How Fleur Delacour Seduced Me AKA: I'm a Lucky, Lucky Man

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/36607567.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Category: F/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Ron
Weasley/Original Female Character(s)
Characters: Harry Potter, Fleur Delacour, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny
Weasley, Albus Dumbledore, Arabella Figg, Severus Snape, Alastor
"Mad-Eye" Moody, Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Olympe Maxime, Original
Veela Character(s), Bartemius Crouch Jr., Sirius Black, Original Female
Character(s), Poppy Pomfrey
Additional Tags: Romance, Fluff and Humor, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love,
Underage Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, First
Time Blow Jobs, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Cunnilingus, Family
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2022-01-23 Words: 27,270 Chapters: 1/1
 How Fleur Delacour Seduced Me AKA: I'm a Lucky, Lucky Man
by orthodox1057

Summary

I, Harry Potter, an innocent little fourth year, entered into a tournament I don't want to be in,
end up in a very different game called seduction. My opponent? A Veela named Fleur
Delacour. Come see me lose my patience, my innocence, and at least once, my lunch in the
story of my fourth year.

Notes

This story is not my work. I first read it years ago, I don't recall where but after some time I
couldn't find it anymore. Something at the back of my mind must have prompted me to save
it so I did. It is an amusing read starring my most favorite pairing in Rowling's wonderful
universe. Again, the story is not my creation all credit goes to the original author. I don't
believe legal disclaimers are necessary seeing as I am neither profiting in any way nor
claiming ownership of any recognizable patented content.
Some say there’s a God in heaven; others say it’s a figment of our collective imagination. I
have no idea. All I know is that my throat’s raw from grunting and screaming to Him in
effusive delight.

So how did get into this position? It began during the second task, and then afterward when
something went very wrong a week later. Then, things cascaded from there. See, when the
brain trust in charge of this stupid tournament drove three posts into the lakebed, they forgot
what was under it.

Does the Chamber of Secrets ring any bells?

Bloody idiots, the lot of them.

And if you’re wondering, yeah, I’m not exactly the same Harry Potter that started this year.
I’m fed up with the stupidity that keeps putting me in danger. Hermione’s lost faith in the
professors, and Ron . . . well; Ron couldn’t care less about what the professors thought
anyway. So we not may seem like the same people you remember, but you’ll understand why
by the end of the story.

In short, we’ve all been fucked. And that’s a word I never used to use. Then again, it’s also
something I never thought I’d catch Ron and Hermione doing. Good God, that scarred me for
life! It wasn’t my fault that I didn’t know what they would do that night! The hostility
between them when they left the common room was palpable.

See, Ron decided it was time to grow up and wanted to apologize to Hermione for the Yule-
Ball fiasco. I don’t know what prompted it. But when they hadn’t returned three hours later, I
feared the worst; Ron and Hermione had reverted to form, leaving one or both irreversibly
hexed or transfigured, possibly into a corpse.

Now, being the good friend I am, I pulled out the Marauders’ Map and my Invisibility Cloak,
and went searching after them.

DON’T make me repeat the rest of that story, please! Didn’t I already say it scarred me for
life? More importantly, I don’t want to think about them while I’m lying here with a Veela in
my arms—a Veela! Me!

So you might be asking how I ended in bed with a satiated Veela and the inside of my legs
bruised from my knees to my sack? Let me tell you a little story while sleeping beauty is
gathering her strength for another go-around.

By the way, did you know that Fleur Delacour drools in her sleep? I guess even Veela aren’t
perfect. Then again, that and her soft snore makes her adorable as hell.

Anyway, the second task went along about as reported. We dove in, rescued our hostages, and
then got out. Of course, the berk that I am, I stayed to make sure every hostage was rescued,
and when Fleur didn’t come for the cute little blond, I cut her loose and took her to shore
with Ron.
That was the first time Fleur kissed me. It was on the cheek, but it caught my attention—or
should I say, it made a part of me stand at attention, in shorts, in front of the entire blooming
school. I rearranged the towel that someone had given me and prayed that Dumbledore would
shut up already. Not that I disliked him, but it was cold, all my blood was concentrated in one
spot, and he was still gobbing on about the tournament.

But, a few seconds later, the merpeople showed up and a couple of auspicious looks my way
told me a surprise was coming. I’ve learned not to like surprises.

“Are you okay, ‘Arry?” A voice asked from behind. Her breath tickled my ear and a faint
scent of lilacs caught my nose. I turned to find Fleur right behind me.

“I think so, why?”

“You’re hunched over. Are you hurt?”

Of all the times for her to notice me, why then? “I, I’ll be fine. It’s just a slight cramp.”

She gave me a quick nod, and paid attention to the judges again, as Dumbledore had finally
gotten to the scores. Krum’s and Cedric’s came first, but I can’t even remember what they
received anymore. Then, he announced hers. “Fleur Delacour did not retrieve her hostage, but
did perform a wonderful Bubblehead Charm and showed good aptitude in fighting off
Grindylows before she was overwhelmed. For that, she is awarded twenty-three points.”

She huffed behind me. “I just won zhe ‘Nice Personality’ award at a beauty contest.”

Oh God, did I chortle. I couldn’t help it! But when I laugh that hard, I tend to lean back.
There’s a mistake. I prayed she didn’t notice and straightened back up rather quickly. Fleur
standing so close to me that I can feel her breath on my neck wasn’t helping my situation
down below.

“… And last, though well outside the time limit, is Harry Potter, but we have learned that
after arriving first, he remained until all the hostages were rescued. For putting the needs of
others over personal gain, we award him…forty points!”

The Hogwarts crowd screamed their approval. Fickle little bastards, aren’t they?

“Forty points?” Fleur launched into rapid French, her voice rising in pitch. I stepped away—
call it self-preservation, but she was still glaring at the judges. Maybe I was safe?

Then she turned to me. “You deserved better than that, but that batard from Durmstrang has
his lips permanently attached to Viktor Krum’s farce.”

I didn’t dare correct her.

She took a couple of breaths to relax, letting the harsh set of her lips soften. “Thank you
again for rescuing my sister.” Then, before I could stop her, she snaked her slender arms
around my neck and hugged me tightly.

She froze.
“‘Arry?” Her breath tickled my ear again, but this time there was a different quality to it:
lower and breathy, and only meant for me. “I don’t zhink that’s a cramp.”

I damn near busted a nut. A soft giggle escaped her lips before re-joining her sister and best
friend, whose name I learned later was Giselene.

The next day at lunch, Ron glanced toward the Ravenclaw table. “I wonder why she’s
looking over here.”

Wait, Ron Weasley was introspective and observant? Isn’t it written somewhere that this was
a harbinger of the apocalypse? “Who are you talking about?”

He nodded to the back-end of the table where most of the Beauxbatons students were sitting.
On the far side, looking our way, was Fleur.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Why don’t you go over and ask?”

“No, thank you.” He turned a slight shade of pink, and then glanced at Hermione. “Besides,
the only witch I need to talk to is sitting right here.”

I may have thrown up in my mouth. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” But I’d already
lost him to Hermione’s cow-eyes—Merlin’s shitty arse! It’s not that I minded them being
together, but this sappy bollix needed to end, and soon. “You two are disgusting, do you
know that?”

Hermione pulled her eyes away from Ron, and thankfully wiped the look off her face before
glancing at me. “Jealous?”

“Of you, maybe.”

I’m going to let you all in on a little secret. Watching Hermione’s thought process derail was
always a highlight of my day, sometimes my week.

She blinked once, then twice, and her jaw muscles loosened, but she spoke no words. I
counted to five before she could get her brain working again. “You’re a prat!”

“Hermione, language!” Ron replied with a smirk.

I chuckled, and Hermione gave me her best “Death to You” glare before kicking at Ron under
the table. He shifted enough to avoid the blow and then nodded again at the Beauxbatons
students. “She’s still staring.”

I looked that way to find a bemused Fleur watching us. She raised an eyebrow and gave me
her own smirk, then winked before losing herself in a conversation with her friends. What
was that about?

“Good question.”

I looked at Ron, not realizing I said anything aloud.

“Maybe she fancies you, mate.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not making a fool of myself in front of her.” They didn’t need to know
I had already done it. “I’m headed to class. I’ll see you there if the two of you aren’t
sidetracked by a broom closet.”

“Or Ron’s broom,” Hermione added under her breath, just loud enough for the three of us to
hear.

There was no question about it; I did puke in my mouth a little that time.

A week later found Ron, Hermione, and me in Hogsmeade. The newness of their relationship
had worn off enough that I didn’t go into sugar-shock every time they were around.

Unfortunately, she still made those cow-eyes at him. We wandered through the town and into
Honeydukes.

To my surprise, Ron didn’t drop a single Galleon in the store.

“Are you sick?”

“Naa,” He answered. “I just don’t need anything sweet anymore, not with—”

“If you finished that sentence,” I began, cutting him off, “I’ll castrate you on the spot!”

He smiled real big. “Sorry, but a bloke can’t lie.”

My stomach turned queasy. “I’m headed over to the Three Broomsticks. Meet me there when
you’re finished.”

To their credit, Hermione and Ron protested, promising they’d be better, but I had already
decided that they needed some “couple-time” and told them as much. The weather outside
was bright and cold, and tendrils of mist circled about every time I exhaled. I made my way
down the street, watching the third-years run about wide-eyed at all the trappings of a winter
Hogsmeade day.

Zonko’s Joke Shop had a two-for-one sale on the last of their Christmas merchandise so they
could make room for their spring supplies, according to their sign. In truth, they probably
found a deal somewhere, marked the products up a few hundred percent, and then offered it
at two-for-one to dupe a ponce into buying the stuff. I admit I may have grown a bit jaded, as
well over the year—wait, isn’t that Malfoy dumping a handful of Galleons on the counter?
Huh, like I said…

“Do you like all blondes, or just him?” A soft, French-accented voice asked.

My head snapped around so fast a series of pops ran through my neck, temporarily paralyzing
me. At least, that was my excuse for my opened-mouthed gawking.

She blinked. Long, full eyelashes meet and then slowly came apart to show blue eyes that
looked so deep I could fall into them and never touch bottom.
“What are you doing here?” Yeah, it wasn’t my best opening line.

“At present, speaking with you, but if that’s unpleasant, I could leave.”

“No! I mean… nah, it’s okay.”

The corner of her lip twitched. “This is my first time ‘ere. Could you show me around?”

I looked back at sugar-shock central and realized that I probably wouldn’t see my two best
friends for a few hours. “Sure, what would you like to do?”

She shrugged, and I noticed that she was wearing her heavy Beauxbatons robe, though it
wasn’t exactly made for this weather. Personally, I preferred seeing her in her bathing suit,
even if it was a one-piece. “Why don’t we just walk?”

I played tour guide, introducing her to the Three Broomsticks (we didn’t go inside) and
Gladrags (she seemed to turn her nose up at the place). The conversation was a bit stilted, but
then— and I have no idea from where I was struck with this brilliant idea—I decided to turn
it to her.

“So, tell me something about Fleur Delacour.”

Her stutter-step told me that I’d surprised her. Hmm. That was good, wasn’t it?

“What would you like to know?”

I shrugged. “Something about the person, rather than the image.” I didn’t know how I was
pulling this out of my arse, but another stutter-step told me that I surprised her again.

Her lips puckered slightly as she gave my question some thought. “I’m good at ‘andjobs.”

“What!” I stumbled to a stop and then had to readjust my robes after that bit of information.
“‘Andjobs: fixing things, building a fence. ‘Andjob is the right word, no?”

“I think you mean handiwork.”

“Oh.” She motioned for me to continue walking. “Then what are ‘and jobs?”

A group of Hufflepuffs passed, led by Cedric Diggory who broke out in laughter. Cho,
standing next to him and holding his hand, blushed. That’s interesting. I wonder what they’ve
been doing.

“Why don’t you show her?” Cedric said.

Generally, I like him. I can’t even blame him for asking Cho to the Ball since I took way too
long. But that day, I flashed him two fingers and kept walking. Fleur, however, had that
bemused smile again and I couldn’t tell if she was messing with me or not. “So are you going
to tell me, or do I need to ask someone else?”
“I—” I’m about to explain handjobs to a Veela? Why am I always the one getting hexed in
the balls? I tried again. “It’s something a witch…” Nope, not that time either. Honestly,
between trying to keep my robes bunched in front of me, Fleur’s little grin, and the topic at
han—er, what we were talking about, I couldn’t keep a thought in my brain, so I fell back on
instinct. And one thing I’ve learned after years of unwanted attention: when it was on you,
divert!

“Look, a confectionary shop!”

We stopped to gaze through the windows. Fleur shielded the winter sun with a gloved hand,
then with the other, pointed to Raspberry concoction that was a cross between Treacle-Tart
and cookie. “Zhose are my favorite, but I get sick if I eat too many,” she said. “I don’t have
any self-control.”

Self Control? “Maybe I can help. Wait here.” I ducked into the store and stood behind an
older witch who was taking forever.

After a few minutes, Fleur caught my eyes through the window. I looked at the witch in front
of me, and then back at her and shrugged. She flashed the briefest smile, and I started
tingling.

What the hell was that all about?

“May I help you?”

I stepped around the witch who was still bagging up her order and bought three of the cookie-
like treats for a Galleon.

“Enjoy!” I said, stepping outside and handing one to her.

I have to admit, they were very good. Fleur took a dainty bite of hers and a light moan
escaped her throat. Have I said how much I hate being a teenage wizard? Between the second
task and that day’s conversation, I could’ve pounded nails for the next week.

Then I caught Fleur looking back at the store.

“Maybe we should keep walking to get you away from temptation.”

She took another nibble. “That may be wise.” She slipped an arm through mine and we
walked in silence for a minute or so, enjoying the treats.

“So,” she said when she finished. “I wonder what tempts ‘Arry Potter?” Then she stole a
glance back at Zonko’s Joke Shop. “Blond wizards?”

“What?” Somehow I inhaled crumbs at the same time. My eyes watered and I struggled to
breathe without setting off round after round of hacking. Fleur conjured a glass of water, but
by the way her eyes danced, I could tell she was having way too much fun at my expense.

“Thanks,” I choked out, literally, then drained the glass and handed it back to her.
She banished it. “Better?”

“Yes. Just wonderful. Top of my day, as a matter of fact.” Hey, crucify me, but a little
sarcasm was justified by this point.

“Ah, and ‘ere I thought you’d be a bottom.”

I stared at her, then shook my head and walked off. I didn’t care how beautiful she was, or
how much she made me tingle. I put up with enough of that shit during the summers that I
wasn’t doing it here, too.

“‘Arry, wait!” She jogged to catch up. “I’m sorry; I was just taking the lickey on you.”

Any other time and I would’ve chortled. As it was, I decided not to correct her. “Thanks, I
guess.”

“I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.” The amusement in her eyes slipped and I caught
a a glimpse of the witch behind the attitude, behind the mask of a Veela all put together.

And I realized that there was someone behind the facade I wouldn’t mind getting to know. It
was the only thing keeping me there at the moment. “Did you enjoy the… whatever that
cookie thing was?”

Her head bobbed. “I did. Thank you.”

I didn’t know what else to say, so we continued down the road through Hogsmeade, an
uncomfortable silence growing between us until we cleared the town and stopped at the
Shrieking Shack.

“I’ve ‘eard of this place. They say that ghosts lived here, no?”

“Yeah, but it was really a friend of my father's who attended Hogwarts with him. He was a
werewolf and came here during the full moon.”

“Really?”

I gave her a shrug. “That’s what he told me, at least.”

Silence stretched between us again, uncomfortable and loud in its lack of noise. After some
time, Fleur twisted a lock of her hair around a finger. “I think I’ll return to the carriage.
Thank you for showing me around, and for the treat.” She turned to leave.

“I’ll walk you back through Hogsmeade. I’m meeting a couple of friends at the Three
Broomsticks. I’ll be better company, I promise.”

Fleur shrugged, then waved me on, and we started walking. “I was ‘aving fun before I stuck
my foot in my mouth,” she said, and then hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”

I took a deep, uneasy breath. Somehow, I knew this was about to get personal. “I guess."
She twisted her finger in another lock of hair. “I don’t understand your reaction. I know you
don’t like other wizards, and obviously, I was joking, but I missed something, no? Maybe I
don’t know wizards as well as I thought.”

Yep, past personal and straight into digging deep into my shit. “Well, part of it was the person
you were talking about. His family and I don’t get along.” That was an understatement!

“And the other part?”

Oh, damn. “I, um, uh…”

That coy little smile returned. “Maybe I was partly right.” She stepped closer. “I wonder.”
Then she traced a finger down my cheek and neck, over to the center of my chest, and down
to the top of my trousers. I couldn’t help my short, gasping breaths. There may have even
been a slight whimper.

“Maybe your temptation is more along the lines of blonde witches?”

I shut my eyes and prayed that this moment would be over and that it’d never end at the same
time. She giggled as I felt her press her body against mine, her lips to my ear again. “Or
maybe French blond witches.” She ducked her head a little and let her lips brush my cheek,
kissing it slowly, then she stepped back, a wicked grin painted across her lips. “I really do
need to go. Are you okay to walk?”

“Fecking witches,” I muttered.

She laughed, playful and upbeat, and then slid her arm through mine again. We made our way
back to Hogsmeade, with me trying surreptitiously to hide the physical proof of my
“temptation.” But every time I readjusted, she giggled a little more. “I hope you’re enjoying
yourself.”

“Almost as much as you, I zhink.”

How the hell was I supposed to respond to that? When we reached the Three Broomsticks, I
stopped and nodded toward the door. “You can come in if you’d like.”

“No thank you, I really do need to get back.” She looked past my shoulder. “You never really
explained the problem between you and that blond wizard.”

She just had to bring up Malfoy again, didn’t she? I don’t know why I got so pissed off when
she did. But I decided that if she wanted to know, I should tell her. Bluntly. “That little
fucker’s father tried to kill my best friend’s sister over Anti-Dark Magic legislation her father
was pushing. The whole family is nothing more than vile blood-purist rubbish and the world
will be better when they’re all dead in their grave.”

Huh, so that’s what a Veela looks like when she’s shocked out of her skull.

“Kill…?”

“Two years ago. It’s not something I want to talk about.”

She didn’t move. Great, I went from being the little boy she got to tease to some mad bastard
that scared her to death. Brilliant move, Potter! I tried to say something, but nothing seemed
right.

Finally, she put a hand on my chest. “I’ll see you back at the school.” Then she turned her
back to me and walked away.

“What was that all about?” Ron asked. He and Hermione came up behind me. “Did you find
out if she fancies you?”

“Yeah, probably not anymore.”

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione began, and she had that tone.

“Piss off, I’m lying about my age and getting drunk. Let’s go to the Hogshead.”

Three things I knew to be true as I lay in bed the next morning. One: despite earlier in the
year, Ron was a damn good friend. Well, either that, or he enjoyed getting as pissed as I did,
either way… Two: nobody wants to see Hermione when she’s truly, utterly, out of her gourd
brassed off, like she was at the two of us. And three: a hangover’s a sunuvabitch!

At least it was Sunday, so Ron and I both ended up lying in bed the entire day. The only
problem , however, was that I got too much sleep and ended up wide awake at one in the
morning. Oh, and how could I forget? I was also horny as hell from Fleur’s little games. Even
worse, some muppet pranked us during the Hogsmeade visit and stole the curtains from our
beds, and you know what that means? No curtain; no relief. I hate my damn life sometimes.

“You awake?” Ron whispered.

“Yeah, you?” Stupid question, I know.

“Yeah,” he answered. “And tired of lying in bed. Let’s go get into trouble.”

That plan was put on hold as soon as we got within five feet of each other. “You need a
shower.”

“So do you!” Ron whispered back. “And bad, too.”

So we detoured through the bathroom—gym showers with no privacy, by the way, God damn
it! Finished, we dressed in the dark and made our way to the common room. But just as I
settled into the couch by the fireplace, Ron said, “Harry, come here! Check that out!”

With nothing else to do, I made my way to the window and looked where he was pointing.
The Beauxbatons carriage—and I’m not too ashamed to admit that thinking about the blonde
sleeping inside made my nuts throb with pain. I was about to make up an excuse to go back
to the bathrooms and take care of myself on the toilet, and to hell with anyone if they figured
out what I was doing, when he pointed again.

“There, did you see that?”

I saw something but had no idea what it was. It looked almost as if—but no, that couldn’t be,
the carriage was a couple of hundred yards from the lake, wasn’t it?

Then another spray of water shot fifteen feet out of the ground. I looked closer, just in time to
see a large section of grass fall away, and more water splashed into the air, along with
something that looked like a fifty-foot snakeskin.

Ron's eyes popped wide open. “That’s…”

“… The Chamber of Secrets, or at least the passageway!” I thought back, and sure enough,
the slide in the second-floor girl’s bathroom ran through a wall on the first floor, and out
another twenty yards or so. From there, the passage ran at a right angle, which would take it
straight under the lake, and right past where the grass was disappearing.

And then another large section of grass crumbled and disappeared, twenty feet from the
Beauxbatons carriage.

“Uh, Harry?”

“I see it.”

And that quick, we were out of our commons and sprinting through the halls.

“Halt!” A voice we knew too well yelled as we rounded the corner and headed toward him
and the staircase. “That’ll be detention for both of you.”

We didn’t stop. And I swear I heard Ron tell Snape to piss off as we passed him. I’ve never
been prouder of Ron in my life. Down the stairs we went, leaving a stuttering Snape behind,
and out the doors at a dead run. We raced through the courtyard and out onto the grass,
chewing up the distance as quickly as possible.

Then, twenty yards from the carriage, a sixty-foot section of tunnel gave way. Dirt and grass
crashed down into the lake water below. It had to be lakewater, there was nowhere else it
could have come from! The carriage, just a few feet beyond that, shifted to the left and sunk
into the ground.

“MADAME MAXIME!” Ron yelled.

“ANYONE?” Please God, let someone hear us! “WAKE UP!”

I tried the door, but it was locked. Ron pounded on it with a rock he picked up somewhere.

“Step back, I have an idea.” I drew my wand and sent a Blasting Curse at it, ripping it from
its hinges and setting off the Charms that protected the carriage from intruders. At least that’d
wake them up!

Then, the ground under us shifted and I fell back on my arse, and two inches into the dirt.
Water bubbled through to the surface.

“Their sinking!” Fucking master of the obvious, that Ron Weasley.

“I know. Let’s try a Levitation Charm.”

“On THAT?”

“Can you think of anything else?”

He couldn’t. So we moved back to solid ground and then turned to cast the charm, but the
carriage had already sunk another foot into the ground. “Shit, we gotta hurry. Ready?” he
asked.

Even if we weren’t, it didn’t matter at this point. So I swished and flicked—wait, I’ve learned
since that “flicking” has a very different meaning. So let’s change that. I swished and snapped
my wands at the same time as Ron.

Have you ever been hit by an elephant? No? That’s what it felt like when we tried to levitate
the carriage. I fell to both knees, but Ron was just strong enough to keep standing. Nobody
likes a show-off!

And then the carriage began to bounce under the feet of students running about inside, but
every time it dipped down, it drained us that much more trying to raise it back up. “Hurry
up!” Ron shouted. “Get out of there!”

Finally, the form of Madame Maxime showed herself in the doorway. “Zhis is not funny!
Dumbledore will ‘ear ’bout zhees!”

“No shit it’s not funny!” Ron said.

“Now get your arse out and help!” I added. Hey, if Ron was getting in trouble for what he
said to Snape, at least I could pair up with him this time.

And Madame Maxime looked pissed! She stepped off the carriage, intending to tear a piece
out of the both of us, and promptly sank up to her shins. “What is thees! What ‘ave you
done!”

Behind her, students were piling in the doorway. Ron was on his knees now, alongside me,
and both of us were flagging quickly.

“What is that!” someone else yelled, pointing to water that was now a few feet from the
carriage.

Madame Maxime’s eyes trebled in size. Yes, I know what that word means. Shut the hell up.

“Help them!” she said. And at once she started flinging students off her carriage to the hard
grass behind us, and it grew lighter by the second until Ron and I both felt we could safely
drop our spells. I collapsed on the ground and closed my eyes. Knowing my luck, I’d get
blamed for the entire bloody affair.

When I opened them again, Fleur was standing over me in her robe. Then the wind blew and
it fluttered out over my head. As far as I could see, she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
She sleeps naked?! That lit my balls off with a devastating ache. If I didn’t get relief soon,
they’d explode in the middle of class. Fleur pushed her robes down. “Enjoy zhe show?” she
asked, in a lilt that dripped with humor.

I closed my eyes and moaned.

Then an awful creak sounded from the carriage. “Everyone, help!” Madame Maxime yelled.
And since she was speaking English, I figured she intended that for us, as well. I crawled to
my knees, sat on my ankles, and cast another Levitation Charm.

Then more spells decorated the night air and the carriage was levitated to the far side, where
it was set without the worry of squashing someone. And just in time, too, since the ground
the carriage was sitting on gave way and plunged into the water. A short scream caught my
attention and I saw another piece of sod rip loose, taking Fleur’s best friend with it into the
water.

Can someone tell me why this always happens when I’m around? Oh, and a better question
still, why the fuck do I always feel like I need to be the one to save the person?

I jumped in. Talk about freezing lake water! Here I thought my balls ached before! Not even
close! Ron hit the water not half of a second after me, and we were at it again, off on an
adventure to get ourselves killed. Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, more ground gave way
and plunged in with us, right on top of the witch dragging her down to the bottom. Ron gave
me a look and an eye roll. “Never easy with you around, is it?”

Bloody prat.

We dove, pushing hard into the murky water and searching by feel rather than sight. A few
strokes brought us to the bottom, twenty-five underwater, but now it was black as night. Oh,
and did I say ball-numbing cold yet?

Ron found her first. I was right behind him and we worked together to pry her out but had no
luck. My body already ached from the chill and my lungs burned. I was sure the witch
couldn’t have had much air left if any.

Then I remembered my wand. I pulled Ron back and then hit the dirt with a Blasting Spell.
The pressure wave of water rebounded from the explosion and shoved me backward. The last
thing I saw was the witch slipping free before my head hit something solid and hard, and I
blacked out.

“I think he’s coming around.”

Dumbledore? I didn’t know he was here. Then again, I didn’t know the grass could feel this
soft and warm …Oh, fuck a calf! I was in the infirmary, again, wasn’t I?

“It’s about time,” someone else said. This voice I knew well. She’d said that more than once
while I was in her care.

I opened my eyes to see twenty-some-odd students staring at me, and I knew none of them,
except for Ron.
“What happened this time?” I asked.

Ron snorted. “Your Blasting Spell bounced your head off the wall of the tunnel. It was a
brilliant idea, but probably not well thought out.”

I matched his snort. “Since we did we ever think something through? At least we’re even on
‘end of the year near-death experiences,’ now, aren’t we?”

Ron raised his eyebrows. “How hard did you hit your head? We’re still in February.” I
wanted to laugh, but a chill ran through me and I shivered, instead.

“That’s the mild hypothermia,” Madame Pomfrey said. Pushing through everyone else with a
tray of vials. “You need to drink these and rest tonight, but I can’t let you fall back to sleep,
so
someone will have to stay here and look after you. I imagine that’ll be Ron?”

Wait, Ron? Why wasn’t… “How the hell did you get out of this without being injured or
getting hypowhatever?”

He shrugged. “I’m not stupid enough to cast a Blasting Curse at short-range, and Hermione
says I’m hot-blooded. Maybe she’s right.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Bite me.”

The doors to the Infirmary flew open and as if summoned by the mere mention of her name,
a big bush of hair raced to my bed. “What … what … how?”

The funny thing was that I knew exactly what she was asking. “The Chamber of Secrets
flooded and took down the Beauxbatons carriage.”

“And you just happened to be there.” Hermione crossed her arms. “And got hurt as well!”

“Ron was there too! He was almost as hurt as I was.” Lying? You better believe it, but at least
she’d stop mothering me and start on him, I hoped.

“Yes,” Dumbledore interrupted, that damn twinkle dancing in his eye. “Ron and Harry acted
magnificently once again, putting others before themselves and saving the carriage, and most
likely, the lives of all the Beauxbatons students as well.”

Hermione looked back and forth between Dumbledore, Ron, and me. Then she took my hand
and squeezed it before letting it drop and leaning in to whisper to Ron. Unfortunately, I was
close enough to read her lips. “You’re going to get really lucky in about three minutes.”

“Uh, Harry,” Ron said. “I’m pretty wiped out. Maybe you should get someone else to stay. I
wouldn’t want to fall asleep on you.”

I shook my head. Of course, if I was in that situation, I would’ve made the same choice. So I
can’t really fault him.
“I’ll stay with ‘im,” a voice said from behind the Beauxbatons students. They parted, and
there stood Fleur, still wrapped in her robe. “‘E saved my sister, and now my best friend. It’s
the least I can do.”

Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey both looked to Madame Maxime, who thought for a few
seconds before nodding. “It’s a nice gesture.” She turned to Fleur. “Keep watch for a few
hours. Morning classes are canceled, but I expect you to attend as normal in zhe afternoon.”

“If that’s settled,” Madame Pomfrey said. “The rest of you need to leave, except of course for
Giselene. Your tests are fine, but if you feel the need, you may stay here tonight.”

Giselene glanced at Fleur before shaking her head. “Thank you, but I can manage back in the
carriage.”

“In that case,” Madame Maxime turned to Ron and me. “Zhank you both for saving many
lives tonight. I am sorry for yelling at you before I knew zhe situation.”

She bowed her appreciation and then herded the Beauxbatons students out of the Infirmary.

“And on that note, I think I need to get to bed,” Ron said. “I’m… bushed.”

If I could’ve reached him, I would’ve kicked him in the sack. It wasn’t even a good pun.

Madame Pomfrey clucked her tongue at me as the infirmary cleared out before muttering
something about nursing me back to health every year. Then she turned to Fleur. “If you can
stay with him for the next three and a half hours, I’d appreciate it. I usually start my day
around five-thirty, so that’ll work out well. Oh, and make sure to keep him awake. If you
need me, the picture of the Healing-witch in my office shares a frame with one in my
apartment. Let her know and I’ll come right away.”

The door to Madame Pomfrey’s office closed and I settled back into my pillow and shut my
eyes. I was surprised that I could be so worn out again.

“No, no,’Arry, there is no sleeping for you, tonight.” Fleur’s voice seemed to float through
the air. She pushed off the wall on the other side of the room and glided towards me, then
stopped at the foot of the bed. “Tell me, ‘ow do you always manage?” she asked.

“Manage what?”

“To be in the right place at the right time.”

“I don’t know, it’s a gift, I guess, or a curse.”

She let out the softest little giggle, and it went straight to my already twice-aching balls. I
winced.

Her playful look dropped. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Yeah, as if I’d tell her why they were in pain. “Thank you for staying tonight.”
Her coy smile returned full force, and I winced again. What the hell?!
“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“No, but it’s nothing you could—” Um, well, that wasn’t true, was it? Ah hell! The light in
Madame Pomfrey’s office switched off and the door to the outside hallway closed. Not a
second later, Fleur stepped closer, her finger lightly tracing up my leg. So, here’s an
interesting fact. When a person has hypothermia, one of the more important things to do is
strip him completely of his clothes. Normally, this wouldn’t bother me since I know how
Madame Pomfrey would do it. She’s talented enough that she’d lay a blanket on top of me
and then remove them with a single spell, keeping my dignity.

But now, with Fleur’s finger tracing up the blanket—and trust me, it wasn’t a thick blanket,
so I definitely felt it—the ache started anew, and let’s just say that part of me decided to sit up
and take notice.

She giggled for a third time that night. “I think you ‘ave another cramp, no?”

And despite everything else, I blushed. I couldn’t get away from this embarrassment, either.
Then again, I was belatedly realizing that I didn’t want to, and a tremble ran through my
body.

“Are you still cold?”

I'm pretty sure that wasn’t the reason. “A little.”

“Do you know how Muggles treat hypothermia?”

Oh shit. I had read a survival manual last summer when I was bored. “Um, no.”

She reached up, undid the clasp of her robe, and let it slip off her shoulders. It fluttered to the
floor, leaving her bathed in the moonlight. Now I knew that Fleur Delacour slept in nothing
but knickers and a bra. And not that much of either of those, either.

My broom decided that standing up and taking notice wasn’t enough, so the damn thing was
twitching with the beat of my heart waving for attention.

Fleur traced another finger slowly up my arm and across my chest, up my neck, then ending
under my chin, tilting it just slightly so she could look me in the eyes.

“They say you should share body heat and since I’m supposed to watch you tonight, I need to
make sure you’re being treated properly. Would you like me to try the Muggle way,’Arry?”

I raced to think of something suave, something cool to say, but all that came out was “Og
Gngh!”

Luckily she took that as a yes, lifted the covers, and then slid in next to me. Her head rested
next to mine and she pushed her hair back. The faint scent of lilacs hit me again. Then she
gasped. “You are cold!”

Feeling her body next to me served as a reminder of just how much heat I had lost. My body
shivered. And this time, it really was due to being cold. So Fleur gently pushed me to my
side, and then spooned on my back, her left arm under my head and her right hand across my
ribs, softly rubbing circles on my chest. She scooted her bottom half closer, and I could feel
the whisper of satin knickers against my bare rear. Her head lay just behind and above mine,
putting her lips at my ear again.

“Is the first time you’ve ever laid in bed with a Veela?”

It took three tries to get my voice to work. “With anyone, ever in my life.”

Her hand stopped for a second, and when it restarted, there was a tenderness that I had never
felt before, and I shivered again.

“Thank you,’Arry,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For letting me be the first.”

We laid that way for a good ten minutes before she said, “You’re back is warm enough now,”
and slid back.

I was surprised by the loss I felt at the broken contact, but then she rolled me over the other
way, and now I was face to face with her, the front of my body touching hers. I was more
than aware that a certain part of me pressed against her bare stomach and the skin-on-skin
contact made me catch my breath.

“Something wrong?” she asked. Her voice was breathy and teasing at the same time, and her
eyes alight with humor.

I didn’t even bother to answer, so she continued. “I was wondering something. Tell me,
‘Arry, ‘ave you ever kissed someone?”

Twitch! The damn thing wouldn’t stop thumping against her stomach, and now, as it moved
across the silk-soft skin, I wasn’t sure I wanted it to, either.

“Um, no.”

“Then close your eyes.”

I did, and a second later, a moist pressure pressed against my lips, hers slightly parted, then
she gently bit my bottom lip and pulled back. But when I leaned forward, she wasn’t there. I
opened my eyes to see her hovering right before me, and I leaned forward again, and again
she pulled back, close enough that I could still feel the heat of her breath and smell the
sweetness on her lips, but just out of reach.

She dipped her head and kissed me under my jawline, then my cheek, and finally trailed her
lips back to mine. But this time, they were parted even more. I opened my lips to match, and
a wave of want rushed through me as the tip of her tongue touched mine.
She pulled away. “Was that a nice first kiss?”
Nice? NICE? How in the hell could anyone ever beat that? She ruined me for life! And I
didn’t want her to stop! Another chill chose that moment to course through my body. It was
strange how I could feel so hot one way, but still cold in another.

“Zut! Zhis is no Good,’Arry. You shouldn’t still be cold. Perhaps I’m doing this wrong!”

I was about to protest that particular thought when her eyes widened in mock surprise.
“That’s right, I forget!” She slid out of bed. “Muggles say zhe person warming up zhe patient
should also be naked!”

Before my brain could even process that thought, Fleur reached back and unclasped her bra,
holding it against herself while slipping off the straps. Then slowly, she let it slide, revealing
the most wonderful sight my fourteen-year-old eyes had ever seen.

Breasts!

Twitch!

Round, firm, with a small darker circle and a tip that stood out in the center of each one,
pointing straight forward. My hands itched to touch them, to caress them and see if I could
gather each one in a hand, though I figured they were the size of a small grapefruit, so
probably so. They weren’t udders, but they weren’t exactly tiny, either.

The bra hit the ground and her hands continued their journey, moving slowly down her
moonlit body until her thumbs slid into her knickers. Fleur never broke eye contact, and I
could tell that she reveled in the way my body was reacting to her.

Twitch!

She turned to the side, still looking at me over her shoulder, and pushed. The elastic on her
knickers stretched as it slid down, the back edge hugging the curve of her tight little bum,
stretching as it passed midpoint, and then the elastic regained control and her knickers
slipped to her hips.

She widened her stance just a touch and let go, keeping the fabric in place, and turned back to
me. I could see her incredibly flat stomach and the hint of the two ridges of her abs that
narrowed as they trailed down past her hipbones, standing like two hills guarding a sacred
path to heaven. The ridges ended just above a small mound, covered in short blonde hair that
was cut into the shape of a small triangle as if showing the eye where to look.

But I didn’t need any directions!

Below, I saw the very beginning of her skin parting into two outer lips, just as it disappeared
behind her knickers.

A soft sound escaped from her throat and I looked up. She winked, moved, and then I heard
the wisp of fabric hitting the floor. Then she raised an eyebrow and glanced down at herself,
then back at me.
Thankful for the invitation, I let my eyes trail down across her breasts, those abs, and to
another fold of skin that rose between those I saw earlier and ending with a red little bulb
peeking out, followed by two more folds of skin that were taut, and open just enough to make
my twitching double in pace.

Fleur lifted the covers, climbed in, and lay on her side, facing me, just out of twitching range.
Then she bent at the waist and closed the distance, taking my bottom lip between her teeth.
She pulled back, and then came in for more, her tongue gingerly touching mine.

After resting a hand on my cheek as we kissed, she straightened ever so slightly. And now, as
I twitched, I could feel myself pushing across the soft downy of Veela pubic hair.

Then nature took over, and my hips began gyrating on their own, pressing in and out,
searching for bliss. Fleur met the movements, her hips working in conjunction with mine, and
we met in the middle, pressing her skin against my twitching, aching head, then breaking
contact, and then meeting all over again. And all the while, she let me taste the sweetness of
her lips as I marveled at the exotic dance of our tongues.

Then she moved even closer, pulling herself a little higher on the bed and dominating my
mouth, but our hips kept moving, and now that she moved, when I pressed forward, I slipped
past her downy-hair and against something very different. The skin was softer than anything
I’d yet felt and slick. Heat enveloped me as I continued to slide along the parting flesh I had
seen just a few minutes ago. Then, I met a second, softer split of flesh, and like two lips they
parted and kissed the skin as I moved across them, still twitching for all I was worth.

A soft moan escaped Fleur’s lips and it caused another pain to shoot through my balls. I
grimaced and reached for them with a gasp of breath.

Fleur pulled away, opening her eyes in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“I, well—” Ah hell, there was no getting around it now. I tucked my chin and buried my head
in the covers. “Ever since the second task, you’ve had me so worked up I could barely stand
it. Then at Hogsmeade yesterday, it was so bad I was literally in pain. And it’s been that way
off and on ever since.”

Fleur had a look that registered somewhere between pleasure and guilt, with a bit of petulant
pride thrown in. “Why didn’t you take care of it yourself? Most wizards do. It’s nothing to be
ashamed of.” Then she shifted into a sultry voice and started tracing her fingers over my
chest again. “A little lotion, a few long, smooth strokes while zhinking of what Mr. Twitchy
was rubbing against, all hot and wet…”

Great, now she was giving me masturbating advice? It was so fucking hot that my left nut
almost exploded.

I grimaced again.

“I touch myself, too,” she continued, obviously not noticing what she was doing to me. Or
perhaps, maybe she was. “Though the motion is a little different. I start with a soft caress
across my moist lips, and then I plunge a finger inside myself…”
That voice was like a jackhammer to my nutsack. To get her to stop, I just came out with the
truth. “Fucking seventh years stole all the curtains around our beds. The showers are gym
showers, so no privacy there, either. I’ve been suffering in blue-balled agony because of a
damn prank!”

She snickered. “Poor ‘Arry, so that’s why you’re in such pain. Did a little French witch get
you worked up?”

I nodded. Then jumped. I never noticed that she moved her hand from my cheek, but now it
was touching my ever-so-sensitive balls. She wrapped her fingers around them and palmed
the weight in her hand. “Then lay on your back. I think it’s time we took care of that.”

She eased her leg over me, still under the covers, pushed back, and then lowered herself,
pinning Mr. Twitchy to my stomach before sliding forward. Those taut lips between her legs
kissed my sensitive skin, and heat flooded my entire length so that I was leaking fluid like a
piece of overripe fruit. Then she slid back, leaned forward even further, and let out a moan as
the front of her opened ground against the underside of Mr. Twitchy. I’m guessing that was
her clitoris by the way she was grabbing a hold of the bedsheets.

She did it once more, and it felt so good that I grimaced in pain again. Fleur noticed, leaned
forward, and planted another soft kiss on my lips. “Not too much longer.” Then she reached
behind her body, and right between my legs and teased the skin below my boys. Good God, if
I get any harder Mr. Twitchy’ll act like a real snake and start shedding its skin!

“Can you flex that muscle?”

I looked at her a little strangely. But she just winked and placed her hand on Mr. Twitchy.
“Try.”

I had to take three gulps of breath from the feeling of her hand on me, but finally, I obeyed,
and she smiled. “Good, now, do that again when I tell you.” Then she leaned forward and
spread her knees a little wider on the bed. “Do it now, and keep it flexed.”

And when she lowered her body, heat and wetness and softness exploded on contact. I was
surprised I even remembered my name when she asked, “Is this what you want, ‘Arry?”

I nodded and closed my eyes.

“I can be the first witch you make love to?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

The sweetest smile graced her features, I didn’t even have to see it; I could hear it in her
voice. “Then relax, and let yourself feel every sensation. It’s your first time, so you won’t last
long, not being zhis worked up, but I promise I will make it zhe best first-time ever. And after
you’re finished, we’ll get to work on your second time, right away.”

I opened my eyes to find her hovering just above me and watched as she leaned down and
rubbed her nose gently across mine, then let our lips meet again. She lowered herself a little
more, and I began sliding into her.

She felt tight, but silky-smooth and layered with fluids that I felt dripping on my thighs and
run to the sheets below. I felt as if every nerve was hit with the most intense Pleasure Spell. It
took all I had to keep my eyes open.

She lowered herself even more.

Her heat engulfed me, different from before when she was sliding across it, and I felt as
though I’d never been a part of anyone else in my life, never been close, never connected. I
caught her gaze as she watched me, the playful look, the dancing eyes, all of it was gone. In
its place was just, Fleur. And she was beautiful. The look in her eyes said she was enjoying
every moment of watching me, and my heart lurched.

She lowered herself again, a slow, controlled descent until she rested on my hips, then she
leaned forward, kissed my neck, and raised herself up in that same slow motion. When I had
almost popped out, she took both of my hands in hers, pinned them over my head, and
whispered. “Slowly, now, push into me,’Arry. Push deep, so I can feel you inside of me.”

And I did, pushing back into the heat and silky wetness even as she kept my hands pinned
above my head, and then Fleur’s lips grazed across my jaw, and that was it. I had only made
it halfway in.

“Oh, God! Oh, Fleur! I’m—”

She smothered my words with her mouth and took control again, rolling her hips with a
gentle with a gentle sway thrown in. I pulsed and bucked inside of her until I was completely
spent. Then she pushed forward a little and slipped her knees out, dropping her weight onto
me. I wrapped my arms around her back and she rested her head against my chest. All the
curves and pieces fit just right.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” She asked after a few minutes of silent bliss.

“More than you could imagine.” And it was true. She’d touched me in a different way.
Sexually, sure, but there was something else as well. Almost magical, even, and if there’s one
thing I’ve learned about magic, it’s I should just enjoy it, rather than trying to understand it.

“So, ‘Arry, since this is a night of firsts,” her breath caught a bit. Was she nervous about
something? After what we just did, what was left? “Maybe… maybe you’ve never had a
girlfriend?”

I’m sure I grinned like a bleedin’ idiot. “No. Would, ah, would you like to be my first in that,
as well?”

She stretched forward and laid another kiss on my lips. This one is tame, but somehow even
more intimate. “I would love to.” Then she kissed me again, with a little more passion.
Nature took over and that little arse of hers started gyrating with me still inside her.
If you’ve ever been teased that much over that long of a period without release, you know
damn well that at fourteen years of age, it’d take more than once before you’re spent. So
while Mr. Twitchy disappeared a few minutes ago, his relative, Senor Semi-Hardy, as Fleur
later took to calling him (God I hated that name!) took his place.

“Are you warm now?” Fleur asked.

“Oh hell yeah,” I answered, probably with a little too much exuberance, but she didn’t’ seem
to mind.

“Good. Let’s rollover. I have a feeling you’ve always wanted to get me on my back.” Her coy
little smile returned and Mr. Twitchy came up swinging for a repeat performance.

We went another two hours before the night’s activities finally drained me—pun intended.
Then Fleur hopped out of bed and got dressed, much to my displeasure, and pulled up a chair
next to me. As much as I wanted her in bed with me, we both figured that wouldn’t be a good
idea. Especially with me still naked under the covers.

And damn, did we ever cut it close. About fifteen minutes later Madame Pomfrey walked in.
The look on Fleur’s face was precious, followed by her sexy little grin that was full of
mischief as she left for the Beauxbatons carriage.

I woke up around eleven a.m. My back hurt from sleeping most of the last two days, not to
mention being blown into the side of a tunnel wall and then playing bury the biscuit with a
French Veela who was my new—and first— girlfriend. Damn, on second thought, maybe life
was beginning to look up for me.

Madame Pomfrey released me from the Infirmary after another series of checks and warned
me to return at once if anything felt wrong since a few of her tests seemed “off.”

Never did think about how last night would alter test results, that’s interesting!

I showered, dressed, and gathered my books for the afternoon classes. On my way out, I
thought about thieving a couple of squirts of Seamus’ aftershave, but then again, Fleur
seemed to like me just the way I was, so I decided against it.

But that made me think about something else as I made my way out of the common room.
What if she was just caught up in the moment? I mean, after all, I’m just fourteen and she’s
already seventeen and a full-fledged witch!

Then again, she was the one pursuing me, wasn’t she? So no, last night wasn’t a spur-of-the-
moment thing. At least the sex probably wasn’t. But the relationship? Sigh. I hate being a
teenager sometimes.

Late for lunch, I pushed the Dining Hall doors open and the normal noise greeted me.
Figuring that Fleur had already eaten and left, I plopped myself next to Ron. Hermione sat
across from him again. But for some reason, the cow-eyes she was making at him didn’t turn
my stomach this time.
“Feeling better?” she asked.

“Quite a bit, actually.” I elbowed Ron in the ribs a little harder than necessary. He still
deserved it for that I’m bushed comment. “How are you?”

“Sore.” Then he smiled. “Anyway, how did last night go with Fleur?”

I shrugged. “Madame Pomfrey came back early, so we didn’t have that much of a chance to
talk.” Well, that and because the night was filled up with other activities. I hid a grin.

“I still don’t know how the two of you always end up in so much trouble!” Hermione said,
deflecting the awkward silence after my last answer as if my thoughts were somehow known
to the both of them. Honestly, after three and a half years, they might have been.

“The two of us?” Ron looked at me, then back at her. “You’re usually right alongside, giving
it all you got as well!”

Hermione smirked and then muttered just loud enough to be heard. “Keep it up and I won’t
be giving you anything.”

I shook my head. “This is the kind of shit I don’t want to hear.”

They both laughed and then eased the conversation toward theories about the collapsing
tunnel. But a short time later, the talking at our table ceased. I looked up from my plate and
followed everyone’s gaze to a stunning Veela standing a few feet behind me, that playful
gleam dancing in her eyes again. Ah hell, I was in trouble.

“So, is zhis table only for Gryffindors, or can a Gryffindor’s girlfriend sit ‘ere, too?”

A few seats away, I heard someone, I think it was Ginny, choke on her food.

“Girlfriend?” Ron asked with a raised eyebrow. He glanced at me. “Bloody liar.” Then he
faced her again. “Usually, not, but since this ponce needs all the help he can get, please, come
join us.” It was a case of wanting to kiss Ron and castrate him at the same time. He made his
way around the table and sat next to Hermione.

“Looks like you can sit here,” I said, trying out my own smirk. She took advantage of me
standing to give her room to sit, and pressed her body against mine, then landed a
magnificent kiss smack on my lips. By this point, the entire Hall had fallen silent.

Remember earlier when I said we were different people now? Ron is the perfect example. He
noticed the silence (his ability to now observe his surroundings still freaks me out), then
stood up and faced the Hall. “What the bloody hell is everyone staring at? Never see a wizard
kiss his witch before?”

I swear, Ron gaining the ability to face down the entire Hall had to be close to Dark Magic!

He leaned into Hermione and kissed her before straightening back up. “See, nothing to it,
right? Unless you’re Malfoy, of course. Then you just substitute a wizard and go at it.” The
Hall roared in laughter, drowning out any response from the Slytherin table, and he sat down.
“By the way, I should apologize for my stupid invite to the Yule-Ball.” The tips of his ears
burned red and a flush crept up his neck. “It wasn’t my best moment.”

Fleur smiled at him. “Zhank you, I maybe didn’t ‘andle it so well myself.”

“Better than I did,” Ron answered.

Hermione patted his hand. “Don’t worry, your best moment came a few days after the ball as
you apologized to me.”

Great, now Hermione’s making sex puns? It’s bad enough I can’t get out my head how many
times I heard her accepting Ron’s apology—yes! yes! yes! God Yeeeeees!

I shut my eyes and grimaced

“‘Arry, are you okay? I thought we took care of your grimace last night, four times if I
remember right.”

My face heated and I stared at her, that coy smile and dancing light in her eyes as bright as
ever.

Hermione’s eyes, however, darted back and forth between Fleur and me. Then she bit her lip
and grinned at the same time. “And I’m Hermione,” she said, offering her hand to Fleur. “At
least I understand why you and Harry are walking gingerly today.”

The next two months flew by, and as winter gave way to spring, we spent quite many
afternoons outside. Fleur and I, and Ron and Hermione whittled away hours talking and
messing about under the trees and around the lake. Sometimes Fleur’s girlfriends would tag
along, and they were fascinated by the tales Hermione would tell. Though more often than
not, Ron and/or I would end up red-faced.

The new canal that opened that night had finished making its way across the lawn, ending a
few feet in front of the entrance to the castle. Supposedly, Dumbledore himself went in and
sealed off the slide from the second-floor girl’s bathroom. So we were all safe.

But I’ve heard that bollix before. So what happened in Defense against the Dark Arts in early
May shouldn’t have been a surprise.

The class started out like any other one. Moody walked in and most of the fourth years,
including myself, shook a little in our boots. Yeah, he’s a scary bugger. There’s no doubting
that. Despite what I said about the other professors, this one had the scars to prove he was a
badass. But before he could start his lecture that day, a tick developed in his cheek. Now, that
wouldn’t cause anything more than a chuckle usually, but Professor Moody thought it rather
serious and excused himself for a good five minutes.

Mistake number one. Especially when Hermione Granger, Scotland Yard Super sleuth
Extraordinaire in training, got her mind worked up about it.

Once he returned and class began, we almost forgot about it. But about a third of the way
through a lecture on Dark creatures and how to fight them, he mentioned Basilisks, and that
there was once one in the Chamber of Secrets that had been there for centuries.

Only, no one knew about that. The skin that had washed up onto the grass was removed by
Dumbledore and Hagrid before anyone noticed it. I know, I asked Dumbledore about a week
later. Furthermore, he would never mention what was in the chamber. As for Hagrid, he may
be a little loose in the tongue about certain things, but he’d keep a secret about something like
basilisk skin or hatching dragon eggs until his dying breath.

And so: Moody’s mistake number two.

Yeah, Moody. At this point, I’d already come to a conclusion: fuck that Professor moody shit
— this wasn’t the same man.

Hermione, Ron, and I exchanged looks, and I could tell they were thinking the same thing.

“Professor Moody?” Hermione started. “In the first war, did V-V-Voldemort use—”

“Merlin’s battered arse, child! Don’t use his name like that!” he cut her off.

Ron’s knuckles grew white around his wand. He’d met the real Moody once or twice, and
from everything he had told us, Moody would never react like that to a name.

Mistake number three.

“Professor,” Ron began, “my father says he’s had a few conversations with you, and that the
reason you hate Dark wizards so much is because that you almost became one yourself. Is
that true?”

“No,” Moody said. “I hated those damn arts from the beginning; your father must have
misheard me.”

“DRAGONSHITE!” Ron was out of his chair in an instant, his wand already in motion. Now,
when you’ve been through as much as Ron, Hermione, and I have, you tend to trust the
bloke’s instincts in a moment such as this. So I came up out of my chair as well, wand in
hand, and pointed straight ahead.

But then, there was Hermione. And let me tell you, that fecking little witch is scary
sometimes. She had a spell sailing at Moody before he could even react. It missed, but her
second one hit him square in the chest and he bounced off the back wall.

Then his wand came up. At the time, it never occurred to us how stupid we were for taking
on the best DADA professor the school had seen in at least four years, and that included
Professor Lupin.

“You’re not Mad-Eye!” Ron shouted. “He’s sat at my dining room table and told that story a
dozen times!”

A few others in the room gasped, and then most of them did the smart thing; they dove for
cover. Hogwart’s students had seen and heard enough about what happens when the three of
us get into it with a professor.
Scorecard: one dead, one permanently placed in St. Mungo’s, and one blasted back through a
wall and knocked out for a good three hours by a simple Expelliarmus Charm. Oh, oops, no
idea how that last one got around. Sorry Snape, you stupid fucker.

I upended a table, then levitated a second one that had been abandoned by its occupants just a
moment earlier on top of it. That’d make a decent shield, I hoped. Then, on the count of
three, we came out firing. Hermione to the right, Ron over the top, and me, to the left. Moody
shielded all our curses, but luckily, Gryffindor was made up of more than the three of us and I
caught Parvati sneaking around to the side. So instead of dodging back behind the desk-
shield I’d just made, I held my ground and let loose with some of the borderline shit he’d
been teaching us through the year, not to mention a few other surprises that I learned from
Sirius. The bastard just stood there and grinned at me.

“I’m impressed, Potter. Very nice! Keep that arm up or that spell isn’t as strong as you’d like.
There you go! Nice combination. Good! Very good! Unfortunately, I’ll have to cut this short
now, but I’ve enjoyed our session.”

And then he rained curses and spells upon me the likes of which I’d never imagined.
Fortunately, I avoided about half of them. The other half, however…

At least I’d give Parvati enough time. She launched a spell that blew Moody back into the
wall again, though much harder this time. Then Hermione and Ron hit him with Stunners,
toppling him. Neville even had the presence of mind to cast an Incarcerous Spell once he hit
the floor. And me? I was sprawled out on the floor behind me, a hole blown straight through
my shoulder and at least a dozen other curses doing minor things to my body. Why the hell…

“… Does it always ‘ave to be you!” Fleur demanded twenty minutes later, after being fetched
from class.

“Because I’m cute?” She rolled her eyes, and I couldn’t help but be touched by the concern in
her voice.

“More likely, it’s because you can’t keep yourself out of trouble,” Professor McGonagall cut
in.

“Did it ever occur to you to get me or the Headmaster?”

“Hey, no fair having two formidable witches ganging up on me!” See? I was learning! Even
when complaining, compliment the witch!

“Try three, unless you don’t think I’m formidable.” Madame Pomfrey hit me with a Cleaning
Spell a hell of a lot harder than necessary, and my eyes watered. She had a strange way of
showing how much she cared.

“I would never think that about you,” I answered. “Who do you think patches me up all the
time?”

She snorted. “And I’m getting tired of it too. Is it possible for you to go through a year
without getting injured? A term, even? You should try it once, see how it feels.”
I figured now wasn’t the time to remind her that I had made it through a full term without a
visit the first two years, and last fall, as well, to be honest, so I temporized. “Yes, ma’am.” Or
caved, whatever you want to call it.

“That’s better.” She passed her wand over the wound a couple more times. “I don’t like
where this puncture is, there are too many nerve endings in the area.” She pursed her lips in
thought.

“Normally, for something like this, we pass the patient on to St. Mungo’s and let Magical
Surgeons heal it with a lot less pain.”

I heard a “but” coming.

“But…”

God damn it!

“Maybe the pain will teach you to duck your plinking head next time. So, for tonight, it’s
Skelo-Gro and a few other potions, including a wonderful skin-stretcher!”

Then a scary smile crossed her lips. “Oh, and I forgot to mention. I can’t give you anything
for the pain, or let you sleep for most of the night. I need you to stay awake and make sure
you don’t lose feeling in your left arm. Let that be a lesson.” Then she shook her head and got
serious again. “Just two inches lower, and it would’ve been your heart, Harry. There’s no
magical cure to bring you back from the dead. Remember that.”

It wasn’t often you saw Pomfrey’s softer side. “I will.”

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath. “So is he going to be okay?”

“He should be. Keeping him awake to make sure the nerves don’t get pinched off is a
precaution. If they are, it’s a long two weeks in St. Mungo’s and very nasty business
reopening the wound to fix it.”

Professor McGonagall nodded, then turned to Fleur. “I take it you’ll remain to make sure he
stays awake?”

“No,” she said. “I think Ron and ‘Ermione will want some time with ‘im first. I’ll take the
later shift.”

Did her lip just pull up? Ah hell, if this keeps up, I just may enjoy the Infirmary. Around
eleven that night, a very tired Dumbledore walked through the doors, followed by Fleur. Ron
and Hermione were still at my bedside.

“I do have to apologize, Harry.”

“For what this time?”

Fleur’s shot a look at me, but the other two didn’t react. They’d heard this before.
“It seems I have been letting you down a lot lately. The entire school, for that matter. I should
have thought about what would happen if we drove poles into the center of the lake. It just
never occurred to me that the Chamber of Secrets was directly below it.

“And as for Moody … well, it turns out that he was a Polyjuiced Death Eater, one thought
long dead.”

“Kind of like Peter Pettigrew.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, exactly like that. Speaking of which, The Aurors were able to act
on the information they received and captured Peter tonight. It looks like Sirius is going to be
free.”

Well, there’s some good news, at least.

“Then there’s the matter of this tournament. I should’ve realized as soon as your name came
out that it’d take a special kind of magic to befuddle the Goblet, and only a few people could
cast it. But the bickering between the headmistress and us two headmasters took up too much
of my time. We, the professors, have failed to keep the three of you safe for yet another year.
I truly am sorry.” And with that, he patted my arm—the one on the good side of my body—
and left.

“I guess that’s our cue to leave as well,” Ron said. “I’m sure Fleur wants to nurse Harry back
to health in private.”

He snickered and quickly jumped out the way when Hermione tried to kick him in the shins,
only to land in front of Fleur, who was successful where Hermione had failed.

Ron fell over and grabbed his shin, but he couldn’t stop laughing, bringing a chuckle to both
girls. A few minutes later, Madame Pomfrey shooed them both out, then left herself, but not
before she reminded Fleur how to contact her. “Oh, and, if Harry still has feeling in his
fingers by three a.m. he should be okay, Go ahead and curl up on the next bed rather than
walking the halls that late at night.” She shut the door.

I grinned, thinking about the last time we were in this situation, and turned to Fleur.

“What the ‘ell is wrong with you!” she started in. “I ‘ave never known a wizard to take so
many stupid chances! Fighting a Professor? A Death Eater, even! Were you dropped on your
‘ead as a child?”

“Uh…” This wasn’t in my plans, particularly. “Not that I know of, though it wouldn’t
surprise me.” I still hadn’t told her about the Dursleys, and probably never would.

“Yeah, well, me neither! I was talking with zhe others in your class and they said Ron and
‘Ermione ducked behind a table. But you took him on alone, like a mongoose going after a
Cobra!”

“A what?”

“Never mind that! What were you thinking?”

Obviously, she’d had a few hours to work herself up. Personally, I liked my idea better. But
one thing I’ve learned about Fleur Delacour: come clean right away. She’ll be pissed, but
then she’ll get over it. So that’s what I did. I just forgot one little item.

“The Indian witch?” She asked. “The one you went to the Ball with?”

Uh-oh. Strike that, two things I’ve learned about Fleur: one, come clean, right away, and two,
make sure it has nothing to do with another witch, because despite everything else, Fleur’s as
insecure as any other seventeen year old, though for different reasons. I’ve learned that she’s
afraid once people get to know her; they’ll get bored with her body and leave for other
witches that they find more attractive in other ways.

I have no idea why she’d think that, but she does. Personally, I think she’s taking a few too
many curses to the brain if she truly believes it.

“Ah, yeah, but it wasn’t like that.”

“Oh, zhen tell me, Mr. Save-the-Witch, what exactly was it like?”

Mr. Save-the-Witch? Shit. When she started down that road, my only hope was to plunge
headfirst and hope she took mercy on my soul. I took a deep breath and waded in.

Fleur and I had only one fight up to this point, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. I really didn’t want
a second one.

“…And that’s what it was, honestly,” I finished half an hour later. “Enough people have been
hurt around me. In all honesty, I would’ve saved every person in that room except Malfoy;
then again, I probably would’ve tried to save him, too.”

She blew out a breath, her fight gone, thank God. “So, Malfoy? Is that because you like
blondes?”

I shook my head and she giggled before turning serious again. “I’m still mad, but that’s
because I don’t want to see you ‘urt anymore. And after all of ‘Ermione’s stories…”

“Remind me to curse her for that, later.”

“You’ll do no such thing!” But a corner of her lip tugged up “So, Mr. Save-the-Witch, what
should we do with the rest of the night?”

“Read a book?” I suggested. After all, a little sarcasm was well deserved after that comment
about Malfoy! That precedent was already established.

Her eyes narrowed. “If that’s what you want to do, I guess we can.” She waved her wand and
conjured a book out of thin air, then sat down and opened it. I had to admit, I was pretty
damn impressed.

“Once, there was a cute wizard with a stupid habit of saving people.”

Great, it’s a biography!

Cheeky fecking witch.

“He had a very beautiful girlfriend who at first, thought he was just a little boy. But over
time, he proved himself to be a strong and brave wizard, though with a habit of constantly
hurting himself while protecting and saving other beautiful witches.”

I groaned.

She smiled and kept going. “As soon as she got over being angry at him because she thought
he cheated his way into a tournament, she started to notice things about him. Quite soon after
the tournament started, she first learned that he didn’t polish his wand enough—”

“Hey!”

“Shut up! I’m reading a story as you wanted!”

I shook my head and relaxed into the pillow, wondering where this was going. I had to admit,
life would never be boring with her around. And that’s not a bad thing, is it?

“… And that night at the Ball, the beautiful witch couldn’t help but notice how proud he was
of his best friend, Maia. And she did look beautiful. But the wizard was also worried about
his other friend, who wasn’t having such a good time. Unfortunately, that meant he ended up
being an arse to his date—”

“Wait for a second!”

“What?” Fleur gave me an exasperated look, then pointed to the inside of the book, which
neither she nor I could see in the remnants of light that filtered into the room if there was
anything in it at all. “It’s what the story says. Trust me!”

I let out a breath and gave up. When she got to the first night she spent with me here in the
Infirmary, she dragged the scene out, detail by glorious, cock-teasing detail. She recounted
the entire night until Mr. Twitchy came by to say hi again.

Then she finished and set down the book. “So, are you still up?”

“You’re really cute.”

She stood and stepped to the bed, then leaned down, her face directly over mine. I also
happened to feel her hand slip under the covers and slide down my chest, then the outside of
my leg on top of my pajama bottoms, over my thigh to the inside, and back up, grazing the
side of the boys before making a right turn and teasing just above Mr. Twitchy. Then she
stopped. “It’s shame about that shoulder. You can’t do anything that’ll cause it stress.”

“Wha-what?”

She broke out that devilish little smile again. “I guess that means no making love tonight.”

“Oh hell no! If I can take a Piercing Spell through the shoulder, I can put up with a bit of pain
— Oh mother of God!”
It was a hell of a time for the Bone-Growth potions to kick in. Why the hell did Pomfrey put
a delay on it, I’ll never know.

“See what I mean?” she said. “And as much as you may want to, I doubt sacrificing your left
arm for some bouncy time with me is a good trade-off.”

After the little fight earlier, I figured it was time to mend fences, though this would probably
rate in the sugar-shock category. At least I understood Ron a bit better now. “You’re wrong,
I’d sacrifice my left arm just to spend time talking with you. Anything else is just a bonus.”

She canted her head to the right, her eyes unreadable in the shadows. “You really mean that?”

In truth, I was afraid of just how much I was becoming dependent on seeing her face every
morning and kissing her goodnight every evening. Of the way, I felt after talking with her
about absolutely nothing of importance. But I also knew that I just didn’t care about my fears
anymore, either. “Yes. I really do mean it.”

She took my hand and in hers, unspoken emotions passed through the touch as if we said a
dictionary full of words in those few seconds. Then she let go, walked down to the end of the
Infirmary, and stared out the window.

I thought about what I may have said or done wrong, but was clueless. Worse yet, when I
pushed up off the mattress to see her better, my shoulder shrieked in pain and I bounced back
off it, gasping for air.

Luckily, I didn’t reopen the wound. At least I didn’t touch any blood as I felt around the
shoulder.

“‘Arry? What’s wrong?” she asked, running back to me.

“Just being stupid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wanted to know if you were okay and tried to sit up.”

I could see the faint outlines of her head, shaking back and forth slowly. “Yes,’Arry, I am. I
was just… caught off-guard. You’re still young and…”

Yeah, that’s was one of the few touchy subjects still between us. So you can understand why I
went completely still at that point. She noticed it, too.

“No,’Arry, listen, please. What I meant was that I was surprised to hear you want to be with
me for me, let alone you being mature enough to feel zhat way. Wizards twice your age aren’t
even like zhat. That’s all. You, you treat me too well,’Arry Potter.”

Okay, now I was confused. As I said, I know her insecurities, at least a few of them, but, still,
this was a bit over my head. “I don’t know about any of that, I just treat you like a normal
person that I really care about.”
“That’s exactly what I meant,” she answered. A grin caressed her lips; a Fleur grin, one that
came from her soul, rather than her playful or coy self. Then, she looked down at my
midsection.

Her grin morphed and she untucked the sheets from the foot of the bed, pulled them down by
a couple of feet, folded them, and then pulled them down a couple more feet and folded them
again. She did it once more, then levitated the bundle to the next bed over and turned back to
me, lying there in my pajama bottoms and nothing else.

She ran her fingers across my ankles to the insides of my legs, and all the way up until she
couldn’t reach any further, about six inches from happy-land, then pulled back, stepped
around the side of the bed, and hooked her fingers into the waistband on both sides of my
pajamas.

“Lift yourself a little off the bed,” she whispered, and then pulled them off and suddenly I
was waving hello in the night air.

Fleur laid a hand on the inside of my thigh again and ran her nails down my leg as she moved
back to the end of the bed. Then she crawled on top of it, fully clothed, and crept toward me
until she hovered above my midsection.

“We’ve done many things,” she said. “But there’s one I’ve refused, not that you ever
asked…” She gently began to stroke me with her hand. “It puts a Veela in a very submissive
place, and it’s almost against… but after…”

To see Fleur like this, her voice shaking and unable to finish sentences scared me. I reached
for her, but she smiled and shook her head. Then she pushed Mr. Twitchy—did I forget to say
that he’d shown back up again when she crawled up the bed? She pushed him all the way
down to my stomach, and with the tip of her tongue, traced from the middle of the boys all
the way up the underside until she met the head, then down and back up.

My fingers and toes curled so tight I may have broken a couple of blood vessels.

On her next pass, she stopped a little below the head, where the skin is the softest, and flicked
the tip of her tongue across the skin, her left hand holding gently to the head and her right
hand massaging between my legs.

Just when I thought I’d go out of my mind, Fleur started kissing the inside of my thigh,
tracing them down to my knee. I saw her reach for something but wasn’t sure what it was.
Then she moved back up the other leg, tracing those lips on my skin. It was so sensual that
my stomach began quivering.

She continued, her tongue again tracing up across my sack and up the underside of Mr.
Twitchy, who was dancing in delight. But when she got to the head, instead of moving back
down, Fleur puckered her lips and pushed over it. Then she pressed the flat of her tongue
against the underside and leisurely moved it back and forth while taking more and more of
me in her mouth. My eyes rolled up into my head, which is why I barely registered the
strangely erotic feeling of some spell up my backside.
I glanced down in time to see her drop her wand on the bed, then reach down between her
legs—she pulled her knees up so she was kneeling over me—and slipped her hand into her
skirt. It didn’t take much of an imagination to consider where those fingers were, though her
moan helped, and it felt absolutely wonderful since she had me pressing against the back of
her mouth.

Fleur continued the slow rhythm of her tongue, taking me in her mouth and then almost fully
back out, over and over. When she pulled her hand out of her skirt, I could somehow see the
milky liquid that coated her fingers in the darkness, as if her Veela heritage gave it the
faintest magical glow.

I imagined her grabbing Mr. Twitchy with that hand, her juices running down the shaft even
as she glided over the skin, but she had other plans. With her other hand, she lifted my right
knee so it was bent at a forty-five-degree angle, and I followed with the left one as well. Then
she pushed herself further up, took me fully into her mouth again, and placed the tip of her
finger against the center of my arse.

She circled it once, then twice, and then drew her middle finger straight across it, and I
twitched even harder in her mouth. She took that as a sign to continue and gave a slight push.
The juices that she’d coated her hand with made it easy for her finger to slip in about half an
inch.

It was the first time I had ever felt something like that! My arse itched with the sensation, and
I found myself pulling my legs up higher to open myself up to her. She pushed in again,
smooth, steady, until her finger was buried in me, and then pushed the tip of it against the
wall of my arse and pulled out until she felt a little bump. Then she began to massage the
area, her finger working in time with her tongue that was still cradling Mr. Twitchy inside her
mouth. And I literally felt like I was about to split in half.

With her other hand, she pressed down on my stomach, effectively making me her prisoner
from the waist down. I don’t know how long that lasted, but it couldn’t have been too much
longer before I twitched in a different way feeling my orgasm work its way into the head.
Fleur felt it too and buried her finger deep into my arse while taking so much of me in her
mouth that I felt her throat. Then she hummed, and from the middle of my thighs to the
middle of my chest, it felt as though every pleasure sensor was yanked toward one single
point. It was such a wave of pleasure that I clasped my legs around her head and thrust even
deeper. Starbursts exploded in my vision and my heart hammered as I pulsed into her mouth
and down her throat.

Spent, I let go of her with my legs. She pulled back to the tip and then swirled her tongue
around it, and I just about shot out of the bed. The pleasure was so intense it was painful.
Then Fleur let loose that giggle, and that too, sent a wave of pleasure through me, though this
one pleasant.

Finally, she pulled her finger out of my arse, slowly, trailing it on the inner wall, up and over
that bump again, and a third wave of pleasure hit me. When it popped out, she grasped Little
Limpy—of all the pet names she’d given my different states of arousal, that one was the
worst—and pinched softly at the base, running her finger and thumb all the way up, and
swallowing what was left of my orgasm.
She sat up and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?” That was the last thing I expected to hear from her.

“Because you made me feel safe.”

She waved her wand again and cleaned her finger (not that there was anything there, but just
the thought of not cleaning it after that was pretty gross), then her hand of her juices, and
finally, me. She hopped off the bed and with a quick spell, I was again clothed.

After replacing the sheet and blankets, she pulled a chair up next to the bed. “So, can you still
feel your fingertips?”

I let out a low moan. “I can’t feel a damn thing but my pounding heart, but, yes, I can feel
that in my fingertips.”

She reached up and ran the back of her fingers across my cheek. “I’m finished worrying
about age,’Arry. I’m yours completely and totally, for however long you want me.”

I couldn’t think of a time the rest of my life that I wouldn’t want her. But since I was just
fourteen and knew that’d sound way too sappy, I didn’t say it. Instead. I took her hand in
mine and smiled back at her. “I feel the same way.”

The third task was a pain in the arse, and not in the good way that Fleur had introduced me
to, though it was nice entering it knowing that Fake Moody was gone and we would be safe.
Okay, maybe not safe, but there’d be fewer hazards along the way.

And then, there was Fleur. One thing I really liked was her competitive spirit. She wasn’t
over the top, but there was no way she was throwing her part in the tournament for me. I
suggested that I could help her, but she threatened to cut me off for a month.

Trust me, I didn’t help her.

And that’s how I found myself staring at an old shoe, standing in the middle of the maze and
surrounded by hedges on all four sides, except for a small entrance straight behind me.

Originally, the cup was supposed to be here, and whoever laid hands on it won the
tournament. But ever since Moody’s plans were exposed, that idea went out the window. The
shoe was connected to the maze, and as soon as the first person touched it, the maze would
fall away allowing everyone in the stadium to view the winner.

At the same time, a team of Aurors would activate the Portkey charm on the real Tri-Wizard
cup (they’d deactivated the charm that timed it to go active that night and wait for a wizard’s
touch) and disappear to whatever party the Death Eaters had planned for me.

At least that was the plan according to Moody. How the bastard got around telling us about
Voldemort, I still don’t know.

Then again, remember at the start of this story when I said that we’d lost all faith in the
professors and how they were bloody idiots for forgetting things like the Chamber of Secrets?
Yeah, how daft are you when you don’t check to make sure that bloody Death Eaters don’t
have backup plans?

And so, I no more than touched the shoe when I felt that familiar hook in the center of my
belly. As I was yanked out of the maze, I swore I’d find a way to curse every bloody one of
them that had anything to do with this tournament. Then I pushed my feet out in front of me,
gripped my wand, and prepared to land.

The momentum of travel shoved me down hard toward the ground, but I kept my feet moving
and stayed up for once. I didn’t stop running, either. Then I saw a shape move, and my scar
burst open in pain.

A high, cold, and almost inhuman voice rasped, “Capture him!”

But I was moving too fast through the wide-open field. A curse shot past me, then a second,
and I dove, did a somersault, and came up firing. One, two, three curses streaked out and cut
the shit out of Riddle’s helper. She screamed in pain, and I realized I knew that voice.

But it couldn’t be! There was simply no way! How the hell could Mrs. Figg be here?
Arabella Doreen Figg, the fucking Cat Lady of Privet Drive!

It took me a moment to realize that she’d dropped whatever she was carrying. I came closer,
my wand at my ready.

“Hello, Harry.” Amazing how a simple greeting can tear so painfully at a scar. But, after all
that’d happened in my life, and especially this year with the Chamber of Secrets flooding and
Fake Moody, I had reached my limit. This, however, pushed me past it, way past it. It was my
only excuse for what came next.

“Voldemort?”

“Yesss,” he hissed.

“Fuck you.” I picked up a rock that lay next to me and bashed the hideous bastard across the
head. Whatever it was, it wasn’t moving now, thank God.

Figg was still on the ground, moaning in pain, but she made her way to a sitting position.
“What have you done?”

I hefted the rock again. “This, you bitch.”

She collapsed, ironically, with a cut that looked an awful lot like a lightning bolt in the
middle of her forehead. I tossed the rock aside, hit both of them with a Stunning Spell, and
then an Incarcerous just to be safe. A second one bound them together, and then I grabbed a
hold of the ropes, pointed my wand, and cast one more spell. “Accio shoe!”

It flew toward me, but I missed catching it and the heel snapped across the bridge of my nose.
Thankfully, the contact was enough to trigger the Portkey. I felt the hook behind my belly for
the second time in the last couple of minutes, then was yanked away with the other two in
tow. The Portkey dropped me into the middle of pandemonium so great that only the two
greatest destructive forces known to wizard or mankind could create it: government workers
and Professors.

The maze was gone and the other Champions were gathered in a group by the judge’s table.
Then I caught sight of Fleur. I’d never seen her Veela heritage that prominent. Sparks shot
from the palms of her hands, her face was elongated, and her words were hollow, almost as if
they were whistled. She was in a rage that I hoped I’d never cause because I don’t know if I’d
ever live through it.

It’d even be fair to say that she scared me as much as Voldemort, though in a very different
way.

Thankfully, the focus of that rage wasn’t on me. It was on her headmistress and Professor
McGonagall. Snape, on the other hand, was laid out at her feet. And all around, Ministry
workers, Aurors, and other Professors ran about making nuisances of themselves. The crowd
in the stands spoke in whispers, punctuated with the occasional No! or I saw that too!

But in the center of it all was Dumbledore, standing with the real Moody (at least I hoped
that’s who it was), and the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

Nobody had realized I was back. So I decided to reintroduce myself. “Hey, Minister, next
time, why don’t you try believing me you fuck-wand.” Or at least, that’s what I was trying to
say. I won’t bother trying to tell you what I really sounded like with blood still pouring down
my face from the stupid Portkey cracking me across the bridge of my nose. I stepped aside as
they turned to me.

“What’s that?” Fudge said.

“Voldemort, or what’s left of him.”

He jolted. “Don’t say that name! And stop making up lies!”

Okay, that went too far. “Listen here, Goblinfucker, why don’t you take a God damn
broomstick and shove it up your arse to give yourself a backbone, then stand in front of this
leftover piece of Hippogriff shit and ask him his name; or does Lucius Malfoy need his dick
up your ass before his puppet can mouth words for him?”

Talk about utter fucking silence!

Even in the stands, all I could hear was the occasional “He didn’t really just say that, did he?”
That was about the time I remembered they had a modified sound and visual enhancement
spell on the entire pitch.

Guess I just shot my chance for Minister of Magic in the arse.

Thankfully, Sirius approached, shaking his head and almost restraining his guffaws. But
when he reached us, he stopped and looked down at the lump on the ground. “What is that?”

How many would did I hear that question that night? As it turned out, the answer was six.
And that was after I told Fudge who it was. Talk about thick-headed people.
Dumbledore barely got the answer out when he was shoved aside by a furious Veela. She
halted, blinked, blinked again, and then blinked a third time. Her face went back to its
original shape and the sparks ceased from her palms.

I took a step toward her, and then she launched at me, hitting me fully in the chest. She
wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist, raining kisses on me that
were bloody delightful. Then she peppered me with questions. “All zhees blood!’Arry, Oh,
God,’Arry, You’re okay! Please zay you’re okay! What happened? Who did zhis to you!’Ow
did you get back?’Arry, ANSWER ME!”

I held on to her and laughed, which probably wasn’t a good idea in hindsight, but she was too
caught up in the moment to mind.

By the time I could explain the broken nose, Dumbledore had picked up the Portkey. He’d
seen the blood on the heel of the shoe and figured out why the marks on my forehead
matched it. His eyes twinkled like mad as he cleared his throat. “I think that Harry has just
caught the darkest wizard in a century, and did it with only a broken nose as his injuries. It’s a
fantastic feat, I might add.” And then, when Fleur looked back at me, Dumbledore gave me a
wink and put his finger to his lips.

I gotta hand it to him, that was a hell of a nice thing to do.

That ended up being the cue for everyone to start moving again. Ron and Hermione showed
up a few seconds later and Hermione fretted over me like a mother hen. Ron took one look at
me and laughed. But I also caught the relief in his eyes. Then the rest of the Weasley family
showed up and behind them were my classmates and others. Giselene led the Beauxbatons
students my way as well. She flashed Fleur a quick, defiant glance before she wrapped her
arms around me and gave me a big kiss straight on the lips.

I heard Fleur mutter something like “putie,” or “pudding,” but since she was smiling, I didn’t
give it much thought.

Then the Aurors whisked Voldemort and Arabella Figg off to the Ministry. As it turned out,
Voldemort found a way to steal someone else’s magic and give it to Figg fifteen years ago. In
return, she worked for him undercover all this time and never told anyone else about her new
abilities. That also, coincidently, explained the Dursleys.

Compulsion Charms and the occasional Memory Altering Charm had changed them from the
typical British family into the bitches I knew and didn’t love. As it turned out, Voldemort had
backup plans on top of backup plans. One of them was that if I managed to harm him as I did,
while he recovered, Arabella Figg would find a way to make my life a living hell growing up,
just like his. He hoped that I would someday become his protégé. That clarified his little
speech to me my first year, at least.

All of that, however, left one last question. “So who created the new Portkey?”

Dumbledore dropped his eyes to look at the ground. “Severus. It seems your dislike of him
was well placed, after all. He was also the one who suggested driving the poles into the
lakebed, and was specific on where, too. Not to mention he was in charge of arrangements for
the other school’s transportation.”

All I could do was shake my head. Severus Snape. The same slimy bugger that tried to stop
us from running out of the castle that night. “Why did he want Beauxbatons gone?”

“Dat is a school of light.” The other headmaster answered. Karkaroff came to stand on the
other side of Sirius. “If dey go, he tink Durmstrang headmaster and students join Dark Lord,
and France and rest of Europe no get involved. But I joined wrong side once. Not dumb
enough do it twice.”

“Unlike Snape,” I muttered. “So where is he—” And then I remembered and turned to Fleur.

“I didn’t know all this at the time,” she admitted. “After watching ‘im the night the Goblet
chose us, and then everything I’d heard from you three, I already didn’t like him. And when
we were brought ‘ere after you disappeared, ‘e kept going on about you trying to get zhe
spotlight.

‘E pissed me off so bad zhat I punched ‘im.”

“One shot, too,” Sirius added. “Knocked the greasy shite out cold.” I pulled her back to me
and laughed until my head hurt.

We also learned that Snape’s threats that year about Veritaserum were true, as he carried it
around in his pocket all the time. And since Karkaroff had suspected him of associating with
Voldemort again—something to do with the Dark Mark on their arms getting brighter—he
made a spell-line to the laid-out Snape, bound him, then checked his pockets and found the
potion.

Thankfully, I didn’t end up in the Infirmary again that night, or maybe not so thankfully after
my last two trips. Instead, we celebrated late into the night in the Gryffindor common room
as if we’d just won the Quidditch cup. Fleur, Giselene, and a few other French students
joined us, as did Sirius, and even Lupin, who had returned to watch the last task, though he
had stayed somewhat hidden due to last year.

Two weeks later, I sat on a boat in midday. The ocean weather was freezing, even in June.
Around me were Fleur, Dumbledore, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. Ginny almost didn’t come,
but I fought both the Ministry and her parents on her behalf. The Ministry was easy. I just
reminded Fudge that I could go to the Prophet with everything I knew about the Chamber of
Secrets and Malfoy, Fudge’s biggest contributor. As a bonus, I could also tell them about the
way Fudge handled the whole issue with Sirius.

He caved.

Her parents were a little more difficult until Dumbledore stepped in. Ron helped out even,
and finally, they agreed to let Ginny come. Ron held her hand as we crossed the water.

Fleur, to my surprise, had a hold of her other hand. Somewhere in the last few weeks, Ginny
had come to terms with Fleur and me. Seeing her take a couple of steps toward growing up
like that was a big part of the reason I pushed to have her here. The other was that she
deserved to watch this as much as I or anyone else did.

The boat docked, and I looked up at Azkaban. It was as intimidating as everyone said it
would be. And that was without the faint traces of a woman in my memory shouting for
someone not to kill her baby. I ignored it to the best of my ability as we walked into the
prison, through the winding halls, and into a center room separated in half by a double pane
of glass, each a quarter-inch thick.

On the other side, stuck to a gurney with a Sticking Charm and Muggle belts, lay the hideous
remnant of Voldemort.

A few minutes later, a voice echoed through the room on both sides of the glass, “Thomas
Marvolo Riddle: for your crimes of murder, torture, the furtherance of the Dark Arts, multiple
uses of the Killing Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, the Imperius Curse, and attempting to
overthrow the Ministry fifteen years ago, you are sentenced to the Dementor’s Kiss.”

A trap door in the roof slid open and a single Dementor floated into the room. On our side of
the glass, Dumbledore’s Patronus flew in a lazy circle above our heads, so we weren’t
affected by the soul-sucker. My thoughts still wandered, however, mainly to the fact that even
now, the Ministry managed to bollix up Voldemort’s punishment. Why the hell did they think
his name was Thomas instead of just Tom?

The Dementor floated above Riddle, and then with a bony finger, lifted his jaw a little higher.
Riddle tried to fight it, but he was completely helpless. His stoicism finally broke and he
screamed for someone to save him.

And in the gallery, two seats away from me sat Ginny, and she spoke with a voice as cold as
Voldemort’s ever was.

“Go to hell.”

And that said it all.

The Dementor exhaled, lowered its head, and sucked. At first, nothing happened. And then
Riddle started laughing. To my other side, Dumbledore shifted in his seat. I got the strange
feeling that he expected a problem like this, and a second, unsettled feeling settled over me.
Then, the Dementor disappeared up through the trap door. We looked at each other, totally
confused. And all the while, Riddle’s laugh grew more maniacal.

Thirty seconds passed before anything else happened. Then the windows turned white with
frost, making it difficult to see into the room, but we still counted two, three, five, and then
six Dementors as they descended into the room. Then, as one, they leaned forward, their
faces touched, somehow merging and yet staying separate, and then they exhaled, bent down,
and covered Riddle’s face.

He continued that haunted, maniacal laughter.

Then they inhaled for all they were worth.

The laughter ceased, and a moment later, a keening erupted in the room. Pain like I’ve never
known before rocked me. It felt as though someone took a knife and stabbed it into my brain,
behind my scar, and the last thing I remembered was the feeling of bone and skin ripping
open, and then I blacked out.

The Infirmary? Again? This was abso—fucking—lutely ridiculous.

“I think he’s coming around.”

Wasn’t there a movie like this? Where some poor sap had to relive the same day over and
over? I remember a couple of Muggle-born students going spare over it at the start of my
third year.

“That’s a surprise; usually he’s out for at least another two hours.” That was the Madame
Pomfrey I love and care for!

The mattress shifted next to me and something very soft and very warm cuddled up against
the side of my chest. I figured out who it was from the familiar smell of lilacs.

“Wake up,” she whispered in my ear.

I decided to obey and opened my eyes. “What happened?”

Fleur cast a furious glance over my shoulder, but it softened as soon as she looked back at
me.

“It seems Riddle ‘ad anchored ‘imself to this world, and you were one of zhem.”

“Unfortunately, she’s right,” Dumbledore said. “I’ve spoken with the Ministry and there
seems to have been six other…explosions, I guess you could call it, of magic at the same
time the Dementors took Tom’s soul. One of which was right here at the school.”

I closed my eyes. It was just par for the curse, wasn’t it? And yes, I meant that exactly as I
said it.

“So what now?” I asked.

“Now,” Fleur said, and her voice was so firm it seemed as if she was daring anyone to
challenge her. “We are going to skip the meal tonight and the normal going away things for
tomorrow, and I’m taking you to my home in France for two weeks, where, ‘opefully, you
won’t have to fight for your life every other day!”

“And then,” Another voice cut in. I looked down at the end of the bed to find its owner and
smiled at Sirius who for the first time I could remember, looked both clean and healthy. “If
you still want to, you’ll come live with me.”

It was too much to hope for, I looked at Dumbledore. “What about the Dursleys?”

“Well,” he began. “First, Sirius and I visited them a couple of days ago. We wanted to get
everything straightened out before having this conversation with you. They are, as you can
imagine, horrified by the way they’ve treated you the last few years. They’ve decided to press
charges against Arabella in the wizarding world. Then—”

“You mean they don’t hate wizards and think we’re freaks or unnatural?” I couldn’t believe
that’d be true. Not after the years I spent with them.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Dumbledore said. “Your Aunt still has some pretty strong feelings
about the wizarding world, but that’s because she feels like it stole her sister, and then killed
her. From her perspective, I can’t really argue her point, either. Your Uncle couldn’t care less
about wizards, but he’s very protective of your Aunt and that’s how the Compulsion Charm
was able to get him to hate anything magical. But to answer your question, no, they don’t
think we’re freaks.”

Fleur touched my arm. “Even so, you don’t have to see them again if you don’t want to.”
Talk about a Bludger straight to the brain! It was as though my world had been turned inside
out. In fact, that’s exactly what was happening. I took a deep breath and tried to sort things
out. “I, I don’t think I could live with them again, even if they are so different. Too many
memories.”

“I understand,” Dumbledore said. “Just know that they want to meet with you and apologize
at some point, though they’re willing to wait until you’re ready. They believe they should’ve
been able to beat the spells and blame themselves for what happened.”

I nodded, realizing that someday I’d probably have to see them again. I really didn’t want to,
but it was the right thing if they were as innocent as everyone was saying.

“So what do you think, Harry? Do you want to live with me?” Sirius asked again.

I smiled. “Would we be sleeping in your cave?”

He snorted. “I put the Black money to work and bought a flat in London. Five bedrooms, six
bathrooms spread out over two floors, and I’ve threatened Remus that if he doesn’t come live
with me, I’ll send my Auror niece after him. Oh, and you’ll have chores to do and proper
supervision, but we’ll have a hell of a lot of fun, too.”

How could I say no to that? “Sound’s perfect, as long as my girlfriend can come over.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, looked at her, and then back at me again. “After the way she laid
out Snape? She’s welcome in my house any day, but the two of you are not sleeping in the
same bed. End of discussion.”

Fleur blushed! That day was getting better by the minute! “That’s fine; we’ll just share the
sofa.”

Holy hell! I never knew a Veela could turn that red! I wrapped my hands around her and
kissed her on the top of the head. “Of course, I’m just kidding.” Then I put my lips to her ear.
“I’ll slip you into my bedroom as soon as the old bastard falls asleep.”
Her half-hearted attempt to slap at my arms told me that was exactly what she expected me to
try, and the way Sirius had his head cocked to the side told me he heard every word and
expected me to fail as well. This was going to be a great summer.

“Then if that’s settled, Harry, Fleur, I believe you have a Portkey to catch?”

“Ain’t no fucking way!” I slapped a hand over my mouth. I didn’t mean for it to come out
that strong. “Sorry, but after my last Portkey hijacking, I’d prefer to take a boat or even a
plane to France.”

“A plane?” Fleur pulled back from me. “Those Muggle things that fly in the air?”

“Yep,” I answered. “Never been on one, but I think it’d be a lot of fun. And of late, I’m more
willing to trust Muggle travel over the magical type.”

Dumbledore nodded. “I understand your reluctance, Harry. If you would allow me, I’ll
Apparate you and Ms. Delacour to the airport. There is a magical/Muggle passage room that
allows us to use Muggle means of transportation when necessary.”

Two hours later, Sirius was ready to Apparate my trunk back to his—er, our new home. That
was a strange thought. He promised to burn all the clothes. Fleur had plans for shopping in
France anyway, though the way she and Hermione giggled together, I wasn’t at all happy
about that particular circumstance. It seemed she and Ron would be visiting France in a few
days and she and Fleur had already planned on taking us dreadful wizards who have no
fashion sense shopping.

I swear, the shit we suffer for our witches.

That left me with a small bag of clothes for the next two days, a few personal items, and my
wand. Madame Maxime said she’d keep Fleur’s trunk at Beauxbatons until we picked it up
sometime next week. She offered to bring it to the house, but since I have never seen another
magical school, I asked if we could pick it up. That way Fleur could show me around her
school. I think I scored a few points with Fleur on that one.

The flight to Marseille was enjoyable, and Fleur got a kick out of a couple of young female
flight attendants that flirted their arse off with me. That’s one thing I still don’t understand
about women, witches or not. One can just say hi and it’s like declaring war. But another can
flirt their tits off, and it’s just amusing. I guess there are some things a wizard will just never
understand.We arrived at Fleur’s house at the south end of Marseille about nine-thirty that
night. It wasn’t palatial, but it wasn’t small, either. Four bedrooms, an extra den, and a Great
Room beside the sitting room, all atop about an acre of land.

We walked through the front door and dropped our stuff off on a little bench that ran the
length of the foyer.

Fleur called out in French and a few seconds later a similar-looking blonde, though taller and
probably four years older, sauntered into the room. She smiled at Fleur, and then looked at
me. Her smile turned into a shit-eating grin.
“‘Ello, little sister. Looks like you got a prize in the tournament after all.”

Fleur rolled her eyes. “‘Arry, meet my older sister, Sabine. Sabine, ‘Arry Potter.”

Sabine dipped her head. “‘Ello ‘Arry. I’ve ‘eard a lot about you from our other sister. Seems
you made an impression on ‘er when you and your friend saved her from the lake.”

She looked so much like Fleur that it was uncanny, but she was most definitely her own
distinct person. “Not really saved,” I answered. “She wasn’t in danger, but…”

“But that didn’t matter,” Fleur interrupted. “Mr. Save-the-Witch does it often, it seems.”

At least this time, her words were light-hearted.

Sabine eyed me up and down like a slab of beef. “He’s cute.”

“I thought so,” Fleur agreed, holding back a grin as if she knew where her sister was going
with this. Suddenly, I regretted making her blush earlier.

Then Sabine leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen and took a bite of an apple I just
now noticed she was holding. “So… any reason you decided to come ‘ome tonight when
everyone else is at Grandma’s for the next two days?”

“They are?” Fleur asked, both eyes wide open.

Sabine rolled hers in response and muttered something in French. Then walked over to the
fireplace and threw in a pinch of floo powder. Strangely enough, it was red here, and the
flames turned a purplish color. She called out a name, then spoke in rapid-fire French before
switching back to English for my benefit.

“Yes, zhe whole night. I zhink my little sister wants the ‘ouse alone to fuck ‘er boy toy.”

Fleur growled and Sabine threw her head back and laughed so hard that she fell over, landing
on her arse. When she finally was able to breathe again, she stuck her head back into the
fireplace. “On second thought, I left my clothes over there last time, right? Good. Step aside.
I’m coming through now.” And with that, she disappeared.

So much for meeting family, I guess. But then it hit me that yes, we were in a house, alone,
for two days, without anyone around to bother us.

Fleur took my cheeks in her hands and laid a soft kiss on my lips. “Zhat wasn’t the reason I
brought you ‘ere tonight. So much ‘as happened this year that I didn’t want to give fate
another opportunity to take a shot at you back there. And then, after watching you fall to the
floor in that prison today, I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t bear to see you like that ever again. I
said things to Dumbledore I zhink ‘e has never ‘eard before.”

I pulled her hands off my face and held them. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she continued, “We do ‘ave the ‘ouse all to ourselves now, and I wouldn’t want
to break zhe tradition of a night with you after visiting the Infirmary.” She shoved me against
the wall of the foyer and pressed herself into me, her hips grinding against my waist.

This time, however, I wasn’t injured. And as I said before, the trip over here left me as horny
as hell already. So I dropped the bag that was slung over my shoulder and slid my hands
under her arms, then picked her up by the armpits and turned around, pushing her against the
wall. She let loose a squeal of surprise that went straight to my cock.

Yeah, not Mr. Twitchy tonight. Whatever was driving us was base and visceral and I
hungered to bury myself in her. And the way she responded, she wanted every inch of it well.
We’d had sex dozens of times by this point, but tonight, it was going to be different. I just
didn’t know how different.

I decided to take advantage of the situation. While pressing her against the wall with my
body, I lifted both of her hands and pinned them above her head with one of mine. Then I
trailed my other hand down her side, letting my fingers lightly dance across the fabric of her
Muggle t-shirt and jeans that should have been illegal for the way they looked on her. Huh,
looks as though traveling Muggle-style does have its advantages!

She widened her stance enough that I could press into her and let her grind her mound against
me, but I pulled back instead, just far enough that she couldn’t touch me while keeping her
pressed against the wall with my chest.

Then I put my lips up to her ear. “Tonight, love, I’m in charge.”

Her whimper slash moan made me smile. And then I began. Starting at her ear, I traced kisses
down under her jaw, all the while keeping her hands pinned, and teasing the side of her body
with my other hand.

After a minute or so of that, I worked my free hand up under her shirt and around the back to
the bra strap, and with a quick squeeze, and then a pull and push of my forefinger and thumb,
the bra snapped open.

So did her eyes.

That was the moment she realized she was in deep shit. As it turned out, so was I.

I pushed the shirt and the bra up over her head, letting go of her arms only long enough to
clear them. Then I pinned them against the wall again. She took a ragged breath, which I cut
off with my mouth, and she pressed herself into me once more, the passion of her lips aided
her tongue trying to dominate mine as if she were seeking control of the situation by turning
my own drive against me.

And then the primeval animal in me roared back. Tonight, I would dominate her as long as
she had breath to scream, moan, or gasp her desire to keep going. I eased back and slid a
hand down her stomach and under her waistband, and she gasped.

There, I teased the skin where those wonderful last little lines of ab-muscles met the rising of
her mound, curious that I wasn’t yet feeling the close-shaven pubic hair.
I leaned in for another kiss, and as she rose to meet my lips yet again, I pulled away, just
enough, then moved forward as she leaned back and touched her upper lip with both of mine,
softly biting it and pulling on it with my teeth. And then I slipped my fingers down a little
further, under the waistband of her knickers.

Her breathing grew even more ragged, and I took the opportunity to attack her mouth again,
pushing in my tongue and teasing hers with the tip of it. Then I pulled away, and continued
with my hand until I touched the very top of her pussy.

Even the sound of the word in my head made my cock pulse. It was dirty, banal, and fucking
awesome. Oh, and smooth! The witch had shaved herself bare!

I growled into her mouth at that revelation and could feel her laughing. But I knew her well
enough to know she’d take advantage of the moment to turn the tables on me, and that was
not going to happen.

I pulled my hand out of her pants and pushed my entire body against hers, giving her the
chance to grind on me that she was longing for. And damn if it didn’t feel good! But she
missed me pulling out my (real) wand and hitting the wall just above her hands with a
sticking charm. Then I readjusted, pushing both arms into the Charm.

And this time, she gasped. Her eyes opened wide and I took advantage of her surprise,
pushing with my hips and grinding into her. With both of my hands free, I moved to her
breasts, caressing them like newly found treasure. But I didn’t plan on wasting much time
there tonight. At least not now. One hand moved down the center of her body, tracing lower
until I got to the waist of her jeans, and with a snap, they came undone. I unzipped them and
pushed them off her unbelievably tight arse, letting them slip to her ankles, along with her
knickers that were completely soaked already.

Then I placed a hand on either side of her, and leaned in as if I was doing a push up on the
wall, and kissed her hard, not letting any other part of her body touch mine.

Her whimpers increased, turning into moans, and when I pulled back from kissing her on
occasion, pleas and oaths of what she would do to me if I didn’t take her right the fuck now!
At least that’s what it sounded like since most of it was in French by this time.

And I ignored her completely. Instead, I moved back across her cheek to her ear, then down
under her jaw and across her neck, following the line my hand had taken just a couple of
minutes ago. I bent at the knees as I dropped lower until I was kneeling before her and lay my
first-ever kiss on her pussy.

Then I decided my tongue needed to dominate that entry as well, and with the tip, I pushed in
until I could taste that milky white liquid, and licked all the way up to the red ball of flesh
that peeked out of the middle fold at the top.

She bucked against me. I took a page of her own book and used the opportunity to hit her
arse with a cleaning charm. Then I licked again at the ball of flesh until milky-white streaks
ran down both legs. I caught it with my fingers, tracing back up to the source, and then
pushed in ever so gently.
When I figured they were wet enough, I withdrew my fingers and lifted Fleur so that she was
sitting on my shoulders, her pussy against my mouth. She wrapped her legs around my head
while making noises that I thought only barn animals could make.

Then, with another lick of that bulb of flesh, I pushed my middle finger into her arse. And I
didn’t stop until it was completely buried in her. Then I pulled it almost all the way out,
extended my forefinger, and pushed again, this time burying the other finger in her pussy. I
put my tongue to work on her clit again, sucking and mashing as I kept her pinned to the wall
with my left hand, her legs wrapped around my head.

And then I pushed my fingers even deeper. Fleur’s breaths came in gasps as her voice rose in
pitch and I continued to push and lick, push and suck, push and lick again until she screamed
something unintelligible in any language and both holes puckered, squeezing down on my
fingers. She bucked hard and buried her clit into my mouth, and I returned the favor, burying
my fingers into her holes once again.

It took every bit of my strength to keep her pushed against the wall as she jerked and
wiggled, screaming in pleasure, and filling my mouth with her cum. She continued for a good
thirty seconds before calming down, then opened her eyes.

“I think I’m finished now,” she said and took a deep breath.

“Oh really?” I raised an eyebrow. “Because I haven’t even started with you yet tonight.”

That was the biggest mistake of my life. Fleur looked down at me, unclenched her legs from
my neck, and tried to stand—though I can tell you with pride that it took three attempts—and
then narrowed her eyes before speaking.

“Unstick my hands, ‘Arry Potter. And pray you live through this night.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered, matter-of-factly. “Now!”

I shrugged, picked up my wand again, and removed the sticking charm.

Now, after a witch (or any woman, probably) has an orgasm, there’s usually a bit of time at
least where they’re not so…rambunctious, should we say? At least that’s what I thought.
Hell, after being with Fleur all spring, I had no reason to think anything else.

Oh, God was I wrong.

She closed the distance between us, grabbed the baggy shirt of my cousins that I was
wearing, and literally ripped it off my body with one tear, from the collar straight to the hem.
She flung it over her head and stocked me, bare-arsed, across the foyer and into the main
room.

Did I say I was backing up by this point? Well, I was. Though I’m not ashamed to admit a
good part of it was to get an eyeful of the goddess hunting me at the moment. I backed all the
way across the open space until my back hit the far wall. Then Fleur attacked.
She took three steps, dropped in front of me, and then with a yank, my jeans and boxers were
around my ankles. With another, she ripped them off my legs, shoes along with them. I was
lucky I didn’t fall on my arse. Then she put both hands on my waist, pushed me up against
the wall just as I had her, and buried my cock deep into her throat until her chin touched my
balls. Then she pressed her tongue against the underside of my cock and pulled back. She
moved so fast that I worried about her getting whiplash, but she kept going, gobbling as
much as possible every time she pushed forward.

But I wasn’t done being in control. I let her think that she was winning, and then struck,
grabbing her under her arms and lifting straight up into the air. Her lips made a popping
sound as they came off my head. I spun around, pushed her against the wall again, and
pressed with my hips to hold her there until I could get a firm grip on her arse. Once I had
that, I lifted her up and plunged my cock deep inside her. She wrapped her legs around my
waist and slammed her ass against my balls, even as her hands clasped around the back of my
neck and pulled my mouth back to hers.

And I pounded her. Over and over, and her tight little arse worked overtime, pulling up and
meeting every thrust, driving my cock deeper inside her body. She almost gained control
again, but I lowered my hips and pushed at a more upward angle, hitting the top of her pussy
wall and pushing straight across her G-spot with the head of my cock.

And she fucking howled.

That was when I knew I had control for good in the second round! I wasn’t planning on
giving her any mercy, either, plunging back and forth, and hitting that same spot every time. I
didn’t even bother going deep anymore, as this wasn’t about my orgasm now. It was about
proving to Fleur Delacour that I, Harry fucking Potter, could dominate her in the most
pleasurable ways possible.

And that I did when, just a minute later, she let out another scream and flooded my balls with
her cum. It dripped off me and as I looked down, I realized that we were standing in a puddle
of her juices.

Fleur covered her eyes and tried to gain control of her breathing. “Merci,” she begged. “You
win. Let me rest or I might go mad from pleasure. You were magnifique.”

Let me tell you, despite what anyone else says, there is nothing better than a Veela telling you
that you’re a magnificent cocksman!

I stepped back and let myself drop out of her so she could rest. She looked down, then back
up at me. “You haven’t had la petite mort?”

Now, don’t know much French. But I do know what petite means and after the last few
weeks, I sure as hell know what mort means. Hence, my absolute confusion. “The little
death?”

She giggled. “It’s a, how do you say, shoefamism?”

“Euphemism?”
“Yes, that! For an orgasm.”

Huh, so you do learn something new every day! “Nah, I was more interested in seeing how
many times I could make you have one.”

And then she did it. Cow eyes! Big, round, and glassy, though of course, these were blue
rather than brown. And now I understood how Ron could lose himself in Hermione’s eyes
when she stared at him like that.

“Go sit on zhe couch, ‘Arry, please?” Her voice was soft, quivering, and vulnerable—and for
the second time in the last few months, my heart clenched at the sound of it.

I did as she asked, sitting on the tan couch that sat in the middle of the room, facing the
fireplace. She followed, and then knelt between my legs.

“I told you zhe last time that Veela do not like submissive positions.” She smirked. “Unless
zhey’re getting expertly boned.”

I coughed, not expecting that phrase to come out of her pretty little French mouth. Ever. “But
not like this.”

Her hands were already massaging me. Stroking slowing up my cock, twisting on the head,
and then working in another twist on the way back down. “But you, ‘Arry, make me want to
do it for you. I think zhat it is because, in your own way, you ‘ave done the same for me.”

She lowered her head and licked across the top of my cock. Then focused on it with her hand,
twisting back and forth while working the last two inches over and over as she sat back on
her heels. She buried her other hand deep into her pussy and I moaned at the sight.

“You like zhat? Maybe you’re more of zhe dirty boy than I thought, no?” Then she leaned
back so I could get a better look at her disappearing fingers trick. Mr. Twitchy and Cock
joined as one, even as her other hand kept its rhythm on the head and skin just below it.

Her fingers reappeared and she cupped the fresh juices that flowed down her leg, wiped them
off, and smeared it all over those fabulous, small grapefruit-sized breasts. Then she leaned
over and placed a hand on either side of them, sandwiched my cock in the middle, and slid
down it. I closed my eyes in ecstasy. Then, just as my cock was about to peek through the
top, I swear to God, it felt as though I had slid into her mouth, even if I knew that was
physically impossible at that angle.

Then she pulled up, letting the warm, soft flesh encompass my cock again. She pulled higher
and higher, until I almost slipped out of the bottom, and then she pushed down once more. I
opened my eyes to see her press her chin lightly against her chest, and the head of my cock
slipped between it, again feeling like I was in her mouth.

After all the foreplay and sex, I couldn’t last much longer, and somehow she knew it too. A
minute, maybe two more of that, and then she scooted back and took me into her mouth for
real, not stopping until her nose was firmly pressed against my skin. She reached up and took
both of my hands in hers, lacing her fingers through mine and then holding them tight as she
continued the smooth motion with her mouth.

The contact was so intimate and soft and wonderful after the lust-fueled fucking earlier that I
lost myself in the joy that was Fleur Delacour, laid my head back, and just let go.

I barely remembered to warn her a few minutes later, but she didn’t seem to care one way or
another. There was no moaning or humming this time. No teasing fingers. Just holding my
hands and letting her warm mouth and tongue heal a bit of whatever was broken inside of me
—shit I didn’t even know was there.

Ah, fuck. Now I’m starting to get poetic. Sorry about that, but I can’t think of any other way
to explain it. When I did release, she kept going, swallowing everything she could. Then she
looked up at me and grinned. But a bit of me stayed on her lip until she licked it off with the
tip of that tongue. I closed my eyes and moaned in delight over what just happened. To be
honest, it was the best La petite mort I ever had.

“Follow me,” she whispered, then pulled me up off the couch and led me to the last door on
the left at the far end of the hall. She pushed it open and pulled me into her bedroom that was
painted light blue. White curtains that looked as though they’d let in too much light in the
morning covered the window, and a bedspread and sheets of the same cover covered a queen-
size bed.

We crawled on it and kicked off the covers, then she rolled on top of me, hit her mouth with a
Breath Charm (for which I was very thankful!), then put her wand on her nightstand and let
her lips graze across mine.

My last thought was how and where she kept that wand because I didn’t see her with it when
we walked back to the bedroom. But that thought slipped away and I felt that I could melt
into her. We lay on the bed, our lips barely apart, and held each other. Every slight movement
brought them together for another kiss, some of which she lightly pursed her lips for, and
some of which she didn’t.

I let my hands wander across her hips, up the side, where I could just barely feel the outline
of her ribs, and across her shoulder and into her hair. Then back down the delicate skin of her
back and to that arse that was both soft and firm, if that makes any sense.

We must have laid that way for twenty minutes, and the whole time, Fleur’s breath steadied
more and more, growing deeper until I thought she’d fallen asleep.

I was wrong. So wrong. She hadn’t fallen asleep; she was playing possum, gaining her
strength to dominate me in the third go-around.

At first, she nuzzled into my neck, and I thought that was it, she had fallen asleep until I felt
her lips against my skin—puckered and newly moistened. Next were her teeth, nipping
enough to almost pinch, but not hurt. And someplace in that, her hips began a gentle rocking
motion. I responded in the way any and every male on the face of this earth would.
Fleur lifted her head, satisfied with her work on that side of my neck. “I think you have a
cramp, no?”

I chuckled and accepted that I’d never live that one down. “I think so. I know that Muggles
often will rub a cramp for relief, want to give it a try?”

She raised an eyebrow, that coy smile showing back up as well. “Let me zee ‘ow I can ‘elp,
no?” Only then, as she deepened that accent, knowing what it did to me, did I realize that yes,
this was the deep shit that I had stepped into earlier. She spread her legs and dropped down
against my thighs, then rotated up, pressing my cock against my stomach and running her
pussy across the length of it, up and down, coating it with that milky juice that seemed to
never end.

Then her smile turned into a large, very wicked grin, and she sat up, turned around, and
started rubbing her arse against me. Those soft but firm cheeks separated and I slipped in
between them, running the length of her arse. And every time my head hit the little hole in
the center, she caught her breath. My cock started itching to feel it even more, to plunder the
last remaining secret of Fleur’s body.

Then she sat up a little more on knees and let me come erect, and made sure I stayed that way
by leaning forward and giving me an up-close and personal view of her arse, pussy, and
fingers plunging deep into her again. Oh God was that a sight to behold. Every few seconds,
she’d pulled her hand out and give the head of my cock a gentle twist, her coated fingers
slipping around it with just enough friction to send a chill up my spine, and then back into
herself. She must’ve done it six times. But the last time, instead of plunging back into her
pussy, she aimed higher and extended one finger, slipping it deep into her little arse, then
swirled it around in there as if she wanted to make sure it was all ready for . . .

No! She wasn’t going to let me—

There was no way I was getting that lucky!

She pulled the finger out, rocked back on her knees, centered herself above me and pulled her
arse cheeks open, then lowered herself. The second my tip hit that little circle of flesh in her
arse, I knew I was Fleur’s slave for the rest of the night.

Slowly, so much slower than ever before, she lowered herself on me, and I felt that circle
stretch wider and wider as I pushed inside. It wasn’t as hot as her pussy, but so much tighter.
And the more she lowered her body, the deeper I slid. Twice she stopped, a grimace of pain
creeping across her beautiful features, and twice I asked if she wanted to stop. Begging her
silently to say no, but not daring to say that out loud. Funny how all those other things I never
thought I’d say out loud seemed like nothing now.

But both times she took a breath, relaxed her body, and then continued the downward
movement, until she was sitting in my lap, my cock deep inside her arsehole.

She leaned back, lying on top of me now, looked over her shoulder, and kissed me on the
bottom of my jaw.
I felt myself slipping out, so I raised my knees, and she laid hers on top of mine, then reached
out to the sides, grabbed the sheets, and started rocking.

At first, I didn’t move, both too petrified to hurt her, and also too paralyzed by the sensations
and the dirtiness of what we were doing. But then that last thought only made my cock twitch
harder.

She moaned.

And I knew that moan! Oh God, that was her pleasure moan! She’s enjoying this, really and
truly enjoying it! And if that was the case, then who the hell was I to deny her pleasure? So
as she rocked back, I pulled the opposite way and truly felt my cock move inside her arse for
the first time. That fueled the fire, and I pushed back forward with a little more authority until
the tops of my thighs touched the bottom of hers, then pulled back again. Fleur moaned
louder, longer, and her fingers clenched the bedsheets, knuckles began turning white as I
moved in and out of that tight arse.

At that point, I realized there was a whole host of other enjoyable things this position gave
me the opportunity to do, and I let my hands wander once more. Across her sides again, and
then drawing my fingernails up her breasts to the nipples, standing as erect as I’d ever seen. I
rubbed them slowly with the palm of my hand, and then noted with humor that the quicker I
moved my hands, the quicker her hips worked, even though we were still going slowly at the
moment. I let my right hand move down her stomach, tracing circles on the taut skin with my
nails while I then wrapped my right arm around her, tucked it under both breasts, and held
her close to my chest.

The way she was curled up on top of me made it an easy reach as I kept working further
down, until my fingers touched the split of skin at the very top of her pussy, still amazed at
how it felt without any hair.

And all the while, I kept pushing inside that amazingly tight little arse as she clenched against
my cock, and met every thrust with her own push toward my lap.

I pressed, working my fingers in a downward circle until I reached that ball of pink flesh
sticking out from underneath the fold of skin. At once, her moans grew deeper and longer,
and her rocking became more intense. I kept pace with my own hips, still amazed that I was
plunging so deep into her.

Then I applied more pressure and figured out that with my arm around her, her knees having
slipped to the outside of mine, and my hand holding her the way it was, I had almost
domination over Fleur’s body. The only thing I couldn’t control was the momentum of her
hips, but I could help direct it. That thought launched a picture in my head, and I went with it,
reaching down even farther. It was almost a stretch now, and if Fleur was any taller, or if she
was built any different, I wouldn’t have reached.

I wrapped my two middle fingers around her pelvic bone, letting the palm of my hand work
her clit, and pulled back as she pulled back, squeezing just enough to make my hand slip.

“OH! OH! OH!” Fleur gasped.

Yeah, I sure did something right! I pushed my hand back to her pelvis, my palm still on top
and my two fingers inside, and then I realized that I was hitting that dime-sized little patch of
skin at the top of her pussy wall that sent her spare. She increased speed, and I followed
along, my hips still matching her motions burying my cock in her arse and my hand
squeezing and releasing with every thrust.

And except for those hips that kept rocking away, I still had full domination. Oh! Fuck! Yes!
Then, out of nowhere, she stopped. I had no idea what I did wrong. Hell, I was too afraid to
ask and too stunned by the loss of sensation. My cock slipped out of her as she rolled off me.

“Stay there!” she commanded. And raced out of the room. A few seconds later she came back
and dropped her bag by the bed, palming something, but not letting me see it.

Then she repeated her earlier show, fingering herself, rubbing the head of my cock, then
fingering herself again until she decided to catch her juices and rub up and down my shaft.A
scoot backward, a quick positioning, and then she dropped her arse back onto me, driving my
cock all the way into her, and she howled in delight. I quickly got my knees back where they
were, wrapped my arm under those perfect breasts again, and met every thrust with my own.
But after only a few seconds, Fleur leaned back, shot me that coy grin, and then pulled my
hand away from her pussy.

“Get ready, little wizard, because I’m about to introduce you to a whole new level of orgasm!
After all,” she let out another groan, and then her eyes narrowed. “I owe you for that little
trick you pulled earlier in the foyer.”

I heard something buzzing, but had no idea what it was. I did, however, see Fleur, palming
something that looked like a small egg. She reached down and shoved it as far into her pussy
as she could, then grabbed the sheets again. Her breath caught and she started bucking.

I almost laughed, thinking that whatever she just did had backfired on her. But then I felt the
entire inside wall of her arse vibrating, sending shockwaves of pleasure against the underside
of my cock exactly where she was flicking that night in the Infirmary. And I started bucking
with her.

She let go of the sheets, put her hands on my hips, and pushed straight up, then she slammed
down on my cock. Another howl of delight escaped her throat and she rose off me again and
slammed down. Then she arched her back and leaned her head as far back as possible so that
she was glaring at me through the tops of her lust-filled eyes.

“Fuck me! Fuck deep in my ass Potter! Do it! NOW!” She growled. Then she slammed down
on my cock again.

I obeyed, alright, and slipped my hand back to her pelvis and squeezed, as much this time for
leverage as anything else, and I was literally helping lift her off the bed, my fingers almost
slipping out, and then pusher her down into my lap as I mashed my palm into her clit and my
fingers into her pussy.

My ears rang, my heart raced, my cock pulsed. I gritted my teeth, and growls and snarls
escaped my throat. I yelled for every deity known to man and even a few that I’d made up on
the spot, and Fleur answered me, growl for growl, snarl for snarl, and deity for deity. Then
she screamed, and I thought I’d broken something in her and stopped until she threatened to
rip my dick off if I did.

So I picked my rhythm back up, but my hand slipped out of her pussy. Instead, I concentrated
on her clit, which was so wet by now that all I could do was rub my entire hand across it as
fast as I could. Another scream shattered my concentration, this one louder, higher, and
longer, and she lifted her arse almost completely off my cock and pounded down one more
time.

And then it was as if someone broke her fucking water hose. I guess that would be me
because she sprayed the bed, the wall, and the ceiling with clear, hot liquid. Wave after wave,
squirt after squirt, and she timed it with her hips, jamming my cock into that tight arse just an
instant before each spray.

Then she clenched both holes as if a second wave hit her. And sprayed again. But the
sensation overloaded every last nerve and I couldn’t hold anything back any longer. I didn’t
even have time to warn her that I was about to unload into her arse.

But I didn’t have to. She felt my cock twitch and clenched around me even tighter.

“Yes! ‘Arry! Oh God, Oh God, Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, YES! YES!” she screamed as she
continued to gush. And with one last push as hard and far into her arse as I could get, all the
muscles in my ass squeezed, and I erupted inside of her. Two, three, four times I felt it shoot
out as she practically begged me to keep—

“Cumming deep in my tight ass, ‘Arry!”

And then she squeezed one last time, let out one more massive gush of orgasm, and with it,
that little vibrating egg came flying out of her pussy. At the same time, I gave one last thrust
and unloaded what I had left into her.

Neither of us moved for a good five minutes, nor did we say a word. We just lay there, me
growing soft inside her arse, and the both of us watching liquid drip off the ceiling and run
down the walls.

Finally, she moved a leg, hooked it under my knee, and rolled onto her side, pulling me with
her. I slipped my other knee out from under her, then pulled her tight into my chest, and
kissed her on the cheek from behind. She wiggled her arse, which sent waves of pleasure now
so intense that they were painful through my cock that had managed to stay buried.

I gasped and she giggled, lifted her wand which was still lying on the bed, and retrieved the
sheets and cover via an Accio Spell. They stretched out over us. Fleur pushed her back
deeper into my chest, laid her arm over mine, and I swear I hear her purr.

Weren’t Veela descendent from a bird?

I figured now wasn’t the time to ask. Seems as though there’d be many times like that in my
future. But as I was pondering that bit of trivia, Fleur barely turned her head, already half
asleep, and whispered.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you, ‘Arry Potter. If that’s okay.”

I blinked away whatever it was that decided to lodge in my eye and caused it to grow moist
before I answered. “I don’t know how to do it, but I think I want to learn how to love you,
too, if you’ll teach me.”

And she understood. Hermione and taken her aside after we found out about the Dursleys
being victims, and explained to her all that had happened.

I could see Fleur’s cheeks pull back in that smile that was all Fleur Delacour. “I would love
to, but I zhink you already know how.”

And then she fell asleep.

I followed a few seconds later, worn out by my seventeen-year-old Veela girlfriend who had
just declared her love for me. I slept for, oh, must have been nine hours, until the first rays of
light came through the curtains this morning.

And now? Now I can’t fall back to sleep. That’s what happens when I’m well-rested, with
this beautiful person lying in my arms, and a future clear of Tom Riddle, Death Eaters, and
any other of that bullshit.

As for the tournament itself, technically, they say I won it. But I don’t really care at this
point. After all the fuckery and mistakes by the professors, I couldn’t care less about it, or
about going back to school. Though I know I’ll end up finishing my seven years at Hogwarts.
At least next year there will be Quidditch again, and—

“‘Arry?”

Ah, excuse me for a second. “Yes, dear?”

Holy balls, that smile can make me jump through flaming hoops of Hippogriff shi— oh
damn, she’s wiggling her arse again. Well, this was fun and all, but I have someone a bit
more important to attend to. Thanks for listening to the story, though.

Epilogue

Ouch! Damn, do those little shoes hurt when they step on your balls! And of course, Sirius,
sitting in his “Godfather chair” as he likes to call it, is laughing off his arse.

The little shoe belongs to the little wizard that’s running around Sirius’s house right now with
his two brothers and sister. All the boys have black hair and green eyes. But the sister?
Beautiful blond hair and the cutest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. A perfect replica of her
mother, Fleur Potter.

Of course, that also means I’ll be worrying about a lot more in about ten years.
Sirius pops out of his chair and leaves the room. “Be right back,” he says. I think He’s going
next door to grab dinner. It’s a weekly event at the Sirius house. Or just maybe, he does it for
an excuse to go see the little waitress who also happens to own the restaurant and is about
five years younger than he is. Hey, I can’t blame the man. And he’s done very well for
himself, finishing up Auror School after a twenty-year hiatus. And she is a very loving and
sweet witch, just the type he needs.

Speaking of Aurors, however, Ron and I have taken that career as well. Fleur was pissed off
something royal when I told her that’s what I wanted to do, but we talked through it, though I
had to promise that I’d leave my “Mr. Save-the Witch” persona in the past and not always be
the hero.

Hermione and Ron, however, didn’t work out. They made it all the way through school and
even halfway through Auror training. But after one too many late-night calls that Ron was in
St. Mungo’s, she had to call it quits, or she’d simply go insane.

I don’t really blame her. Neither does Ron. Hermione was always a bit more high-strung,
though she hid it well under her academic brain. Of course, she was a wreck for weeks after
they broke up, but over time, Fleur and Ginny of all people nursed her back to health. Those
three are good friends to this day.

Ron threw himself into work for the next four months, until Sirius and I threatened to beat the
stupid out of him. Then he took a month of leave and disappeared to bury his sorrows. As it
turns out, he buried them in France. Well, more specifically, in a French blonde, a beautiful
Veela named Sabine. Yeah, after everything else, that little bastard’s my brother-in-law now.
Ironic, don’t you think? And I couldn’t have a better one.

Ginny’s doing well. She ended up marrying a Yank Quidditch player who’s treating her very
well. It took her a couple more years to get over the first Chamber of Secrets debacle but
seeing Riddle kissed helped jump-start that rather well.

Remus, unfortunately, fell ill of health a couple of years ago and died. Complications due to
his fury-little-problem, or at least that’s what Fleur tells me. How does she know? An
interesting little tidbit of information there. After so much time in the Infirmary with me that
year at Hogwarts, she and Madame Pomfrey developed a pretty good relationship, and
Madame Pomfrey talked her into being a Healer. A week after we arrived in France, she
received a letter that St. Mungo’s had accepted her as a trainee.

Oh, and an oddity in the English Magical medical system I didn’t know—every Healer,
whether it’s the battle-healers that now are part of every Auror shift or the Healers on the
sidelines of Quidditch games, or even a Healer at Hogwarts, and her trainee, they are all
employed by and under the authority of St. Mungo’s.

And that meant no staff/student problems for the next three years that Fleur trained at
Hogwarts, either. Somehow, I kept ending up in the Infirmary, injured, too. Half the time,
they were even legitimate.

As for the professors. Well, that fucker Snape was sentenced to die and was executed in the
middle of that summer after his last appeal to the Queen herself in Privy Council was denied.
Funny how the magical world still thinks it’s the actual Queen who passes judgment, rather
than a judicial committee.

Oh, and did I forget to mention? We found out that Snape had help. Yeah, that little blond
ponce, Draco Malfoy.

He’s doing a nice twenty-year stint for that choice. And not Azkaban, either. Once the Crown
found out what happened due to Snape’s appeal, they did an investigation and decided to try
Draco in Muggle court, and then charged him with aiding and abetting a known terrorist. He
was found guilty and is now a guest of Her Majesty in Whitemoor prison, home of the
“Prison within a Prison” for the next twenty-five years.

Needless to say, he doesn’t have his wand, either. But I sure as hell guarantee you he has had
his hands-on many other wands by now, whether he wanted to or not.

As for me, well, like I said. I’m an Auror now, partnered with Ron and Sirius. Life couldn’t
be better on that front, or at home. And my in-laws absolutely adore the both of us. Well, Ron
a little more than me at times, but only when a certain memory is brought up.

What memory you ask?

Well, that first morning in France, Fleur decided that her wiggling was just the beginning of a
bit more fun. After a cleaning spell on both of us, we went to work on topping the night
before.That is until I happened to glance over Fleur’s shoulder as she was trying to ride me
sidesaddle (don’t ask) to find Sabine and her two girlfriends standing in the doorway and
assessing our, erm, skills. Fleur saw them at the same time, and we both jumped and
proceeded to fall right off the damn bed, putting a hole in the wall. Just my luck, that wall
was made of material that can’t magicked back together, either.

“Four times? Five including this morning?” one of Sabine’s Veela girlfriends teased. “Damn
Fleur, that’s impressive.”

“It’s more impressive for him, I think,” the other one answered.

Fleur made her way back to the bed, threatening to curse all three of them, and crawled back
into bed, then lifted the covers so I could climb in as well, unseen. Then something the first
friend said caught Fleur’s attention. “How do you know how many times we—”

Sabine raised an eyebrow. “Between the glowing puddles in the foyer, against the wall of the
Great room, and in front of the couch; not to mention the way you decorated the wall of the
Great room and in here—” her girlfriend tapped her on the shoulder and pointed up—” and
the ceiling? Damn! And finally, the trail of discarded clothes and a shredded man’s shirt, it’s
pretty easy to guess.”

The sheepish look Fleur now sported, along with another blush made me laugh out loud.

“You’re telling me that your, um, that“—I waved at the wall—” doesn’t evaporate?”
Sabine looked like the cat that swallowed the proverbial canary. “Nope, it takes a day for it to
dry if not banished by magic. How else do you think Fleur could ride you like a hippogriff all
night long?”

And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, everyone in the room heard the front door
open. I have no idea what was said at the time, but years later, after learning French, I figured
it out. It went something like, “Hello, anyone ho—what the fuck is all this! If I find the
bastard that did that with Sabine I’ll cut his balls off!”

And then it got worse. “Mommy, what’s all that glowing stuff?”

Sabine covered her mouth in fake surprise. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Mom and Papa are going
to be coming home a day early.”

She turned, left the room, and giggled with her girlfriends all the way down the hall, not even
bothering to close Fleur’s door.

Anyway, I survived that morning, but only at the insisting of Fleur and her mother. Sabine
finally helped as well. But that’s not a story we tell at family gatherings.

And speaking of which, Sirius is back with the food, and it looks like, two gorgeous blond
Veela sisters, a redheaded prat that I’m proud to have as a best friend, and… hmm, it looks
like the waitress as well. I think Sirius has some explaining to do since they’re holding hands
and…

Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick. She’s giving him cow eyes!
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