Harry's grip tightened in Fleur's hair, his fingers twisting as he pulled her head back, exposing the slender column of her throat. She gasped, her lips parting, and her eyes locked onto his, dark with hunger.
The private dining room in the Beauxbatons carriage was thick with tension, the air heavy with their shared heat. The table behind them held remnants of their untouched meal, but the only thing that mattered now was the fire between them.
Fleur's hands clutched his shoulders, her nails digging into his shirt as she leaned forward, her lips brushing his ear.
"You want me, 'Arry?" Her voice was a low purr, her French accent making the words hotter and making his cock twitch. "Why don't you show me?"
He didn't need to be told twice. Harry yanked her closer, crushing her lips against his again. The kiss was brutal, all teeth and tongue, his mouth hot and demanding. She tasted like wine and something wilder, something that made his blood pound. Her hands roamed his chest, tugging at his shirt until buttons popped, exposing his skin to the cool air. She dragged her nails down his pecs, leaving faint red lines, and he groaned into her mouth.
"Fucking hell, Fleur," he growled, breaking the kiss to catch his breath. His hands slid under her dress, finding the smooth skin of her thighs. He pushed the fabric up, bunching it around her hips, revealing the thin lace of her panties. They were already soaked, clinging to her pussy, and the sight made his dick throb painfully against his trousers.
She smirked, noticing his reaction, and ground her hips down harder, rubbing her wet heat against his erection. "You like zat, don't you?" she teased, her voice dripping with confidence. She leaned back slightly, her hands braced on his thighs, giving him a full view of her body—her tits straining against the sheer fabric of her dress, her nipples hard and visible through the transparent bra.
Harry's hands moved to her ass, squeezing hard as he pulled her closer. "You're fucking begging for it," he said, his voice rough. He slapped her ass, the sound sharp in the quiet room, and she moaned, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment.
"Oui," she whispered, her accent thick. "I want it. I want you to take me, 'Arry. Make me yours."
He didn't hesitate. With one swift motion, he lifted her off his lap and set her on her knees in front of him. The wooden floor of the carriage thumped slightly under her weight, but she didn't care.
She looked up and him, only to find his wordless gesture toward his cock that was straining hard against his trousers.
Her eyes gleamed with anticipation as she reached for his belt, her fingers deft as she unbuckled it and yanked his trousers open. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, and she licked her lips, her gaze fixed on it like it was a prize.
"Mon dieu," she murmured, her hands wrapping around his shaft. Her touch was firm, confident, and she stroked him slowly, her fingers gliding over his length. "So big, 'Arry. I knew you'd be perfect."
Before he could respond, she leaned forward and licked the tip, her tongue swirling over the head of his cock. Harry's head fell back against the chair, a low groan escaping his throat. Her mouth was warm, wet, and she took her time, teasing him with slow, teasing licks. She traced the vein along the underside of his shaft, her tongue flicking against it, sending jolts of pleasure through him.
"Fuck, Fleur," he grunted, his hands tangling in her silver-blonde hair. He didn't push her, not yet, letting her set the pace. And fuck, did she know what she was doing. Her veela allure pulsed around her, a powerful force that made his runes burn, his cock aching for more.
She looked up at him, her blue eyes locked on his as she opened her mouth wider and took him in, inch by inch. Her lips stretched around his girth, and she moaned softly, the vibration sending a shockwave through him. She sucked him deeper, her tongue working the underside of his cock as her hands gripped his thighs. Her nails dug into his skin, and the slight pain only made his arousal spike.
"You like zat?" she asked, pulling back just enough to speak, her lips glistening with spit. A strand of saliva connected her mouth to his cock, and the sight was so fucking hot he nearly lost it right there. "You like my mouth on you?"
"Keep going," he growled, his voice thick with need. His hand tightened in her hair, guiding her back to his cock. She didn't resist, loving the roughness and diving back in with enthusiasm, her lips sealing around him as she bobbed her head. She took him deeper with each pass, her throat relaxing as she swallowed him down, her nose brushing against his pubic bone.
Harry's hips bucked involuntarily, and she hummed in approval, the sound sending another wave of pleasure through him. She was relentless, her mouth working him with a skill that made his head spin. Her tongue swirled, her lips sucked, and her hands moved to his balls, cupping and gently squeezing them. The combination was fucking unreal, and he could feel the pressure building, his cock throbbing in her mouth.
"Fleur, shit," he gasped, his grip on her hair tightening. "You're too fucking good at this."
She pulled back slightly, her lips popping off his cock with a wet sound. "I'm a veela, 'Arry," she said, her voice smug. "Zis is what I do." She licked her lips, her eyes gleaming with pride, and then she went back to work, sucking him harder, faster, her head bobbing with purpose. She hollowed her cheeks, creating a tight suction that had him cursing under his breath.
He was close, so fucking close, but he wasn't ready to finish yet. He wanted more—wanted to claim her, to make her scream his name. With a grunt, he pulled her off his cock, her lips leaving him with a wet pop. She looked up at him, her breath ragged, her lips swollen and red.
"Get up," he ordered, his voice low and commanding. She obeyed instantly, rising to her feet, her dress still bunched around her hips. He stood, kicking the chair out of the way, and grabbed her by the waist, spinning her around to face the table. He pushed her forward, bending her over the edge, her hands bracing against the polished wood.
"'Arry," she gasped, her voice trembling with excitement. "Oui, like zis. Take me."
He didn't need any further encouragement. He yanked her panties down, letting them fall to her ankles, and spread her legs wider. Her pussy was glistening, pink and perfect, and he couldn't resist. He dropped to his knees behind her, his hands gripping her thighs as he leaned in and licked her, his tongue sliding through her folds.
Fleur moaned loudly, her hips bucking against his face. "Mon dieu, 'Arry!" she cried, her voice breaking.
He didn't stop, lapping at her clit, tasting her sweetness. Her thighs trembled, and he sucked her clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it until she was writhing, her hands gripping the table so hard her knuckles turned white.
"You taste so fucking good," he growled against her, his voice muffled. He pushed a finger inside her, then two, curling them to hit that spot that made her gasp. She was tight, hot, and so wet his fingers slid in easily. He pumped them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue on her clit, and her moans grew louder, more desperate.
"'Arry, please," she begged, her voice raw. "I need you. Fuck me. Take me like you mean it."
That was it. He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and positioned himself behind her. His cock was rock-hard, aching to be inside her. He gripped her hips, lining himself up, and then thrust forward, burying himself in her in one smooth motion.
Fleur cried out, her back arching as he filled her. "Oui, yes!" she gasped, her voice thick with her accent. "So good, 'Arry. So fucking good."
He didn't hold back. He pulled out almost completely before slamming back in, setting a hard, relentless pace. The table creaked under their weight, the dishes rattling as he fucked her. Her pussy was tight, gripping him like a vice, and every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through him. Her moans filled the room, loud and unrestrained, and he loved it—loved how vocal she was, how she wasn't holding anything back.
"'Arder," she demanded, pushing her hips back to meet his thrusts. "Fuck me harder, 'Arry. Make me your bitch."
Those words… words that he and Daphne had repeated to each other so many times…
To hear the same words from her sent a surge of heat through him, and he obeyed, gripping her hips tighter as he pounded into her. His hands slid up her back, pushing her dress higher, and he grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back onto his cock with every thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room, mixing with her moans and his grunts.
"You like that?" he growled, leaning forward to bite her neck, just hard enough to make her gasp. "You like being fucked like this?"
"Oui, oui," she panted, her voice breaking. "I love it. I'm yours, 'Arry. Claim me."
He reached around, finding her clit with his fingers, and rubbed it in tight circles as he fucked her. She screamed, her body trembling as her orgasm hit, her pussy clenching around his cock. The sensation was too much, and he followed her over the edge, his hips stuttering as he came, spilling inside her with a low groan.
They stayed like that for a moment, both panting, their bodies slick with sweat. Harry pulled out slowly, watching as his cum dripped down her thighs, and she shivered, turning to face him. Her eyes were still dark with desire, her lips curved into a satisfied smile.
"Zat was…" she started, her voice hoarse. "Magnifique."
He smirked, pulling her close for another kiss, this one slower but no less heated. "We're not done yet," he said, his voice low. "Not by a long shot."
Fleur's smile widened, and she pushed him back toward the chair, her hands already reaching for his cock again. "Good," she purred. "Because I want more."
They collapsed onto the chair together, Fleur straddling his lap again, her dress now completely off and tossed somewhere on the floor. Her bra was gone too, her tits bouncing as she moved, her nipples hard and begging for attention. Harry didn't disappoint, leaning forward to suck one into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.
She moaned, her hands in his hair, pulling him closer. "Yes, 'Arry," she gasped, grinding her pussy against his cock, which was already hardening again. "Suck zem. Hard."
He obliged, biting gently before sucking harder, his hands cupping her other breast, pinching the nipple until she whimpered. Her hips rocked against him, her wetness coating his cock, and he groaned against her skin, the vibration making her shiver.
"You're insatiable," he said, his voice muffled against her tit. He switched to the other one, giving it the same treatment, and she arched her back, offering herself to him completely.
"For you, oui," she replied, her voice thick with need. She reached down, guiding his cock to her entrance, and sank down onto him, taking him deep in one slow motion. They both groaned, the sensation overwhelming after their first round.
She rode him hard, her hips rolling, her pussy gripping him tightly. Harry's hands were everywhere—her hips, her ass, her tits—guiding her, squeezing her, urging her on. Her moans grew louder, her accent making every sound sexier, and he could feel her getting close again, her movements becoming erratic.
"Fuck, Fleur," he grunted, his hands gripping her ass as he thrust up to meet her. "You feel so fucking good."
She leaned forward, her lips brushing his ear. "You make me feel so good, 'Arry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I want you to own me. Make me beg."
He didn't need to be told twice. He lifted her off his cock, ignoring her whine of protest, and flipped her onto her back on the table, her legs spread wide. He knelt between her thighs, his mouth finding her pussy again, licking and sucking until she was writhing, her hands pulling at his hair.
"'Arry, please!" she begged, her voice desperate. "Fuck me again. I need it."
He stood, positioning himself at her entrance, and thrust in hard, making her scream. He leaned forward, pressing his chest against hers as he fucked her relentlessly, the table shaking under them, her legs wrapped around his waist. Her nails raked down his back, leaving marks, and he loved it, loved how wild she was, how she gave herself to him completely.
"Say it," he growled, his hips snapping against hers. "Say you're mine."
"I'm yours," she gasped, her eyes locked on his. "I'm your bitch, 'Arry. Take me."
He did, pounding into her until they both came again, her screams echoing in the room as her pussy clenched around him, milking his cock. He collapsed onto her, both of them panting, their bodies slick with sweat and cum.
They didn't stop there. Over the next hour, they fucked in every way imaginable—against the wall, on the floor, with Fleur bent over the table again, her hands braced against the wood as Harry took her from behind. She gave him another blowjob, her mouth working him with that same veela skill, her eyes locked on his as she swallowed every drop. Each time, she begged for more, her voice raw with need, her body trembling with pleasure.
By the time they finally collapsed, exhausted, the room was a mess—dishes knocked over, chairs overturned, and their clothes scattered across the floor. Fleur lay in Harry's arms, her head on his chest, her breath warm against his skin.
"Zat was…" she started, her voice soft, "everything I wanted."
Harry smirked, his hand stroking her hair. "Good," he said. "Because you're mine now, Fleur. And I'm not done with you yet."
She laughed, a low, sultry sound, and looked up at him, her eyes still dark with desire. "I wouldn't 'ave it any other way, 'Arry."
Harry chuckled and he pulled her into another kiss. He wondered just what Daphne's reaction would be to everything. She'd gotten what she'd wanted after all, which was for him to make Fleur his bitch. But he didn't think she'd be too thrilled to discover that Fleur wanted the same.
Well, she'd have to live with it, he supposed, as he watched Fleur slowly descend once again, her mouth finding his cock.
Veela were indeed insatiable.
-Break-
The tension in the room wasn't the kind anyone had expected.
Daphne sat perfectly still in her chair, her hands folded in her lap and her back straight. To most people, she'd look completely calm, the picture of pureblood composure. Harry knew better. He'd spent enough time with her to recognize the signs. The slight tightness around her eyes. The way her jaw was set just a bit too rigid. The barely perceptible tension in her shoulders. She was holding on by a thread, and that thread was fraying fast.
Regina, perched on the edge of a desk with one leg crossed over the other, was having the time of her life. Her dark eyes sparkled with unconcealed glee as she watched the scene unfold. She'd somehow procured a glass of amber-colored wine and was sipping it like she was at the theater, savoring both the drink and the drama.
Fleur, meanwhile, was draped across the conjured sofa like a cat enjoying the sun. Her silvery hair cascaded over one shoulder, and her lips were still swollen from last night's activities. She looked thoroughly satisfied with herself, and she wasn't trying to hide it. Not even a little.
"So," Regina said, breaking the silence with obvious delight. "That was something."
Daphne's polite smile didn't waver, though Harry could see the effort it took to maintain it. "Some things are more ironic than others."
"I don't know," Fleur said, her accent thick and her voice husky. She stretched slightly, the movement somehow drawing everyone's attention to her magnificent body. "I think it was rather inevitable, non?"
"Inevitable," Daphne repeated. "I guess when you enjoy exactly what was meant to humble you, inevitability becomes convenient."
Harry leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, watching them circle each other. This felt dangerous. Like watching two duelists who hadn't drawn their wands yet but were just waiting for the right moment to strike.
"Maybe," Fleur agreed, her blue eyes fixed on Daphne challengingly. "But some things are simply meant to happen. Hardly my fault your little revenge scheme gave me exactly what I wanted."
Regina snorted into her drink, trying to cover it with a cough. Harry shot her a look that said not helping, but she just grinned at him without a shred of remorse.
Fleur's smile widened. "You must be devastated. Next time, maybe research your intended victim before plotting their downfall?"
"Oh, I researched you thoroughly," Daphne said smoothly, but there was no mistaking the irritation in her voice. "I just assumed you were somewhat… normal."
"And yet here I am, perfectly satisfied." Fleur uncrossed and recrossed her legs slowly. "While you look ready to hex someone."
Daphne's fingers tightened imperceptibly in her lap. Harry saw her knuckles start to go white. "I'm perfectly fine."
"Of course you are." Fleur smiled mockingly. "That's why you've been sitting there like a statue for twenty minutes, looking like you might shatter."
"Some of us value composure," Daphne said icily. "Guess you can't expect someone who enjoys being treated like a plaything to understand dignity."
"So judgmental," Fleur said. "Tell me, is it dignified to sit there seething because your petty revenge plan backfired spectacularly?"
Regina let out a bark of laughter that she didn't even try to hide. "Oh, this is brilliant. This is better than the tournament. Daphne wanted Fleur humiliated, Fleur got exactly what she wanted, and now she's rubbing it in. The irony is delicious."
Daphne's eye twitched, just slightly, but Harry saw it. "Thrilled I could entertain you," she hissed.
"Oh, you're doing wonderfully," Regina assured her, clearly enjoying herself far too much. "It's like watching cats fight. Very attractive cats, mind you."
Fleur laughed throatily. "I wouldn't call it a fight. Can't really fight when you've already won."
She rose from the sofa gracefully and crossed to where Harry stood. Her hand came to rest on his chest, fingers splaying over his shirt as she draped herself against him. "We had quite the memorable night, non?"
Harry felt Daphne's gaze burning into him from across the room, though her expression remained perfectly neutral. He raised an eyebrow at Fleur. "Subtle."
"Subtlety is overrated." Her fingers traced idle patterns on his neck, and her voice dropped lower. "Sometimes better to be direct about what one has achieved."
"Achieved," Daphne said from her chair. "You got lucky that you're fucked up in the head. Otherwise, no sane woman would think how you do. You're insane to act like this after everything that happened. You have a dysfunctional mindset, and it just happened to align with circumstances."
Fleur's eyes narrowed, though her smile never faltered. "Dysfunctional? How crude. I prefer to think I know exactly what I want and have the courage to pursue it. After all, I'm not the one frustrated that my clever plan gave someone else everything they wanted."
Regina was openly grinning now, her eyes darting between the two women like she was watching an intense Quidditch match. The kind where someone might get seriously injured.
Harry sighed, glancing at her. "You're not helping."
"I'm not trying to help. I'm trying to enjoy this." Regina took another sip of her wine, looking thoroughly entertained. "Do you have any idea how rare it is to see Daphne this close to losing it?"
"I haven't lost anything," Daphne said sharply. Her composure was cracking now.
"Of course not," Fleur leaned against Harry, her body pressing hotly against his. "You're always so composed, so controlled. Must be exhausting, non?"
"Some of us don't find it exhausting to act civilized," Daphne said, smiling.
"Ah yes, your upbringing," Fleur said mockingly. "I've heard all about the ancient and noble pureblood traditions. All that careful breeding, all those rules." She paused, looking thoughtful. "Tell me, how does it? Knowing what happened between me and 'Arry?"
"Quite educational, discovering how twisted you really are."
"Twisted," Fleur laughed. "You purebloods are all about judgment. Your ancient houses, your bloodlines, your rules about how everyone should behave…" Her smile turned wicked, almost cruel. "Makes one wonder if all that breeding really produced superiority, when you can't even manage a simple revenge plot without it backfiring completely."
"At least I have enough self-respect to maintain standards," Daphne shot back. "Unlike certain people who'll apparently accept any degradation and call it fulfillment."
"You hide behind standards," Fleur laughed. "But we both know what this is really about. You wanted me brought low, wanted me to suffer. Instead, I got everything I wanted. Now you must sit there and watch while I enjoy what you intended as punishment."
"I'm not watching anything," Daphne said, her eyes flashing dangerously. "And you're weirdly confident for someone whose psychological issues just got exposed."
"Issues?" Fleur's voice rose slightly, the first crack in her own composure as she pulled away from Harry. "At least I know what I want and have the honesty to pursue it. Better than plotting petty revenge like some spurned child."
"Spurned child? I wasn't spurned. I was annoyed by your insufferable attitude and wanted you taken down a peg. The fact that you enjoyed it doesn't change that you were dismissed from the start because you were exactly as haughty as your reputation suggested."
"And you're any better?" Fleur shot back, and now both women were fully engaged in the fight. "You walk around like you own the place, looking down your nose at everyone. At least I have the self-awareness to know what I am."
"Self-awareness?" Daphne's laugh was cold and sharp. "You discovered you have a humiliation kink and you're acting like you've achieved enlightenment."
"Better than being repressed." Fleur turned to Harry, her hand sliding up his chest as she looked over her shoulder at Daphne with challenge in her eyes. She smirked at the anger she saw there, and turned back to Harry, purring, "What do you think, 'Arry? Do I seem repressed to you?"
Harry, wisely, said nothing. He'd learned long ago that there were some questions a man simply did not answer. Not if he valued his life.
Regina, however, had no such sense of self-preservation. "Oh, come on, Harry. Don't leave her hanging."
"I'm staying out of this," Harry said firmly.
"Coward," Regina said, far too cheerfully.
"Smart man," Harry corrected.
Fleur leaned into Harry even more, her tits pressing hard against his chest and her pussy rubbing against his rapidly hardening cock. "Poor girl, her plans got crumbled."
"My plans didn't crumble," Daphne said, and she looked this close to pulling her wand out. "They just revealed more than intended. Including that you're apparently quite comfortable being someone's plaything. I can't blame you here though. Harry's worth it all."
"Better to be his plaything than sit on the sidelines fuming," Fleur said smoothly. "At least I have the satisfaction of getting what I want."
"You mean the satisfaction of discovering you're exactly as debased as I thought?" Daphne's voice dripped with venom.
Fleur's smile turned predatory. "Debased? Maybe. But debased and satisfied. While you, even after Harry satisfied you, still look so wound up."
Daphne took a deep breath, visibly collecting herself. "You know what's truly irritating? It's not even that you're enjoying this. It's that you're so bloody smug about it."
"Can you blame me?" Fleur ran her hand along Harry's arm slowly, smirking at Daphne. "You handed me everything I wanted on a silver platter while thinking you were punishing me. If the roles were reversed, you'd be just as smug."
"If the roles were reversed, I'd have the decency not to gloat," Daphne sneered.
"Liar," Fleur said simply, and somehow that single word carried more weight than a whole speech. "You'd be insufferable about it. Just as you're insufferable about everything else."
"I am not insufferable," Daphne said, and her composure was cracking further now. "I simply maintain standards."
"You use that word like a shield," Fleur scoffed. "But we both know what you really mean—you think you're better than everyone else."
"I don't think I'm better than everyone," Daphne said, her voice dangerously quiet. "Just better than people who look down their nose on everyone else."
Fleur's eyes flashed. "And I think I'm better than people so repressed they plot revenge instead of handling their emotions like adults."
"Ladies," Harry interrupted the escalating argument. "That's enough."
Both women turned to look at him.
Fleur was still pressed against his side, looking possessive and smug.
Daphne stood rigidly across from them, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
Regina, for her part, looked absolutely delighted with how everything was unfolding. "Oh, don't stop now. This is very interesting."
"It's getting out of hand," Harry corrected.
"Same thing," Regina said with an airy wave of her hand. "Also, it's not often you see two beautiful women fighting over, well, technically the principle of the thing, but still. Highly entertaining."
Daphne took another deep breath, forcibly collecting herself. "Fine. If we're stuck dealing with this situation, we might as well establish ground rules."
"Ground rules?" Fleur raised an elegant eyebrow.
"Such as you not being so bloody obvious about enjoying this," Daphne said flatly. "You've made your point. You won. Now can you please stop rubbing it in my face?"
Fleur considered this for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. Then her smile returned, slower and infinitely more dangerous than before. "Non."
Daphne's eye twitched. "No?"
"Non," Fleur repeated, looking perfectly content with her answer. "You wanted to see me broken, humiliated, destroyed. Instead, you gave me exactly what I needed. I think I've earned the right to enjoy this as much as I want."
"You've earned the right to be insufferable?"
"Precisely."
Daphne stared at her for a long moment, something like disbelief flickering across her usually composed features. Then she turned to Harry, her expression almost pleading. "See what I have to deal with now?"
Harry, wisely, said nothing. This was a trap and he knew it.
Regina, however, had no such reservations. "You've got to admit, this is kind of funny."
"It's not funny," Daphne said through gritted teeth. "It's infuriating."
"It's both," Regina corrected, grinning. "You plotted this elaborate revenge, and it backfired in the most spectacularly ironic way possible. That's comedy gold."
"Thrilled my suffering amuses you," Daphne said dryly.
"It really does," Regina agreed with zero shame. "Don't worry though, I'm sure you'll think of something else eventually. Something that doesn't accidentally fulfill her deepest fantasies this time."
Fleur laughed at that. "She could try, but I think the universe has spoken. Some things are just meant to be."
"Right," Harry declared, finally having had enough. He pulled away from Fleur, who actually pouted at the loss of contact. Taking her hand, he dragged her to the middle of the room where Daphne stood. The two blondes immediately turned to glare at each other, and Harry sighed heavily. "Here's how this is going to work. You two will sort this tension out between yourselves, and then we'll all move on like reasonable adults."
"Ha! As if," Daphne snorted, her nose tilting up as she stared Fleur down with obvious disdain.
"Daph..." Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling his patience wearing dangerously thin. "Fine. You leave me no choice then."
He reached out and took Regina's hand. She hopped off the desk smoothly, sliding up against him with a knowing smirk as he turned to regard the two volatile women before him.
"Until you two have resolved this tension between you, I'm not going to be with either of you."
"And don't worry," Regina said solemnly, though her eyes were dancing with mischief. "I'd be more than honored to take over satisfying you in their stead."
"Wait, what?"
Both Daphne and Fleur stared at Harry's resolute face with wide, shocked eyes before slowly turning to look at each other. Similar expressions of distaste emerged on both their faces, and it was the first thing they'd agreed on.
"Come on, Regina," Harry said, already taking her to the door. "We should leave these two alone to work things out."
All Daphne and Fleur could do was watch in stunned silence as Harry and Regina left the room, the door clicking shut behind them. Slowly, reluctantly, they turned to face each other once again.
The room suddenly felt much smaller.
"Fuck," Daphne muttered under her breath.
For the first time since this whole disaster began, Fleur agreed completely.
TBC.
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