amagicalworld
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Fleur De Lis Ch 10
🕑 Added 2023-07-19 15:45:06 +0000 UTCContent Warnings: F/F, Semi-Public, Teasing.
“Potter! Granger! Will you two pay attention?” Professor McGonagall asked irritably.
Hermione, caught off-guard in a class for the first time in her life, blushed heavily and pulled away from Harry. “Sorry, professor!” she squeaked, ignoring the curious look Ron gave her and Harry. Professor McGonagall had ended class early, and she had taken advantage of the rare privilege to ask for Harry’s help in helping her plan her first official date with Gabrielle. She settled back in her desk, glad that Professor McGonagall hadn’t bothered to question her further. She doubted she could lie to her Head of House but she’d sooner have flung herself out the window than admit to planning a date in Tomes and Scrolls with her kinda-sorta-maybe girlfriend.
“Now that we’re all paying attention,” Professor McGonagall said, clearly annoyed that she’d have to repeat everything she had just said. “The Yule Ball is fast approaching. While some of you may think it is an opportunity to let their hair down.” She looked reproachfully at Lavender and Parvati, both of whom were giggling. “You must all remember that you are representing your school, and I will not tolerate any of you bringing dishonor to Hogwarts or on our House.”
Parvati and Lavender clamped their hands to their mouths and nodded rapidly when Professor McGonagall turned and directed her stern gaze at them.
“Keeping that in mind, I shall be hosting dance lessons every day at five, giving you all an opportunity to attend. These classes will continue till the week before the Ball. If you have not been trained in classical dancing-” She surveyed the room again, as if mentally checking off the ones she knew could dance. “I suggest you take advantage of these lessons.”
A tense, anticipatory silence settled over the room as everyone digested the bombshell Professor McGonagall had just dropped.
The loud ringing of the bell shattered the tension and McGonagall sighed. “Well, off you go. Those of you who want to enroll in the dance lessons need to drop by my office and submit an application requesting the same by next Monday.”
Harry pushed his chair away from the desk, wincing as pain bloomed in his throbbing shoulder. Fleur had done a wonderful job of making sure he took proper care of the wound and had personally cleaned and bandaged his shoulder every evening in the Hospital Wing under the watchful gaze of Madame Pomfrey. His wound was healing, but slowly, which according to both Madame Pomfrey and his fake girlfriend, was normal for dragon-related injuries. Not that he minded. It meant more time together with Fleur, and he secretly enjoyed it when she fussed over him. Her hands invariably wandered, soft palms roaming over the tanned skin of his firm chest.
Harry forgot that he was still in the classroom and stood rooted in place between the desk and his chair, his eyes glassy.
They had both decided to stay the course and remain friends in the aftermath of the First Task, at least until the conclusion of the tournament. They had a lot going on between the championship and trying to find out the identity of the person who had entered his name in the Goblet, and neither of them needed the complication of an actual romance. Yet Harry could not ignore the confusing medley of emotions he felt every time he looked at her. Nor could he forget the vision of her naked ash-covered body, the gentle swell of her heavy breasts and how soft they’d felt brushing against his arm, the V that led his gaze to her shaven mound which in turn pointed to-
“Potter!”
Harry did not react, his lips curving into a dazed smile.
“Harry!” Hermione hissed, poking his uninjured shoulder and breaking him free of his reverie.
“Hmmph?” Harry turned to glare at her for interrupting his perfect daydream, only for her to roll her eyes and nod toward a clearly exasperated Professor McGonagall.
“Thank you, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall said tartly. Harry blushed and knew that if his professor had any less self-control, she’d be rolling her eyes at him too. “Potter, a word?”
“Ron and I’ll be outside, okay?” Hermione said, giving him a look that clearly said, ‘Good luck, you’re going to need it.’
Harry nodded and waited for Hermione to leave before turning to Professor McGonagall. He walked closer to her, trying to ignore the fact that her lips were pursed into a thin line and that she had caught him goofing off twice in a single class.
She stayed silent until Hermione exited the classroom and shut the door behind her, leaving them alone in the room.
“Potter.”
“I’m sorry, Professor. I was just thinking…” Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow and he trailed off, knowing any excuse he came up with would not be believable. The expression on her face made it clear as day that she knew exactly what he had been thinking about. “I’m sorry, Professor,” he repeated, his cheeks pink.
She had shut down her private lessons for him and Fleur for the week after the First Task, sending him a note that said her priority was making sure he did not strain himself before his wound had fully healed and that given the massive gap between the First and Second Tasks, they had plenty of time to prepare. Which meant that this was the first time he had been alone with her in more than a week, and she had practically caught him drooling in class. Not a good look.
He braced himself for a scolding or perhaps even detention, but Professor McGonagall did something entirely unexpected. She smiled. “Good work with the flying, Potter. It was almost perfect. But remember, doubting yourself will never do you any good.”
Harry nodded numbly, a happy grin on his face at the pride in her voice. She was one of the few people who had never doubted he could complete the task successfully, and he had proved her right. And the praise, well, that just made him blush.
“I presume you will be taking Miss Delacour with you to the Ball?” Professor McGonagall asked, her voice returning to its usual crisp tone.
“Maybe? I don’t know,” Harry answered honestly. He was well aware that Fleur didn’t like being the center of attention, and he wasn’t too keen on the idea of the entire school watching him make a fool of himself. Their attending the Ball together practically guaranteed both those things would come to pass.
Professor McGonagall looked at him strangely. “Potter, I can assure you, if you do not take your girlfriend to the Ball, it will not end well for you. Given that Veelas are temperamental creatures on the best of days, my advice to you would be to ask her to the Ball formally and without any delay,” she said, her lips curling into the smallest of smiles. “And, Potter?”
“Yes, Professor?”
“Make the proposal romantic. Do change your robe before you do it.”
Harry glanced at his robe. It was dusty from his time in the greenhouse and had a few random stains, but he saw no real problem with it. Fleur had seen him in it every day, why would she object to him wearing it when he proposed?
“I’m not sure she will say, yes, Professor. In fact, we might just skip the whole thing.”
Professor McGonagall sighed, resisting the urge to smack her forehead. Young love, she groused to herself, knowing exactly why they would want to skip the Ball. The entire castle would be empty, giving them ample opportunity to… express their love without fear of being caught.
“You can’t skip the Ball, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said in a long-suffering voice. She cared for the man in front of her far more than she had any other student in recent memory, but Merlin, he could get on her nerves at times. “The Ball is traditionally opened by the Champions of the Triwizard Tournament. Two out of the Four champions being absent will create a scene.”
What she left unsaid but was clearly implied: Skeeter will have a field day and will get an opportunity to slander your reputation further.
“O-opened?” Harry asked, turning pale.
“The Champions and their partners are the only people who participate in the first dance, Potter,” Professor McGonagall explained patiently. “The Ball is only considered to have started after that dance is over.”
“S-so, I will have to dance? Is there no way around it? I hurt my shoulder, Professor,” Harry pleaded, putting on the most pitiful expression he could.
“Is your wound killing you, Potter?”
“Uh…” He wondered if he could get away with saying yes. The look she was giving him told him that would not be the case. “No,” he admitted.
“Then you’ll be opening the Ball. Besides, I doubt Miss Delacour would want to miss something as exciting as this.”
Harry nodded, knowing Professor McGonagall didn’t know Fleur as well as he did. She hated being gawked at by people, which was what would happen if she attended the Ball in a ballgown. She turned heads dressed in a hoodie and sweats. If she wore anything like the dresses he had seen on television, he was certain more than one heart would stop, including his own. He wouldn’t be surprised if she disliked the idea of the Ball even more than he did.
“I don’t know how to dance,” Harry pointed out, flailing around for any excuse he could find to get out of having to dance in front of students and teachers from three different schools.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing that I’ve decided to teach everyone who doesn’t.” Harry could have sworn she had purred as she trapped him. He had no escape now, no way to get out of making a fool of himself in front of everyone.
“I will see you tomorrow, Potter. Bring Miss Delacour along with you for the lesson.”
“Yes, Professor,” Harry said with a sigh, giving up.
He walked over to his desk to grab his bag and slung it over his uninjured shoulder. Hermione and Ron were waiting for him outside the classroom. Both of them looked surprised at the miserable expression on his face.
“Did she give you detention?”
“No. She did something worse,” Harry answered Hermione’s question in a morose tone. He fell in between his two friends as they walked down the hallway. It was a free period, which meant he had ample time to run down to the Beauxbatons carriage and share the terrible news with Fleur.
“She said I have to open the Ball with Fleur and that I have no way of getting out of it,” Harry muttered, sounding miserable.
“Open?” Ron asked, having the same question he did.
“The first dance is traditionally only for the Champions and their partners,” Hermione answered before Harry could. “I’ve been reading up on the history of the Triwizard Tournament and do you know this will be the first time ever that two Champions will be going to the Ball together? But then, this was also the first time the Triwizard Tournament had four champions.”
“This is also going to be the first time everyone watches me make a fool of myself on the dance floor, Hermione. I have no idea how to dance!”
“It’s a good thing Professor McGonagall is holding lessons for everyone who needs them, then, isn’t it?” Hermione asked, echoing her teacher’s words as they climbed onto a staircase, letting it carry them down to the Atrium.
“I wouldn’t need them if she’d just let me skip the whole thing.”
“You don’t want to attend the Ball? But you get to do it with Fleur!” Ron exclaimed, unable to believe what he was hearing. Harry had let him in on the secret that he wasn’t really dating Fleur, but the redhead had refused to believe it. According to him, it was the fake relationship that was, well, fake, and from everything he could see, they were a couple in all but name.
His friend could be frustratingly observant when he put his mind to it.
“So?” Harry asked, unable to see how that made any difference.
“SO?!” Ron almost shouted, looking at him like he was crazy. “So, you get to spend a night dancing with the prettiest girl in school.”
Hermione reached out around Harry and smacked the back of Ron’s head.
“Oi! What was that for?”
“You have a girlfriend now, Ronald,” Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes.
“So?”
Harry chuckled. It made him happy to see that no matter how different his life was now compared to the beginning of the year, some things never changed.
“If Lavender hears you calling someone else the prettiest girl in school she’ll feed you to the Blast-Ended Skrewts, dear Won-Won,” Harry teased, his mood improving marginally.
Ron’s face turned several shades of red in quick succession as he mulled over what he had said. In the end, he turned to his friends with pleading eyes, silently begging them not to mention his mistake ever again, especially not when Lavender was around.
Harry laughed as the staircase deposited them in the crowded Atrium.
“How are you going to ask her to the Yule Ball?” Hermione asked.
“Dunno?” Ron rubbed the back of his head bashfully. He was still getting used to the attention, to having a girlfriend and all the benefits that came with it. “Reckon, I'll just ask her out.”
Harry snorted. He was clueless when it came to love and romance, and even he knew it was a bad idea. “Do not. Especially not after what I saw she was doing for you yesterday. Make it special man, or you won’t be her Won-Won for much longer,” Harry teased.
“What was she doing for him yesterday?” Hermione asked, her eyes alit with curiosity and a teasing smile on her face.
“Well, I was climbing up to the dorm room yesterday and I didn’t notice the sock on the door handle. I walked in and saw that was Ron wearing his Chudley Canons jersey while Lavender-”
“Nothing!” Ron squeaked, his face turning as red as a beetroot. “We were doing nothing.”
“Don’t worry,” Hermione smirked. “I got the gist. Harry’s right, Ron. Lavender has just as many books in our dorm as I do, except all of hers are romance novels. She’ll never forgive you if you just walk up to her and ask her to go to the Ball with you.”
“What do I do?” Ron moaned, chewing his lip worriedly.
As fun, as it was to tease their friend, Harry decided to put the man out of his misery. He fished out the Marauder’s Map from his bag and held it out for him. “Maybe go to Hogsmeade and get her some flowers and a box of her favorite chocolates?”
“Take her to the Astronomy Tower after dinner,” Hermione chimed in. “Ask her out under the stars. It’s a full moon tonight, it’ll be very pretty and romantic.”
Ron snatched the map like a drowning map grabbing a lifeline. “Thanks!” he shouted, running back towards the staircase.
“Lavender has had quite the effect on him,” Hermione murmured, watching Ron’s retreating form.
“He’s certainly happy,” Harry said, smirking.
“And what about you, ickle Harrykins?”
“Fred. George,” Harry said, turning to face the Twins. “I guess I’m as happy as a man forcibly entered into a dangerous tournament can be.”
“That was some great advice you gave our idiot brother.”
“Thanks?” Harry was immediately wary. He was well acquainted with the smile the Twins had on their faces. They were up to something, and that something usually involved a prank, an explosion, or both.
“What about you? Will you be putting into practice the advice you gave our brother?” George asked, taking over from Fred.
Harry knew he had to say yes. He was supposed to be madly in love with Fleur after all and as long as Skeeter kept sniffing around, trying to dig up dirt on them, they had to keep up the act in public.
“Yes,” Harry said with a sigh, hoping they wouldn’t dig deeper.
No such luck.
“And how do you plan to woo the lovely Miss Delacour and ask her to the Ball?”
“I’m still thinking about it,” Harry said, trying to evade the question.
“Might we offer our services?” Fred asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “The last time you two said that was when you offered to help Neville relax and then you slipped him a Canary Puff. He was a bird for ten minutes!”
George threw his hands up in surrender. “We are still working on perfecting that particular formula, but this isn’t a prank, we swear.”
“We are designing a new line of romantic products for couples,” Fred added sincerely. “We just finished making the prototypes of our first product and were hoping you’d test it for us.” He retrieved a heart-shaped box from his bag and held it out for Harry.
“What if that explodes? You tested your ‘edible frisbee’ last week and that thing exploded and ruined my favorite armchair,” Hermione pointed out, looking at the box dubiously.
“Harry and Fleur will have a very funny story to tell their children one day?” George offered, giving Harry a hopeful smile.
Harry sighed and took the box from Fred.
“Seriously?!”
“I mean, George is right,” Harry said, turning to Hermione. “If it works it works. If it doesn’t, well, Fleur and I will have a funny memory to bond over.” Fleur had a great sense of humor, a fact she kept so well hidden that even Hermione didn’t know about it. If it did explode, as most of the Twins’ prototypes usually did, he knew for sure Fleur would find it extremely funny. And that would make for a much better proposal than flowers, chocolates, and cheesy poetry.
“Great! Thanks! All you have to do is call Fleur to the grounds. Make sure there’s lots of space around you, then open the box,” Fred instructed. “Let us know how it goes?”
“I don’t think you’ll need to call her,” George said, looking out the open castle doors. Fleur and Gabrielle’s platinum blonde hair glinted in the weak winter sun as they walked across the castle grounds, making them impossible to miss. “Now’s your chance!”
Harry nodded and sprinted out into the courtyard, the box clutched in his hand.
“If this explodes…” Hermione muttered, narrowing her eyes at the Twins.
“It won’t,” Fred swore. “George used a box to ask Angelina out ten minutes ago, and it went off without a hitch. The one we gave Harry is only slightly different from the one George used.”
“Let’s hope for your sake, you’re right. Gabrielle tells me a Veela’s fire abilities only grow stronger with age and Fleur still hasn’t forgiven you for what you tried to do to her hair,” Hermione pointed out with a smirk before turning to watch Harry race across the courtyard.
---
Harry pushed through the crowds of students milling around in the courtyard, picking up snippets of conversations on the way. It seemed he was in the minority in not liking the idea of the Yule Ball. Nearly everyone seemed excited, and he overheard three different girls asking their friends if they knew who Cedric was taking to the Ball. The promise of romance was everywhere.
He walked faster once he exited the courtyard, rushing across the open grounds to intercept Fleur before she reached the castle.
Fleur spotted him within seconds, beamed, and sped up to meet him, with Gabrielle following close behind.
Harry paused while he was still some distance away from Fleur, remembering the Twins had told him he needed space for the box to work its magic. He took a deep breath, grasped the box with both hands, and pushed off the lid.
There was a loud BANG! and Harry braced himself, but the box did not explode. Instead, he watched with wide eyes as shrubs of gorgeous red roses sprung up from the ground around him in the shape of a heart. He was right in the middle of it, and he realized Fleur was at the bottom, at its tip.
The bang drew the attention of the people in the courtyard and everyone turned to watch as the heart-shaped wall of red flowers bloomed up around them, cutting them off from the world. The box in his hand melted away, replaced by a bouquet of colorful flowers.
Fleur slowly walked towards him, her bright blue eyes searching his face. It seemed unreal, what he had done. How had he done it? She had no clue, but it was absolutely gorgeous.
And she fell for the handsome man standing in front of her, shifting nervously on his feet, just a little further.
“For you,” Harry rasped, his throat suddenly dry. He was blushing furiously as he held out the bouquet of flowers.
Fleur sported an identical blush on her face and she reached out with a shaky hand to take the offered gift, bringing it up to her nose and sighing in pleasure.
“How did you know lilies were my favorite?” Fleur asked, beaming happily. The bouquet was a mixture of flowers but at the very center were a bunch of perfect white lilies. She wondered if the preservation charm she had used on his cloak would work on the flowers as well, at least for some time.
“I didn’t,” Harry answered honestly, his blush deepening. “I’m glad you like them. It wasn’t too much, was it?” he asked, chewing his lower lip with worry.
The box should have just exploded, he thought, worried she would think he had gone completely mental.
“It’s perfect,” Fleur whispered, hugging the flowers to her chest.
Harry nodded. The smile on her face had completely short-circuited his brain and he stood rooted in place, unable to think or say or do anything.
“THIS IS WHEN YOU ASK HER TO THE BALL!” Gabrielle hollered from outside the wall of flowers. She tried to poke her face through the soft but dense hedge, to see what was going on inside.
“Oh! Uhm! Right!” Harry said, startled into action by Gabrielle’s yell. “Uh Fleur, would you… would you be my date to the Yule Ball?” Harry asked, unsure why he felt so nervous. Ten minutes ago, he didn’t even want to attend the Ball. He still didn’t care for it, but he saw how happy his proposal seemed to make Fleur.
“Yes,” Fleur replied with a bright smile. “But only if you don’t make me dance after we open the Ball. I just want to have a night of fun with you.”
“God, I hate dancing,” Harry grumbled. The wall of flowers crumbled away, the magic having been designed only to last five minutes.
“Me too,” Fleur whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek. Whether she had done it to put on a show for all the people watching them or because she genuinely wanted to, she did not know. And a part of her honestly did not care. He made her happy, and that was all that mattered.
“That was disgusting,” Gabrielle drawled as she walked up to them. She glanced at the bouquet of flowers in Fleur’s hand and pretended to gag.
“It was perfect,” Fleur huffed, sniffing the flowers once more.
“Puhleaassse.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “Where’s the angst? The drama? The sexual tension?!” she demanded. “You need to pin her against a wall and say, ‘You’re mine, babygirl’,” Gabrielle said, adopting a deep voice.
“Ignore her,” Fleur muttered, reaching out to take Harry’s hand. She threaded their fingers together, her heart skipping a beat at the realization that her hand fit perfectly in his. “The new novel she’s reading has rotted her brain.”
“Well, babygirl, would you like to go on a walk?”
“You know what, my hero?” Fleur said teasingly, smirking at Gabrielle. “I would love that.”
Gabrielle threw her hands up in frustration. “Both of you are hopeless,” she muttered, walking around them.
“Where are you going?”
“To ask my girlfriend if she wants to go to the Ball with me.” Gabrielle looked back at them, her eyes full of mischief. “The proper way.”
---
Hermione let Gabrielle pull her into the castle and down the steps that led to the dungeon. They walked down the hallway until Gabrielle found a tapestry and pulled her into the small alcove behind it.
“Gabby what’re you-” Hermione started, only to moan when Gabrielle flipped her around without hesitation and pushed her up against the stone wall.
“Gabby,” Hermione breathed, her heart hammering in her chest. She was still getting used to the actions of the passionate and tempestuous Veela, and her girlfriend (a part of her still couldn’t believe that it was real, that she was in a relationship with someone as beautiful as her), never failed to surprise her.
“Hmm?” Gabrielle murmured, stepping back. She kept a hand on Hermione’s shoulder to keep her pinned in place and took a second to admire her gorgeous ass. “Mione, sweets, we need to get you some mini-skirts and booty-hugging jeans,” Gabrielle whispered, biting her lower lip. It was almost criminal to hide a bum as magnificent as hers under the baggy skirts of the Hogwarts uniform.
Hermione would have come up with a clever retort, except her brain did what it always did when she was alone with Gabrielle and shut down. Her mind was blank, her thoughts focused on the warmth radiating from the Veela currently grabbing her wrists.
Gabrielle pulled Hermione’s arms over her head, pinning them to the wall. She pushed her wrists together and held them in place with one hand, her other one moving to grab Hermione’s thigh and pull her legs apart.
“W-what’re you doing?” Hermione moaned as Gabrielle expertly secured her skirt in its own waistband, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. Despite her shyness, her body was a slave to biology and she arched her back, pushing her firm bum and slick pussy up at her girlfriend.
“Asking you out. The proper way. If I can get you to cum, you go to the Ball with me,” Gabrielle answered. “Harry should have done this too. If I was my sister, I wouldn’t have said yes until he fucked me raw,” Gabrielle said cheerfully, enjoying the little game she was playing with Hermione.
“I-I thought we were going to wait until after our date,” Hermione protested weakly. Her challenge was rendered meaningless by her spreading her legs further, and she moaned softly when Gabrielle pushed her simple white panties to one side and began to caress the lips guarding her needy womanhood.
“Mione, darling, I said we’d end the date with you in my bed, face down, ass up, getting fucked silly,” Gabrielle teased.
“I thought-”
“Hmm? What did you think?” Gabrielle asked, cutting her off mid-sentence. She plunged two fingers inside Hermione’s tight core without warning and scissored them, stretching out her fluttering pussy walls.
“N-nothing!” Hermione moaned, her legs trembling at the pressure building up in her belly.
Before Gabrielle could go any further, the romantic atmosphere was shattered by the sound of approaching footsteps.
Gabrielle acted on instinct, pulling Hermione away from the wall and into her chest, the hand that wasn’t in her pussy clamping over her mouth to make sure she stayed quiet.
She didn’t particularly care if she got caught but she knew that Hermione did, and the girl’s comfort and happiness were her first priority.
“It’s okay,” Gabrielle whispered. “They don’t know we’re here.” She kissed Hermione’s forehead reassuringly, watching as the tense bookwork relaxed somewhat and slumped into her chest.
“Why did you call me here, Igor?”
Gabrielle turned her head, frowning when she realized who the two people standing just outside the tapestry they were hidden behind were.
Karkaroff and Snape?
She leaned as close to the tapestry as she could dare, not wanting to miss a single word of their conversation. Hermione had told her all about Snape and the way he treated Harry, and all of Europe knew about Karkaroff’s past.
Had they conspired to put Harry’s name in the Goblet?
Gabrielle forced herself to pay attention to the conversation, knowing Harry would want her to relay it word-for-word when they met in the evening.
“You feel it too, don’t you?”
Gabrielle frowned at the tone of Karkaroff’s voice. He sounded… scared. Had someone discovered their deception?
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Snape replied coolly.
Smart, Gabrielle thought. Deny everything and throw Karkaroff under the bus.
That’s what she would have done.
“Don’t act coy!” Karkaroff growled. The tapestry fluttered as he slammed his palm on the wall next to it. “Look at it! It’s getting darker.”
“And?”
“You know what that means. He’s back. What happened at the World Cup Final was a warning.”
Gabrielle frowned at the panicked expression on Hermione’s face. She narrowed her eyebrows questioningly, only for Hermione to shake her head.
“You’re delusional, Igor.”
“Am I? AM I?” Karkaroff screeched. “You’re in denial! He’s back, and the first thing he’s going to do is make the ones who betrayed him pay. That’s us! You and I!”
“Shut up!” Snape hissed, sounding livid. “Someone will overhear us. Come to my-” Snape sighed when Karkaroff snatched his arm free from his hand. “Igor. Igor. Come to my office, and we’ll talk further.”
Gabrielle stayed silent until the men had left. Only once the sound of their footsteps had receded out of earshot did she pull her fingers out of Hermione and help her stand. The two girls exchanged an ominous look.
They didn’t fully understand the conversation that had taken place just outside their hiding place, but Hermione knew one thing.
The ‘he’ the two men were talking about had to be Voldemort, and he had returned.
Notes:
The slow burn is starting to heat up, both plot and relationship wise! The Yule Ball will certainly be interesting, to say the least. I'm having a lot of fun inverting the usual trope and having Gabrielle be the flirtier of the two Delacours. The next update will be Her Bound Heart and then a Harry/Daphne/Luna short story to end the week, so be on the lookout for those! Be sure to use the Invite Link in my pinned post to join my Discord Server for story artwork!
Comments
TH
the real question is: next chapter when?
tornadoboy
This chapter ended way to soon. We need more!!
