Fleur Delacour Pt. 2

Fleur Delacour slowly lets out a long, drawn out sigh as she clutches at the bottle of Butterbeer in her hands. She'd bought it to calm her nerves, not get her drunk. So far, it wasn't managing either to be perfectly honest. It was just… Tonks of all people had invited her for a girl's day out, and told her to meet at the Shrieking Shack at a very specific time.

The part veela really wasn't sure what to think about that. Fleur was in no way stupid, nor was she naïve. She was grateful to Harry and to the Order for letting her stay at Grimmauld Place after hers and Bill's relationship had fallen through, and the Gringotts job had fallen through with it. That didn't mean she wasn't a little upset with Tonks for what could only be called outright sexual harassment these last few months.

It's been hard, keeping herself in check. Especially considering those damnable moving pictures! Her own mind taunts her with mental images of herself in those pictures, bred and satiated alongside the girls Harry was fucking silly. But no… no, Harry is her friend. He's a hero to both her and her sister and she can't just see him as some sort of hunk, a sex object to be lusted after.

No, for such a gallant act as saving her little sister, she should have led Harry away into a nice, private alcove back then and taken him to her bed and… f-fuck. Groaning, Fleur cradles her head in one hand, rubbing her skull with the pads of her fingers. Veela Elders liked to tell pretty, impressionable young Veela such as herself stories about how they'd once been the mates, concubines, wives, and lovers of mighty heroes and fearsome conquerors, but magical and not. Only the greatest human men had claimed beautiful veela females for their beds.

And Harry… Harry was the epitome of all those stories. Mister "I saved a little girl because it's the right thing to do" was the absolute greatest wizard of his generation, and probably of her generation as well. The only men who could even think to stand up to the sheer, raw power that Harry exuded with every step were aging fuckers like Dumbledore and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. In the end, Harry was the one. A hero… and from the pictures she'd spent so many sleepless nights masturbating to, a conqueror as well.

Fleur was technically a part veela, through her mother's side. She wasn't even supposed to be half. Her mother was the half veela, and she and her sister were supposedly quarter veela. In truth, there was no such thing. It was a lie told to the magical world to keep the humans from freaking out. Veela were veela, no exceptions. Fleur merely kept herself under control, waiting for the right man to come along.

Pure Veela didn't have that choice, but she and her sister did, just as her mother had once upon a time. It made family gatherings a little awkward. Her mother had basically stopped holding back when she'd met Fleur's father, and the woman was as 'full veela' as one could get now, the man she'd married wrapped entirely around her finger.

Fleur though, Fleur wasn't there yet. It made her relatives and especially her younger cousins, see her as a little prissy. Usually, a veela, no matter their heritage, would have settled down with a mate by now. There wasn't really such a thing as 'The One', mostly because wizards like Harry happened once in a lifetime, and veela were perfectly capable of molding most men into as close a proximation to 'The One' as they could get anyways.

But Fleur hadn't wanted to spend the rest of her life with Bill Weasley. And he hadn't wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. It wasn't necessarily anything to do with either of them, or so Fleur felt. In the end, more and more with every passing day, the beautiful French witch was beginning to realize that there was only one wizard for her… and it wasn't Bill. He'd sensed it, obviously, which had ultimately led to their falling out.

Letting out a low sigh, Fleur downs the rest of her Butterbeer, the sweet, lukewarm beverage flowing down her throat. Placing the bottle back on the table, the blonde veela stands and heads for the door. It was just about time for her to go to this 'Shrieking Shack' to meet with Tonks. And she'd finally come to a decision. She was going to ask the other woman to introduce her to Harry. Whatever sort of harem he was building, Fleur didn't care.

All she cared about was securing a place by the powerful young wizard's side.

-x-X-x-

Finally arriving at the Shrieking Shack, the blonde veela can't help but be a little puzzled. Tonks isn't there. No one is, as far as she can tell. Frowning slightly as she walks forward, Fleur doesn't even feel the place's numerous wards. Mostly because Tonks had already keyed her into them, meaning the magic that kept away any and all other tourists these days, was completely inert when it came to Fleur.

Regardless, the veela approaches the run down, rinky-dinky shack itself, eyeing it up and down and circling around it a couple times. She doesn't think to look inside at first, the building seems as if it should be condemned, and she just can't imagine Tonks is waiting for her INSIDE. But in the end, she can't locate the other girl anywhere, and when there's nowhere else to look, one finds themselves checking the most unlikely of places.

Fleur takes a peek into the window of the Shrieking Shack, and gets the biggest shock of her life, completely trumping the stack of magical photos that Tonks had slipped under her door that day. But then, of course it does. Seeing it in person, watching the debauchery happen live… it WOULD trump something as silly as moving pictures, wouldn't it?

Tonks is the first one she sees. The metamorphmagus is in what could best be called an 'athletic bimbo' form. It almost doesn't look like her, but Fleur sees the witch's face and knows it's her next-door neighbor back at Grimmauld Place, there in the flesh. A hell of a lot of flesh, mixed in with some short pink hair. The metamorphmagus has her jaw stretched obscenely wide around Harry's huge cockhead and the first couple inches of his massive shaft as well.

And boy is Harry well-endowed. Fleur had already known his size and his naked form of course, but damn if it wasn't so much juicier in person. He was the most muscular wizard she'd ever seen, broad-shouldered and fit in a way that made her mouth water right on the spot. And then there were the others. There was a voluptuous blonde witch that Fleur recognized from the photos, but didn't know by name. That one was licking, kissing, and suckling the rest of Harry's bludger-bat sized cock from the side, knelt right beside Tonks as they tag-teamed his dick.

Meanwhile, the other two, who Fleur couldn't actively identify just based off their asses, were going to town on Harry's balls. One had to be Hermione, right? While the other one… it could be any witch. After all, ANY witch would be honored to become the great Harry Potter's ball-sucking slut. Fleur certainly would love it.

And then Harry begins to cum and Fleur's pupils dilate as her tongue slides out of her wide-open mouth at the sight of Tonks chugging down the massive blasts of seed pulsating through his long shaft. At the end, the metamorphmagus pulls back with her cheeks bulging like a chipmunk, only to pull Hermione up from Harry's balls so she can let the cum flow out of her mouth, down her chin, and onto Hermione's outstretched tongue and her face, and even her boobs.

Tonks reaches down at the same time to give those tits a grope, and Harry chuckles at something the metamorphmagus says in that moment, his lips curled into a wicked smile that only makes Fleur more aroused. At the same time, the blonde one grabs at the other witch that had been sucking on Harry's balls and forces her towards Hermione's tits.

Fleur feels like she should recognize the dark-haired witch, now that she can see the young woman's face. Perhaps… perhaps one of the Greengrass sisters? While her family WAS practically French nobility, she wasn't entirely knowledgeable about all the noble houses in Britain. But the dark-haired beauty certainly had the looks for it, if she was remembering her teachings correctly.

Regardless, it was all the more arousing to see the glazed over look in the beautiful witch's eye as her tongue slides over Hermione's body, collecting the last bits of Harry's seed. And all that time, Harry James Potter sits there with a faint smile on his face, as if he's used to four beautiful women worshipping his cock. One hand is resting on the back of the couch he's seated on, while the other is stroking through Tonks' hot pink locks, like it's all no big deal.

It's the most beautiful thing Fleur has ever seen, and the veela truly loses control for the first time in her entire life, right then and there. The full force of a veela's allure smacks all of them across their metaphorical faces as Fleur lunges for the door of the Shrieking Shack, tearing it open and bursting into the beautifully furnished room within.

Howling like a mad woman, Fleur rushes forward and pushes the dazed, confused, and whimpering witches out of her way as she falls to her knees before Harry's cock, immediately attempting to cram as much of his sizable, girthy length down her throat as possible. She gets a fair few inches past her stretched out lips, but then Harry's own magic responds, lashing out and wrapping her in it's power.

It's like a tornado and she's in the center of it as the masculine magic, strong and wild, whirls around her, almost seeming to suck up the very air she needs to breath. Fleur nearly passes out from the utterly overwhelming sensation, but she manages to hold onto consciousness, even as her control belatedly reasserts itself, and she manages to once more grasp for rational, logical though.

It's then, as sanity at least partially returns to her, that Fleur realizes something very important. While the four beautiful witches all around her are still very dazed from her sudden, full-powered allure, Harry Potter is not. In fact, he looks sharper than ever before as her eyes slowly trace up his musclebound torso, past his chiseled chin to meet his bright, green irises.

He's looking down at her quite sternly, like a god disappointed with his high priestess. Also, his yummy, yummy dick is still in her mouth and Fleur should probably really be pulling back off of his cock to explain himself now. Mortified, the veela slowly begins to do just that, but she got more than a few inches of his dick into her mouth and down her throat, and in the process of ever so slowly pulling her head back, she gets more taste of his delicious cock penetrating her taste buds than she'd originally anticipated.

Eventually though, his cockhead pops out of from betwixt her lips and quite suddenly, Fleur finds herself in Harry's lap, pulled up from the floor as he lifts a brow at her and simply holds her in his arms.

-x-X-x-

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