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The Wizard and the Witch Chapter 8
🕑 Added 2025-05-25 05:05:40 +0000 UTCThe older Harry got, the better that he came to understand Dumbledore’s point of view. That was a little bit worrying, because he was only 24 years old. What would it be like when he hit fifty? Or a hundred? He was terrified that he might find himself in lavender robes with stars all over them, sitting around talking to a bird all the time.
Harry never permitted himself long to worry about the future, though. He found that was a surefire way of forgetting about the present. After all, you never knew what’s going to happen. Had anyone predicted ahead of time that half the world (and universe, from what he’d heard) would lose five whole years?
Harry’s life had gone a little something like this. Be born. Beat the dark lord. Grow up embroiled in a power struggle with that very dark lord. Beat him again. Go into politics. Realize that you hate politics even more than you hate wars. Leave politics behind to the people who can handle it better and retire to the countryside with the love of your life.
Turn to dust.
Come back.
And then, MUCH more recently, accept a runaway superhero into your home.
It hadn’t been that long since Harry blipped. Fortunately, Fleur blipped too. Harry had nothing against older women, and he’d had more than a few take turns in his bed over the years, but an eight year difference would have taken some getting used to between him and his wife.
They had barely been affected, really, compared to the rest of the world. They’d already moved to Shell Cottage, a house that was well off of the beaten path and surrounded by wards to stop discovery. They both disappeared, then just came back, the only real annoyance being the cleaning that they had to do when they got back. Others, though…
From what Harry had heard, in the Muggle world, everything was an utter mess. People disappeared, and those who were still left moved on to new relationships and houses and lives. People lost their place in the world. Unemployment and poverty were higher than had ever been seen. In that respect, wizards were much better off. Even the poorest wizard never starved with the help of magic.
Still, Harry’s heart ached for everybody in bad situations around the world. It hurt him to see the world so hurt, even if he himself mostly escaped the disaster. Perhaps that was why, when a woman fell from the sky, Harry saw it as fate, like the prophecy he grew up with, and took her in without a second thought.
He and Fleur saw the way Wanda arrived. From the sky, held aloft with red energy of her own creation. He’d been able to sense the Darkhold from a long way off. The book was like the deathly hallows in some ways, but worse. Death was an apathetic force. The Darkhold was inherently EVIL.
Harry could actually see the upturned dirt from the place Wanda first landed. Currently, as he reflected on all of this, he was sitting on his own front porch, watching the sunrise. He was wearing only his underwear—one of the benefits of living in such a secluded place—and sipping a tall glass of tea. There were bite marks on his pecs and neck, and there was lipstick smeared in places on his face. As Harry chugged down a big gulp of his tea, the door opened behind him.
Fleur stepped out. She paused to shiver, wrapped in a thick warm bathrobe and wearing fluffy slippers.
“You are mad, I zay,” Fleur told him when she saw Harry’s state of undress.
“I like the chilly air on my body,” Harry said. “It feels refreshing.”
“Mmm, and I imagine zat iz not all zat you like on et, non? Did eet feel good to have Wanda bounzing on top of you?”
“She felt absolutely magical,” Harry answered cheekily.
Fleur sighed at his dad joke. She walked over to the chair next to him and sat down in it.
“I zensed powerful magic,” Fleur said. “When I went past ze clozzet, eet was open and empty.”
“The Darkhold got loose,” Harry said. “It interrupted us rather rudely. It’s been handled now, though. Not just locked away.”
Fleur ran her fingers down Harry’s arm. “You never ceaze to impress me.”
“Thank you,” Harry said, catching her fingers and holding them in his own. “But this time, Wanda was the one who did it. It was almost terrifyingly easy for her, too. All I did was help her clear her head.”
“Ah, I am zure,” Fleur said, “zat you would NEVER understate your contributions.”
Harry shrugged. Once his wife made her mind up about something, it was impossible for him to change it no matter what he said. If she was determined to see him as a hero swooping in and saving the day, well, there were worse things to be seen as. This way at least he was likely to land some pretty awesome perks behind closed doors. Fleur always did love rewarding his most heroic actions with her body.
“I saw her memories,” Harry admitted. “They were… even worse than I was expecting.”
Fleur sobered immediately. At first, they had not known who Wanda was, but when a person with some kind of obvious unknown magic becomes your houseguest, it’s normal to put in a little bit of effort to understand their story.
They learned all of the stuff the public knew, like that she was a reformed villain who joined the Avengers. She was used as a scapegoat when governments around the world attempted to bring superheroes under their control for personal use. After fighting back, she had gone off the grid, and was rumored to have fought in the war against Thanos. Even Harry, who was far off of the grid (and then didn’t exist at the time of the second part) had heard of the battle against the mad titan.
Now, he’d seen the battle itself. It was awe inspiring, honestly… and it got Harry’s blood pumping in a way that he hadn’t felt since the war against Voldemort. Watching the battle had made Harry want to join in. But that wasn’t all that he’d seen, and in the grand scheme of Wanda’s life, there were many worse memories.
“She was raised for years as a test subject in a glass box barely bigger than my cupboard,” Harry said. “She’s used to losing people one by one. My life hasn’t always been the best, but at least I always had loved ones around me that I’ve still got today.”
“Oh, Harry!” Fleur said, squeezing his hand and looking at him with impassioned eyes. “Can’t we keep her?”
Harry couldn’t help laughing.
“She’s an adult woman, Fleur, not a stray pet we picked up,” he said. “If Wanda wants to stay, of course she can but she has to make that decision herself.”
“I know zat,” Fleur said haughtily. “I was only asking.”
She paused for a moment. The sun had come up over the water, shining down its orange rays. Harry remembered the red—no, scarlet—energy that Wanda had wielded to obliterate the Darkhold. He felt bad for her, but it was clear the woman was far from helpless. Without the Darkhold latched onto her, Harry was confident that Wanda would find her way in life again, whether that was with them or in a different direction.
He lost interest in the sunrise the moment Fleur slid out of her seat. She got down on her knees in front of him, letting go of his hand to pull her robes open.
“You’ll get cold,” Harry said.
“Zen I will need zomething to warm me up,” Fleur said.
She pulled down Harry’s drawers. He was still getting hard, but that process sped up considerably when Fleur opened her robe and let her tits flop out. She planted them around him, rubbing his shaft and getting friction going.
Fleur spat from her thick lips. When the saliva touched Harry’s tip, the chilly air made it feel cold, but as it ran down the sides of his shaft he adjusted quite quickly to it. The spit lubricated the titty fuck he was getting, and Fleur’s vertical efforts quickly warmed both of them up.
“I know zat you love my teets,” Fleur said smugly. “They are not quite Susan’s, are they? But their shape is your favorite.”
“You know me—” Harry paused to groan. “So well.”
Fleur smooched the parts of him that were sticking out of her cleavage. She leaned forward, pushing her torso against Harry’s muscular thighs in a strong effort to keep them warm. Unable to help himself, Harry stroked the sides of her platinum blond hair. Fleur tilted her head, quitting her kissing of him to look appreciative. The sunrise was in full swing at her back, but Harry thought that his wife was ten times more beautiful.
It had been a shock to him, when they first started dating, that Fleur had no problem with him pounding other women. In fact, she longed for it. But he learned quickly that it was a trait of her heritage. Veela were not monogamous, and some of those instincts were passed on to their partially human descendents.
Additionally, Fleur didn’t see it as cheating. She knew that she had his love and she didn’t care if other women were exposed to it from time to time. She loved showing off how hot and sexy her husband was. Plus, she never got jealous, because she had absolute certainty in her looks and personality.
That arrogance left them at odds when they first met, with Fleur constantly referring to Harry as a leetle boy and belittling him. Now, Harry loved her arrogant personality as a core part of who she was. Besides, she would never ever call him “leetle” in any way ever again after the things he’d done to her. Being reminded of her first nickname for him actually embarrassed his wife like nothing else.
Fleur pushed her stomach forward and back, using the snakelike motion to raise and drop her boobs. She was pushing her breasts inward from the sides, using her hands to make sure that Harry’s dick was nice and snug between them. Given Harry’s huge cock size, it was a testament to Fleur’s breasts that they could pull this off at all.
Fleur briefly let her tits fall away, bending down and sticking out her tongue. She ran it all along three sides of Harry’s dick, getting it much wetter with slobber, then wrapped her tits around him before he could miss them. Now that he was properly lubricated, Fleur could go even quicker than she had been before. Harry found himself breathing hard, clenching his hands around the empty glass that held his tea.
When he came, he gave Fleur a complete facial, getting cum on her eyelids and forehead and all over her nose. She smiled as she felt his warmth run down her face, slowly opening her eyes and lowering her lips.
“Wanda worked you out nicely,” Fleur said. “If eet was Ginny or Hannah who you had been sleeping with last night, I’d be zo covered in cum zat I would not be able to open my eyes.”
“Hermione helped yesterday,” Harry said in an effort to be fair. “But Wanda was certainly intense. That was one of the best shags I’ve had in years. Her passion was on another level after everything that happened. Thank you for getting her ready so nicely, by the way.”
“Eet waz nothing,” Fleur said proudly. “I only did what I thought waz best.”
Harry reminiscences on the night just passed were put on sudden hold. His eyes looked directly into the sun.
He whispered words under his breath, casting spells that would prevent his eyes from being hurt by the bright light. At the same time he stood up, pushing Fleur back inadvertently. She didn’t complain, watching him carefully.
Harry climbed down from the porch. He pulled up his underwear, cleaning himself with more whispered incantations. Proper wizarding robes appeared on his body as he conjured them there, and his holly wand shot out of the house and into his hand. He looked like the true wizard he was, because there was no need to hide his identity any longer now that Wanda knew the truth. Standing there, Harry faced down the dark dot that was growing closer. Another wizard was flying toward his house, and a powerful one at that. And he was doing it while being carried his fluttering red cloak.
One look (and a quick scan with his magic) told Harry that the visitor was from one of the sanctums. Despite the wonderful night he’d had and the brilliant start to his morning, Harry cussed out loud.
“Great,” he said. “I hate these fuckers.”
By the time his new guest arrived, he’d put on a smile. Just because he hated his short stint in politics didn’t mean that it hadn’t taught him any tricks.
