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You are the only Flower of my Life Chapter 6 (A Veela's Heart)
🕑 Added 2024-11-17 22:15:48 +0000 UTCFleur's dream was so vivid, so real, that she could almost feel Harry's talented tongue lapping at her sensitive folds. In her mind's eye, he worshipped her pussy like a man possessed, his mouth and fingers bringing her pleasure.
As she stirred from her slumber, Fleur was surprised to find that the pleasure didn't dissipate. In fact, it only seemed to intensify, a moan slipping from her parted lips as she felt a familiar pressure between her thighs.
Curious, she lifted the blankets, only to be greeted by the sight of a mop of messy black hair nestled between her legs. With a giggle of delight, Fleur realized that her dream had become a reality - Harry was indeed feasting on her pussy, his tongue delving into her slick depths.
"Mmm, 'Arry," she purred, her fingers threading through his hair. "What a lovely surprise to wake up to. I was just dreaming about you doing exactly this."
Harry looked up at her, his green eyes darkened with lust, his lips glistening with her juices. "Is that so? Well, I couldn't resist the temptation of your sweet cunt, Fleur. I wanted to take my time, worship you properly, make you cum so hard you forget your own name."
Fleur shivered at his words, her hips undulating as he returned to his task, his tongue swirling around her sensitive clit. "Oh, yes, just like that, mon amour. Your mouth is pure magic."
Harry chuckled against her flesh, the vibrations making her toes curl in pleasure. He licked and sucked, nibbled and teased, his fingers joining the fray to stroke her inner walls, seeking out that special spot that made her see stars.
Fleur's hands fisted in the sheets, her back arching off the bed as he drove her higher and higher. She babbled in a mix of French and English, praising his skill, begging for more, her voice growing louder and more desperate with each passing second.
"'Arry, mon dieu, I'm so close," she gasped, her thighs trembling, her core tightening as her orgasm approached. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"
Harry doubled his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over her clit as his fingers pumped in and out of her dripping pussy. He could feel her walls fluttering around his digits, knew she was on the brink of shattering.
With a final, hard suck to her sensitive nub, Harry sent Fleur flying over the edge. She screamed his name, her body convulsing as wave after wave of pure, unadulterated bliss crashed over her. Her juices flooded his mouth, and he lapped them up greedily, prolonging her pleasure for as long as possible.
As Fleur slowly came down from her high, Harry crawled up her body, pressing tender kisses to her sweat-dampened skin. He captured her lips in a searing kiss, letting her taste herself on his tongue.
"Good morning, beautiful," he murmured, a satisfied grin on his face. "I hope you enjoyed your wake-up call."
Fleur laughed breathlessly, her arms wrapping around his neck. "Enjoyed it? 'Arry, that was incredible. I think I might need you to wake me up like that every morning from now on."
Harry waggled his eyebrows, his hand sliding down to cup her still-sensitive mound. "I think that can be arranged, love. In fact, why don't we stay in bed all day and see how many times I can make you cum?"
Fleur's eyes sparkled with mischief and desire. "Ah like ze way you zink, mon chéri. But we must go to ze Main 'All. Ze ozzers will wonder where you are... but first, I will reward you for waking me up like zis."
Later
The Great Hall buzzed with post-Yule Ball chatter as Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table, already dressed in her neat weekend attire – a warm burgundy sweater and black skirt under her open school robes. Her hair was wild as always as she buttered her toast, occasionally glancing at the enormous spread before her. The house-elves had outdone themselves this morning, offering both the traditional English breakfast with crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and black pudding, alongside French delicacies like fresh croissants, pain au chocolat, and delicate crépes – clearly a nod to their international guests.
Taking a sip of her pumpkin juice, Hermione's eyes widened as Harry and Fleur entered the Great Hall together. Harry wore casual weekend clothes – a green jumper that actually fit him for once (probably a transfigured gift from Fleur, Hermione suspected) and black trousers. His hair was even messier than usual, if that was possible. Fleur, by contrast, looked immaculate in a light blue cashmere sweater dress that complemented her eyes, her silver-blonde hair cascading perfectly down her back.
But it wasn't their clothes that caught Hermione's attention – it was their faces. Both practically glowed, and they weren't even trying to hide their linked hands.
"Well, well, well," Fred's voice came from behind Hermione as he and George sat down, both wearing matching maroon sweaters with their initials.
"What do we have here, brother mine?" George grinned, reaching for a croissant.
"I believe, dear George, we're witnessing the aftermath of a very successful Yule Ball," Fred replied, waggling his eyebrows.
Hermione watched as Harry and Fleur approached. Several Ravenclaw girls shot venomous glares at Fleur, while a group of Hufflepuff boys looked at Harry as if he'd personally offended their entire house. At the staff table, Professor McGonagall, in her traditional green tartan robes, was trying very hard to appear as if she wasn't watching, while failing spectacularly. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily behind his half-moon spectacles as he enjoyed his porridge, and Snape, in his usual black attire, looked even more sour than usual – if that was possible.
"Good morning," Harry said, his voice slightly higher than normal as he and Fleur sat down opposite Hermione. Fleur gracefully helped herself to a croissant, while Harry piled his plate with eggs and sausages.
"Sleep well?" Hermione asked innocently, stirring her tea.
Harry choked on his pumpkin juice. "Fine! Perfectly normal night. Regular sleeping. In my bed. Alone. Like always."
Fred snorted into his tea while George actually fell off the bench laughing.
Fleur rolled her eyes affectionately. "'Arry, mon cher, you are terrible at lying." She delicately bit into her croissant.
"I'm not lying!" Harry protested, his face turning red. "I just... I mean... the dormitory was..."
"You weren't in the dormitory last night, mate," came Ron's voice as he dropped onto the bench, wearing his maroon Weasley sweater and looking distinctly unfriendly. "Didn't come back at all."
"I was... studying!" Harry tried.
"Studying anatomy, perhaps?" George suggested, having recovered enough to climb back onto his bench.
"Or maybe French?" Fred added with a wink.
"Private lessons, no doubt," George nodded sagely.
"Very hands-on education."
"Practical application."
"Will you two stop?" Harry groaned, burying his face in his hands.
Hermione couldn't help but notice that Fleur looked entirely too pleased with herself as she sipped her café au lait. The French witch's composure only broke slightly when Ginny joined them, wearing a pretty purple jumper and giving both Harry and Fleur calculating looks.
"So," Hermione said, deciding to press her advantage, "I couldn't help but notice you two left the ball rather early last night..."
"We were tired," Harry said quickly.
"Oh yes, I'm sure you were both exhausted from all that... dancing," Hermione replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Exactly! Just dancing! Nothing else!" Harry grabbed a piece of toast and nearly knocked over the butter dish in his haste to appear casual.
"'Arry," Fleur finally interrupted, placing her hand on his arm, "you are making zis much worse zan it needs to be."
"I'm not making anything worse because nothing happened!" Harry insisted, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that he was now spreading butter on his sleeve instead of his toast.
"Really?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "So you didn't spend the night in the Beauxbatons carriage?"
Harry's eyes went comically wide. "How did you...?"
"You just confirmed it," Hermione smirked, taking a victorious bite of her toast.
"Zere is nothing to be ashamed of," Fleur said, running her fingers through Harry's perpetually messy hair. "We are both champions, both of age by magical law due to ze tournament."
The twins clutched their hearts dramatically in unison. "Our ickle Harrykins," Fred wiped an imaginary tear.
"All grown up," George pretended to sob into his napkin.
At the staff table, Professor McGonagall had given up all pretense of not listening and was now openly watching the scene unfold, her tartans slightly ruffled as she leaned forward. Snape looked like he'd bitten into a particularly sour lemon, his black robes seeming to billow even while sitting still. Dumbledore continued eating his porridge, though his eyes twinkled with such intensity they could probably be seen from Hogsmeade.
Ron stabbed his sausages with unnecessary force, his ears turning as red as his hair. "Must be nice," he muttered. "Famous Harry Potter gets everything. The tournament, the girl, the..."
"Ronald Bilius Weasley," Ginny cut him off sharply, her purple jumper matching the dangerous flash in her eyes. "If you finish that sentence, I will hex you so thoroughly that Madam Pomfrey will need a week to sort you out."
"But he..."
"Is happy," Ginny finished firmly. While there was a hint of sadness in her eyes, her voice was steady. "And if you're actually his friend, you'll be happy for him too."
Ron opened his mouth, closed it, then devoted himself to demolishing his breakfast in silence.
"Speaking of happiness," George said brightly.
"And our dear brother's distinct lack thereof," Fred continued.
"We couldn't help but notice..."
"That a certain Bulgarian seeker..."
"Was getting rather cozy..."
"With a certain French witch's little sister..."
Fleur's eyebrows shot up. "Gabrielle? She is eleven and she is not even here!"
"Not Gabrielle," Fred shook his head.
"The lovely Miss Charlotte," George clarified.
"Ah, oui," Fleur relaxed, smoothing her sweater dress. "Charlotte is in 'er sixth year. She told me about Monsieur Krum. Very sweet, actually. 'E 'as been trying to learn French for 'er."
"Unlike some people who just rely on natural talent," Hermione teased, looking pointedly at Harry.
"I don't know what you mean," Harry said, finally managing to properly butter his toast.
"Oh? So you weren't singing in the Astronomy Tower?" Hermione asked innocently.
Harry froze mid-bite. "You... heard that?"
"I might have been taking an evening walk..."
"You were spying on me!" Harry accused.
"I prefer to call it 'gathering empirical evidence about my best friend's hidden talents,'" Hermione replied primly, reaching for the marmalade.
"'E 'as many hidden talents," Fleur said with a suggestive smile that made Harry turn scarle.
"Right!" Harry said loudly, "Who wants to talk about the second task? Weather's lovely for a swim in the lake, isn't it?"
"In January?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"Better than discussing... other things," Harry mumbled.
"Other things like where you learned to sing so beautifully?" Hermione pressed. "Because I've known you for four years, Harry James Potter, and never once..."
"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said quietly, his good mood dimming slightly.
Fleur's expression softened as she took his hand. "It is okay, mon amour. She is your friend."
Harry looked at their linked hands for a moment, then sighed. "The Dursleys," he said simply.
The temperature around their section of the table seemed to drop several degrees. Even the twins' perpetual grins faded slightly.
"What did those horrible people do?" Hermione asked, her voice tight.
"They..." Harry started, but Fleur cut him off.
"Non. Not 'ere," she said firmly, glaring at the couple of nearby students who were obviously trying to eavesdrop. "'Arry will tell you when 'e is ready, in private."
Hermione nodded, understanding dawning in her eyes. "Of course. I'm sorry, Harry. I shouldn't have pushed."
"It's okay," Harry managed a small smile. "At least something good came from it. If Fleur hadn't heard me singing..."
"I would still think you were a silly boy who put my name in ze goblet for more fame," Fleur teased, successfully lightening the mood.
"And you would still be the haughty French witch who thought I was an attention-seeking child," Harry countered, grinning.
"Instead, you are ze attention-seeking man who I love," Fleur declared, and before Harry could respond, she pulled him into a passionate kiss.
Several things happened at once. Ron's fork clattered to his plate. Ginny accidentally knocked over her pumpkin juice. The twins started a slow clap that quickly spread to several tables. Professor McGonagall made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a cough. Snape looked like he might be sick. And Dumbledore... started humming what sounded suspiciously like "Can You Feel the Love Tonight."
When they finally broke apart, Harry looked dazed but happy. Fleur turned to face a wide-eyed Hermione.
"To answer your earlier question – yes, we slept together last night. Yes, it was wonderful. And yes, I intend to do so again. Often." She punctuated this by giving Harry another quick kiss.
"FLEUR!" Harry spluttered.
"What? It is ze truth. I am not ashamed."
"But... but..." Harry gestured helplessly at the staff table.
"Would you prefer I lie?" Fleur asked, raising one perfect eyebrow.
"No, but maybe we could be more... subtle?"
"Subtle?" Fred snorted.
"Mate, you two have been about as subtle as a Blast-Ended Skrewt in a china shop," George added.
"Besides," Fleur said, "I am part Veela. We do not do 'subtle' when it comes to love. We are passionate, we are proud, and we..." she smiled wickedly, "are very, very thorough."
At the staff table, Snape finally seemed to recover his voice. Rising from his seat, his black robes billowing dramatically, he strode toward the Gryffindor table with a look of pure venom.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor for this... disgraceful display of public indecency," he spat, his sallow face twisted with disgust.
"Now, now, Severus," Dumbledore's voice carried clearly across the hall as he too stood up, brushing a few porridge crumbs from his magnificent purple and silver robes. "I see no reason to punish young love. After all, they've broken no school rules."
"Headmaster, surely you cannot condone this... this..."
"This beautiful expression of affection between two young people?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, but there was a sharp edge to his voice. "I suppose we can forgive your confusion, Severus, given your... limited experience in such matters."
The Great Hall went deadly quiet. Even the twins stopped laughing. Snape's face went from sallow to white to an interesting shade of puce. At the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy looked like Christmas had been canceled.
"I... you..." Snape spluttered.
"The points are restored," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Though perhaps, Miss Delacour, Mr. Potter, you might consider slightly less passionate displays during meal times? Some of us are trying to enjoy our porridge."
"Oui, 'eadmaster," Fleur replied, not looking remotely apologetic.
"Quite right, quite right," Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Youth is for living, after all. Lemon drop, Severus?" He offered the still-speechless Potions master a candy.
Snape turned on his heel and stormed out of the Great Hall, his robes billowing so dramatically that several first-years had to duck.
"Blimey," Ron said, speaking for the first time in several minutes. "I think Dumbledore just murdered Snape."
"Emotionally, at least," Hermione agreed, trying and failing to hide her smile.
"That was brilliant!" the twins said in unison.
As breakfast continued, the initial shock wore off, and conversations resumed around them. Harry gradually relaxed, especially when he noticed that most of the looks they were getting were more envious than condemning. Even Ron seemed to be coming around, particularly after Fleur's friend Charlotte stopped by their table to ask him about Wizard's Chess, having heard he was quite good at it.
"You know," Hermione said thoughtfully, spreading jam on her toast, "this actually explains a lot."
"What does?" Harry asked.
"Why you've been so much more confident lately. Why you've been smiling more. Why you actually did your Transfiguration homework without me reminding you..."
"That was because I promised him a kiss for every assignment he completed on time," Fleur explained.
As the breakfast conversations continued, Fleur discreetly cast a Notice-Me-Not charm under the table. "'Arry," she whispered, her hand finding its way to his thigh, "you seem tense. Let me 'elp you relax."
Harry's breath hitched slightly, but he managed to maintain his composure, though his cheeks flushed. Hermione, oblivious to what was happening beneath the table, spread out several pieces of parchment covered in her neat handwriting.
"We really need to focus on the second task," she said, scanning her notes. "All we know is that it involves being underwater for an extended period."
"Right," Harry said, his voice slightly higher than usual. "Underwater. Very wet. I mean, important."
Fleur's fingers traced patterns on his leg as she appeared to consider the problem seriously. "Ze bubble-'ead charm is what Beauxbatons teaches, but it 'as limitations. Ze bubble can pop if you go too deep."
Harry shifted in his seat, trying to focus on the conversation while Fleur's touch sent shivers through him. "Actually," he managed, "I've been working on something new."
"Oh?" Fleur's hand stilled, her academic interest genuinely piqued.
"It's called Respirare Aquatius," Harry said, grateful for the momentary distraction. "It's a transformation spell that temporarily gives you gills and webbing, but unlike Gillyweed, you can control when to end it."
Hermione's quill dropped from her fingers. "You... made a spell?"
"Well, yeah," Harry shrugged, then had to suppress a gasp as Fleur's hand resumed its movement. "It's not that complicated. Just combined some principles from transfiguration with..."
"Not that complicated?" Hermione's voice rose several octaves. "Harry, creating new spells is NEWT-level work at minimum! Most wizards never manage it in their entire lives!"
Fleur beamed with pride, her hand giving Harry's thigh an appreciative squeeze. "My clever 'Arry. Always full of surprises."
"How did you even start working on this?" Hermione demanded, pulling out a fresh piece of parchment.
"Well," Harry tried to keep his voice steady, "I was thinking about how fish breathe, and then about partial human transfiguration, and it sort of... came together."
The twins, who had been listening nearby, exchanged impressed looks.
"Our little Harrykins," Fred wiped away another fake tear.
"A spell creator," George placed a hand over his heart.
"What's next?"
"Writing his own potions textbook?"
"Actually," Harry said, then bit his lip as Fleur's hand moved slightly higher, "I have been working on improving the Wolfsbane Potion."
This time it was Fleur who dropped something – her fork clattered to the table. "'Arry! Zat is Master-level work!"
"It's just theory right now," Harry said quickly. "But I thought if you adjusted the moonflower proportions and added powdered unicorn horn at the third phase of brewing..."
Hermione was scribbling frantically. "That... that could actually work! The unicorn horn's purifying properties might stabilize the moonflower's volatile reaction with the aconite!"
"Exactly," Harry nodded, then had to grab his pumpkin juice as Fleur's fingers danced along his thigh. "Plus, if you stir it widdershins instead of clockwise during the final stage..."
"Ze martial properties would align better with ze lunar aspects," Fleur finished, her eyes shining with intellectual excitement even as her hand continued its teasing movements. "Mon dieu, 'Arry, you are brilliant!"
She leaned over and kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear, "Later, I will show you just 'ow much I appreciate zat brilliant mind of yours."
Harry's face flamed red as he knocked over the butter dish.
"You okay there, mate?" George asked innocently.
"Fine!" Harry squeaked. "Just... excited about potions theory!"
Fred snorted. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"
"Back to ze second task," Fleur said smoothly, though her hand never left Harry's thigh. "Will you teach me zis spell, mon amour?"
"Of course," Harry nodded, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. "We could practice by the lake... or in the prefects' bathroom... somewhere private..."
"For safety reasons," Fleur agreed solemnly, though her eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Naturally," Hermione said dryly, clearly catching on to what was happening. "Because spell practice requires such privacy."
"Exactly!" Harry said, relief evident in his voice. "Very dangerous to be interrupted during spell practice. Could go horribly wrong. Better to be alone. Together. Alone together."
"Smooth, Potter," Ginny laughed. "Real smooth."
"I think it's sweet," A Ravenclaw's dreamy voice drifted over from where she'd apparently joined them without anyone noticing. "Although you might want to check for Wrackspurts. They're attracted to certain... activities."
Harry choked on his pumpkin juice again while Fleur looked intrigued.
"What exactly do zese Wrackspurts do?" she asked.
"Oh, they make your thoughts go fuzzy," She explained serenely. "Although in your case, that might not be entirely their fault."
"Right!" Harry stood up suddenly, dislodging Fleur's hand. "Spell practice! Now! Very important for the tournament!"
"But you 'aven't finished your breakfast," Fleur pouted.
"Not hungry!" Harry declared, though he grabbed a few pieces of toast. "Coming?"
"Eager, aren't we?" Fleur rose gracefully, canceling her Notice-Me-Not charm with a subtle wave of her wand.
"For spell practice," Harry emphasized, perhaps a bit too strongly.
"Of course," Fleur purred, linking her arm through his. "We must practice very... thoroughly."
As they left the Great Hall, they could hear the twins taking bets on how long their "spell practice" would last.
"Those two," Hermione shook her head fondly, returning to her notes. "Although I really do want to know more about that spell creation process..."
"Later, Hermione," Ron said, surprising everyone with his insight. "Let them have their moment. Besides," he added with a grin, "I don't think either of them is thinking about spell theory right now."
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The Black Lake's surface glimmered in the afternoon sun as Harry and Fleur approached its secluded shore. A gentle breeze carried the scent of water lilies and fresh grass, creating an intimate atmosphere.
"We should get used to ze temperature first," Fleur suggested, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ze water will be quite... stimulating."
Harry nodded, already reaching for the hem of his shirt. "Good thinking. Don't want any surprises during the task."
As he pulled the fabric over his head, Fleur's gaze traveled appreciatively over his exposed torso. Quidditch had sculpted his body beautifully - lean muscle rippling beneath beautiful skin, abs clearly defined from countless hours of training. A thin trail of dark hair disappeared tantalizingly into his shorts.
"Mmm, ze view is already magnificent," she purred, licking her lips. Her wand moved in a graceful arc as she cast, "Velum Privatus" - ensuring their privacy from prying eyes.
Harry's breath caught as Fleur began undressing with deliberate slowness. She slipped out of her robes to reveal a powder-blue bikini that left little to the imagination. The delicate fabric hugged every curve of her athletic figure, highlighting the perfection of her part-Veela heritage.
"Like what you see, mon coeur?" she teased, stretching languidly. The movement made her breasts strain against the bikini top, drawing Harry's hungry gaze.
"Merlin, Fleur," he breathed, unable to look away. Despite their intimate relationship, her beauty still struck him speechless. His body's response was immediate and obvious - his shorts doing little to hide his impressive arousal.
Fleur's eyes darkened with desire as they traced the prominent bulge. "Eight inches of pure magic," she murmured appreciatively. "Perhaps I should cast a stronger privacy charm, non?"
Harry's face flushed, but he didn't look away. "You're incredible," he said honestly. "Every time I see you like this, it's like the first time all over again."
She sauntered closer, swaying her hips. "Such sweet words deserve a reward," she purred, trailing a finger down his chest. "Tell you what - stay underwater for ten minutes using your clever spell, and I will show you just 'ow... appreciative I can be."
Her hand dipped lower, fingertips ghosting over his abs. "I 'ave some very special ideas for celebrating your magical talents."
Harry's breath hitched. "Ten minutes seems too easy for such an amazing reward."
"Oh?" Fleur's smile turned wicked. "Per'aps I should make it more... challenging?" Her hand slid to his hip, thumb hooking into the waistband of his shorts. "What if I join you underwater? Test your... concentration?"
"That's not fair," Harry groaned as her fingers teased along the elastic. "How am I supposed to focus with you looking like that?"
"Life is not fair, mon amour," she laughed, stepping back. "Consider it extra motivation. Now, show me this brilliant spell of yours."
Harry drew his wand, trying to steady his breathing. "Respiratio Aquarius," he cast, the magic tingling as it took effect.
A soft, bluish glow enveloped him, spreading out like a living mist. He felt a tingling warmth start at his throat and spread down his chest. It wasn't painful—more like a strange pulling sensation, as though something dormant inside him was stirring awake.
His reflection in the still water of the Black Lake revealed the change almost immediately. Two faint, slitted openings appeared just below his jawline, where his neck met his shoulders. The gills pulsed subtly, as if testing the unfamiliar air. His skin there took on a silvery sheen, like fish scales catching light. It wasn't obvious unless the light hit just right, but it gave him a sleek appearance.
Harry reached up to touch the slits, and they fluttered against his fingertips. They felt sensitive, alive. Breathing deeply, he sensed his chest expand in an unfamiliar rhythm, his lungs and the new gills working together.
"Magnifique," Fleur purred, casting the same spell on herself. "Shall we test it properly?" She backed toward the water, crooking her finger invitingly. "Come catch me, 'arry. Your reward awaits..."
She dove into the lake, surfacing a few meters out. Water droplets sparkled on her skin as she called, "Ten minutes, mon champion. Make them count!"
Harry didn't need to be told twice. He plunged into the cool water, gasping at first as his enhanced respiratory system kicked in. The sensation of breathing water was strange but not uncomfortable.
Fleur swam circles around him, her body moving with fluid grace. "Getting used to it?" she asked, her voice clear despite being underwater. Another benefit of his spell - it allowed for normal speech.
"It's working perfectly," he replied, watching her hair float around her like silver silk. "Though I'm finding it hard to concentrate on anything but you."
"Good," she smirked, swimming closer. "That means my distraction tactics are working." Her body brushed against his as she passed, sending electricity through his nerves.
"You're evil," he groaned, reaching for her. But she slipped away with a laugh, diving deeper into the crystal-clear water.
"Eight more minutes," she called. "Catch me if you can!"
They chased each other through the underwater landscape, diving between swaying weeds and darting around rocky formations. Every time Harry got close, Fleur would escape with a teasing touch that left him burning for more.
"Five minutes left," she announced, floating just out of reach. "You're doing very well with ze spell... but 'ow is your endurance?"
"Better than you think," he shot back, lunging forward. This time he caught her around the waist, pulling her close. "Got you!"
"Mmm, but who really has who?" she challenged, wrapping her legs around his waist. The feeling of her nearly naked body pressed against his made his head spin.
"Still three minutes," she whispered against his ear. "Whatever shall we do to pass ze time?"
Harry's hands slid down her back, gripping her thighs. "I have a few ideas..."
"Patience, mon coeur," she teased, though her breathing had grown heavier. "Good things come to those who wait."
After spending two more hours under the water, the two of them finally decided to come out of the water.
"Two hours exactly," Fleur declared, checking her wand. "You've more than earned your reward." She pressed against him, skin hot despite the cool water.
Harry's response was to capture her lips in a passionate kiss, his hands tangling in her wet hair. When they broke apart, both were breathing heavily.
Beneath the towering pines by the Black Lake, where its inky waters lapped softly against the shore, Fleur leaned into Harry with a smirk playing on her lips as her hand moved under his underpants, getting hold of his growing erection.
"What if someone finds us?" Harry's voice wavered between concern and arousal, his eight-inch cock already hardening under her touch.
"Mon chéri," Fleur purred, her French accent dripping with honeyed seduction, "I have cast a spell. Anyone outside ze barrier will see only innocence. To zeir eyes, we are doing nothing scandalous."
Harry hesitated, swallowing hard. "And if someone walks in? It's not exactly an impenetrable barrier."
Her laughter was low, throaty, and filled with promise. She brushed a stray lock of silvery hair from her face, lowering herself to her knees on the soft grass. "Zen zey will see quite a sight." Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, eyes fixed on his rigid length.
Fleur wasted no time. Her hands wrapped around the base of his cock, her soft touch sending shivers up Harry's spine. She marveled at its girth, her breath hitching as she leaned in. Her tongue flicked out, teasing the tip with feather-light licks, tasting the saltiness of his arousal. The gasp that escaped Harry's lips fueled her, a satisfied hum escaping her own.
"Mon dieu," she whispered, her voice thick with want. Slowly, deliberately, she parted her lips and took him into her mouth, inch by inch, savoring the way he filled her. Her tongue pressed against the underside of his shaft, tracing the prominent vein as she sucked him deeper.
Harry's hands tangled in her hair, tugging gently as pleasure overwhelmed him. Fleur moaned around him, the vibrations sending jolts of electricity straight to his core. She pulled back, her lips slick and glistening, only to dive down again, taking him even deeper. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked harder, her nails digging into his thighs for support.
"Fleur, that feels... Merlin—" Harry's voice cracked, his hips bucking slightly into her mouth. Fleur's eyes flicked up to meet his, filled with mischief and desire.
She pulled back with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting her swollen lips to his throbbing cock. "You like zat, 'arry?" she teased, stroking him slowly, her fingers slick with her own spit.
Before he could answer, she took him back into her mouth, working him with a practiced rhythm that left him breathless. Her hand twisted at the base as her lips glided up and down his length. She was relentless, her hunger for him evident in every bob of her head, every swirl of her tongue. Fleur's other hand drifted between her thighs, seeking relief as her own arousal pooled, her muffled moans adding to the symphony of wet, obscene sounds.
"You're going to kill me," he groaned as she demonstrated a particularly skilled technique that made his toes curl.
She pulled back just enough to smirk up at him, lips swollen and eyes dark with desire. "What a way to go, non?" Then she dove back in with renewed enthusiasm, determined to drive him completely mad with pleasure.
The combination of her talented mouth, the thrill of potentially being caught, and the sight of her obvious enjoyment quickly pushed Harry toward the edge. His fingers tightened in her hair as she took him impossibly deep, swallowing around him.
When he finally came undone, she didn't waste a drop, pulling back with a satisfied smile that could only be described as catlike. "Délicieux," she purred, licking her lips. "Though I think we should move somewhere more... private for ze main event."
Harry could only nod weakly, still recovering from the intensity of his release. Fleur's answering laugh was pure wickedness as she helped him fix his clothes.
Finding an empty classroom, Harry cast a powerful silencing charm while Fleur warded the door as he lifted her onto a desk, spreading her thighs with gentle but insistent hands.
"So beautiful," he breathed, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. His mouth traced down her neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin and making her gasp. When he reached her perfect breasts, he took his time worshipping them properly, drawing delighted sounds from her throat.
"Mmm, always so obsessed with zem," Fleur teased breathlessly as he lavished attention on her hardened nipples. Her back arched, pressing more firmly into his eager mouth.
Harry's answering smile was pure charm. "Can you blame me?" He demonstrated his appreciation with another passionate kiss before positioning himself between her thighs. His impressive length teased her slick entrance, making her whimper with need.
"Stop teasing," she commanded playfully, wrapping her legs around his waist. "I want you inside me now."
Harry didn't need to be told twice. He groaned deeply as he pushed into her welcoming heat, the sensation nearly overwhelming. "Fuck, Fleur... you feel incredible."
Her inner walls gripped him perfectly, hot and silky and divine. Unlike their first time together, when the intensity had overwhelmed him almost immediately, he now had enough experience to savor every exquisite sensation.
"'arry," she moaned as he began to move, setting a steady rhythm that had her clutching at his shoulders. Her breasts bounced enticingly with each thrust, drawing his hands back to them.
The desk creaked beneath them as their passion built. Harry's fingers found all the places that drove her wild, drawing increasingly desperate sounds from her throat. Her wetness welcomed him deeper with each thrust, her body perfectly fitted to his.
"Mon dieu," she gasped as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. Her nails raked down his back, spurring him on. "Just like zat..."
Harry increased his pace, driven by her responses and the incredible feeling of being surrounded by her tight heat. Every squeeze of her inner muscles threatened to undo him, but he was determined to make this last.
"You're perfect," he groaned, watching her face contort with pleasure. Her usual composure was completely shattered, replaced by raw need and ecstasy.
"Don't stop," Fleur moaned as Harry's hips drove into her with perfect rhythm. Her legs tightened around his waist, pulling him even deeper. "Just like zat, mon amour..."
Harry captured her lips in another passionate kiss, swallowing her increasingly desperate sounds. His hands kneaded her full breasts, thumbs circling her hardened nipples in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation had her arching off the desk.
"So perfect," he groaned, breaking the kiss to lavish attention on her neck. "Love how you feel around me..."
Her inner walls squeezed him deliciously as he hit that special spot inside her again and again. The desk creaked beneath them as their passion built, but neither cared about anything beyond the exquisite sensations they were creating together.
"'arry, mon dieu," she gasped, one hand tangling in his hair while the other gripped his shoulder. "Your cock feels so good inside me..."
He increased his pace, driven by her words and the incredible feeling of her tight heat gripping him. Every thrust drew new sounds of pleasure from her throat.
"Kiss me again," she demanded breathlessly. Harry obliged immediately, pouring all his passion into the kiss while maintaining his steady rhythm. His fingers continued playing with her sensitive breasts, drawing whimpers into his mouth.
Fleur's nails raked down his back as she got closer to her peak. "Don't stop, don't stop," she chanted between kisses. "I'm so close..."
Harry could feel his own release building but fought to hold back, determined to make her come first. He angled his hips slightly, hitting even deeper while his thumb found her most sensitive spot.
"Come for me, beautiful," he growled against her lips. "Want to feel you fall apart..."
Her whole body tensed as pleasure finally overtook her, inner walls pulsing rhythmically around him. The sensation combined with her cry of pleasure was enough to push Harry over the edge as well.
"Fleur.."
He kept her sitting on the desk after she almost collapsed on the floor from the orgasm, trading lazy kisses. Fleur's fingers traced patterns on his sweat-slicked skin, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.
"You're getting better at zis every time," she purred, nipping playfully at his lower lip. "Perhaps we should practice more often?"
Harry's answering grin was pure wickedness. "I'm always up for more... practice."
Her delighted laugh echoed through their silenced sanctuary as she pulled him down for another passionate kiss.
Mad Eye 'Moody'
In the dim confines of his private office, "Moody" pulled out a small mirror from his robes, his magical eye spinning to ensure no one was nearby.
"My Lord," he whispered, and the surface of the mirror rippled before revealing the pale, serpentine face of Lord Voldemort.
"My servant," Voldemort's high, cold voice came through clearly. "How progresses our plan with the Potter boy?"
"Surprisingly well, my Lord. Almost... too well. The boy has shown remarkable aptitude. He's already solved the egg's clue and developed his own spell for underwater breathing."
Voldemort's red eyes narrowed. "Developed his own spell?"
"Yes, my Lord. He appears to be something of a prodigy. I've barely had to guide him at all."
"Perhaps we should arrange a small... accident?" Barty suggested, his tongue flicking out in that characteristic motion. "Nothing fatal, of course. Just enough to hinder him. A broken limb, perhaps?"
"No," Voldemort said after a moment's consideration. "Let him have his small victories. His prowess in school tasks will mean nothing when he faces Lord Voldemort. Let him come to me at full strength - it will make his defeat all the more... meaningful."
"As you wish, my Lord." Barty hesitated. "There is... one other development you should know about."
"Speak."
"Potter has become romantically involved with the French champion, Fleur Delacour. She's the daughter of Jean-Claude Delacour, the French Minister of Magic."
"Ah," Voldemort's lipless mouth curved into a cold smile. "And you wish to know if we should use her against him?"
"The thought had occurred to me, my Lord. She would make excellent leverage."
"No," Voldemort said sharply. "The French magical community is powerful, Barty, and they take great pride in their independence. An attack on the Minister's daughter would unite them with Britain against us. That is a complication we do not need."
"Of course, my Lord. Forgive my short-sightedness."
"Instead," Voldemort continued, "watch her closely. Learn what you can. Knowledge is power, and their relationship may yet prove... useful."
"Yes, my Lord. She seems quite protective of him. When Karkaroff was bothering Potter the other day, she nearly incinerated him with a fireball."
"Interesting," Voldemort mused. "A quarter-Veela with a temper. Monitor their relationship, Barty. But do nothing to interfere. We want Potter in that graveyard, whole and focused on the tournament."
"And after that, my Lord?"
"After that," Voldemort's red eyes gleamed, "his romantic entanglements will be irrelevant. For now, maintain your cover. Keep me informed of any significant developments."
"Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord."
The mirror's surface clouded over, and Barty tucked it away, taking a long drink from his hip flask. His magical eye spun toward the window, where he could see two distant figures by the lake, practicing diving spells.
"Enjoy your happiness while it lasts, Potter," he muttered, taking another swig of Polyjuice Potion. "It won't survive what's coming."
