CH 11: Virgin? [1]

{[Last Time in Tainted Desire]}

With my preparations complete, I had entered the cell, and saw Fleur sitting on the only bed in the room. Considering it took just a spell to ensure it's cleanliness, the room must be intentionally dirty. Not that I had any problems, the rundown ambiance definitely add some unique tint to the incoming experience. Still, it wasn't as important as the blond woman sitting on it, dressed in a long white dress that had been pristinely white just hours ago, but now, covered with patches of dirt, with occasional torn patches around the skirt. Her hair was similarly disrupted, her earlier immaculate strands messily sprawled to her neck. But even with all, she was one of the most beautiful things I had ever lay eyes upon. I would enjoy ruining her.

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{[Now]}

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She turned her gaze to me, and I could see the fire burning behind them. I reminded myself to be careful, after all, she was a veela, and her lack of wand didn't equal to not being dangerous. It only took one swipe of her transformed claw to kill someone. "Good afternoon, Miss Delacour," I said with a deliberately cheerful tone. "How do you feel in this nice weather."

She looked towards me, hatred burning behind her eyes. I could easily understand her anger, after all, Draco was the main reason for her husband's injuries, and I was one of the principal reasons her supposedly happiest day was ruined. Not that she was aware the distinction between us. The desire to burn me to cinders with Veela powers drove her forward, I could see in her eyes, sparking with anger. But, with an impressive display of willpower, she did no motion towards it. "It's Mrs. Weasley now," she said between her clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry, milady," I answered, making no attempt to hide mocking tone. "I will do no such mistake again." Angering her was a risky proposition, but I felt tempted to push it. It was oddly compelling, like poking a particularly angry feline.

"What do you want, Malfoy," she asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Wow, such anger," I said, making a show of taking a step backward. "Careful, Mrs. Weasley. You almost convinced me to abort my plan of helping you."

"I don't want any help from a pathetic boy like you," she exclaimed, the room getting a bit hotter. I felt my pants getting tight once again. After all, it was an arousing sight, a fiery veela, trapped in a cell, wrapped in a ruined wedding dress…

I shook my head, trying to focus on the moment. I wanted to ignore the insult, but being called a boy actually hurt more than anything else. Still, I didn't give any sign of discomfort. After all, I was about to teach her that I was not a boy. "Of course, Mrs. Weasley. You actually don't need my help. It has been determined that you had no role in assisting subversive elements, and you'll be let go a few hours later." Her face was light in elation, but I mercilessly snuffed it. "Your husband, on the other hand…"

As expected, her elation disappeared as quick as it appeared, along with her casual dismissal of my presence. "What about my husband?" she asked in a trembling tone, her earlier bravado completely absent.

"Tests has shown that his blood contains traces of lycanthropy, but whether the full curse took hold or not is inconclusive. And as the law dictates, he needs to be held under observation until the full moon in an undisclosed facility to make sure he doesn't fully transform."

"That's barbaric, you cannot do that," she exclaimed.

"Unfortunately, we can. Though I find it ironic that it's one of the laws sponsored by Dumbledore. Sometimes, fate is really a bitch." She really was, otherwise, how could one explain my presence in this universe. It was as merciful as throwing a hungry shark in an aquarium filled with goldfishes. I saw the despair on her face, and moved to the coup de grace. "The clincher is, however, Lestrange is in charge of prisoner logistics. A man famous for his cruelty. A man, who received a really nasty injury at Hogwarts a couple months ago. I heard he was quite enthusiastic about putting your husband into Azkaban for a month." I barely held back a laugh upon seeing the despair on her face. "And I don't need to remind you what he was famous for before a decade and half years long stay in Azkaban…"

With my last words, she was barely able to hold her tears back. I wasn't surprised that Fleur swallowed the tale without any doubt. After all, almost all the facts I listed there was correct. Even the law was there and Lestrange intended to use it. Only, Lestrange didn't have a special grudge towards William Weasley. That, and I was the one that brought the lycanthropy law to his attention.

"Why are you here," Fleur asked, unable to stop a couple of tears sliding down her cheeks. I decided I was really an evil bastard, after all, her tears made me only hornier. There was a certain appeal in such a strong-willed woman, being forced into tears. I smiled, this was going to be even better than I hoped.

"I'm here to offer you an alternative," I said with a soft tone of a devil holding a contract that would bring salvation, for a price, of course.

I could see her struggling to keep the temptation of uttering the next words. From my expression, she must have realized what I was about to ask, but the safety of her husband must have come first. "What alternative?" she asked.

"I use my pull, and ensure he is being held in a decent facility with no angry Death Eaters or errant Dementors."

The next words were so reluctant, that she must have used a prier to dislodge them from her vocal cords. "And what is the price?" I didn't even bother to utter a word, just pulled my pants down. "I cannot," she uttered. "I'm a virgin, and I can't have my wedding night without my virginity."

An elation rose inside me, and I adjusted my plans on the fly. I could easily blackmail her for it, but there was an option much more attractive, corrupting her until she willingly gave it to me. It would be much tastier. "That's really impressive, prioritizing your virginity over the wellbeing of your husband." I continued before she could utter a word. "But, I'm not without a mercy, we can adjust things so that your virginity stays intact until your wedding night, but in return, you will serve me every three days until the full moon, which is in fifteen days. So, five sessions for your husband's well-being. What do you say, Mrs. Weasley." I took a breath, and added. "And one to seal the deal of course," I said, pointing at my erect cock. "We cannot leave my little dragon like that."

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