, all the while imagining it was her who was doing the fucking while he squirmed underneath her. But that was untrue, in one part at least, for Harry had lifted his head up from the pillow and the sounds of pleasures that let loose from his throat were no longer muffled.
He twisted his head about until he found Fleur's lips and kissed her.
"Is that all, Fleur?"
She thought her ears deceived her, but one look into his eyes assured her otherwise.
Oh how they shone brilliantly, but whether it was lust or something else, she could not tell, for something far stronger lingered there: amusement and defiance. He... he was amused by her. Out of sheer shock, Fleur had ceased using the toy.
"Is that all you got then?" he taunted her again and gave her a small peck. "It's all right, Fleur, I understand, you're tire—"
He never got to finish what he started as Fleur clamped down on his mouth with her own, savaging him with teeth and tongue. Rather than take advantage of the toy's own enchantments she still persisted in using her own hand to penetrate Harry, but this time she held nothing back as she violated him. By no means was she gentle about it. And he loved it, she saw.
"Oh you've no idea what you've done, mon cher," growled Fleur in a low voice and bit him on the shell of his ear.

She bit him everywhere she could, it didn't really matter where so long as it left a mark on his skin. This boy thought to defy her, thought to toy with her, thought to — oh the clever little bastard. Fleur hid her grin from him and focused entirely on pounding his hole, though she whispered a key-word under her breath and enjoyed how Harry's eyes went wide as the toy grew larger while still within him. A hiss of pain escaped him and Fleur laughed.
"Such a big boy, eh 'arry? What's a bit more for zee likes of you, non? Go on, show me you can take it like a real man."
Harry winced as the toy expanded yet again and bit the inside of his cheek to avoid the sensations of both pleasure and pain that permeated his whole being from that small part of him. Fleur gave him no mercy and muttered the key-word again.
"You fucking bitch," whimpered Harry beneath her.
"Oui, a bitch, but it seems you like it, 'arry," she purred into his ear, "so who am I to deny you?"
When Fleur uttered another key-word Harry closed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth in anticipation of another enlargment, but instead of a burst of momentary pain he received pleasure, because the key-word had set it in motion instead and Fleur held it no longer with her hand, but instead stroked his body as the, now, large dildo thrust in and out by itself. In truth, it was only slightly larger than his own cock, but for Harry who'd had nothing more than her fingers before today, it was big enough.
She gazed downwards and fondled his cheeks, watching as they kept parting for the toy's continous insertion and removal.
"You like?" she asked him, but he stayed quiet. With a small flick of her wrist, she slapped him on one of his cheeks and marveled at how lovely it looked when marred red. "It is quite zee 'andy little toy, don't you agree? Zis way, I can 'ave my way wiz you and still see you take it in your lovely leetle arse like the proper British wizard zat you are. Oh yes, 'arry, you do like zis, I know zat wizzout even a single word spoken aloud. You like it and you want more. You will always want more with me, 'arry."
His forehead was slick with a sheen of sweat, his fingers dug into her skin and if he had her nails he'd have broken through it.
Honest desire overflowed in the green of his eyes when he told her, "I will always want you," and pressed his lips to hers.
Fleur softened in her approach despite all and gently kissed him back, eyes shut as she suppresed her darker urges.
When they moved their faces away from each other, Fleur slowly climbed off his back and carefully crawled beneath him; no easy task that as he trembled even when lifted up in the air. The sheets where his crotch was pressed, where she now laid, were completely ruined, wet with puddles of Harry's lust, and she imagined the pure arousal from them seeping into her skin, stoking the inferno within. Harry's cock, so very hard against her, would not stop leaking, not as long as the toy kept at it.
"Shhhh, mon cher," she crooned at him as she took to stroking one side of his face with one hand, while with the other she guided him towards her, even as the enchanted dildo in his ass kept forcing him to thrust forward uncontrollably. He may have thought it a relief at first upon entering her, but Fleur swiftly put that notion out of his mind when she hugged his cock with the walls of her cunt and timed its contractions in rhythm with the toy. Rather than speak, rather than let loose another pleasure-tormented cry, Harry took to kissing and biting her, took to pushing his cock deeper, until he was all the way in, balls deep.
"That's it, 'arry," she goaded him on, "deep in me, where you belong." She kissed his sweaty face and rocked her hips, coaxing his already leaking member to spill even more of its precious load inside her. With barely any effort on either of their part, she felt warmth spread between her legs as he lost control, his pleasure centres already overtaxed from the toy, which kept on steadily pumping in and out of him, kept pushing out more of his cream in between her dripping wet folds.
Others would call it ruined or sloppy, but she gloried in the sensation that her lover gave unto her with his too quick release.
"I need more, mon cher, more until your cock is too soft to keep it plugged in," she said in a coy voice. "I need more until I feel fit to burst, until it all starts leaking out. I need much, much more so that I can have you feast properly."
"But will it be enough for you, Fleur?"
She took hold of his face in her hand and brought it down to her mouth. "Oh, 'arry, 'aven't you learned anyzzing by now?"
Tenderness of affection smoothed the roughness in his voice when he asked, "Never, then?"
"Never," she affirmed with a hungry smile as they resumed their coition.
It was no trick of light when his mouth curved into a smile, but she had little time to ponder anything more as Harry, cock still hard, mustered his strength and renewed his efforts. Over and over, he spilled himself inside her - speared her cunt with his spasming cock (the stream bursted into her womb) - delicately tweaked her nub of flesh with pads of his fingers (the flood barely contained) - suckled on her teats with bared teeth (desperate for the milk of madness); aided by her depravity, Harry lost himself in a place that he'd been searching for (that she'd prepared for him) all along.
Her admiration, her love, her obssesion, Fleur professed to him, even if only in a tongue he didn't understand.
It was his due, after all, and one day (very, very soon) he'd give Fleur hers.

There was something odd about the village when no student of Hogwarts was allowed to visit it, Fleur noticed. It seemed much more peaceful and... well, boring. For all their uncouthness, at least they added some liveliness to the place, if nothing else. Yet they didn't have the freedom to wander off to the place like the Beauxbatons students did, so quiet it remained that day.
Still, it was not all bad. Yes, yes, they'd ended up in the back room of the inn again, but at least this time it was their choice as opposed to being forced there due to lack of options. They chose it for privacy's sake, and the view wasn't too shabby either. There was something quite serene about watching the slow snowfall through web-patterned glass-windows.
Amy was sitting across her and Dannielle, all three indulging in the brief silence while they waited for their orders to arrive.
It was no surprise that Fleur's mind was drawn to the memory of sharing that exact same corner with Harry and the fun they had. It was becoming a rather nasty habit that, reminiscing and losing herself amidst the echoes of pleasure within the memories. She couldn't help it, Harry was in her thoughts most of the time, and it was always so distracting.
So pleasantly distracting.
"It's becoming rather intense, isn't it, Fleur?" Amy inquired and broke Fleur away from her train of thoughts.
"Oh I don't know, I think things are steadily progressing as they are," she replied with a toothy smile.
It had been but three days since Harry had fucked her, had made love to her, in her bed, with one of her toys put to use for the very first time since they became lovers. Though there'd be more to come, one must always treasure one's first times.
"Hmm, well, you'd know best, I suppose," said Amy. "Still, you are taking your time with him, aren't you? Usually by now, we'd be sharing him fair and square, and he'd be putty in our hands." Her friend teased her. "Losing your touch?"
"I don't know, am I?" retorted Fleur and gave her a smack on the back of her head.
"Touchy, touchy," Amy muttered at her friend, but the smile that twisted her lips took the sting out of the words she'd spoken.
"Blessed Circe, must you do this every time?"
Both witches turned to look at their friend who'd been until that point busy with reading through several of British gossip magazines, the Witch Weekly being the current one held in her hands. Fleur cared little for these things, she'd hada few encounters with the wizarding press back home and found them to be very incessantly dull and boorish.
"Do what?" asked Amy.
Danni put down the WW and sighed. "This! Every time we get some alone time with Fleur, you ask her where she's at with Harry Potter in their relationship, what she's done with him so far, what she's going to do to him, and you go on and on until she slaps you on the head and then you snipe at each other and an hour later you make up and forget all about it."
"Poor Danni," Fleur pouted and wrapped an arm around her friend's shoulder, "feeling left out? Well then, how about you tell us where you've been for the past few days and if you've been spending them with your dear and sweet Rojer?"
Amy giggled and Dannielle's eyes lit up.
"Roger is such a dear - oh hush, Amy - he is! So eager to please. And quite a magnificent cock, too, but well... it's not like I let him use it on me too often, and when he does, he's like an eager puppy in cleaning up his own mess. Took a bit of doing, naturally, but he now simply can't imagine a single meal without it being glazed all over."
Fleur shook her head. She could understand, up to a point, Danni's fondness for feeding a wizard his own cum - Morgana only knew how many times Harry had dined on her creampied pussy - but not when it came to involving actual food. Still, it was not something that she didn't know about her friend for years now, so she could only be amused by Danni's retelling.
"And you, Amy? What have you been up to? Found yourself a playmate? Or has Danni been sharing her boy-toy with you?"
Pride shone in Amy's pale green eyes. "Oh she's been sharing all right, but I'm not sure Roger is too fond of being shared. Mind, the boy says little himself, but then again, I do my best to keep his mouth full at all times." Amy looked a bit nervous at that, but her arousal was quite obvious to Fleur and Danni and she shifted in her seat under their curious stares. "I'm afraid I've used up what we had of Polyjuice in my eagerness. Sorry, Fleur, I... I just couldn't resist."
She reached across the table and patted her friend on the hand. "It's fine, Amy. I've still a way to go with Harry and for now I think it's best that I approach him on my own, rather than bring you two along. The poor boy just might have a heart attack if I were to bring you into our bed all of a sudden. It's his loyalty, you see. Not that he didn't appreciate the show you gave us."
Amy nodded. "Well, if you need help at any time, just say the word. And if you do end up needing the Polyjuice, the new batch ought to finish brewing just a little after the Second Task is over. I'll make sure to keep some saved on the side, just in case."
Amy, always so lustful. Had she been born a boy, I've no doubt there'd be many a bowlegged witch at Beauxbatons.
"Do go easy on Roger, it wouldn't do any good to frighten him," said Dannielle, a tad reproachful.
"You don't have to worry about that, Danni," replied Amy and smiled. "He may be reluctant at first - and aren't they always? - but once we get going, he moans like a bitch in heat for more and by the end of it, the poor boy's turned into a puddle."
The two witches kept on with their talks about Roger Davies until their orders finally came - some light meals and Butterbeer - upon which they ceased all manner of talk and just enjoyed the silence. Once they were done eating, Amy had a few suggestions to offer Fleur about how she could handle Harry, what toys to use and so on, whereas Dannielle took to reading the Witch Weekly again and only occasionally lifted her eyes up from it.
Not even halfway through it, Fleur felt Danni suddenly stiffen on her side and turned her head to see why it happened.
Danni had her plump lips pursed together and an intense look in her eyes. The redheaded witch shook her head and then placed the paper down, before she looked at Fleur. Yet she remained silent. Fleur felt this was a bit unusual for her friend.
"Danni?" she asked. "What's wrong?
"They've wrote an article about you."
"Nothing odd about that." She was a Tri-Wizard champion after all, gossip was par for the course.
"Not just you, Fleur. You and Harry."
She might have ignored what her friend said had it not been for her tone. That the local papers talked about two champions becoming a couple was not unexpected, but... "What do they exactly say?" Fleur turned her full attention at Dannielle.
"There's the usual stuff, about how you've seduced him through extensive use of Veela blood and sex magic."
Fleur rolled her eyes. If she'd actually used the full extent of her Veela abilities, Harry would have been left a drooling husk with nothing but absolute obedience towards her in his mind, what little of it remained. She had no need of that.
"Then there's the financial angle too, they're speculating your family back home is suffering through some woes of their own making, and you're making a play to pilfer some of the gold from the Potter vault, if not the entire fortune."
"And?"
"And..." Danni nibbled on her lip nervously. "It might be better if you read this yourself."
She took the proferred item and began to swiftly search through it for the article in question.
By the time Fleur was finished with it, the paper had burned to cinders in her hands and her eyes had turned black as night.

She departed soon after from the Three Broomsticks, but apologized to Danni for destroying her copy of the magazine. Her friend waved it off and offered her another copy that she had lying around. For a moment, Fleur hesitated but took it with her and gave Danni a grateful nod. Her heavy winter coat clung to her body as she quickly strode through the empty streets of Hogsmeade and she still had unmelted snow on it when she entered the Great Hall seeking her quarry.
Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table with his freckle-faced friend, talking and laughing about something.
He turned her way even before she was anywhere near, a pleased gleam in his eyes.
"Fleur," he greeted her with an earnest, innocent smile. Harry rose from the bench and was quick to kiss her on the mouth, though she barely gave any affection to him in return, something that didn't escape his notice.
"'arry," she said, "can we go somewhere? I'd like to talk wiz you."
His demeanor shifted, from joyous to cautious. He turned towards his friend and said, "I'll catch up later." The blue-eyed boy only shook his head in amusement and shooed him away, though he didn't stay on his own for long, as the Ravenclaw witch he'd accompanied to the Yule Ball appeared from nowhere and promptly sat down in his lap.
While departing from the Great Hall with Harry by her side, Fleur didn't miss how several pairs of eyes keenly tracked them. Another time, she might have thought they were nothing more than the usual envious and jealous looks that always accompanied her wherever she went, but not now, not after she'd read that garbage in the Witch Weekly.
For his part, Harry seemed genuinely confused, but still followed, and some of her own tenseness had dissipated in response.
He doesn't know, she whispered in the cold, dark corners of her mind. Please, let it be so. Let him be true.
If anyone was surprised to see Fleur leading Harry by the hand inside the Beauxbatons carriage, they said little or nothing about it. Only after they'd reached her room, only after she sealed it up with dozens of the most powerful privacy spells in her repertoire, only then did she turn towards Harry and share words with him, few that they were.
"Sit," she told him and he did, down on the bed.
From beneath her coat, from the deep pocket of her robes, Fleur pulled out a scrunched up copy of WW and tossed it at him.
"Read," she commanded and he obeyed, beffudled as he was.
It didn't take him long to find the relevant gossip piece in that utter waste of paper.
While he read, Fleur occupied herself by changing clothes, disrobing and robing herself into something more comfortable, something that allowed her skin to breathe. Yet despite the almost non-chalant way she went about it, momentarily being naked in the presence of her lover, there was tension in the room. Though her hair needed no brush to ever touch it, the act itself was of mild comfort to Fleur and it bled off some of the irritation bundled up inside her as she tended to her long hair.
And though she sat in front of the mirror and her eyes stared forward, she did not see herself, not truly. Instead, Fleur saw the countless little betrayals in her past, betrayals she had never deserved, and against her will she felt the Veela stir from slumber. It would have been so simple, to do away with restraint and control, to turn away from pesky human notions of civility.
But what would that have accomplished, without proof presented beforehand?
So deep in her thoughts, Fleur didn't see or feel Harry as he approached her. Not at first, at least.

Awareness of him she gained when the palms of his hands laid across her shoulders. In the mirror's reflection she noted that his eyes had grown dim, but not dull, their brilliance darkened by even darker thoughts, and his face was as if made of stone.
"You think it was me who talked to them about this?"
The brush stopped, her hand hung in the air gripping it. She turned her head to look at him.
"Did you?"
It was the closest he would ever come to striking her. His arms remained by his side, yes, but the bunching of muscles, the twitch in his jaw, and most of all, the loathing in his eyes, the kind she'd never before seen aimed at her... She had wronged him. She'd wronged her lover and murdered the unquestionable love that he held for her.
The brush fell with a muffled thud to the floor and Fleur was gone from the chair, her arms around him.
"I'm sorry," said Fleur gently. "I'm sorry zat I did not believe in you. I am sorry zat I did zis to us."
What tension there might have been only moments ago had vanished completely.
He fell forward, into the embrace, and his hands clutched at her clothes, fingertips pressed into her skin, bruised the flesh, punished her for her lack of faith. But that was alright, she deserved that and much worse for doubting him.
Harry let himself be led to the bed and when they laid there, they laid fully clothed, facing each other.
The desire for physical intimacy was strong in both of them (she could smell it) but she resisted the siren's call. No sex, no copulation for the two of them until she regained his trust, his faith. To try and bargain it back with her cunt would have been insulting and demeaning, to both of them, but more to him than her. His affection couldn't be purchased, only given freely.
Riddled with doubts his love may have become, perforated by the unpardonable sin of mistrust, but she would mend it.
Fleur would mend what she had broken when she faltered in her moment of weakness.
Only after that she would set herself to the task of finding the one who had caused this temporary divide.
The Veela within sang with murderous glee.

Bit by bit, she'd cut out the doubt from his heart and his mind, and always in her bed. They'd laid together bereft of clothes and she felt his desire pressing against her many times, but every time she staved it off, no matter that they both craved it.
A single week, that was all it took in the end. Some would say it was too quick, too soon, but for Fleur it was too slow, too long. Too long since she had him in her bed and between her legs. Too long since she touched his skin and invoked the flames of passion. Too long since he looked upon her with anything but love in his eyes. And it was love, love so dear and pure, love come again from hatred so dark it infected the very air around them that day.
He'd come to her, of his own volition, found her room and once she granted him entry Harry crashed into her violently.
She didn't say anything, didn't ask. Words would do little good for either of them at that point.
His mouth latched onto her neck and suckled, bit and kissed harshly.
Fleur had started guiding them to her bed, but halfway there Harry's face moved away from her neck.
"No, not here, not now," he'd said, voice brimming with anger.
He allowed her little time to fix her clothes and dress properly for venturing outside, impatience clear in his eyes.
"Zen show me where, mon cher," replied Fleur as she fastened the scarf around her neck.
Hand in hand, he led her to and through Hogwarts. Before ever reaching the Great Hall, they started their descent.
Before they'd even gotten anywhere close to the claustrophobic classroom, she'd felt his tension, the pulse in his hand as he led the way underneath his invisibility cloak. His fingers twitched, intertwined as they were with hers. His jaw-line hardened. His nostrils flared. Her lover was being consumed with rage and hatred. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.
Harry'd told her nothing of why he brought her there. The Shrieking Shack, she could understand that one to a certain point; a place where his father and their friends spent much of their days, a place where Harry had regained a godfather previously lost and unknown to him, and now that place would forevermore be the place where he'd made love to her as well.
But this — this dimly lit space, where jars with ingredients and beakers filled the shelves on the walls, where very little natural light ever came, where one could almost hear, one could almost imagine to hear the underwater tides of the nearby lake, their presence made very little sense and Harry, it seemed, had something other than words on his mind at the moment.
He slammed the door shut, and she'd just barely managed to spell it silent before the sound could alert anyone passing near. Her wand was still in her hand when Harry grabbed her by the wrist and pushed her against the wall, his mouth more akin to a maw that sought to devour all that Fleur had to offer. None of his previous gentleness could be found. His other hand had found itself in her long white-gold hair, roughly pulling it down, exposing her throat to his teeth. Fleur moaned at his brutality.
Once more, he played the beast, and she was willing to let him, to see how far he could actually go with it, if he'd lose himself to the act, if he'd bruise and make her bleed, or if he might yet turn into a boy unsure of the deeds he now performed.
Harry did not suckle on her flesh so much as he bit down on it. Bruises would linger and she would wear them proudly.
Then his hand shifted from her wrist to her throat, as if to choke her.
"So angry, mon cher," murmured Fleur, her eyelids hanging low, her voice turning throaty, full of desire and taunting. Her right hand brushed against his crotch where she felt how stiff Harry was beneath his robes. "So 'ard," she tittered at him.
He slapped her for that and then he mauled her mouth, leaving her lips swollen.
And when they fucked on top of the teacher's desk, partially clothed, partially uncovered with her tits jiggling, Harry had raised her legs in the air and held them against his shoulders as he brutally thrust into her, brought her pert derrière to the edge and then forced it back on the cold, rough surface when he hilted himself anew. He was quite incesed that time after time she very vocally expressed her pleasure and announced each of her orgasms. The puddles of cum underneath them grew larger.
Harry had managed to push himself to the brink three astonishingly violent times in that wonderful hour that they spent in the dreary dungeon classroom, but rather than press his mouth to her sloppy pussy and suck their cum out, Harry had done the unexpected: he took his wand in hand and conjured a glass toy for Fleur to plug herself up with, while she still laid her on back, down on the table, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. She wasn't surprised with the toy itself, but rather him.
"My, my, where 'ave you learned zis, I wonder?" She didn't bother concealing her grin when she asked, "And what can I expect in return, hmm? Will you wear somezzing for me as well, mon cher?" Fleur was careful when she slid in the toy and sealed her weeping folds shut with its square base, though she didn't hide her joy and moaned in delight at the squelching sound.
He'd almost rejected her when she told him what she wished of him, but in the end he wore his cage that day.
No one in the Great Hall saw how Fleur's hand wandered beneath his robes and toyed with his spell-encased cock; prevented from achieving an erection, it frustrated him while she fondled and stroked his flaccid member, but he had a laugh of his own as well when Fleur stilled abruptly and choked down a moan as the glass-toy inside her had started vibrating soundlessly.
"You'll pay for zat," Fleur threatened him in a low growl, while the others around them sat oblivious.
He leaned to her and with a twist of his wand increased the stimulations that her cum-filled cunt was receiving. "Promise?"
Later, when sunlight was gone and only moonlight illuminated Hogwarts and its grounds, Fleur had deemed enough teasing on her part had been done and she granted Harry mercy. Atop the highest Tower in Hogwarts, she took him in hand and gave him sweet release. Atop the Astronomy Tower, she pleasured him and he her, their voices echoing out into the night. Time and time again, their throats gave way to sounds more appropriate for beasts than humans.
But once they thought themselves satiated and they laid, their skins coated with a fine sheen of sweat, on the discarded robes beneath them, Harry had chosen to finally unburden himself. He told her of the cause of his anger and named the culprit for the recent rift, now mended, between them. But suspicions was all he had, and no proof, no one on the staff to believe him.
Through every fiber of her being, rage woved itself like a fine thread of silk, malignant and terrifying.
Rage aflame. And only held at bay by Harry. His arms were around Fleur as he kept her from storming away from the Tower.
"No, Fleur, I won't let you do that," he'd told her in the darkness where they'd made love, where they fucked but moments ago.
She ceased her struggle against him. For all his appearance, he was surprisingly strong.
When she faced him, she knew that he saw her face brutalized with malice and murder.
"Why?" asked Fleur in a shriek. Her arms rose and she pressed her palms against the side of his face. "Why do zis for 'im?"
Harry shook his head. "You misunderstand, I'm not. He'll get his, but not like this."
"But why?"
He hesitated for a moment and no more.
"Because I'm selfish," Harry confessed. "Because I don't want to share you with anyone else, don't want anyone else to see you when you're like this." He stretched forth his hand, took a single strand of her long hair, more bone than white gold in the light of the winter moon, and twisted it around his fingers. When he lifted his eyes up to meet hers, his face bore a faint smile. "You've no idea, do you, how beautiful you are to me. Even now, when you're absolutely mad and want to smash his face in."
I don't want that. I want to string him up and bleed him dry. I want to break his bones, heal him and break them again. I want to watch him die by the inches for the offenses given to us. I want you there by my side when he dies and I want your love for it.
Fleur sighed and pressed her forehead against his. "Silly leetle boy. My silly leetle boy." She gave him a peck on the lips and encircled his torso with her arms. "I'll do zees for you, but if he does somezzing again, I make no promises."
"I'm not asking you to."
They stood like that, in silence and naked, for a while longer. He clearly had no idea of what to speak any further, and Fleur...
She broke the uneasiness with words and with a gesture, her fingernails grazing across Harry's cheek in an unkind way. "I find myself very angry, mon cher. And I do not wish to go to my bed yet, not wiz zoughts like zese. Will you 'elp me, 'arry?"
He shivered under her touch, for they both knew Fleur wouldn't (couldn't) be gentle.
And yet he still took hold of her hand and pressed a kiss to it. "Anything for you, Fleur."
They'd left their marks on the Astronomy Tower that very night and gave birth to rumors that a new ghost had started haunting the place. When they heard of it next morning, Harry and Fleur shared a private laugh, just as they shared a soreness between them; in their violent conquests of one another's flesh, they'd broken the soundproofing spells.

Harry held true to his promise and proved himself, to Fleur, a most vicious boy.
Of all the students and staff that sat in the Great Hall for the first meal of the day, only Fleur and Harry were undisturbed and unsurprised when a student from the Slytherin table started screaming and clawing at his face. It was a grisly affair when all was said and done, and the damage inflicted healed with poultices and potions, but the suffering would linger in his mind.
It didn't take long for the curious ones to find out what exactly had happened. Someone had gone into the hospital wing and took a peek at the medical report from Madam Pomfrey; a great deal of it was technical terms, but the gist of matters was quite simple: Draco Malfoy's tongue had been eaten away by an Acid Pop concealed in his food, but whereas the regular candy numbed the nerves before burning through the tongue, this particular sample had all of its safety enchantments removed and within it someone had poured an odd mixture to make the eyes bleed as well. A ghastly thing, all had agreed.
Naturally, the ugly potions professor had sought to blame Harry, and had dragged him by his robes to the Headmaster, demanding a thorough interrogation. But his wish for an interrogation never came through, as Fleur had also come to the Headmaster's office, tagging along, and said that Harry could have had nothing to do with the matter, as he'd been with her for the past few days, rarely leaving her presence and spending much of his time in the Beauxbatons carriage.
"Your word counts for nothing," the sallow-skinned man spat out. "Of course you'd claim Potter had nothing to do with it."
"Severus," the elderly wizard warned him with but a single word, "enough." Then he turned towards them. "Harry, do you know anything about this?"
But Harry only shook his head and played at being innocent. "Nothing, Professor Dumbledore. No more than anyone else that was in the Great Hall, sir." He held his gaze locked with his Headmaster's, never bowing down or looking aisde.
Dumbledore had looked very tired when he removed the half-moon spectacles from his long, crooked nose and rubbed them clean with a corner of his flamboyantly colored robe's sleeve. He sighed before he put them back on.
"Very well, Harry. That'll be all then, you may go."
And as the two of them turned to leave, the Headmaster spoke once more. "I trust that if you do hear something about who might have played such a highly inappropriate prank on a fellow student that you'll inform your head of house or myself. It wouldn't do well for us to present ourselves as poor hosts to," he nodded his head towards Fleur, "our esteemed guests."
"Of course, Professor Dumbledore," replied her lover, his hand wound tight in hers.
They left the office, and the bitter potions master behind with his unproven accusations, true though they were.
Neither allowed the other a chance to slip up as they passed through the hallways of Hogwarts, and so they walked in silence.
Once they were inside Fleur's room, the two of them looked at each other, hidden smiles uncovered, and burst into laughter.
It was a hearty thing, full of joy and malice, and it pleased her greatly to see him act so in defense of their privacy.
Harry's laughter ended abruptly when Fleur shut his mouth close with her own and pulled him into a heated embrace, her hands undoing his robes gently, sharp fingernails barely touching his skin. It didn't take much to set him ablaze and wrap her legs around his waist as he pushed her back, Fleur's bare bottom on the window sill with his cock hilted inside her.
Have me one more time, my love, before I shred away the last tatters of our sanity, before I ruin you for all else.

Merely a week remained until the day of the Second Task.
It was a school day for all students of Hogwarts, and as it was still early in the morning, the Gryffindor Tower was completely empty, save for Harry himself, who laid in his four-poster bed, still asleep. And Fleur stood right next to it, watching.
She'd grown tired of the same old formula to their encounters, where one or the other would lead in dominance, and then the roles would switch for their next copulation. It was time for her dear boy to learn the truth.
Getting into the Gryffindor Tower was not a hard feat, though granted Fleur had assisstance from that quirky little blonde Ravenclaw witch who seemingly had anticipated Fleur's need. It was somewhat disconcerting, and Fleur worried whether she was really that transparent in her intent, or whether Lovegood knew more than her otherwise distant stares suggested.
No matter, I have not refused her advice, I've acted on it and now here I am. Here at last, sweet Harry.
The first spell that jumped from the tip of her wand had put Harry into an even deeper sleep, insuring he would not yet wake. The second, third and fourth guaranteed privacy - the bed's curtains closed around them, sealed shut and impervious to any physical force that might try to part them aside - and some small measure of security, in the form of trivial and numerous charms, against being discovered. The fifth, however, was aimed at Harry yet again. What little clothes he had on him, Fleur had Vanished. Then, she took to pulling down the blanket, until it laid crumpled at the foot of the bed and he laid nude before her. The tip of her wand glowed a faint red as she applied it across his skin, taking great care not to press too hard as she removed all excess bodily hair; though Harry was far from being hairy, Fleur much preferred a smooth canvas.
Then it was time for Fleur's own undressing. Once again, beneath her robes she wore nothing. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath, and her heartbeat increased by a little. The robes she left hanging over the bed's headboard, but her wand she still had in hand. Fleur wet her lips as a flutter of excitement started spreading from the pit of her stomach. Her breathing grew more laborous, accompanied by small noises from her throat as her hands shook, fingers curled crudely around her wand.
Hastily, she snapped four Incarcerous spells at Harry, coils of rope jumping into existence as they wrapped themselves around her lover's ankles and wrists, securing him to the bed where he laid, making absolutely certain there would be no escape.
Then she mounted him - bare flesh against bare flesh - as her whole body was being consumed by the tremors.
The change was about to begin.
Out from her mouth escaped a gasp of pain and pleasure intertwined. Fleur hunched over on the bed, each palm on a different side of her lover's pillow, as the Veela within begun her emergence. She stared at Harry's blisfully ignorant, smiling face - lost in pleasant dreams, one that would soon wake to a nightmare that he would come to love - as her own face started sporting a smile as well, though it held no innocence or gentleness about it.
A small amount of saliva drooled through her clenched teeth and landed down on the sheets as another tremor shook her.
Fleur arched upwards, her hands — her fingers turning into talons — an inky blackness spreading out from her pupils, across the blue and white of her eyes — the crack and snapping of bones as her feet turned into claws — the racing pain down the back of her spine as the human hair she had, save for her head, was being replaced with silvery, soft and thick plummage.
A few more changes had accompanied the other ones, but they were miniscule in comparison, and by the end of the whole thing, the French witch known as Fleur Delacour was gone; the Veela had taken her place.
The emergence of the Veela did not leave Fleur bereft of her senses, it merely superimposed the instincts of an ancient race over a, comparably, younger one's. She was still Fleur, deep inside, but what notions of propriety, morality might have once bound her - if they'd ever bound her at all - now were completely obliterated as nothing but the Veela remained.
She smiled and lowered her face to her lover's neck. With her beak-like nose, she prodded at him, inhaling her own scent off his skin, a small hum of content reaching out from her throat. This — this was her lover. Her mate. He reeked of her. He was marked. And that was good, since she liked the boy, liked him very much. He would be a good match for her, she knew.
Talons ghosted across his cheeks and her long, pink tongue scalded the skin where it and its saliva touched. He twitched in his sleep, muscles tensing up and relaxing beneath her. The pale flesh would look beautiful when she marred it with her touch.
However, irritation flared in Fleur at his obliviousness, even though it was spell-wrought and of her own making.
If anyone had stumbled across them in that moment, they would have looked upon Fleur and thought her a monster - her long hair had fallen down around her face, her nose long and sharp, but nowhere near as sharp as her pearly whites - come to ravage an innocent, though he was no innocent at all in fact, not when he carried her scent so well and true.
Her wand, she still clutched at, if a bit clumsily. After all, talons lacked the finesse and grace that human digits were capable of.
With words unspoken - not aloud, not in her mind - she pushed her intent at him and took from him something precious.
Then she dispelled the artificial yoke of slumber from him, before sending another spell at him, right at his gut, and doing away with her wand by tossing it at the tightly shut bed-curtains, where it remained stuck, suspended by a sticking charm.
Harry woke with a yelp of pain and tried to leap up, but the ropes constricted around him and allowed him to rise only partially in the air before tightening at their mistress' command and pulling him down again. His eyes were wide open, filled with fear.
"Who's there?" he asked, even as he tried to wriggle away, to push the intruder away from him.
Again, her talons touched his skin, but this time it was not quite as gentle. She brushed them against his cheek at first, before forcing them into his hair, yanking on it, exposing his throat for her. Submit, she willed him to understand, submit.
But he didn't. Instead he tried trashing about, to throw her off, but it all failed. Everything that he tried had been a waste of his time. He could no sooner dislodge her than he could dislodge the heart from his chest and continue to live.
His eyes roamed the space in front of him, never focusing on one single thing. Always in motion, those pretty greens of his, fumbling about, searching for an answer or escape. An escape from a darkness only she could grant.
"Who's there?" he asked again, his voice filled with confidence that was as false as the sun's warmth in winter.
Fleur's response came in the form of a kiss, face angled so that her nose would not be in the way, and her tongue plundered his mouth, fiercely twisting around his own tongue, teasing it, welcoming it, bidding him to recognize her. Her teeth were quick to sink into his lower lip - and he cried out from the pain - pulling at it and breaking it so that the warmth contained in his blood would reach her, so that she might indeed pour back her own warmth into him all the more effectively. With blood-stained lips, teeth and tongue, Fleur relished the coppery taste in her mouth and grew ever more hungry for Harry.
She would have devoured him - skin, flesh, bone and marrow - if he'd not responded, but he did.
Reluctantly, at first, his tongue moved alongside hers, his mouth recognizing her before his conscious mind could.
A moment's breath, that's all that she gave him to reccuperate and in that moment he called out a name.
"Fleur?" his voice trembled.
She wanted to laugh from joy, but her throat was no more fit for laughter than it was for words, so Fleur nodded instead, grinning. Oh if he could only see himself, so beautiful when bloodied, so beautiful when bound and beneath her.
"Wha— what's hapened, Fleur?" He twisted his hands again, trying to regain his freedom, in futility. "Why am I tied down?"
Words... this was no time for words. Not when there were deeds to be done, submissions to be wrested, lovers to be tamed.
Fleur attacked his mouth again, avoiding any further blood-letting with her teeth, dabbing her scorching tongue across his wounds, forcing it between his lips, holding his head by the hair in between both of her taloned hands. He tasted so lovely and his moans were finally leaping past the boundary of his throat, along with the grunting that accompanied his hips bucking.
But in another short recess from Fleur's frenzy, Harry had managed to ask, "Fleur... why can't I see?"
Fleur bared her teeth at him and once again yanked him by the hair from frustration, baring his throat. Questions, questions, questions! She had little use for words that did not serve to proclaim his submission to her. But how to make him understand?
As tenderly as she could, she scratched him on the scalp and the back of his neck, while her lips she wet and started pressing against the expanse of his flesh, which continued to grow ever warmer. At first, she was gentle as possible, but when he started to open his mouth, when she knew that another question was to pass past his lips, Fleur bit down onto him, easily breaking skin with her sharp teeth, drawing blood, drawing out his pain. Once words were replaced by pain, she would soothe the minor wounds by dragging her tongue across them, simulatenously feeding herself and staving off any further discomfort for him.
Down and down she went and in her trail she left him bloodied: one wound was just below the collarbone, another across his ribs and for the third one she brought her face to his chest again and bit down on his nipple, thrilling in his screams of pain.
Down and down she pulled away, until her face was facing his cock, which stood at attention, proud and hard, throbbing and slick with precum. Between her talons, she enshrined his sack, so swollen with precious seed that would become her feast.
From the first drop of saliva onto his member, he twitched, for the heat of it stung for a moment before it took root deeper within, inflaming his desire for her, just as all her previous ministrations had already done. He writhed beneath her while she licked up and down the full length of his shaft, occasionally twisting the wet organ to the side, letting it scoop up the few dribbles of precum that managed to trickle down past his foreskin as she pushed it upwards to contain his spillage.
Fleur kissed his smooth, hairless sack, nuzzling her face into his crotch, eager to fill her nostrils with his scent; it was only right, after all, seeing as she'd done everything possible to flood his with her own. She listened to his gasps of pleasure as she took to cradling and sucking one of his balls into her mouth, carefully rolling it around with her tongue, avoiding the sharp teeth. Fleur relished in it, relished in the obvious power she held over him, and she laughed at all those witches who thought that to have any part of a wizard's genitals in their mouths was to submit, when in truth it was the reverse; for how could anyone think that such an act, entrusting another with one's vulnerability, was ever one of dominance?
She fondled them, kissed them, licked them and did the same for his cock before she took to engulfing him with her mouth in a slow descent. Sadly, the elongated nose didn't allow for her to swallow him whole from an upright position so she forced his cock to lay on the side, while her face she laid down on his stomach. She hummed as one inch at a time vanished inside her, until all of them rested fully inside her warm and wet mouth. Her lover whimpered, but he still struggled minutely.
In truth, Fleur could have prolonged the torture, dragged it out of him and then cut him off just before his release, but patience was never a virtue of any Veela, let alone her. It didn't take much, he'd been leaking excessively by the time her hand had started jacking him off into her mouth and not even three minutes later, her lover's seed started spurting out. The taste was exquisite, just as she knew it would after those changes she had introduced to his diet. Not only was it almost entirely void of bitterness, but both the volume and thickness had increased exponentially. Greedily, she gulped it all down - her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked it all out - as his cock shot it straight into her throat, one spurt after another, while she helped herself to it with forceful motions of her hand. This time, she was not in the mood for sharing. It was all for her.
"Fleur," he called out and she practically trilled at the note of longing (or was it love?) in his voice.
You're learning, Harry.
Gently, she extracted his cock from her mouth, giving the head a few pecks and a lick or two before she moved upwards, to lay beside Harry, if a bit higher in bed than he was. As she kissed him on the brow, she saw his mouth trembling, reaching out to kiss lips that were nowhere near his, parting and closing in expectation of cum that she'd already gobbled all up.
But if it was cum he wished to have from her, cum she would provide, fresh and plenty of it.
It was only when she stradled his chest that Harry's face showed its surprise. Before, he had been distracted by the myriad sensations she evoked from him, but now, the truth was staring at him in the face, even though he could not see it.
She pushed herself only slightly more upwards, just enough to touch his chin and rest herself across his mouth if she wished to.
Harry's head backed away, understandably, and his face frowned in confusion. "Fleur," said Harry uncertainly, "what is that?"
Again with the questions. Fleur sighed.
With one hand she kept his head firmly in place - there would be no running away from this - and with the other placed herself fully atop his mouth. The scent of it, so powerfully musky, left him no doubt about what it was that lingered on his lips, but he still kept them shut, despite that Fleur wanted a very different response from him. No matter, you will enjoy it all the same.
She grabbed a clump of his hair between her talons and yanked, caused him to gasp out in pain.
Opportunity granted, Fleur took full advantage of it and pushed herself inside Harry's mouth, muffling his protests.
He looked so sweet, so deliciously confused and she dearly wished she'd not taken his sight - temporarily though it was.
Her hold on his hair remained, but it wasn't quite as rough. Ultimately, she wanted him willing.
Words were beyond her in this form, but perhaps...
Fleur opened her mouth and started singing. It was a trilling of a high, yet soothing note, and she kept still while singing it, only partially enveloped within her lover's mouth. She sang (throbbing with desire all along) and with the song she used a crude form of the Allure that was rarely used in recent times, as it didn't bewitch the listeners, it couldn't enthrall them as effectively as a witch's magic combined with the aural Allure could, it only served to lower one's inhibitions and nothing more. One would not do with its influence what one was not inclined to in the first place without it. She could no more change his mind, shift him from one way of thinking to another, than she could soar to the moon under her own power, witch or Veela.
Her song grew stronger as she felt her whole being reverberate and glow.
She sang and sang until she felt his tongue move.
He couldn't do much with it, truth be told, but he tried his best. At first, his tongue had laid completely flat in his mouth as he swiped across the underside of it, but then he'd turned it to the side, swirling about, teasing her. Fleur, widely grinning, chose to help him along and started moving in slow sea-saw motions. Once, she nearly even slipped all the way out, and wavered there at the edge, to see if her lover would push her out, if he would reject her. It was a perilous moment.
But then his tongue peeked out from his mouth, beckoning her back, and Fleur sighed with content as she started moving forward. It was sweet torture, how slow they were about it, and it went against her very nature, but she did care for the boy a great deal and he was so accepting of her. Perhaps later, she would muse on these reasonings, but now...
Now was the time for action and not useless ponderings.
She'd let go of his hair; no longer was it needed to keep him in place, to keep him from shying away from her offering to him.
Her pace slowly started to increase. She clenched her eyes shut for a moment, bit her lower lip and made herself bleed, fervently trying to hold herself back from achieving release too soon, knowing it was an exercise in futility. After all, she had not done anything like this for quite a while, having forced that part of her to lay dormant until the right moment.
And the right moment just happened to be now.
She felt herself tense up and forced her eyes open, not wanting to miss out on a most beautiful sight.
Propelling herself further forward, Fleur stuffed Harry's mouth full and moaned at the sound of his gagging as he tried his best to expel her from his throat, even though it was an impossibility at this point. To divert his mind from discomfort she scratched at his scalp again with her long talons, even as she felt the quiver, the tensing and the release in her lower regions.
It happened so suddenly and it was not, by any means, gentle.
Her slit throbbed, then it expanded and out it came in one great, continuous, eruption.
Her lover's nose pressed against her crotch as she shrieked in pleasure, her thick batter flooding his mouth, forced down his throat, forcing him to gulp it down lest he choke on the sheer volume of it. Three months of pent up desire, that's how much Fleur had to account for. With inhuman noises from her throat, she bid him swallow it all, as she pushed his head further into the pillow beneath it. Fleur wasn't satisfied until her cum-swollen sack pressed against his chin and he made desperate noises as he tried to breathe and swallow her creamy deposit at the same time. Just when it seemed he might blackout from the intrusion in his mouth and the forced feeding, Fleur relented and pulled away, groaning.
What a sight the two of them were: Harry, bound and blind, his face flush-red and the corner of his mouth flecked with cum, whereas Fleur sat on his chest lacking any color to her at all save the natural milky-pale complexion where human skin could be seen and the silvery color of the many feathers that adorned her body, with her head thrown back and a grin on her face.
She pulled her head up and looked down at her lover, her jet black eyes staring at him with affection and fondness.
It was time.
Carefully, she removed herself from Harry's chest, so as to not injure him with her clawed feet, and laid next to him. For a moment, she felt tempted to let him lean his face towards her breasts, to give him comfort in the midst of all the strangeness he had experienced but doing so might have wiped away evidence of what they'd already done so far, and she certainly had no wish to do so. With one arm outstretched, she reached out towards her wand and unglued it from the bed curtains. It required a bit of effort on her part to handle the delicate wand-wood gracefully enough as she lowered it down to his eyes.
Swiftly, she tapped him once across each eyelid as he blinked and his eyesight was restored.
No more than a few minutes later, Harry turned his head her way. Her talons were already outstretched and intent on caressing his cheeks, but he flinched at the sight of them, those cruel and malformed digits, ones that had already touched him before, but now the very sight of them frightened him. Fleur compensanted for his retreat and reached for his face again. He clenched his eyes shut, but after a few moments of nothing but gentle caresses on her part, Harry opened his eyes again and looked at her; what an oddity she must have been for him, who'd never before seen her in this form.
His fists clenched, his arms flexed in their restraints.
She peered at him through her inhuman eyes, wondering what would happen next, what her lover might do.
"Fleur," said Harry, "is that you?"
Was that fear or wonder in his voice or was she merely a fool for hoping for either?
She nodded in reply and softly trilled at him.
Silence reigned, save for the miniscule murmur of talons touching skin.
Silence until he said, "It is," in a voice filled with... awe? Then he shook his head and his eyes moved beyond her face, taking in her form as a whole. Those green eyes of his roamed all over her body until they finally lowered themselves and stopped. He'd started to breathe louder, quicker too. His gaze refused to move away. She could see it, question after question fleeting through his mind. His words, when they finally surfaced, were blunt. "You have a cock." Carelessly thrown out. "And balls." His eyebrows rose in confusion. "You have a —" he repeated to himself, hysterically.
And there it was, the truth. One she was not ashamed of, nor would she ever be, even if he ended up spurning her.
His eyes rose back up to her face, hastily, in search of words that could never come from the thinned lips that her transformation had turned them into, yet still he looked at her, imploring for some, any, kind of answers, some reassurance...
But all she had to offer was herself: pure, sans words and thus sans any possible well-meant lie or compassionate deceit.
Fleur pressed her mouth against his, taking in the salt of his spilled blood and the sweetness of her spilled seed.
Harry, she called out to him in her mind. Harry, Harry, Harry... a hundred or a thousand times... until she lost count.
Until he started kissing back, arching up towards her, as much as the ropes allowed him.
She took him in, her arms folded around him, her hand on the back of his head, pressing him further into the kiss. Her scalding tongue slowly entangled itself with Harry's, and he no longer tried to resist the heat that she gave to him so wantonly.
How long they remained in their affectionate embrace, neither could tell, but then again neither cared.

When they separated for air, Harry started laughing and buried his face between her feather-clad breasts. That did not stop Fleur from expressing her desire for him, as she continued to kiss him wherever possible, while pressing herself further against him, until her cock was rubbing against his. It certainly helped catch her lover's attention, whose mouth had found her breasts and whose tongue had started brushing against her stiff nipples. She denied him nothing, of course, and took full advantage in return. While his mouth was otherwise singularly occupied, hers was not, and she'd left a trail of blistering heat across his skin with it, as her hands roamed all of his body, provoking responses he may have never thought to give to anyone.
Oh how delightfully he screamed into her breasts when she dug her talons into his back. The pain from his teeth latching onto her nipple was particularly excquisite, and Fleur hummed from the sensation, while warm blood trickled down his back.
But Fleur could be distracted only so much and soon her hands had reached low, leaving angry marks across the pale, tight flesh, as she squeezed down on her lover's lovely rear. She didn't bother concealing her want from him, since she'd already left quite a bit of a smear on his stomach, and so she pressed herself further against him - leaking liquid lust anew - while she kneaded and spread his lower cheeks apart, salivating at the thought of properly taking him as hers.
Harry had to have realized what Fleur craved for in that moment, for his less than tender loving of her breasts had ceased abruptly and the only thing she could feel from him was his breathing, small gusts of warmth expelled from his mouth. Her tongue tickled at his earlobe before Fleur took to crooning in his ear, her hands never stopping their caresses. One of her talons ghosted above his hole, as she dared not touch him for fear of truly harming him; her way of letting him know he had a choice.
It might as well have been an eternity, for all that Fleur knew, while she waited for a reaction.
And then it came, that wonderful little gesture, just barely there, just a hesistant affirmation.
Another might have been noble, given him more time, given him true freedom, but that was not her way.

It was a screeching noise that came from her throat, the closest she could ever come to a laugh in this twisted form of hers.
The black void of her eyes burned, though none could ever tell. It burned with want and need and desire.
Fleur took her wand yet again and swept it across Harry, dispelling the bonds that held him captive.
In that first moment of freedom, she wondered what he would do. Rub his wrists and check himself for ligature marks? Rise from the bed and depart from her side, scorn in his thoughts? Ask her yet more questions which plagued him or — Ah.
A kiss. So simple. So telling.
He was hard against her and he strove to conquer that which was unassailable. Fleur allowed him this momentary delusion, such as it was, until she grew tired of it and cast him off herself, down on his back - where he belonged - and beneath her. Still he looked at her, face wrought with defiance, eyes filled with madness of wrath and arousal. Still his hands reached for her as he embraced her and brought her down to him. Fleur made obscene sounds as she frotted against him and her teeth wounded his mouth and tongue, minor nips that she dabbed at with her tongue and singed them close.
Her long hair fell down around both of their faces - shielding and stealing him away from the world for her own wicked purpose - as she kissed him again and again, claiming him innumerable times in ways no other ever could. With one hand she took him by the wrists and pinned his hands above him and for every time he flinched or thought to defy her, she bit him harshly.
He had to learn, the poor boy, and she was all too glad to educate him.
Not for the first time since she'd started this tumble in his bed, she wished for her human vocal chords, so that she could convey to him her instructions, succintly and clearly, leaving him no room for misinterpretation or ignorance.
Submit, she would purr. Suck, she would command. Spread, she would compel.
But as she lacked those, she could only use her body instead. So her other hand roamed yet again: down, down from the blackness of his hair, to the sleek marble of his neck, across his freshly smoothed chest and down between his legs.
Other ways could have been more convenient for them, no doubt; Harry could have lied on his stomach and she could've marveled at his finely sculpted derrière; he could have placed himself on his side and moulded back into Fleur's contours as she gently pushed into him from behind; ultimately, none of those positions suited her intent.
Her lips left blaze-marks wherever they landed, while her hand, with its inhuman digits, toyed with his cock, just enough to turn it hard against her own. When she did, she pressed down on him, hers dwarfing his in size. And she absolutely loved that, that she was bigger and thicker, and that her passion would rarely, if ever, waver. Anger bloomed in his eyes, trickles of humiliation peppered throughout the green irises. Her motions were slow and deliberate as she grinded herself against him.
His kiss stung when he bit down on her lip and made her bleed, but he still parted his legs, just by a little.
Quickly, she moved her hand away from his crotch and took up her wand again, a sticking charm binding his hands to the headboard above them. He'd almost lunged at her for that, but restrained himself in the last moment. Submission, yes, but not quite all the way, was it? No matter, Fleur was delighted by him, all of him, all of his gestures, all of his hate and want. Her face sported a grin as she dragged the tip of her wand across his body, pointlessly slow, even though they both knew what she'd do with it.
"Sweet Merlin," he'd gasped out when the cool sensation struck his insides. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they overflowed with lust and hatred; venomous green pools of passion. "Is that it then, Fleur? Is this all you wanted?"
His defiance aroused her. It always had. From the first moment that they met each other's eyes.
Fleur let out a half-shriek at him and nipped him savagely on the mouth, giving him another wound to worry about.
"Is that it?" asked Harry tauntingly, grinning with blood dripping down on his chin. "All you got?"
Her nostrils flared and she'd almost forgot to use one last spell.
She tapped herself twice on the head of her cock and shivered at the feeling. With her hands, she stroked Harry's thighs before pushing them outward, parting them in the process. But he still defied her and the moment she thought to press herself onward, he clamped his legs around her waist and pulled himself close to her — too close.
Did he think himself that clever, to try and outsmart her? Foolish boy.
Fleur saw that her smile - certainly not a response he expected - made him feel at unease. She cocked her head to the side and grinned more widely as she set her hand to motion. Her intent was plain and simple: to drive him mad. Unease dissipated from his face completely when she reached his cock and lust replaced it when she started stroking the rigid length.
She saw him try and fight his own body, watched as he failed miserably, laughed inwardly as his crotch arched upwards.
It was not long before she had him where she wanted him: tears in his eyes, words half-formed and choked down, his body stained with the treason of his many releases. One after another, she took them from him. One after another, until...
"Please, Fleur, enough!" cried out her young lover.
She brought her face down to his own, kissed him gently, sweetly, on his lips and cooed at him. He nodded, still crying.
His hold on her slackened and turned limp in defeat. His head turned to the side, facing away from her.
Fleur brought his face forward, emeralds pitifully staring up into the pitch blackness. She kissed him again.
No shame, Harry. Never be ashamed. Not with me, not now nor ever.
Mercifully, she avoided his crotch, his cock rubbed out raw and sore for anyone's touch, let alone her harsh ones. Her talons glided up and down his face, leaving faint red marks across his cheeks. She sighed with content when he leaned into them.
It wasn't like his first time with her, for brutally slamming herself inside him would avail her nothing but his pain and that she could acquire by other ways and means, if need be. No, pain was not the end-goal here. Pleasure was.
That familiar tingle of excitement, the flutter of butterfly wings in her stomach, coursed through her whole being as she lowered herself between Harry's legs. A glance that she cast earlier towards her crotch assured her that the lubrication spell still held, and that her member would cause little to no pain upon entry, no matter its size.
He tensed up when the purple head of her cock, throbbing and leaking, touched against his pink rosebud. She could hardly hold it against him, for save for her fingers and the occasional toy or two, he'd never had anything like her inside him. Cooing at him seemed to help, as did her soothing caresses. Slowly, he unclenched, his legs no longer bunched up muscles, though his breathing came a bit too loud. It was a precocious moment. It was... divine.
That first moment, that first push, when she felt him give into her... this she would savour for years to come.
The warmth. The tightness. Bliss everlasting. So much better than what she only imagined before. So tight!
Harry inhaled sharply and involuntarily tightened himself around the head of her cock, causing Fleur to trill.
"Fuck!" moaned Harry as she went deeper.
Little by little she moved forward, gyrating herself within. Little by little, until she was sheathed fully inside him.
I wish you could see how beautiful you are, my beloved.
And he was beautiful, with her cock buried between his firm buttocks. His legs trembled... with anticipation?
Fleur started moving, very slowly at first, though it didn't take her long until she'd found with her cock what she'd already found, months before, with her fingers. His wanton moan, the flush of red up to his ears, his cock's sudden throbb, told her she'd reached it. With a cocky grin on her face, Fleur increased her pace, little by little. His legs she held apart with her hands, bucking into him with slowly increasing fervor, always intent on stimulating his prostate further, forcing his own cock to continue pouring out precious seed all over him and her. More than once, his cock would suddenly spurt out a string of cum, one of which had even landed on her feathered breasts. But that was, after all, what she desired to see most: Harry absent all reason, lost to pure lust, lost in lust to her cock pounding him, until his words echoed his body's pleas.
"Fu—" he started to say, but then bit himself on the mouth. Fleur knew very well what he wished to say. His denial infuriated her and spurned her on to slam herself harder into him, to mercilessly fuck his ass until his hold on his mouth loosened enough and he begged her for it, begged to be fucked, begged for her cock.
He tried it all, the poor boy; he shook his head violently, as though that would dislodge the pleasure ravaging him from within; he tried trashing about, but his spell-bound hands on the headboard above prevented him from escaping Fleur. Finally...
"Oh fuck!" he'd shouted. "Fuck," he whimpered, "fuck me, Fleur!" He pleaded with teary eyes. "Please!"
Against all his expectations, Fleur stopped, her cock halfway in, halfway out. She smiled, smugly.
If Harry wanted her to fuck him, well... no need for her to do all the work herself.
Without the aid of her wand it was significantly harder to remove the charm that bound him, but not impossible. Almost instantly he lunged up at her, his whole body clung to hers as he fell down into her lap, sinking fully onto her cock.
He hid his face in the crook of her neck, muffling his cries of pleasure when Fleur spread his cheeks apart, squeezing, before she brought him up and left him on his own to fall back down. And like a fallen angel, from one of those mugle religious sermons, he fell with the greatest of zeal, hellfire scorching every inch of his skin.
There it was, that which Fleur had sought out from the very start.
There, the madness, the passion... unbridled and indistinguishable from one another... as he rose and fell in her lap, his face bared to her as he cried out her name for all to hear, even though he wasn't aware they couldn't, and his pleas for more.
Always more, always harder, always faster — he begged of her. This was him, stripped of everything but the basest urges.
Fleur did her part and for every time he bounced on her cock, she rammed back inside him ferociously. Her cock slammed in and out, her balls slapped against his lovely little arse every time she fully sunk inside and it drove her over the edge.
She only wished for a better view, to see his hole stretched around her big, thick cock, see his hole stretched, as it embraced her rod of hard meat, and she could have happily spent the rest of her days there, pumping him full of her cum.
It all proved too much for Fleur, as she knew it would, and she'd lasted not one moment longer. She grabbed Harry by the waist and plunged him all the way down - provoking another slutty groan from him - until he sat on her churning balls as they spat out their heavy load and started coating his insides white. It was heavenly and she loved the way her cock shook, depositing one rope of cum after another inside his ass, while the hole around it tightened as much as possible.
Her only regret was that this was not her first, and thus biggest, load that she'd given him today; his mouth had that honor.
Harry leaned his head across her shoulder, breathing heavily, with his arms hanging limp around her. Fleur stroked his back lovingly, humming with praise, her cock still so very much hard inside him. Every now and again Harry would wince, as she came across a few of the open wounds she'd given him, but he didn't pull away and that endeared him to her even more.
When his face moved away from her neck, she briefly wondered what his reason for it might be.
When he kissed her, she thought that was all he intended, but he surprised her.
Harry's eyes looked at her for a while, half-lidded as they were, and he licked his lips once, a weary smile on his face.
"I love you," he simply said. "I love you," he said again and started rising from her lap. Globs of cum trickled down as her cock slipped out of him. He looked at her, eyes wide open. "I love you, Fleur," he said, smiling. His thumb brushed across her lips before he kissed them again. And then he lowered himself down on her cock, wincing as she stretched him again.
"I love you, I love you, I love you..."
It had started out as a declaration and it became a chant.
A prayer.
It was worship.
All was well with the world.

Only hours and hours later, Fleur had been sated. Parts of what they'd done could be considered love-making, for it certainly held a sort of gentleness about it, affection woven through every action, love embedded deep into every touch shared.
Other parts... to call them vicious would be a kindness. Mutual assaults, where they both struggled with each other, crudely, and sought to inflict the maximum amount of pain and pleasure on one another. At one point, Harry had managed to push her down on her back, his palms firmly wrapped around her breasts while his fingers tweaked her hardened nipples.
He rode her cock hard, staining her with his cum, and every time she sought to throw him off he'd grab one of her nipples and twist it between his fingers. Fleur's screams nearly shattered the few measly barriers she had set earlier in place and the few that passed through and near the fourth-year boys' domritory felt something like a shiver run down the back of their spines, never knowing that their subconscious minds were responding to the primal cry of a Veela in the midst of a rut, never knowing that they were one step shy from death if they'd managed to find the source of the scream and interfered in any way.
In return, Fleur had twisted him around and had his face buried in the pillow, just like she had her cock buried in him. She crowed her dominance over him, pummelling and pounding him hard, enjoying the squelching sounds made when her cock slammed inside his cum-soaked ass. Fleur made it a point to ejaculate only inside him, though her approach had differed on how she would do it every time. Once, she'd just barely taken her cock out of him in the last moment but kept it near his hole, kept it spread open as she lathered both the inside and the outside of it with splatterings of her milky-white cream.
They bit at each other, left scars and wounds that neither spell nor poultices could mend or heal, only time.
To put it quite simply, they went mad.

At last, Fleur had allowed him to rest on the bed without her cock in one of his orifices. Copious amounts of her cum had leaked out of him and onto the bed, but she was not the sole culprit for its ruined state, as Harry himself had spilled quite a bit of his own baby-batter as well, though not nearly as much as Fleur herself. Even in that, she had him beat.
Reverting to her human form was easier than the initial transformation and though she knew that Harry was tired, he still kept a close eye on her as the feathers retreated and vanished beneath her skin, the blackness in her eyes slowly dissipated and made the blue in her irises seem exceptionally bright, and finally as her cock and balls slowly shrunk into her crotch and clit.
"Mmm, enjoyed yourself, 'ave you?" asked Fleur with a raspy voice, smiling, as she scooted near him on the bed.
"Smug bitch," he teased back, tiredly. He came closer and kissed her. "Of course I did. Was there any chance I wouldn't?"
"Of course not," she replied smugly, lazily wetting her lips. "You were a delightful, if starved, boy." She stroked his cum-filled belly, the small paunch that remained even now. "I fed you well, I hope?" His cock twitched at her words and touch.
Fleur's laughter rang melodiously as he assaulted her anew in vain. His manhood was spent, as both of them very well knew.
When they parted from their amorous embrace, Fleur took her chance to look at him, this boy whom she'd taken to her bed and into her heart. His looks would never be considered conventionally or classicly handsome. Parts of him were wiry-thin, too sharp, too angled, but to Fleur none of that mattered. While he would never be someone that simply blended in the background with his appearance, standing out wouldn't be his forte either. Out of all his features, his eyes and his hair marked him the most, more than that faded scar on his forehead or the one on his arm, from the Basilisk's fang, ever could.
She knew his past, better than most, for he'd confided a great deal in her in the past month. Even when he chose to avoid to speak of something, he'd confided in her, unwittingly, and she'd wormed her way into his heart all the same. Fleur knew, with absolute certainty, there wasn't a living soul who knew more of Harry Potter than she did. He was a sweet boy, a dear boy, who craved acceptance, but not to his own detriment. Affection was something he craved for too, more than acceptance, but that was only to be given by her and no other. Some of his moral codes were... inconvenient, but not unbendable. Certainly, with the proper influence, he would yield to her. Harry had wanted friends, first and foremost, and had found a few. Then that silly muggleborn girl had attacked him for his choice in lovers, never knowing victory would be forever out of her reach.
In truth, that was one thing that she liked best about him: that he chose her before her friend, that he'd cast away years of friendship and refused to see reason solely because Fleur was the mark of the failed assault. Harry was a loyal and staunchly devouted person to those few whom he considered close to him, and right now Fleur was the closest anyone could be.
Fleur never believed in deities of any sorts, but thanked the gods all the same that she had met Harry Potter.
Absently, she realized that she'd been far too quiet during her introspection, and so Fleur took to carding her fingers through Harry's messy hair, giggling lightly when he sighed contendedly at her touch. Gods, she was mad about the boy.
He shifted in bed and entangled one of his legs with hers; absent the sexual element, Fleur knew he sought comfort and closeness. But for what purpose? What niggled in that broody head of his? She watched him carefully as his lips twitched, words not yet formed dying on his tongue. It was only her familiarity with him that clued her into what his mind might be going through, what turbulent thoughts sought to wrestle him away from this little nest of happiness that they'd made.
"Silly leetle boy," Fleur whispered to him and watched his eyes brighten when she said, "I love you."
It was nothing more, nothing less than the truth itself. That was all it took for his whole face to light up with joy.
I was bound to love you since the first time I saw you, she wanted to confess to him. I schemed, I planned and I waited so patiently for my chance, and then you surprised me, when you approached me first instead. So bold... do you remember?
None of these thoughts did she confide in him, and so they refused to dissipate. Perhaps he saw something in her eyes, a small portion of her true thoughts escaping her unwittingly, or perhaps it was a stroke of good luck on his behalf.
I wanted to fuck you since that first time. To have you on your back, with legs spread. She buried her face in his neck and inhaled deeply. I wanted to hear you moan, hear you beg. Her fingers trailed across his mouth, while hers kissed his skin. I wanted these wrapped around my cock, with you staring up at me. I wanted you to love me.
"I love you," the words came, low and sure. "All of you."
"I know," Fleur nodded. She pulled away and kissed him. "I know. Still, you are curious, are you not?"
"Hard not to be. Is it... is it something to do with being a Veela or just you?"
"Yes," answered Fleur with a grin. He seemed unsatisfied with the answer, so she asked, "Does it matter? Truly?"
He pondered it for a while before he shook his head. "I suppose it doesn't, it's just that it was, well, surprising."
She arced one of her immaculately shaped eyebrows in mock confusion. "Surprising, you say?" Then her lips curved into a small smile. "Well, at least you liked it. But what about ze next time, mon cher? Now zat it's no longer a secret..."
"The next time?" asked Harry hesitantly.
"Oui, ze next time. Or did you zink zat I only wished to fuck you once, zat once would be enough for me?"
He gave her no words in reply, just his mouth against hers, just his arms pulling her closer in. His limp cock failed to wake, but that wasn't the issue here. She grabbed him by his hair and yanked his head back. When he hissed from the pain, she dived towards his neck, already littered with love-bites, and marked it yet again. His fingers wove themselves through her hair and he pushed her further towards him. Her tongue, her teeth; that, she knew he loved.
After she was done giving him a few new marks of hers to bear with pride, after her hands had slid down his back and started squeezing his ass, she'd said, "Tell me you loved it. All of it, 'arry. My cock in your derrière, my cum inside you. All of it!"
His throat trembled, his Addam's apple bobbed, but when he spoke, his words came out clean, certain. "I did. All of it."
Fleur pulled him by the hair again and made him face her, teeth bared. "Say it! Say you loved my cock, zat you want it again!"
His eyes were full of mischief. "And what if I say I don't want it again, Fleur? Will you force me? Like you did this time?"
For his impertinence, she slapped him. "Liar. Who was it zat leapt so eagerly at me? Who was it zat moaned like a whore while bouncing on my cock? Who was it zat begged me for more?" Fleur sought out his mouth, and assaulted it, conquering it again and again, just as she'd done with the rest of him. "Must we play zis game again where you deny, and I prove you wrong?"
"And what if that's the price I ask of you? For our every time to be as if it was the first?"
Fleur didn't mull it over and knew he'd only thought to tease her, thought to please her. "Zen I shall take your little bargain, such as it was offered, and you, I zink, will come to regret zose careless words of yours, mon cher. I won't be gentle."
"Liar," he called her, a smile on his face. "You'll be gentle, at least at first, just like you were today."
"But is zat what you love best about me, 'arry? When I am gentle? Or when I take you from behind and bite you, when I toss you around and make you gag on my cock, make you lap up my cum, like ze good boy zat you are? Which is it?"
She needed to know.
And he didn't disappoint.
"All of it, Fleur. All of you."

She had no wish to part from him, not when he'd been so good to her, so loving and bold. Staying in bed with him, amidst the stench of their ardor and ruined sheets, with Harry so playful and wanton for her touch... was that too much to ask?
Like the spoiled girl that she was, she tried to wind again her favorite toy, but no matter what she did, his cock did not stir. He'd chuckled at her for the effort wasted and she pouted in return. But his lack of an erection didn't make things easier for Harry.
When Fleur finally did robe herself, she unsealed the bed-curtains and took a peek outside. Having found no one in the room, she called out to Harry, to come out and gather some of his spare clothes from the trunk at the foot of his bed. She took great pleasure in seeing her naked lover, flesh scarred and marred, tip toe his way around her carefully (not quite so limber after the pounding she gave him). She squeezed his bum when he bent over and started rummaging for robes and underwear.
"Fleur," Harry reprimanded her, still bent low, "not now."
She feigned distress. "Zen why do you tempt me so, mon cher?"
"If someone hadn't vanished all of my clothes and had instead only undressed me, there'd be no temptation."
Fleur scooted behind him, wrapped her arms around his naked torso and pressed her groin against his bare behind. "But I enjoy being tempted by leetle boys, 'arry. Especially when said leetle boy is you." Her hand fondled his flaccid member.
He muttered rebeliously, "Yes, well, pardon me if we can't all be as big as you. I still have some years to grow."
Fleur laughed at that. "Oui, you will grow. But as to whezzer you will best me in size... we'll 'ave to wait and see."
Any further banter between them had been stopped dead in its tracks when the dormitory's doors opened.
Without a second thought, Harry jumped forward, barely slipping out of her hold, barely managing to pull the curtains close and hide his nudity. Fleur laughed, the sound muffled behind her hand. Then she kneeled down by the opened trunk and started scooping up the clothes that Harry needed, left behind as they were in his haste to escape his dormmates' notice.
Beind her, she heard footsteps. Then they stopped, and a mumbled exchange followd.
"Oi, what's she doing here?"
"I reckon we'll find out, but until we do, I can't say I mind the view. Do you?"
"Hah. Don't think she'll take too kindly at us gawking at her though."
"Bird as fit as her? Doubt it would come as a surprise."
Crude and uninspiring. No more than Fleur expected of them, but it still rankled. She should have been harsher in her rejections of their proposals, should have put them down like the insignificant specks that they were, and not feigned civility.
When she rose, Harry's clothes in her hands, and turned to face them, the two boys balked and stepped back. Under her withering gaze, they fidgeted, yet they still dared to lust after her. Fleur looked down her nose at them.
Pathetic.
Without a single word imparted to either one, Fleur turned her back on them, moved past the curtains surrounding Harry's bed and closed them behind her. As he dressed, she teased him; fondled his buttocks, kissed his neck and mouth, whispered filthy things into his ear with a breathy voice. They didn't come out until Harry was fully dressed and by her side, an arm encircling her waist, just as hers lingered on his back, her sharp nails scratching the bare skin beneath the black robes.
They looked quite the pair, the two of them.
Fleur with her fair hair, loosely falling around her shoulders, lips still swollen from the last kiss they shared. Beneath her robes, she wore no undergarments, so her nipples pressed against the cloth, exposing her arousal with their stiffnes.
And Harry. Her sweet boy. Hair as dark as her love for him, his body marked by it. Eyes fierce in their unyielding, green stare.
The Irish boy and his dark-skinned friend looked away. She could taste their fear overpowering the lust.
"Come now, 'arry," said Fleur, "I would see more of your 'ogwarts, and you've so much more to show me."
For all that the two of them together had become somewhat of a regular sight to students of Hogwarts, their departure from the boys dorms was taken note of by all the Gryffindors lounging in their common room. Among the many, she spotted a pair of brown eyes, filled with a myriad of emotions, all of which amused her to no end.
Harry didn't understand why she laughed when the Fat Lady's portrait closed behind them, but he would one day, soon.

The day before the Second Task proved most interesting.
Harry and Fleur had agreed beforehand to spend it separate, lest they expend too much energy on each other, or rather Fleur drain Harry of all his, and for both of them, it had proved a challenge. Even the simple exchange of kisses and greetings during the daily meals at Hogwarts, the occasional glimpse of one another amidst the library's racks, would draw the midnight-blue to emerald-green and linger for far longer than any could have expected. It was longing, pure and simple.
Some time after she'd spotted Harry leaving the library, shooting her a farewell glance before vanishing from sight, Fleur had an encounter. An unusual one, at that, for at first she wasn't even aware of her watcher. Only a tingle on her brow, an itch that no finger could scratch, made her realize it. A spell was clashing against her own brand of magic, the aural Allure which always hanged about her in the air. Fleur's sharp eyes searched for any distortion of the air, any place where her gaze might have slid off too quickly for it to be natural. When she did find a flaw in the spell cast and maintained, Fleur seized her chance.
Without betraying her intent she turned aside, her wand slipping between fingers as she twirled it but twice; once to dampen any sound in the area and once to undo the spell that hid her mysterious observer. Such was Fleur's speed in silent casting that the intruder stood no chance on deflecting or escaping the spells cast at them.
When they thought to turn their wand on Fleur, she was quick enough to dispell them of that silly little notion as well. The other wand flew across the table that separated them and slid into Fleur's other, waiting hand. It was a crude looking thing, especially when compared to her own beautifully shaped rosewood, with its impeccable condition and superb handling.
Disarmed and caught unaware, the intruder looked torn between the decision to bolt or stay and try to fight.
Naturally, Fleur took advantage of that momentary indecision as well and promptly cast a petrifying spell.
It wasn't really a surprise who the intruder was; frankly, she'd expected them much, much sooner.
She looked around first, for a minute or so, to see if there were any students passing nearby who might interrupt her, but she'd chosen a rather distant part of the library, rarely frequented, if the layers of dust on the floor were anything to go by.
None came, none passed anywhere near them. Fleur smiled and the cruelty of it did little to negate her beauty.
"What to do wiz you now, I wonder?" she murmured in the quiet enclosure of texts and shelves that surrounded them. Fleur circled the helpless prey, eyes gliding up and down, as though taking stock. Then she came near. "Perhaps you are wondering why I 'ave not asked any questions? I 'ave no need to. I know why you are 'ere."
If they were not under the petrifying spell's effects, eyes might have widened, breathing might have sped up.
As it was, nothing changed on the surface, but beneath the skin, Fleur could taste fear.
"Oh yes, you zought yourself so clever, zought yourself beneez notice. But one look told me everyzzing. One look, zat's all it took. Tell me, 'ermione Granger, 'ow does it feel to see somezzing you crave for, in secret, taken by anuzzer? Do you cry yourself to sleep? Or do you pull up your robes and pull down your underwear, before filling your hole wiz a bit of magic? Come now," Fleur grinned, "I won't tell, you 'ave my word on it. Ah, silly me! You cannot speak! We cannot have zat, non."
With a flick from Fleur's wand, she remained frozen in all else save her head and speech was granted back.
"Why?" she asked with teary eyes. "Why are you doing this?"
Fleur's smile held no kindness for the Gryffindor witch before her. "Doing what? We are simply talking, nuzzing more."
Hermione blinked, her tears remained unshed, and deep-seated anger showed its face. "Harry will find out what you're really like. You can't keep lying to him forever, he'll see through you an—"
The laughter, which would have echoed throughout the whole library were it not for the sound dampening spell in place, had stopped Hermione from speaking any further. By the time she was done, Fleur had almost wept tears of merriment.
She wiped non-existent tears from the corners of her eyes, a wide grin barely held back from splitting her face.
"Zank you for zat, I don't believe I've laughed as much in a long, long time." And then suddenly, all pretense of amusement had fled from Fleur's countenance. "My lover will find out what I'm really like, you say?" she whispered, almost afraid. "See past my lies, see me for what I truly am?" But the hint of fear was a lie too, and a smile full of sharp teeth came to be in its place. "It is only proper for us to know each ozzer intimately well. Being lovers for quite some time, we've come to know so much."
Fleur leaned forward, towering over the muggleborn. "I've seen 'arry come undone so many times in my bed. I've seen my lover brought down to his knees wiz lust and love in equal measure. I've 'eard my beloved beg, beg for me, beg for all zat I can give, and I 'ave given all I 'ad to offer. Do you zink he turned away? Do you zink I denied him a place beside me?" She shook her head, a gentle smile curving her lips, surging thoughts of Harry bringing waves of affection for the dark-haired boy. "No more zan 'arry denied me, and zat 'as yet to happen, 'ermione Granger. Even now, I ache for 'im, a whole left incomplete wizzout my lover." Fleur inhaled deeply. "I can still smell 'im, strong and unwavering. I can still feel eem, bruising my 'ips."
"But you, you will never know any of zat. Never know what it is to take someone who willingly gives 'imself to you, never be taken yourself." Fleur took up one of the less bushier parts of her hair sticking out and idly played with it. "It took a lot to tame zis mess, didn't it, for ze Yule Ball? A shame it was wasted. Never noticed, never appreciated. Did your cœur ache at ze sight of us, twirling on ze dance floor, in each ozzer's arms? Did your ire rise when ze only time you were addressed, it was to shame you? Or did you cry and blubber into your pillow, like the pitiful leetle girl zat you are? Did you whimper and ask pourquoi?"
"Stop it, stop," she pleaded, tears flowing freely.
Ever closer, Fleur came towards Hermione Granger and tilted her face up, her lips scarcely a breath away from a kiss.
Sad, brown eyes looked imploringly at her, but her merciless blue returned nothing but contempt and cruelty.
"Even now, you cannot 'ave what you long for, nor will you, ever. You never even stood a chance."
Beneath her heel laid the heart of Hermione Granger.
"You are beneez me," came the final blow, "and one such as you would never be any lover of mine."
A kiss was almost given, but then she pulled away and laughed and laughed and laughed as the Gryffindor witch cried.
Beneath Fleur's heel remained nothing but a bleeding ruin.

Later, that same day, Fleur had been in the dungeons, checking on the Polyjuice that Amy had left brewing down there. Though the carriage accommodated many of the students' needs, brewing spaces were not accounted for in its creation. Instead they used the ones Hogwarts had, under the premise of brewing NEWT level potions for their final exams back home in France.
She'd finished checking the mixture's color, density and potency, and had barely just left the room when the spell struck her.
Her whole body turned rigid and still. Only when the voice commanded it did she move. One step at a time, she moved deeper into the dungeons of Hogwarts, almost mindlessly following the given instructions. Fleur came to a halt only when the voice bid her do so, and she waited while the voice's owner fiddled with some door near them.
After she was told to get in, the voice blurted out several spells, all aimed at the door.
With the only exit in the room shut safely behind him, Draco Malfoy turned around, his face sporting an ugly, sneering smile.
He watched her, licking his lips at the sight of her beauty and what it must look like when bared completely nude.
"Took a while, but here we are, half-breed. Potter not around to keep you safe? I was surprised, but who am I to question my good fortune? Mind," he grinned, "I'll be sure to thank him properly later for lending you out to me."
Fleur said nothing, only continued to stare vacantly into nothingness.
"Got you good, I bet you didn't expect someone here capable of casting an Unforgivable." Pride was replaced with wistfulness promptly. "I'd rather have not gone this way at all, you'll just be a limp doll beneath me, but once I have you this time, and ruin you for good, that oughta be enough for you to come crawling back. After all, I doubt Potter could measure with," he grabbed his crotch, a prominent, large bulge obvious in his robes, "this. Now, strip, you whore."
Her robes were easily shed and they soon laid crumpled on the floor, while Fleur stood naked, emotionless.
Leering at her nudity, Draco Malfoy stroked himself through his clothes for a few moments, before his hand disappeared beneath and liberated his member from the confines of his robes. It was too large for his small frame, with a length of no less than nine inches, while flaccid, and a substantial girth that would painfully stretch any orifice it was forced into. The hairless sack below matched it in size, and it seemed as though it was churning with a huge, potent load as it tensed up.
It didn't take long until Malfoy's cock had gone fully erect, helped by his hand's pumping.
"I'm going to fuck you, half-breed. But first, I'm going to make you suck my cock and then I'm going to stretch you until it hurts."
He stalked towards Fleur, a lax grip on his wand and giddy with anticipation, while his cock-slit dripped with clear pre.
And he faltered for a moment when Fleur opened her mouth and said, "I doubt it would've 'urt as much as zis will for you."
Panicking, he brought his wand up and started uttering the first curse to come to mind, but it was too late.
Without having seen it beforehand, Fleur's hand held her own wand, previously concealed by a simple Charm. With a flash of amusement in her eyes, and a grin on her lips, she banished Malfoy right into the wall. Such was the force of the impact that she heard several of his ribs cracking and his already loose hold on his wand broke, and it fell down on the floor.
Groaning in agony, curled down on the floor, he didn't notice Fleur coming near, didn't see her taking his wand, didn't see the look of consideration as she pondered snapping it in half, but then cast that thought aside as her mind was forming another more interesting path to pursue in recompense for the assault on her person.
When he did look up at her, she was still standing in the nude; beautiful, glorious and terrifying as only she could be.
At wand-point, Fleur interrogated him. He didn't wish to talk, not at first, but the merest glow from the tip of her wand and the fool spilled his secrets, too easily. Had he held on to some of them, perhaps the outcome would have been different for him.
"I've told you everything," he whined, yet still managed to insert a snobbish tone to his words. "Call for help, like you promised. I think I'm bleeding internally and... and my vision isn't good either, I'm seeing black spots. Quickly now!"
But Fleur only stood there and shook her head. "You're a fool, Draco Malfoy, twice over. For ze crime of invading my privacy, telling on 'arry and myself, I should have flogged you, at ze very least, but my lover convinced me ozzerwise, and so I left it in 'is 'ands to dole out your punishment. You may not 'ave known it, you may not've appreciated his efforts, but he protected you. Now? Now, no one protects you, no one is 'ere to keep you safe from the nasty half-breed, ze same one zat you lusted aft—"
"You won't get away with this," he spat out at her.
For his arrogance, he received a rebuke. While Fleur didn't dabble into any of the darker arts, nor did she wish to leave any such glaring mark on the boy, there were other methods she could use. She twisted her wand slowly as she choked him. In vain, Malfoy tried to reach out to her, then he tried to grab at his throat, but nothing helped. Fleur only released him when he was on the edge of losing consciousness and by then he'd nearly cried bloody tears. Gasping for breath, he did not speak.
"Now, where was I? Ah, yes, your crimes. As if ze first crime wasn't more zan enough, you dared to presume your feeble attempt at the Imperius curse would work on me. Wretch such as you are, did you even bozzer looking into ze spell? You need willpower, boy, superior will to ze one zat you would enslave and dominate. And yours is quite lacking." She wriggled her nose, looking down at him. "As I suspect one ozzer zing is underwhelming as well."
He didn't flinch when she aimed her wand at him and undid the spell, for he barely had any breath in his lungs, barely any energy for anything else but to rasp and gasp for more air, while lying on the floor. The effects went unnoticed by him, but Fleur would not allow him to linger under the delusion he'd had anything to impress her to begin with.
"See? We now see ze truzz of zings, and your manhood's not quite so large anymore now, is it?"
She suspected a potion at first, but any such potion would have been beyond the ken of any fourth-year schoolboy, barring the odd prodigy or two that Hogwarts might have attending it. Whether he used a simple Engorgio or a specific penile-enhancement spell mattered not in the least. When returned to its natural state, his genitalia was nothing to be proud of.
If she guessed correctly, he was even smaller than Harry. Not by much, but still smaller. That ought to have sat ill with him.
"So, neizzer ze will, nor ze means to accomplish your plan. And what a poorly zought out plan it was. Not telling anyone about it, because you did not wish to share? Not trusting anyone? You were doomed to fail before even enacting the scheme. But let us say that you did somehow manage to subdue me and 'ave your way wiz me: what zen, you inbred cretin? Do you zink I would stay silent, zat I would not pursue revenge? Zere is nuzzing which could have shielded you from me, nuzzing."
"Wh-," he wheezed out, "when my father hears —"
"When your fazzer next 'ears of you, it will be to inform 'im of your sudden departure from zis world."
Draco Malfoy's complexion paled sickly white. "Y-you can't, you'll be caught!"
Fleur shrugged. "A possibility, certainly, but a distant one if ze job is properly done and I intend to see it done well. Did you truly believe I would call for a professor to 'elp you, zat I would 'eal you? Well, in part you were correct, I suppose." She didn't know many, but those healing spells that she did sufficed for the minor harm she'd inflicted on him. "Zere, all better now. Not zat you will 'ave ze time to enjoy it. Far too late for zat."
One last try, one last attempt at survival. "I can pay! I have Galleons, tens of thousands! All yours! I'll swear a Vow!"
When Fleur lowered her wand, he thought that was it, he was saved. But nothing could've prepared him for what came next.
Unseen forces were being prepared all along while Fleur talked to him, distracted him. Unseen forces which now slammed fully against him and his pale grey eyes turned nearly completely white before they returned to their natural color.
Fleur was coated in sweat by the time she was done. She'd battered everything in his mind, wiped the slate clean of all independent thought. What Fleur did was enslavement. All Veelas had this ability, from the dawn of their existence, their ultimate defense should everything else fail. Men, and the occasional, rare women, turned into mindless slaves, always eager to do the Veela's bidding, no matter what it may have been, no matter how destructive or self-harmful.
For a few moments, Fleur was content with just breathing. Then she cleaned herself with a commonly used spell, but later she would still shower herself in scalding water; nothing beat a real shower, no matter how convenient magic might have been. Next, she dressed herself, buttoned up her robes, tidied up her hair, straightened out any wrinkle in her clothes.
"When I leave zis room," she addressed Malfoy, "you will shut ze door, and transfigure it into a wall, like ze ones surrounding it. You will make zis transfiguration perfect, so much zat no one would ever be able to tell zere ever was a door 'ere in ze first place. After zat, you shall wait for two 'ours, not a second less, and you shall proceed to bash your 'ead against the wall. You must do zis quickly, before losing consciousness, and you will keep doing so until you fracture your skull and die."
"Yesss," he slurred the word, completely oblivious of everything else but her words.
Just as she was to leave the room, she turned towards him. "Oh and tuck zat back in, no need for more disappointments."
I tried, Harry. You cannot say I didn't give him a chance.
Barely a foot away from the room and the door behind her vanished.
Barely two feet away and all thoughts of murder she'd just set in motion gone from her mind.
Only her lover had a place in her thoughts, and she wondered if she might manage to entice him to one impromptu meeting before the Second Task after all. Her blood ran hot and his tongue was as good as any other way to vent the heat.
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To revel with a Veela