Fleur Delacour

A/N: Just a reminder, new chapter here officially means new chapter over on the P atreon now, where my patrons are currently voting on the future direction of this story!

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It's not difficult, getting some alone time with Fleur Delacour. What's difficult is getting some alone time with her without anyone finding out. The French Witch's Veela Blood makes her the center of attention in every room she finds herself in. Even in the Great Hall she commands several dozen sets of eyes all meal long. It doesn't help matters that she's on the market and single. Every Seventh and 'Eighth' Year thought they might have a chance with the beautiful Assistant Professor.

Harry supposed Fleur was lucky that he was the only male faculty member at Hogwarts this year, so at least she didn't have to deal with it from that avenue. Except, here he was now, about to make his own overtures towards the part veela witch.

Hm, but there was nothing for it. While Ciri's idea of going after Fringilla Vigo was of some merit, Harry liked his plan with Hermione better. If they could divide and conquer so to speak, and get Triss Merigold under their thumb in some way, well then, Harry could maybe leverage that into a position of advantage instead.

But he had to trust Hermione to do her part in that. He could only focus his attention where it was needed, and at the moment that was Fleur.

Luckily, Harry already had a couple of distinct advantages. Fleur had her hobbies, and one of those hobbies was painting. Harry, meanwhile, had an 'in' with the Hogwarts Headmistress… the woman that Fleur had asked for a place where she could paint at her leisure whenever she had some down time. Perhaps it was 'wrong' of Andromeda to give Harry that location… but then, not everything they were doing could be morally right all the time. All they could do was take some solace in the fact that they were doing this to protect them and theirs, rather than for any sort of personal gain.

Regardless, with that knowledge secured, Harry follows Fleur to her 'art studio' one Saturday evening, utilizing the Marauder's Map to track her movement through the Castle. Once she's settled in and Harry has confirmed that no one else is moving to meet her, or even in the area, he makes his way there himself and knocks on the door.

There's a moment of silence, before a voice calls out in a distinct, familiar French accent.

"Yes? Who iz eet?"

"Assistant Professor Delacour? It's Professor Potter. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I hoped to have a word."

Another pause, with Harry wondering if he should have just barged in and asked for forgiveness rather than permission. But his conversation with Hermione about Fleur swearing off of all men is still fresh enough in his mind that he didn't want to risk ruining everything. As it is, better for Fleur to send him away without ever even seeing him, then to try and hex him because he charged into her art studio without so much as a 'by your leave'.

"… Come in, 'Arry."

Eyebrow raised at that, Harry tries the door and finds it unlocked. He steps inside quietly and quickly, only to immediately jump to the side as a spell goes zooming past him. His own wand is in his hand, before he realizes the spell was never meant for him… rather, it was a security spell, locking the door and setting an alarm in case anyone tried to get in.

Smirking slightly, the very beautiful, altogether effervescent Fleur Delacour lifts her wand up… and tucks it back into her sleeve and the holster hidden within, as Harry is reminded that the beautiful woman was once Beauxbatons' Triwizard Champion, with all that that entailed.

"You're just in time, 'Arry. Please 'ave a seat right over there."

… What? Furrowing his brow, Harry gives Fleur a questioning look, even as he makes his way over to where she's pointing to sit down in a chair there.

"… You were expecting me?"

Was Fleur a member of the Lodge of Sorceresses after all? Had he walked right into a trap? As he makes himself comfortable, while also being fully on edge, Harry realizes… he's sat perfectly for a portrait, with Fleur's canvas and stand positioned partially between them. As she looks around the canvas' edge, she smirks.

"Non. But I was just thinking how wonderful eet would be to 'ave a model. And 'ere you are, 'Arry. Now, sit still."

Well, this wasn't entirely how he expected this to go. Still, Harry does as he's told, even as Fleur begins to paint. As she works, he looks around for a moment, considering how to get to what HE was here for. Well, better to start from the beginning, wasn't it? Best to clear the air. At the very least, Fleur hadn't turned him away or kicked him out… so he might as well make sure they're fully on good terms and she's not just toying with him.

"I'm glad to see you're doing well. And I appreciate you not holding a grudge…"

Her eyes flicker from her canvas to him for only a moment before she scoffs.

"What grudge should I 'ave against you, 'Arry? Last I checked, you are not a Weasley, non?"

Flushing a little bit, Harry lets out a slightly embarrassed laugh and shakes his head.

"Ah, no. Ginny and I… we both accepted that we weren't looking to settle down any time soon."

That draws a simple nod from Fleur.

"Smart. Ginny… she was a nice enough girl. I don't mind her so much. Ah, not as much as the rest of that… Family."

Harry winces at the undercurrent of anger in Fleur's tone. Her French accent thickens a little bit, as she scowls.

"Eet is fine though. I am… fine."

Was she? Was she really? Harry doesn't get a chance to ask, as Fleur hums.

"But even if I were not, I would never blame you, 'Arry. You saved my leetle sister. Or did you think I had forgotten?"

Here, Harry squirms a bit.

"Well, I did what I thought was right… but we both know Gabrielle was never in any real danger. Dumbledore had a deal with the Merfolk… they weren't going to harm her or anything, even if I hadn't gotten her out. In fact, doing what I did might have put more risk to her instead of less…"

He's arguing against himself here and he's well aware of that, but it's just not in his nature to take credit for things that he feels like he doesn't deserve recognition for. Part of his Hero Complex, he imagined. Fleur, meanwhile, nods along with his words.

"All true statements. All reasons for why a true Life Debt did not form on that day between you and my leetle sister, or even between you and House Delacour."

Harry grimaces and nods at that. Yes, he hadn't known anything about life debts back then, but with the information at his disposal… well, Fleur wasn't wrong. It WAS truly for the best that Gabrielle hadn't been tied to him via a Life Debt. Having House Delacour as a whole indebted to him would have been marginally better, as it would have allowed their parents to pay some sort of restitution to lessen the burden, but even still, Harry was happy it hadn't come to that.

"And yet… the facts do not always stop the feelings, do they? Yes, eet iz true that you did not technically need to intervene. But that you did, especially where I could not… eet will always mean the world to me, 'Arry. To say nothing of what it means for Gabrielle."

"Ah, well… I'm glad to have been of service. And I hope Gabrielle has been well."

There's a moment before Fleur answers, but Harry doesn't think it means anything. She's just focused on the painting.

"She has. But enough about 'er. Rather, let us discuss this piece."

Blinking, Harry watches as Fleur pulls back her paint brush and then pulls forth her wand. With a smile, she taps the canvas' corner… and then beckons him forward. Rising from his chair, Harry crosses the classroom floor, walking over to where Fleur sits and coming around to see what she's painted. He's not sure what he's expecting… but it's not this.

On the canvas, there's him of course. He's sitting right where Fleur had him sit. However, he is not alone. Fleur had used him as a model, a focus point one might say… and then she'd gone and added herself to the painting as well. Unlike the painted Harry, who is clothed, the painted Fleur is naked, her beautiful back profile exposed on the painting, her ass visible as she… well, rides his cock.

Harry notes that Fleur took some liberties with his cock and balls, though with it being a painting, there's not much in the way of true detail and the size could be… well, whatever you wanted it to be. In the end, Harry really only has eyes for the painted Fleur… and the way the painted version of HIM reaches around to grab painted Fleur by the buttocks and bounce her upon his cock.

The painting moves somewhat slowly, a little disjointedly even. Obviously, it's a quickly made piece of art, and a quickly charmed piece as well. Harry wouldn't be surprised if the magic that makes it a moving picture won't last longer than a day. It's certainly not going to be adorning one of Hogwarts' empty walls as its latest art piece any time soon. But then, that's not the point, is it?

"What do you think, 'Arry?"

Swallowing, Harry admires the piece for a moment longer before answering. And yes, the correct word IS 'admire'.

"It's… quite well done, Fleur."

Without missing a beat, Fleur reaches over and grabs him by his robes, tugging him closer to her and pulling them open.

"I thought you might enjoy eet~"

The French Veela Witch licks her lips as she works open her pants, while Harry just stands there for a moment. Not quite caught off guard… but certainly a little surprised. After all, he had come here today expecting Fleur to be some flavor of… intractable. She'd been burned by Bill Weasley in a bad way, falling in love too quickly and ending up with nothing by the end of things.

It would seem, however, that Harry was the exception that proved the rule in Fleur's mind. Swearing off all men apparently didn't include him. Whether that was because of what he'd done for her and Gabrielle all those years ago, or for another reason, Harry couldn't say.

Taking his cock out of its confines as he stands there and lets her have her way with him, Fleur coos over it, his member already growing long and hard in her grasp.

"Mm, bigger than Bill. Good~"

Harry jolts at that, not sure how to feel about the comparison. His emerald eyes narrow as Fleur gives him a smile fit for a minx, licking her lips for a moment before descending down his length right then and there. She takes him into her mouth and begins to dutifully suck, though there's a strange elegance to the whole situation, despite it undeniably being fellatio.

For one, Fleur neither kneels or crouches. She sits in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, and leans down only as much as she needs to in order to take him between her lips. Sucking his cock, she never goes further than she needs to, taking him only to the back of her throat and stopping well short of choking herself on his phallus.

Her technique is undeniable, however. The way her tongue lashes at his cockhead, while her fingers wrap around the base of his cock… after a moment, she moves those same fingers down to his balls, casually cupping his nut sack and fondling it happily as she slides her lips up and down the first half of his dick.

Soon enough, he's rock hard, covered in her saliva. Not her spit or drool though, never that. Fleur was too much of a lady for that sort of thing. She leaves a glistening layer upon his cock as her lips depart from his member with a quiet sigh. Then, she looks up at him, eyes hooded and filled with lust.

"I do hope you're game to return the favor, 'Arry."

His cock twitching and rock hard, Harry just raises an eyebrow at that, as if to silently ask if she's serious. Fleur giggles in response and rises from her seat at long last. Dropping her hold on his balls, the gorgeous French Witch sways her hips as she walks over to where he was sat, the desks and chairs having all been pushed over to that side of the classroom.

Harry follows after, and wonders if she wants to recreate the scene she just painted or something. But it doesn't seem like it, because while Fleur's next act is to tap her wand on her clothes, causing them to swirl up and expose her naked body in mere moments, she doesn't actually beckon for him to sit down.

Instead, the bombshell of a woman bends over the chair in front of her, and arches her back beautifully, offering herself up to Harry with her legs spread wide and her glistening cunt lips visible between her pale thighs. Looking back over her shoulder at him, Fleur's eyes are filled with amorous intent as she licks her lips suggestively.

"Come, 'Arry. Take that fat hog of yours and fuck me like Bill never could. Reach the deepest parts of me, erase all memory of his tiny prick! I want you to fuck my brains out, 'Arry! I want to feel eet!"

She's positively panting with need, some of the elegant image she was portraying up to this point discarded as she shakes her ass back at him. In turn, Harry's cock twitches with need, and he takes a step forward, grabbing her by her hips, lining up with her from behind.

There's no doubt that he's going to fuck her… but the badmouthing of Bill Weasley… he's not sure how he feels about that, even now. Should he shut it down? Let it be? Or even… partake and dole out some insults of his own?

Harry frowns, considering the dilemma as he lathers up the tip of his cock upon Fleur's gushing slit, teasing her quite effectively as she moans and whimpers and bucks her hips in anticipation, just waiting for him to finally thrust in and fuck her.

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