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Becoming Harry's Favourite Chapter 5
🕑 Added 2023-02-24 16:59:01 +0000 UTCFleur was still enjoying the feeling of Harry’s body beneath when he started to stir. They were both completely bare on top of his bed and she was curled up on him, resting her head against his muscled chest. She had one leg over his and was slowly stroking his belly while he was holding her close to him, his one hand holding onto one of her breasts. Fleur even still had some of Harry’s cum dribbling out of her ass and onto the bedding. Everything was perfect.
Naturally, it was a man who ruined the moment.
Fleur tried to hold Harry tighter when he started to move, but he gently pushed her arm away.
“I promised to go meet with Hagrid today,” Harry told her apologetically. “He said he had something to show me since I’ve been missing class so much to spend time with you.”
Fleur pouted on the bed as she rolled over onto her back. She crossed her arms beneath her full breasts and pushed them up enticingly. “If you must,” she said with a great sigh.
“Sorry,” Harry grimaced. He seemed genuinely sorry that he had to go, but that didn’t help Fleur’s mood at all. He was still pulling his clothes back on and getting ready to go outside. “You can stay here tonight with me if you want.”
Fleur hummed noncommittally. It wasn’t like her to be like this—normally, she was the one leaving her partner behind as they begged her to stay—but it was impossible not to feel this way when it was her special man leaving, the only one who could fully satisfy her sexually. If it were up to her, they’d spend all day and night in bed making love, but she understood that, unfortunately, that wasn’t a practical option.
At least Harry came back and gave her a quick kiss. Fleur tried to deepen it, hoping to entice him back to bed, but he was well aware of her tricks by now and escaped while he had the chance.
“I’m sorry,” Harry called out over his shoulder as he left. “I’ll make it up to you.”
Fleur responded by hurling one of his pillows at the closing door.
When she was finally left out, Fleur let out a huff. What was she supposed to do now? It wasn’t like she wanted to attend classes, and there wasn’t anyone else she’d like to spend time with. It would be nice if Gabrielle was here, even though she was terribly annoying at times. At least then she’d have someone to spend time with.
Fleur rolled over onto her front, having to adjust her position slightly to accommodate her large breasts beneath her torso, and breathed in deeply. The pillow in her face smelled exactly like Harry did, and it helped to mend the pang of his absence. Fleur didn’t even realize that her fingers had slipped down to her pussy until she had two of them buried inside of her.
Fleur wiggled them around inside of her, stretching out her walls for a moment to try to replicate the girth of Harry’s cock, but it just wasn’t doing anything for her. So, she tried pumping them in and out, but that didn’t work either. Groaning in frustration, she pulled out her slightly damp fingers and went straight for her clit, but even playing with that paled in comparison to the way Harry made her feel when he was with her.
“Damn it,” Fleur cursed as she pushed herself up off the bed. She could see her perfect body reflected in a floor-length mirror across the room. She looked like an absolute goddess, and that just made it all the more frustrating that Harry was able to resist her charms and leave her alone in bed like this.
For just a brief moment, Fleur considered searching for a camera to snap a few photos to leave for Harry to show him exactly what he missed out on, but that would just leave her craving his touch all the more. Another unsatisfying attempt at masturbating didn’t seem like an appealing afternoon activity, so Fleur forced herself to get out of Harry’s bed.
Thankfully, Harry kept a few spare uniforms of Fleur’s in his trunk—a precaution after vanishing all of the clothes off her body one too many times in the past. The light-blue button-up, made of the finest silk, felt wonderful against her warm skin, and the knee-length dress made her ass stand out beautifully in her silhouette. Naturally, Harry never kept any of her underwear around. He liked to have easy access to her body at all times, so Fleur decided to go without any today, still hoping that she could entice Harry into an encounter after his meeting with Hagrid.
Fleur casually made her way out of Gryffindor tower, ignoring the disapproving sniff from the Fat Lady portrait as she left. That portrait had quite the attitude, not that Harry or Fleur particularly cared. She just flicked her beautiful, silvery-blond hair over her shoulder and started down the staircase towards the lower floors.
Perhaps she should have been more aware of her surroundings; after all, Fleur had just turned Hermione’s ploy against her earlier this morning and secured Harry all to herself for the day. There was sure to be a reprisal, but Fleur hadn’t expected one so soon.
As Fleur took a step off a winding staircase and onto a landing on the fourth floor, her entire body suddenly locked up. Her legs snapped together as though bound by the tightest ropes and her arms were locked at her sides. She couldn’t unclench the fists her hands had formed into as she started to fall backwards. She was fully expecting for the back of her head to strike the floor when, suddenly, she started to float.
Fleur was helpless as her body flew quickly down the nearby corridor and out of sight from the many portraits that filled the Grand Staircase. She could only hope that one of them had seen her, or perhaps a student she hadn’t noticed, and would alert someone. Until then, she was helpless.
Or, she would be had she not some small talent with wandless magic.
The skill, regularly derided in western culture as being inefficient and imprecise, had its fair share of users, particularly at the African school of Uagadou. Fleur had only a fledgling skill in it, but one of the first spells she learned was a simple, generic counter-curse. This body-bind that she had been struck with wouldn’t hold up against her counter-curse if she could manage to bring her magic to bear.
But, rather than remove the curse, Fleur waited.
While there may be several people who looked down on her, only one would truly consider her an enemy: Hermione Granger. Fleur didn’t react as she was pulled into an abandoned classroom and passed right beneath the nose of Hermione Granger. The brunette witch had a look of fury on her face. Fleur could only imagine how worked up the poor witch must have been after her ploy at breakfast backfired spectacularly on her.
As Hermione settled Fleur atop a pair of adjoined desks, she kept her magic at the ready. She could break free at any time, but then she’d be at a severe disadvantage since she’d foolishly left her wand in her room this morning. Her limited skills in wandless magic wouldn’t hold up against even a second-year student in a one-on-one duel, let alone a witch whom Harry deemed worthy of being at his side.
So, Fleur waited and watched as Hermione paced alongside the desks, glaring down at Fleur.
“I’m going to release the spell’s hold on your head now,” Hermione explained to her. Honestly, Fleur was a little impressed. It took quite a bit of control over one’s magic to partially remove a curse like this. It was relatively straightforward to alter a spell placed on an inanimate object; it was another thing entirely to alter one placed on something, or someone, magical. “You will not make a sound. No cries for help or anything like that. You will remain quiet until I prompt you to respond. Move your eyes up and down if you understand and agree.”
Fleur did exactly as Hermione asked. In spite of the intimidating atmosphere Hermione was trying to instill, Fleur knew that she was perfectly safe with this witch. As much as Hermione might hate Fleur, she loved Harry even more. She’d never hurt Fleur, not while Fleur was Harry’s. She was all bark and no bite, and Fleur could see right through her.
Hermione gave a careful twist of her wand and Fleur felt the magic on her partially unravel and then reshape itself. She opened her jaw slightly, testing the limits of the alteration. She could move her head perfectly fine, though there was a slight numbness at her collarbone. That was likely where the spell resumed, Fleur surmised.
Hermione seemed to be waiting to see if Fleur was going to say anything, but Fleur wasn’t willing to give her anything. She’d let Hermione think herself fully in charge of the situation. It was always good to have your opponent think they were in control. It made your victory that much sweeter.
Or, well, it would if there was a victory to be had at all. Fleur hadn’t forgotten the promise she’d made to Harry. She had agreed to try to talk to Hermione to come to some sort of understanding. Harry wanted both Fleur and Hermione in his life, and Fleur wasn’t going to undermine his wishes.
Hermione stopped her pacing beside Fleur’s waist, forcing Fleur to crane her neck awkwardly to look up at her. Another power play to be sure, but it felt forced and awkward coming from Hermione; she knew nothing of what it was to show true dominance. “You’ve been a thorn in my side ever since you arrived here,” Hermione scowled at Fleur. “And worse, you’re taking up too much of Harry’s time.”
Taking up the time he normally reserved for Hermione, Fleur assumed she meant. Fleur would be lying if she said that she didn’t try to monopolize Harry’s sexual life, but that was just the nature of things. Hermione had her own time with Harry too, just less than before.
“You need to give up on him, for both of your sakes,” Hermione told Fleur.
“And why would I do that?” Fleur asked, breaking the agreement to stay quiet until she was prompted to respond.
Hermione didn’t miss a beat as she struck Fleur’s side with a stinging hex. It hurt more than she expected, but it wasn’t enough to break her composure. Fleur blinked through the pain and kept staring right into Hermione’s eyes, waiting for a response from the witch.
“You’ll do it because I said so,” Hermione shouted at Fleur. Given the witch’s lack of concern at being quiet, Fleur presumed that she had a silencing charm on this room to prevent any passersby from overhearing what went on inside. She must have had this planned for a while now; it was exactly the type of carefully crafted play that Hermione would do.
“Even if I leave, do you think Harry will go back to fucking you all the time?” Fleur asked evenly, as though she were genuinely interested in the answer. The question was rhetorical, of course, and Hermione recognized that. “If I leave suddenly, Harry will come looking for me. I’ve pledged myself to him, and he knows I’m not the type to go back on my word.”
Fleur’s words seemed to inflame Hermione’s anger even further. She fumed, twirling her wand through her fingers as she paced back and forth. Fleur kept her eyes on Hermione the whole time, watching and memorizing the witch’s pattern.
“He’ll understand eventually,” Hermione finally said. “You’re not good enough for him.”
“And you are?” Fleur retorted.
“Of course I am!” Hermione practically screamed. “I’ve been by his side from the very start! Where were you when people thought he was the Heir of Slytherin or when we went to save the philosopher’s stone from-”
It literally looked like Hermione bit her tongue to stop herself from saying anymore, but she had already given up plenty. In her initial investigation into her competition in the Triwizard Tournament, Fleur had encountered countless stories about Harry Potter. Most sounded made up, but, after getting to know the man better, they started to seem more reasonable in her eyes. Surely they were still heavily exaggerated, but there was likely a kernel of truth in them. And Hermione just confirmed that for her.
So, Hermione based her value on her longevity at Harry’s side. She’d been around for four and a half years now, and Fleur had only been there for a few months.
Perhaps Hermione would change her tune once Fleur had been around for years like she had, or perhaps she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d always hold that four-year gap over Fleur’s head and use it as a justification for her jealousy over Fleur’s place in Harry’s life. Regardless, it was good information to have. It was helping to paint a clearer picture as to why Hermione hated Fleur so much. If Fleur wanted any hope of reconciliation—or, at least, a truce—then she had to understand Hermione’s rationale.
Hermione stopped again at Fleur’s side. “Harry has been through so much, and he has a lot more to go through. I can’t let you distract him from that.”
“From what I’ve seen, he can handle whatever else the tournament throws at him,” Fleur replied, rolling her eyes at Hermione’s melodramatic comment.
But, rather than get angry at Fleur for her snippy comment, Hermione’s eyes lit up gleefully and a smile carved its way onto her face. “You don’t know?” Hermione asked softly.
Fleur frowned. “Know what?”
Hermione giggled, actually giggled. In all the time she’d seen her, Fleur had never once seen Hermione giggle. Sure, she’d chuckled or laughed at things Harry had said, but she seemed positively giddy at whatever Fleur was apparently ignorant about.
“I knew he didn’t trust you like he did me,” Hermione murmured happily.
Fleur looked a little puzzled. What was she referencing?
“Perhaps I should start to.”
If she could, Fleur would have jumped off of the desks and rushed over to her lover’s arms as he threw off the invisibility cloak that had obscured him from sight. He seemed positively furious at Hermione, and the poor girl was cringing in on herself as Harry approached.
“Harry, I’m sorry, but I-”
“Save it,” he cut her off. With a sharp wave of his wand, he removed the body-bind curse on Fleur completely. Fleur stretched out her limbs and hopped off of the desks and made her way to Harry’s side. His eyes roamed her body. “Are you hurt?” He asked her.
“Non,” Fleur replied with a soft smile. “Thank you for coming to save me, mon chéri.” She kissed him gently.
Harry kissed her back, but the kiss was brief. As soon as Fleur pulled back, his face turned to one of anger as he rounded on Hermione.
“I trusted you,” Harry said to Hermione with venom that Fleur had never heard in his voice before. “And yet you kept attacking Fleur.”
“I did it to help you,” Hermione said imploringly. “Harry, you know what’s to come. You know what you need to do to get ready-”
“I still have to live my life, Hermione,” Harry snapped. “What’s the point of all this if I don’t have a life to come back to afterwards?”
Fleur frowned at this cryptic conversation. She couldn’t quite make heads or tails of it.
“You have me!” Hermione insisted. “I can be your life.”
“You’re a part of my life,” Harry replied. “An important part, but just a part nonetheless. And Fleur is a part of it too. Hermione, fuck, I love her, just like I love you.”
As Hermione looked heartbroken, Fleur felt elated. He finally said it! He finally said that he loved her. Merlin, if the situation wasn’t so serious, she’d jump him here and now.
“But, she doesn’t know-” Hermione tried to argue, but Harry cut her off.
“Because I wasn’t going to tell her until I felt ready,” Harry said. He glanced back at Fleur for a brief moment before he returned his gaze to Hermione. “You’ve been such a great help to me, Hermione, but we both know that you’re not a duelist. You could hold your own in a fight, but not against everyone that I’ll be up against. Not against Voldemort.”
Voldemort? The dark wizard who had killed Harry’s parents and left him with that lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead? He’d been dead for years now.
Harry obviously spotted the confused look on Fleur’s face. “Voldemort isn’t dead,” he grimaced. “Not really anyway. But, he’ll be back. And he’s coming after me.”
It would be easy for Fleur to chalk Harry’s words up to a flight of fancy, but she knew that he wasn’t a liar. Magic was a complex subject beyond the mortal keen, and she’d heard stranger tales than that of dead men returning back to life. If Harry said that Voldemort wasn’t dead, then he wasn’t. The question that remained was what that meant for her.
Truthfully, it wasn’t much of a question at all; at least, not one that required much deliberation in her mind. Fleur had pledged herself to Harry, and regardless of whatever challenges they’d face, she’d stay by his side. He was destined for her. His magic harmonized with hers and made her feel complete for the first time in her life. If she had to battle a hundred dark witches and wizards to keep him by her side, she’d do it.
Fleur latched herself onto Harry’s arm and looked up into his handsome face. Despite everything they’d been through the last few months, he seemed genuinely surprised at the supportive gesture. “I pledged myself to you in all ways,” she told him. “I wouldn’t do that if I wasn’t serious about you. I don’t care what obstacles we face as long as we face them together. I’ll be by your side now and always, Harry Potter.”
The look of love in Harry’s eyes confirmed for Fleur that she had made the right choice. “I love you,” Harry said breathlessly.
Fleur beamed up at him and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “And I love you.”
Hermione let out an angry, choked sound as she looked away from Harry and Fleur. It felt good for Fleur to hear Hermione like that. The girl had been nothing but petty since Fleur entered Harry’s life. Regardless of any justified grievances she may have had with Fleur, Hermione had to get used to the new reality she was living in. Hopefully this would be the wakeup call that she needed.
However, Fleur couldn’t feel truly satisfied seeing Hermione like this, not when she saw the clear hurt on Harry’s face. He didn’t like seeing her like this. He never wanted Hermione to fight with Fleur. He just wanted the two of them to get along at his side. Perhaps he had been wrong to take more of a hands-off approach in letting them work out their issues, but that didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t the main party responsible for this situation.
Fleur held back the sigh she wanted to let out. Harry had asked her to try to make amends with Hermione. Even though Fleur wanted Harry all to herself, she wasn’t going to make the same mistakes that Hermione had.
So, Fleur let go of Harry and crossed over towards Hermione. The girl immediately took up a defensive stance, much to Fleur’s annoyance. Couldn’t she see that Fleur didn’t want to fight?
Fleur stopped a couple feet away from Hermione and stuck out her hand towards Hermione. “I don’t want to fight with you,” Fleur told her. “All I want is to be by Harry’s side, and if that means that you’re there too, then that’s fine by me. I’m sorry for stunning you and tricking Harry; I never meant for it to go as far as it did, but I’m glad it happened. We both want the same thing, and that’s to be with Harry. I’m willing to work with you if you are.”
There was a moment of silence as Hermione’s mind processed what Fleur had said. Fleur could see the indecision as a hundred different emotions flashed through Hermione’s mind, all pulling her in different directions. But, by the end of it all, she saw Hermione come to a decision. It wasn’t ideal or what the girl had dreamed of, but it was going to be the best situation she could end up in at this point in time.
Hermione accepted Fleur’s hand and gave it a tentative shake. “I’m sorry for cursing you and bringing you here,” she said quietly. “If it keeps Harry happy, I’ll do my best to work with you too.”
Harry approached them then and wrapped his arms around both of them. “Thank you,” he said to them. “For working things out. It wasn’t a moment too soon either.”
“What do you mean?” Fleur asked.
“Hermione,” Harry prompted with a gentle smile. “Would you care to explain?”
Hermione gave a shaky smile back at Harry and nodded before turning her attention over to Fleur. “Professor Moody, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor here at Hogwarts, isn’t actually Professor Moody; he’s an impostor by the name of Barty Crouch.”
“The Triwizard Tournament organizer?” Fleur asked.
Hermione shook her head. “No, probably not him. We once saw him and Moody at the same time, in the same place. Unless he was using a time-turner—which is unlikely given how restricted those are by the Ministry—we think it was someone else posing as Moody. Namely his son: Barty Crouch Jr.”
“Barty Crouch Jr. was a Death Eater sentenced to life in prison in Azkaban. He supposedly died a few years back,” Harry added. “But he’s the only other person we know of with that same name.”
“In either case,” Hermione interjected, “this man has been acting quite suspiciously as of late. With the maze nearly finished and the final task set to take place in a couple of weeks, we decided that we need to investigate what he’s up to.”
Harry squeezed both of them tightly. “And I’d love nothing more than if the two of you were to come up with a plan for that.”
Both Fleur and Hermione’s eyes widened slightly. They had come to a sort of tentative truce, but working together was another thing entirely.
“Harry, I-” Fleur began to speak but was quickly cut off as Hermione raised her voice over Fleur’s.
“We’ll do it,” Hermione said, giving Fleur a stern look. “Right?”
“Of course,” Fleur grimaced.
“Great!” Harry exclaimed with a smile. “Then I’ll leave you two to your planning. I got a little sidetracked on my way to Hagrid’s,” he said, deliberately not meeting Hermione’s embarrassed gaze. “So I’ll see you both at supper.”
