A Godfather's Promise

by TheMetalSage (ao3)

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter 2: Another Perfect Day

"Harry Potter" belongs to J.K. Rowling

This is an M-Rated story that includes sexual elements pertaining to the BDSM lifestyle. It also includes violence, language and gore. Do not read if you are below the age of 18.

Review Responses:

Gensplejs:  I always felt that Fleur was in serious need of a good spanking.

Don't worry, she'll be getting plenty of that, amongst other things. Will take a few chapters though.

albus potter-greengrass:  that I know dorea was never disinherited from the black line for marrying charlus potter

True, but Charlus is also not James' father in canon, thought I'd give Sirius a bit of his biological family that understood him. Besides, it sounds just like the thing the Black family would do if they married a family known for consorting with Muggles and Muggle-Borns (something that you will see explained in this chapter). It also gives Harry direct ancestry to the Black family.

Just chalk it up to fanfiction being fanfiction.

On to the chapter

REVISED ON 26/3/2018

A Godfather's Promise

Chapter I: Another Perfect Day

"Harry Potter-Black!" came the commanding voice of the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. The name that was so famous across the Wizarding World echoing throughout the walls.

You could hear a pin drop from the silence inside the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The announcement came immediately after the great burning chalice situated in the middle of the Hall delivered a fourth unexpected name, an unprecedented fourth competitor in the "Triwizard" Tournament.

"God fucking damn it!" shouted Harry. 'Was one normal year too much to ask? Just one?'

A sneering voice was heard from the Slytherin table. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for inappropriate language, Potter."

Ignoring the Potions master, the dark-haired wizard resigned himself to towards a door where the three other chosen champions had disappeared through. While he walked over, thoughts drifted from his situation towards his godfather. What will he say now?

Knowing him, something along the lines of: "Trouble loves to follow you like I love to follow a good bum."

'Another year of looking behind my back.'

After the attack on his family, which left him an orphan, his godfather, Sirius Black took up the mantle as his caretaker and father figure. He had been exonerated by Albus Dumbledore after being he told the authorities that the true Secret Keeper for the Fidelius Charm was Peter Pettigrew, the traitor that had cost James and Lily Potter their lives.

Harry knew he could count on Sirius for anything, the man had raised him to be confident, to be strong and achieve better than the rest. Ever since he was young enough to remember he knew what being a Potter meant, what he had to live up to, add in the fact that thanks to a Death Eater attack Sirius had been rendered infertile, an event that lead him to claim that Harry would be his heir to the title of Lord Black – much to the chagrin of Lucius Malfoy – doubling the already high expectations Harry had set out for himself.

To bring back the reputation and power of the House of Potter was not going to be a possible task for a mediocre weak boy. He had a lot to live up to and he needed to be the best in order to achieve it.

He also raised him to have an eye for bending the rules and the fairer sex, the latter of which he didn't start to notice until late last year, much to the animagus' amusement. "You will start breaking hearts like your old man in no time".

'Sometimes, he really needs to lay off the Playboy magazines' Harry mused to himself as the distance between his seat in the Great Hall and the side chamber shortened.

'Then again if he does he'll just bring another acquaintance back home' Some things do never change, he could always count on Sirius to never change, but mostly for the better.

Reaching his destination, he was met with three figures standing side by side alongside the fireplace.

The first one he knew, he is his upperclassman and was known for being currently the top of his year; talented and on track to being Head boy next year, Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff and the Hogwarts Champion.

'One of the champions at least,' Harry thought sourly

However, he knew the grey eyed older boy better as the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and fellow seeker. He considered him a great rival and other than himself, Diggory was the best seeker in Hogwarts.

Cedric was considered good looking by the rest of the school – especially the female population – with his dark hair and gray eyes. His Quidditch training also gave him an athlete's body, well built for the rigors of the sport. Unfortunately for the young witches of Hogwarts, he was known to be dating Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw fifth-year.

Harry had been slightly attracted to the Asian girl, but eventually decided to go against it once he found out that she had been eyeing the Hufflepuff captain.

The Potter heir considered Cedric to be a worthy rival. Last year he had gone toe to toe with him in the Quidditch field, fighting to be the first to catch the snitch, it was one of the best games Harry had participated in… that is until a flock of dementors descended upon him and caused the dark-haired wizard to lose control of his broom and fell into unconsciousness. Cedric had caught the snitch, but after realizing Harry's condition, he offered a rematch.

'More honorable than most this one,'

Harry still appreciated the sentiment.

Speaking of seekers…

The second figure was a bonafide wizard celebrity, his popularity was second only to Harry's. Viktor Krum, the Durmstrang champion, was not as impressive at first glance. Some might say that he was thick or boorish. But Harry knew enough that looks can always deceive. He realized that when he first witnessed Krum in his broom during the Quidditch World Cup. The Bulgarian's performance was so impressive that even Harry is willing to admit that his flying capabilities were superior to his own.

Despite his simple demeanor, Harry was not willing to underestimate his talents; he was chosen to be in this tournament after all, there was probably more talent in the Bulgarian wizard than just flying. If Diggory's talent is to be believed, then Krum was probably more than just skilled in his wand-wielding prowess.

The last champion was a woman.

Unlike the other two, Harry was not familiar with her, aside from her seemingly unconscious ability to make almost every male – and more than a few females – turn into a drooling simpleton, the only thing is that she was apparently named Fleur, the champion for France's Beauxbatons Academy.

Also, she was a Veela.

Or at least that was what he supposed she was, considering the reaction she got from people. Not one week since she had arrived and she already had a group of followers from both Durmstrang and Hogwarts that were looking to impress her, only to look absolutely ridiculous in their attempts to gain her attention. Even the hardline blood purists were not spared by her charms. The only guys who seemed to be able to keep themselves in check excluding the Hogwarts staff were Cedric, Krum, Neville Longbottom, and Harry himself. Luckily for all involved, three of those four individuals were in the room.

When looking at the spectacles her followers would enact with the hope of convincing her to look upon them favorably, the attractive French witch would just look at them like they were some disgusting thing that she had accidentally stepped on. With an upturned nose and a condescending look, she would turn the other direction and quickly leave the area.

Harry would find it extremely amusing if she did not remind him of a female version of Malfoy and the other aristocratic purebloods. 'Now that I think about it, the Malfoy family originated from France' Harry mused to himself. 'Maybe it's just a French thing, they do seem to turn their nose at us quite often. Right up until they need our help with the Germans.'

Not that Harry couldn't see why she the reason people drooled at her, she was definitely drool-worthy. Silvery hair framed a perfectly angular face, between her defined cheekbones, twin blue eyes seemed to glow like perfectly cut sapphires. She had the kind of body most Muggle fashion magazines would pay top dollar to model for them, her tall, fit, willowy figure sported a generous C-cup bosom, and even though her uniform hid a large part of her body, he was willing to bet she had the most killer legs a man could dream of. Her pink, full lips were bereft of any make-up, she probably didn't need any of it.

Harry had seen Veela before, of course. During the summer, Sirius took him to the Quidditch World Cup to see the game between Ireland and Bulgaria. The Bulgarian team had decided to form their cheerleading team entirely out of Veela. The male spectators in the audience went wild at the sight of them. From his seat, he even saw some of them nearly throw themselves from a height that would surely have crippled or killed them.

Even Sirius was captivated, didn't do anything severely stupid but he did stand from his seat and start to walk over to them. Harry brought him back to reality with a firm shake. Harry himself - while certainly captivated, he was male in the middle of puberty after all - managed to control himself admirably.

'Sirius probably was thinking I wasn't interested in women, cursing himself for failing to raise me like my Father, ladies' man that he was,' Thought Harry, but Remus also managed to control himself. 'I guess resisting a veela's charms is not as challenging as trying to prevent a werewolf transformation.'

The witch in front of him was just as attractive. Probably even more so than the rest of the other Veela.

The sound of the younger wizard approaching caught the attention of the three champions. They looked at him curiously, probably wondering why a younger student would be approaching the chamber while they had expected the Tournament organizers along with the teachers.

The Beauxbatons champion was the first to break the silence.

"What is eet?" said the French witch, her musical voice carrying a thick ethnic accent. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

'The accent makes her even more attractive,' Harry mused to himself.

Beside her, Krum also turned around to look at him, his previously boorish demeanor replaced by a gaze of curiosity. Cedric on the other hand had a confused look on his face.

Harry sighed, not really knowing how to explain the events that had occurred in the Great Hall after they had left. Even he was trying to come to terms with it. He didn't put his name on the Goblet. He was hoping to focus heavily on his grades this year so that he might be on the top of the year. Last year he had surprised the entire staff by replacing Hermione Granger as the number one student in his year. Just like most of his life after he had been re-introduced to the Wizarding World in his first year at Hogwarts, those plans seemed to have hit a roadblock.

'Why does it always happen?' Thought Harry. 'Can't I have control of the situation? Just once in my life I don't want the wheels of my fate turning without my knowledge.'

Just as he was trying to formulate a response, there were more sounds coming behind him, several footsteps yanked the attention away from the emerald eyed wizard and to the figure of Ludo Bagman – one of the organizers of the Tournament – entering the chamber behind him.

"Extraordinary". He said to the champions. "Gentlemen… and lady, may I present the fourth Triwizard champion".

The announcement sent various reactions for the other champions: Cedric looked like he had misheard the organizer. Krum on the other hand appeared to have had heard Bagman clearly and was now staring a Harry with a mix of curiosity and hostility.

Fleur Delacour smiled however and was the first to break the silence "Oh, zat is a vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."

"Tis no joke, my lady," responded Bagman. Harry noticed that his eyes glassed over a bit when he turned to look at the stunning female champion. Quickly, Bagman composed himself, a testament to his mental endurance. "Not a joke at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire just now, everyone saw it!"

At the news, Cedric still appeared to not be convinced this was a bad dream, waiting to be woken up and find out he had dozed off before the professors gave them the instructions for competing. Viktor on the other hand narrowed his eyes even more, looking like he wanted to protest but couldn't find the right words. Luckily for him, his fellow champion once again decided to speak her opinion.

"Zen zair 'as been a mistake," she said assuredly. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young"

'And there is the downside,' Harry disliked being look down upon, he considered himself more mature than his age, he had to be if he was going to reach his goals. The jab at him made him more annoyed at the French veela. 'Maybe she and Malfoy could be related.'

"No mistake can be made in this Tournament, Ms. Delacour. The goblet is fool-proof, charmed by the great Albus Dumbledore himself." Responded Ludo, once again straining to maintain his composure in front of the French witch. "In any case, now that his name has been chosen by the Goblet, there is no backing out now, you have all entered a legally binding magical contract." He revealed, Cedric was now widening in his eyes in the realization that no, this was not a figment of his imagination at all. "Harry will just have to do the best he – ".

Bagman was interrupted by the door swinging open and a large number of professors pouring into the chamber, the sounds of the commotion from the Great Hall following them until the door was closed.

"Madame Maxime!" Fleur exclaimed to the giant headmistress of Beauxbatons. "Zey are saying zat zis leetle boy is to compete also!"

For Harry, annoyance quickly turned to anger. 'What do you know about me, you arrogant continental tart!' In an action defying common sense Harry walked over to stand side by side with the other champions.

The intention was clear, it was harder to disrespect him when she realized he was around the same height as her, though her small heels gave her the slight advantage, the fact that he was almost three younger was a statement to his rapidly maturing body. The action caused the other two champions to look at him with a little more respect.

Harry was calming himself down little by little but was still internally fuming. Fleur on the other hand was looking at him, probably expecting him to try and do something to win her affection, like all the other males she was used to. However, looking towards upwards to him, instead of the usual glassy eyed stare, the twin green emeralds displayed something she had never seen directed at her before from any male:

Anger.

Harry had always been a little proud of his height, being the tallest student in his year, he was even above most of the fifth years and more than a few sixth years. Sirius said that his father was the same way, as well as all the Potters before him. Harry supposed that it could be due to the Potter military tradition and ancestry.

The Potter family was known to be the oldest family in Wizarding Britain, mainly because the Potters did not originate from Britain at all. The Potter family, or the gens Poteria could trace its origins to the patrician families of Rome. The patricians were the original Roman families that rose up in rebellion removed the last Roman king -Tarquinius Superbus - from power, thus establishing the early Roman Republic. Being one of the original patrician families, the gens Poteria were known for helping to establish the early Roman militias, that would one day conquer the Mediterranean. As was expected of the Patricians, they also took part in the campaigns as generals and even Consuls.

A great part of Roman success in the battlefield could be accounted to the gens Poteria as well as other early Roman magical families' use of charms in the equipment of their soldiers, something other civilizations had failed to do, and payed dearly for. These newly invented charms, combined with the discipline instilled within the ranks, destroyed every opponent from the Italian tribes, the tribes in Spain, the proud Greeks, and even the mighty Carthaginians.

During the last days of the Republic, Lucius Poterius Magnus decided to side with the Caesar's, one of the only patrician families to do so. He gambled correctly, and his grandson was tasked by Emperor Claudius to conquer Britain, after Caesar had failed to do so during his campaigns in Gaul. Of course, the muggle history books would tell you the general tasked with this was Aulus Plautius, a name invented at the behest of House Potter after the establishment of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. Rewarded with the governorship of Britain, the gens Poteria survived the fall of the Western Roman Empire and renamed itself to the more Saxon-friendly sounding House Potter.

The name may have changed, but the traditions didn't. Throughout their entire history: Potter males were expected to serve within the Muggle militaries, a tradition followed even by Major Richard Potter – Harry's great grandfather – who fought at the battle of the Frontiers, the Marne, and Passchendaele during the Great War, and Captain Charlus Potter: ace pilot of the RAF during the Battle of Britain. Sirius said his grandfather's charmed and rune covered Supermarine Spitfire MK I was still stored in Potter manor, along with all the other military heirlooms of the Potters.

This tradition was… controversial, to say the least with the pureblood families. After the Statute of Secrecy was erected, House Potter was known to recruit Muggle-Borns, Squibs, and Muggle relatives into their militaries, something that was an affront to the sensibilities of the traditional British wizards. It definitely paid off though, especially during the days of the British Empire, which saw the most profitable time for the Potters since the Roman Empire, allowing them a large manor, as well as major holdings within muggle companies.

The only person to break tradition was unfortunately James Potter, due to his early death. Harry however, was looking to joining the Royal Marines when he became of age. This was only one thing that Harry felt he had to live up to. In Potter manor, his godfather had told him there was a room where all the marble busts from the first Poteria until his father was stored - in true Roman patrician tradition - under each was a placard naming their vast accomplishments. Harry would be damned if he became the first Potter to not achieve the best in his life.

Roman generals, knights, Imperial admirals, privateers, captains, and leaders were his ancestors. Harry drove himself every day to be just like them.

He had already done quite a few feats in his early age, incapacitating a troll and killing a Death Eater posing as a teacher in his first year, as well as becoming the youngest seeker in centuries. He had mastered the Patronus charm before he hit when most adults struggled to even cast an incomplete one, almost capturing a discovered Peter Pettigrew in a year when dementors seemed to want to make his life miserable. He was a talented martial arts student and soccer player when he was in the Muggle world. He had even killed a thousand-year-old basilisk… with a sword!

And now this arrogant and pampered Parisian bint was disrespecting him!?

'I would love to see your pretty little French arse go against a fully-grown basilisk! Harry ranted internally.'

Madam Maxine broke the silence in the room.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said, her accent even thicker than her student's. It sounded less sexy coming from her mouth as well.

"I'd would rather know that myself, Dumbledore," Karkaroff's rough voice interjected. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"

" 'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. Eet is most unjust," Maxime agreed, walking over to a slightly shaken Fleur to place her hands on her shoulders.

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

A drawling voice made itself known. "The only fault here lies with Mr. Potter-Black," said professor Snape, his condescending tone making Harry even angrier than he already was. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's tendency for rule breaking. He has demonstrated failure for decency ever since he first entered Hogwarts."

If Harry had started to calm down from Fleur's statement earlier, it had returned with a vengeance. One provocation more and he would probably grab his wand and throw a nasty hex at the greasy-haired potions master.

An old hand on Harry's shoulder brought him back to his senses. Professor Dumbledore, looked to him in a grandfatherly manner. Slowly, Harry started to regain his composure.

"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" he asked him slowly.

"No," answered Harry. Snape snorted derisively at his side

'Don't test me right now, you greasy-haired cunt. I swear I will- '

Dumbledore squeezed on his shoulder once again. Harry felt his rage start to quell, Dumbledore must have been using wandless magic to send a calming charm, he realized.

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" said Professor Dumbledore, ignoring Snape. "No," said Harry in a half growl.

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.

"He could not have crossed the Age Line," said Professor McGonagall sharply. "I am sure we are all agreed on that —"

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," said Madame Maxime, shrugging.

"It is possible, of course," said Dumbledore politely.

"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" said Professor McGonagall angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"

Harry saw McGonagall shoot an angry look at professor Snape and Madam Maxime, appreciating the effort to stand up for him. He made a mental note to leave gift her with an extra expensive brand of firewhisky come Christmas Eve.

It had been a little hard to earn her respect after his mediocre performance in her class during his first year. He was a little more interested in being accepted and making the most number of friends he could, just like his father had before him during his time as a student at Hogwarts.

The confrontation with Quirrell and Voldemort had changed that.

The battle with Quirrell had almost left him dead, his ancient line would have finished in that moment if it hadn't been for an intense explosion of accidental magic that left the secret Death Eater with a smoking hole in his chest.

It changed everything for Harry, the man that had killed his parents was still alive, and he was trying to finish the job he had failed to complete that night in Halloween of 1980. An already ambitious Harry became even more determined. His second year saw him improve in every one of his classes at a dramatic level. Even Snape had reluctantly gave him first place in his year for potions. McGonagall and Flitwick, however told him they saw the talents of both his parents in him. A statement that made him beam with joy.

"— in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" exploded Karkaroff, forcing Harry back to reality. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled Alastor Moody, Harry had heard legends of him from Sirius. A battle hardened auror, he was the very definition of grizzled veteran Harry had read in comic books during his childhood. With that missing eye he looks like an even grumpier Nick Fury.

"All champions that submitted their names and were chosen are now under contract, they must compete," continued Moody. "Quite convenient isn't it," he snarled to Karkaroff.

'I like this guy a lot better already,' Thought Harry.

"What are you implying?" Karkaroff snarled back.

"It's quite simple isn't it, Karkaroff. Whoever put Potter's name into the Goblet knew that he had to compete under the pressure of the magically binding contract," said Moody.

"Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!" said Madame Maxime.

"I agree with Madame Maxime," said Karkaroff, glancing at the giant headmistress of Beauxbatons. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the ICW"

"If anyone has a good reason to complain it's Potter," growled Moody "and yet… you don't hear him complaining, do you?"

Harry was about to thank the ex-auror and explain the situation when suddenly a melodic voice that had caused him so much anger in the first place resurfaced.

"Why should 'e complain?" burst out Fleur Delacour, stamping her foot, the very image of a haughty brat. " 'E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money — zis is a chance many would die for! Some of us 'ave struggled for zis chance for a long time, and 'e gets eet as a 'andout! So tell us, why would 'e be complaining!"

Alright, that was it, not even a calming charm from fucking Merlin himself could have changed what happened next.

The dam finally broke.

"Because maybe someone wants me dead!" exploded Harry. Overwhelming anger making sure all reason left his senses, he points at Snape and Karkaroff. "Those two are former Death Eaters! Maybe their loyalty never changed! Other Death Eaters tried to do so in the last three years, why should this one be any differ-!"

"Harry!" shouted Dumbledore, now his two hands grabbing Harry's shoulder, trying to hold back the emerald eyed wizard's rage.

Silence reigned the chamber at his declaration. Both Snape and Karkaroff looked shocked at first but it was then replaced by a positively murderous look in their eyes. Dumbledore tightened his hold on Harry, McGonagall looked bewildered. Turning to his side, both Cedric, Krum, and Fleur looked stunned at the declaration.

Harry shrugged of Dumbledore's grasp and stomped away towards the chamber doorway

It's happening again. I am a target again. Things are out of my control again. Why is it all against my control? I want to be in control of the situation for once!

He heard Snape's voice call out to him

"Fifty points from Gryffi-"

"Oh, blow me!" Harry snarled back, not even deigning to look back at the Potions professor.

His hand found the doorknob and twisted it, opening the door, went through it, and then slammed the door so hard he heard several portraits and vases fall off from the other side and glass break.

The Great Hall was empty.

'One small mercy.'

He quickly sped up towards the dormitory, emotions storming up as he did so.

'I shouldn't have done that, it is below me,' thought Harry. 'I should head back, and apologize.'

But he couldn't, his rage would not allow it. 'Why am I so mad? Nobody has enraged me this way before. Not Snape, nor Malfoy and his goons, why this time?'

He remembered the French witch.

He had been insulted before, hell, Snape had said things that made Fleur Delacour's words pale in comparison. So why had he reacted this way? Was it her veela charm. Harry mused to himself. 'Sirius said I was immune to it. Maybe he was wrong? But isn't it supposed to make you stare at them like a complete imbecile and obey their commands?'

He guessed it was because she had been the first woman to demean him that way. He had been raised by Sirius to never raise his hand against girls. But there had never been a reason to. In the Muggle World, his female teachers had sung praises for his intelligence and none of his female classmates ever made comments his way. Her final, haughty statement about him was what really set him off. 'A handout!? Do you know how hard I work every day to be at my best!? I have two and a half millennia of legacy I have to live up to.'

She was like a Malfoy, one he couldn't bring himself to attack.

When he entered Hogwarts, McGonagall mentioned he could do better than his work in his first year, but after applying himself in his second year, the criticisms turned to praise.

Jabs by Malfoy and other men he could take, most of the time he only had to place his muscular form in front of them and they would retreat back. He could ignore Snape, and still brew a potion so perfectly he begrudgingly had to give top scores. If things turned for the worse he could always rely on good old Muggle style fighting which, given that unlike the virtually the entire wizarding population he actually had training in, he was confident he would come out on top.

'Fleur Delacour,' His mind drifted towards her. Now that he had seen her closely, he could see why the entirety of the male students were going wild. She was probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Even models on Sirius' magazines failed to meet up to her standards. Even in his imaginations he fantasized briefly about the idea of going out with the stunning Veela, before common sense took over of course, unlike his fellow wizards.

It was her personality which brought down those fantasies. A witch like her could probably catch every single muggle and wizard alike, something that she was probably aware of. She looked at the entire population like they were something unsightly she came across while walking on the street. If nobody could catch her attention, why should he be bothered?

'You are a Potter,' his mind went on despite his common sense, his fingers tracing over the signet ring Sirius had given him after his confrontation with Quirrell, fingers touching the dragon figure that was the symbol of his ancient House. 'You have the blood of warriors and conquerors, rulers and leaders, your ancestors built empires and brought down their enemies, they led the way and changed history, No one ever defies the Potters, no matter if they are sheep, wolves or lions, all bow before the dragon.'

With some mental struggle Harry pushed aside his ego, he was not a dragon… yet.

While Harry continued towards the stairways, he noticed professor Dumbledore waiting for him, despite leaving the chamber behind him.

'Magic,' he mused to himself.

Dumbledore gazed at him with a somber look on his face. Harry didn't need words to know that he should accompany the professor back to his office.

"I meant it. I didn't do it" said Harry.

"I believe you, my boy" responded the Headmaster before opening the door to his office

Dumbledore led him towards his desk and offered Harry to sit down. Dumbledore took his own seat, and gazed at Harry for a few seconds, his eyes a myriad of emotions.

"That was quite a scene back there" he finally said.

"I'm not apologizing" Harry responded.

"I don't expect you to," said Dumbledore. "How did you know about Severus and Karkaroff? It's supposed to be confidential information."

"Sirius told me," answered Harry, seeing no point in hiding it. "He told me about a lot of people: Snape, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Avery, Yaxley, Mcnair… both Carrows. You know for someone who is supposed to of have been the most powerful and dangerous dark wizard of all time, there sure as shit are quite a few of his followers operating outside Azkaban."

"Language, Harry"

"Don't 'language' me, professor," replied Harry. "Why are these people allowed to be outside Azkaban? why are they working in the Ministry? Why are they teaching students in Hogwarts?"

"Harry," sighed Dumbledore. "Snape and Karkaroff were let go because they became informants during the war. Their identity as former Death Eaters was kept a secret, I had to convince young mister Diggory, mister Krum, and Miss Delacour not to spread rumors."

"I'm sorry for causing you trouble, Headmaster," said Harry. "But I am not sorry for calling a spade a spade, you know what this Tournament is about. Snape and Karkaroff may not have done it, but I will bet my life on the fact that one of their Death Eater fuckbuddies did."

"Language"

"Don't 'language' me. Tell me, did Malfoy sign in on this Tournament?" asked Harry. "Because if he did, then you have definitive proof that something shady is going on here."

Dumbledore sagged in his seat. "What happened to you Harry? You were a cheerful boy when you first entered these halls, I remember you smiling when you were sorted into Gryffindor, the Sorting Hat told me that you had enough ambition to be a Slytherin, so intelligent as to make Rowena proud, and dedication to hard work that every Hufflepuff would envy, but your heart called for Gryffindor. I may not know enough about what your parents to make a guess at what they wanted you to become, but I knew enough about them to know they wanted you to be happy."

"Reality happened, professor," responded Harry. "That Harry died along with Quirrell when I blew out his chest. I live now to become stronger, the only way I can survive is if I become the best, happiness be damned."

"You have separated yourself from Mister Weasley and Miss Granger. Do they no longer matter to you?" Dumbledore asked him, a concerned look in his eyes.

"They drifted away on their own, Ron wants the easy way out, he chose to take Divination and Care of Magical Creatures for an easy grade, I chose Ancient Runes and Arithmancy to become more efficient. He does things quick and easy, I take my time to perfect them. In the end he chose to hang out with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan while I hit the books for more advanced subjects." Harry explained.

"Hermione… she is bright, there is no question, and dedicated. However, I think it really irked her to know that I could get a perfect score without her help. I don't dislike them, there was no big fight between us, they simply… stopped being there. I just… I need to become the best. I need to live up to my name." Harry responded, his fingers once again drifting off to touch the signet ring on his finger.

Dumbledore sighed, then stood up and walked towards Harry. "Harry, you are the most talented person I have ever seen walk through those halls, not even your parents had the same potential as you… not even Tom." He said, wincing slightly. "You have even more talent than I ever did, but if you lose yourself in your anger, then you can never become that person that you want to be."

Harry's eyes followed the Headmaster as he drifted towards Fawkes, his phoenix familiar.

"Ask yourself what you truly fight for, why do you lose yourself in studies and vigorous training, why do you wish to be the best, is it for yourself? If you lose all the people important to you, then what good is honor and pride?"

Dumbledore raised his hand towards the phoenix, while his other hand traced a locket around his neck, the same kind of locket that would house a clock along with an important photograph in the muggle world.

"What good is strength, when you have no one left to protect. Your father knew this, and your mother gave her life for this. Remember Harry, when a person has something important they want to protect... that's when they can become truly strong."

Dumbledore fell silent, leaving Harry to contemplate for a couple of minutes.

"Now," Dumbledore said, breaking the silence. "Since you were so impatient to leave us earlier, I have to relay the information for the first task. Care for a lemon drop?"

Harry groaned.

Upon arriving at his dormitory, he went straight to bed, however despite his exhaustion at the day's events, he was still unable to sleep. Thoughts still lingered on what had happened just a few hours earlier. Anger rose on him again, less potently than it had been before, but enough to keep him from falling into a peaceful slumber.

He sat on his bed, remembering the breathing exercises taught to him by Master Zheng

'Breathing'

'Holding'

'Exhaling'

'Breathing'

'Holding'

'Exhaling'

Eventually Harry gave up.

Extreme circumstances called for extreme measures.

Harry went towards his trunk, and after opening the lock, he rummaged through a few of his belongings, reaching for the bottom, he picked at a hidden compartment that hid some important things that were not technically legal to bring to Hogwarts:

A steel dagger.

A few of his favorite muggle comic books.

And…

Several muggle porno mags that would be considered extreme by your everyday normal person.

Casting a few privacy charms on his bed, he sat back down on his bed, with shaking hands he opened the magazine and started going from page to page. It wasn't just pictures, after all like most magazines it contained some articles about how to treat women and how to control them. The articles were appropriate considering the positions the women shown in the pictures.

Every image showed depravity most people would not consider… normal. Women bound in different, stringent positions. Restraints changing from ropes, to steel, to duct tape of different colors, and even restraints made out of non-conventional material, like rubber or leather.

There was one were a woman was bent into an arching position, her back to a horizontal wooden post, forcing her full chest forward, milky skin of her bosom already painted a red hue from a flogging she had endured.

He came across another one of a woman blindfolded and gagged with duct tape, bent over a man's knee, generous ass presented towards him, ready to be spanked like she was a naughty child in need of discipline.

That one got him hard.

However, there was one he stopped to look at, it was not as provocative as the other ones, for one thing the woman portrayed had her privates covered. She was wearing an outfit that seemed to have been completely made out of leather, the fetishwear covered her breast slightly, and also protected her womanhood, the rest was laid bare.

It was the position that caught Harry's attention.

She was kneeling down, a collar covered her neck, the leash attached to it fell down between her leather covered breasts and unto her left leg. Her mouth forced open by a rubber sphere, crimson red in color, which surrounded her lips like a red egg forced into her mouth and held by diabolical straps fastened behind her head.

If she wanted to get out of her situation she would have a hard time, her arms were hidden behind her back, probably fastened with a restraint of some kind, preventing the use of them and leaving her at the mercy of whatever person wanted to have his way with her.

The eyes were what really sold it.

Twin honey orbs stared widely at the camera, pleading. They seemed to look directly into Harry's own eyes and convey a myriad of emotions.

Horror.

Anxiety.

Uncertainty.

Excitement.

Submission.

Harry looked on at the picture, while at the same time lowering his sleeping pants in order to allow his manhood to break free of its cotton restraints. Grabbing hold of his stick, he started caressing the tip, slowly but surely taking his anger and stress away.

As he started to pump it up and down, he continued to look obsessively at the face of the helpless female, until finally he had enough of a mental picture to set it down and finish himself off for the night.

That was until his own mind started to change the nature of the picture.

Honey eyes were replaced by twin sapphires of impossible blueness, only the ones with that particular color were more filled with defiance rather than the ones he saw with the woman in the magazine.

Brown hair gave way to hair almost silver, splayed all around her perfect face. So long that with her kneeling it reached her legs, just like the leash attached to her neck

Tanned skin was taken over by pale milky skin, so pure it looked to be made of porcelain, however it would more than likely be soft and supple to the touch, when Harry imagined himself taking her by the leash and pulling her towards his arms.

The collar itself only had one change, a symbol of a dragon to mark her owner.

Harry kept this corrupted mental image in his mind until he finally let out all his anger, frustrations, and fears along with his seed.

In the end, the dark-haired wizard could only mutter a quick cleaning charm before dozing off to the best good night's rest he had had in months.

AN: Well… that actually took a lot less than expected.

I honestly thought it would take a couple of weeks just to write this chapter, especially considering this is probably the first time I have ever written something this long in my life.

As you can see this is not the same Harry as you have in canon, him being raised by Sirius Black let him grow into a confident young man with ambition that matches Julius Caesar. And now he has the beautiful Fleur Delacour in his sights.

Anyways I am looking forward to your reviews, I am especially interested in what the Brits and French think.

See I have this thing, where I live in the most Americanized city in all of Mexico, I was taught in a private elementary school that taught everything in English so much that I think I might have a more advanced vocabulary in English rather than Spanish. However, the director of the school was also an old chap from Birmingham, and more than a couple of teachers were Brits.

So, I have this weird bastardized vocabulary between American and British slang.

Also, those British teachers all had less than favorable things to say about the French, just putting it out there.

Speaking of Britain, song and album recommendation is "Another Perfect Day" by Motörhead, RIP Lemmy.

Until next time.

The Metal Sage

Chapter 3: Destined for Glory

"Harry Potter" belongs to J.K. Rowling

AN: Chapter two. Sirius ponders his life with his Godson. Harry starts to forge new alliances, and deals with his growing obsession for the French beauty. This chapter will get a little dark at one point, a little bit of gore will be involved.

REVISED ON 26/03/2018

A Godfather's Promise

Chapter II: Destined for Glory

If there is something that Sirius had become unfortunately accustomed to since that fateful day that he accompanied his Harry to Platform 9 ¾ for his first year at Hogwarts, is seeing unscheduled owls bearing letters reporting unfortunate events that his aforementioned godson had been caught into.

The first time it had happened, had been the day after Halloween of Harry's first year, when he the letter arrived and told him that his godson had incapacitated a troll with the help of his friends. The one that came after was a positive one, he had become the youngest seeker in centuries.

He went all the way to Hogwarts to attend Harry's debut, cheering for him when he caught the golden snitch. 'You would have been so proud, James', Sirius remembered thinking. He went down after the match was over to congratulate him personally, Sirius remembered how ecstatic he was. It was like being sent back to his youth when James had consistently won the Quidditch Cup when he was captain of the Gryffindor team.

Then, the next letter came to inform him Harry had killed a Death Eater.

Sirius immediately grabbed his wand apparated to Hogsmeade, demanding entrance to Hogwarts in order to see his godson.

When he was finally let inside under the permission of professor Dumbledore, he was rushed to the Hospital Wing. There lay the boy that had become his son in all but blood, his face sported cuts and bruises that no eleven-year-old boy should have to endure. He had been unconscious since they had recovered his passed-out body.

It took him three days until he finally woke up.

"What happened down there," Sirius remembered asking him.

"I tried to stop them… I needed to stop them from getting the Stone," murmured Harry while he was struggling to regain full consciousness. His dark-haired godson closed his eyes shortly after that.

"We found the body of professor Qurininus Quirrell along with the Mirror of Erised," Dumbledore had told him shortly after. "He had a hole the size of a Quaffle in his chest."

"What have you been teaching him!" roared Sirius, trying to remember the offensive spells he had learned during his first year at Hogwarts. "How could he learn a spell that blew a grown man's chest open!?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I don't think he did it on purpose. Given the boy's state, all signs implicate a massive burst of accidental magic."

"Accidental magic doesn't do that much damage!" Sirius shouted to the headmaster. "Accidental magic leads to turning your hair color green, not killing someone!"

Dumbledore then took a deep breath. "Sirius," he said, choosing his next words carefully. "You know Harry is not… normal, even for a wizard."

"I know that, but something like this is unheard of!" argued Sirius.

"Not unheard of, but certainly uncommon," answered Dumbledore. "Harry has an immense amount of potential, one that rivals or surpasses mine, when he cannot control such power and finds himself in a dangerous situation, his power gets out of control in a violent way."

"I was the same way, I…," Dumbledore breathed heavily, making Sirius stare intently at the normally calm and composed headmaster. "I also harmed people when I couldn't control it, and Harry has even more potential then I had at his age," revealed Dumbledore.

Sirius remembered being shocked at the revelation, he had known Harry to be special, but not so much that even Dumbledore could be surpassed.

Sirius looked at Harry differently after that, treating him even more maturely than he already did, he even decided to give Harry the Potter signet ring.

The troubles certainly didn't end after that, the next year was even more challenging. The final letter came to tell him that Harry had slain a basilisk.

A basilisk…

Sirius stood up from his living room sofa, and slowly climbed the steps of their modest house in the large town of Reading.

After the events in that fateful night of Halloween, Sirius had decided to raise Harry in the muggle world, not wanting his godson to be hounded by the troubles of Wizarding Britain. As such he had bought a house in Berkshire county, a relatively peaceful place just a few miles away from London, yet it was also large enough that Sirius and his godson never had lacked for anything.

Arriving at the second floor he made his way to his foster son's bedroom.

When he had heard the news of the basilisk, he had almost suffered a heart attack. His godson at the tender age of twelve had gone against the most dangerous creature in the wizarding world armed with only a sword… and lived to tell the tale.

On one hand Sirius could not help to be proud of his godson's accomplishment's. He could almost imagine that if James and Lily had been alive and Sirius had only been the boy's godfather, he would have been all over Harry, regaling in his outstanding accomplishments while Lily would berate him and force him to enact more caution the next time.

However, that role had also been passed down to Sirius, along with Harry after the death of his parents at the hands of Lord Voldemort.

Harry had grown up believing Sirius had been his real father. Sirius however had corrected him when he had been four years old, and told him the truth about his birth parents. His godson had cried for several days after that.

In order to try and calm him, Sirius had started to tell his godson the story of his family, the same stories that Harry's grandfather had told Sirius when he was staying in Potter manor after being banished by his mother from House Black.

Telling Harry about the stories of his family had worked, however it had also changed his nephew in order ways, after that, Harry became more serious and focused on his muggle studies a lot more. Still a boy of four, Harry made some pretty silly things.

He still laughed at the memory of when Harry had gone down to the local recruitment center at the age of five, later receiving a phone call from one very amused Major. He had picked up Harry and the Major told him about how his godson had entered the office, stood straight and yelled in his high-pitched voice: "Harry Potter, reporting for duty, sir!"

The Major had laughed and called Sirius in order to pick him up. When the Black lord arrive, the Major had was patting the boy on his head, while Harry pouted. "Wait until you're 18, young fella, then we'll be happy to have you in Her Majesty's Service," then sent him off to his godfather. "Spirited, this one, take good care of him."

Sirius entered Harry's bedroom and stared at the place. It was a startling mixture of what you could find in a normal 14-year old's room, as well as what you would find of an adult. The dichotomy was so Harry that it made Sirius smile at the sight.

A huge personal library was separated in two stands. On one stand was a collection of magic texts, some more advanced than what was taught in Hogwarts. Subjects from Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Runes, and other areas of magical nature. They were neatly arranged from subject, to difficulty. It was a testament of his godson's drive to learn and get more powerful.

The other side however, spoke about the Harry only a handful of people knew.

Muggle comic books lay neatly arranged, by publisher and alphabetical order. A fascination of many muggles, especially teenagers, Harry was also drawn in by the characters, their motivations, their struggles… and it didn't hurt that some artists could also draw sexy heroines in a way no healthy male could look away.

Below the comics also lay muggle works of literature: Lord of the Rings was featured prominently, one of Harry's favorites, and other fantasy works by Michael Moorcock and C.S. Lewis.

Literature was not all, however. Resting on a special stand, was Harry's constantly used Fender Stratocaster, next to it, a Marshall amplifier. Above the wall, several posters of famous guitarists and bands were displayed. One large poster showed a long-haired, tall blond man with a cream colored electric guitar, the poster read "Yngwie J. Malmsteen". Sirius did not know about him, but Harry had told him he was the best in the world.

Another showed an African American man. Even being raised in the wizarding way, Sirius knew that the man was the American guitar legend, Jimi Hendrix.

When Lily had become friends with the Marauders, she had brought the wizard raised friends a healthy dose of muggle culture, including things like music, books, and to their shock, a new medium unknown to the wizarding world: cinema.

Harry of course grew up knowing all these things, things that Sirius did not know about. And with his early years being on the leather bound 80's rather than Lily's love and peace 60's, his godson been known to have some extreme tastes. Whether it was music, movies or books… or as Sirius found out now that Harry was in puberty, sex. This was all something Sirius knew as part of raising Harry.

'Raising Harry,' Sirius mused to himself. 'Or did Harry raise me?'

'I guess we raised each other.'

When Sirius had decided to take Harry, he did not know anything about how to raise a child. In the first week he considered taking him to Dumbledore to find someone more suitable for the task of raising an infant, however, he remembered what he had promised, so he resolved himself to raising Harry himself.

'Because I swore to James that I would do it.'

It was a daunting task, raising him in the muggle world. A world that he had only snippets of information thanks to Lily. Learning to use other modes of transportation that didn't include the Floo network or brooms took him over a year.

And phones! Muggles found way to communicate with one another over long distances that didn't necessitate the use of writing, and it was handier than Floo conversations. As a person raised to believe all muggles were useless and barbaric, it shocked Sirius to see how far they had truly come. In a few years, muggle technology could maybe be able to surpass magic. Seeing their military inventions, muggles could probably beat wizards if Voldemort got his long-desired war.

'We truly have underestimated them,' Sirius thought to himself, staring at Harry's queen-sized bed.

Sitting down on Harry's bed, he looked at the raven-haired wizard's desk. In it was a word processing machine, but also several pictures. One of them was of Harry and Sirius holding a trophy, it was shot after Harry had won a martial arts tournament.

Another displayed Harry and Sirius again. Both of them were dressed in studded leather jackets. It was taken after Sirius decided to take Harry to 'Monsters of Rock' in Donnington. Sirius had felt that Harry needed something to take his mind off things after the challenging first year.

The one at the centerpiece - in Sirius' opinion - was the best, it was a magic picture, and featured Sirius, Remus, and James with Lily carrying a laughing one-year old Harry.

'You would be so proud of him,' Thought Sirius, looking at the photograph.

'But… did he have to grow up so fast?' Sirius questioned himself.

The last year was a challenge for both Sirius and Harry, after Peter Pettigrew had escaped from Azkaban.

The Ministry had been in shock, in it's entire history there had not been a single instance of escape from the infamous Wizarding prison. However, somehow, Peter Pettigrew had done so.

When Sirius had heard the news, he was filled with anger, yet also with a sense of relief. Finally, after all this time, he would get the chance to take his revenge on the traitor that had sold out his best friend to Voldemort and his servants. The same man that had left his godson as an orphan. He had never told Harry about Peter's connection to his parents, or about the Marauders.

Harry, however found out about Peter. Pettigrew had left Azkaban with the intention of either killing or capturing Harry, but was outsmarted by a combination between Remus, Sirius and his godson. A plan that went awry with the untimely transformation of Remus, as well as the interference of the dementors.

The dementors.

There was something odd about their behavior. They seemed to target Harry more than they did target Peter. Sirius suspected that they did so under the orders of some of the former Death Eaters and Voldemort sympathizers within the Ministry.

So much so that, when Peter escaped, instead of tracking him down, the dementors instead attacked Sirius and Harry. His godson defended him with a fully corporeal Patronus.

'You would have been so proud of your boy, James.'

Sirius had complained to the Ministry of course, but they just gave him a simple apology and told him they would try to control the dementors better the next time around.

Of course, a large part of the Ministry was in control of Lucius Malfoy. There was a simple reason behind the dementors actions. With no male sons, once he died, the heirship of House Black would be in dispute. Draco Malfoy would technically be the next in line to inherit the ancient house if Harry did not meet certain conditions for the continued survival of the Blacks.

Sirius though, had already made it sure that his heir would be Harry. James' mother had been a Black after all. Sirius had posthumously re-legitimized her when he came to his power as Lord Black. He would be damned if Lucius Malfoy's spawn gets his hands on the legacy of House Black.

Harry had changed even more after the escape of the traitorous Marauder; his already low number of friendships had seemed to evaporate. Harry now concentrating himself full time to getting stronger, he stopped his social life entirely, leaving him a loner by the time of last summer.

'He should be making friends, getting a girlfriend, and being the root cause of more gray hairs for Professor McGonagall, not preparing for a full-blown war. What would Lily and James say if they saw their son pushing himself to this level?' Sirius thought, thinking about his now deceased friends.

Now another letter had come.

His godson had now been chosen to participate in the dangerous tradition known as the Triwizard Tournament.

'It's not fair to him, why is it always him? Merlin, please let him live a normal life for just a little. There has to be a way for him to be safe. James would kill me if anything would happen to his son, why does he still get in danger every time.'

Sirius sighed. Then stood up with the intention of speaking with Dumbledore.

He had left his godson alone for the past three years in Hogwarts and nothing good had come out of it.

'No more'

Sirius was going to help his godson in this one. If he could not prevent the disasters from happening around Harry, then he would help his godson weather through them.

He was the young man's Godfather after all.

'I swear to you James'

When Harry woke up, he was once again fully conscious of the sore erection he was sporting underneath his sleeping pants, making them look like a comical version of a tentpole.

'That dream again,' Thought Harry while he was beginning to shake of the usual morning drowsiness from his mind. Much to the emerald-eyed Potter's dismay, his sleep had been plagued by the same images that had been evolving since his name had been selected from the Goblet of Fire to participate as the fourth Triwizard Tournament.

'Looking on the bright side,' Harry thought as he was now sitting on the edge of his bed, preparing himself to start his day. 'Those dreams are a lot better than the nightmares.'

Yes, having a bound and gagged French Veela was definitely a lot better than nightmares where he ends up killing unknown people.

Both end up with him sweating, frustrated, and annoyed. The nightmares end with him clutching his scar in pain, while the dreams ended up with him clutching his manhood in pain. The latter pain however, was pretty manageable in the long run, if not endlessly vexing.

'Why does this keep happening?' Harry questioned himself as he stood up with a visible scowl in his face, his mind trying to think unsexy thoughts in order to calm down his raging teenage hormones.

It had taken some time to accept it, after all, that the person he kept seeing in his wet dreams was the same woman that he had met three nights prior. The same woman who had belittled him in front of the other champions and had caused him to explode into anger during the Choosing.

It had taken him some time to admit it, that the woman that now haunted his sleep was that woman, but after last night's dream, it was pretty much undeniable in Harry's mind that – not content with being in his thoughts during his daily activities – Fleur Delacour was now following him while he slept.

It had been hard to admit after all, the fact that one person would have that much of an impact upon Harry's life. It had become increasingly frustrating to the Potter heir to find his mind drifting to the beautiful pale-haired French wizard.

'How did this happen?' Harry mentally groaned as he was picking out his morning exercise clothes. 'How is it that one woman can have this much presence in my life in such little time?'

The thoughts kept plaguing as he made his way outside the Gryffindor Common Room and Hogwarts itself, to the Black Lake, in order to start his morning run.

Harry, unlike most pure or half-blood wizards, had grown like any normal muggle child… as normal as Harry Potter and Sirius Black can be at least. An essential part of life of everyday muggles that wizards often ignore is that of physical movement. Magic made it easier for a normal wizard to not get of his arse while muggles had to do more physical work in their day to day life.

Harry himself had also entered physically demanding activities in Berkshire, including muggle martial arts and football. Both of which demanded that the Potter heir be in top physical shape. Not to mention that he had plans to enter the Royal Marines when he graduated Hogwarts, a military branch that was known to ask that it's members be at the absolute peak of their body.

Arriving at the aforementioned lake, Harry was surprised to see another early riser in the scene. Even the professors are not usually awake at this early hour.

On the other hand, it should be no surprise that a fellow champion would also be interested in training their body. Thankfully for Harry, it was not the champion that had been particularly bothering him recently.

Looking at Viktor Krum now, Harry could see why he had been chosen as his school's representative in the tournament. The Bulgarian seeker looked like he had already run a lap across the lake, showing why he had become seeker for his country at such a young age.

Stopping his morning run in order to look at a new presence, the Durmstrang champion stared at Harry. For a few seconds, neither said a word, merely satisfying themselves with staring at each other with blank expressions on their faces.

Neither of them broke the silence, but Krum did break the mood. Keeping the same blank look on his expression, he gave a quick nod to the younger champion, and resumed his training. Harry respectfully gave a nod back and started his stretches.

Finishing his stretches, Harry then began his exercise with a light jog, all the while thinking about how his last interactions with his housemates had been since he had been revealed as the fourth Triwizard Champion.

If there had been a rift between his friends and himself since last year, then there was now a large chasm that even Harry wasn't sure it could be fixed. Ron – in his usual jealousy – had accused Harry of once again taking glory for himself.

'Haven't the last three years taught you anything Ron? Harry questioned sadly. You should know that I never asked for any of this. If you want glory so badly, then I would gladly give the position to you.'

Hermione though, had been the most disappointing. Harry thought that if there was someone in the whole school who would believe his version of events, it would be his Muggle-Born friend. Instead Hermione, while not accusing him of lying, was now openly avoiding conversation with him. All the while still speaking to Ron.

That's not even mentioning the rest of his housemates, who had grown openly hostile. Harry had stopped associating himself with the rest of the Gryffindors, and well… the rest of the students ever since his first year in lieu of studying and practicing. But he had still counted with the continuous support of his two best friends. With them gone, he knew exactly how badly it felt to be truly alone in his life.

Completing his run, he was once again met with the figure of Viktor Krum. This time the silence would indeed be broken.

"You are taking this seriously, that is good," said Krum. "Though, it does make it look like you do wish to compete in this tournament."

Still regaining his breath, Harry responded. "I didn't enter my name, but I don't have a choice anymore now, do I? If I don't compete in this thing now I will lose my magic."

"It was still very convenient, vasn't it? It vas quite a scene you made back there," stated Krum with a barely visible smirk on his face, still covered in sweat from his morning workout. "Do you really think someone vants you dead?"

"Ask your headmaster," retorted Harry, his previous heavy breathing slowing down. "I'm pretty sure Snape has wanted me gone since the day I arrived at Hogwarts."

Krum's smirk started to go in lieu of his ever present stony expression.

"Vat do you know about headmaster Karkaroff?" questioned Krum.

"I know he was a Death Eater, I know he also betrayed his allies, making him a dangerous man to be around. Your headmaster is both a dark wizard and also a traitor, even I can give a smidge of respect to the ones on Azkaban who kept their loyalty. Karkaroff is an arse that will do despicable things in one moment, and then betray you on another if it's convenient for him," explained Harry.

To Harry's surprise, Krum actually snorted in amusement, followed by a ghost of a smile that could barely be detected.

"Believe me, despite being student in his school, I vill not be defending Karkaroff, he may look like he is supportive of me, but he only cares about competition. He is man who cares about his ego, nothing else," said Krum, while Harry remained silent, a surprised look on his face.

"Then why are you even competing if not for your school?" questioned Harry, now fully composed but still sweating profusely from the exercise.

"I am doing this for myself, I share very little in common with the rest of classmates. Something vee may share in common from vat I hear," Krum answered, his face slowly losing his average composure, and breaking into a very slight smile. "I hear you are also seeker, youngest in centuries."

"I am," responded the young Potter heir. "So, you do this for yourself? Why?"

"To prove myself, to show vorld and myself I am not only great seeker, but also great vizard," responded Krum. "Why do you compete, Potter?"

"I don't want to compete, I told you, I did not put my name in the Goblet," protested Harry, his voice now sounding tired, probably from saying the same thing to so many people.

"Even so… you still seem to take this seriously, I see you come here and train, that is not attitude of person who has given up," declared the Bulgarian champion. "There must be reason why you train."

"Maybe it's to protect my name and my pride, as well as the name of my family," responded Harry, his middle finger once again tracing the dragon signet ring of House Potter. "Even if I didn't put my name in the Goblet, this still represents a challenge to prove myself in front of the world."

Krum's smirk got even more pronounced. "That was very impressive scene you made when ve vere chosen, I am used to anger being seeker, and still haven't seen someone explode the vay you did. Karkaroff looked like he vanted to kill something, and so did you!" exclaimed Krum. "Tell me, vat made you that angry? From vat I've heard about you, you vould have gotten used to it by now."

"I may have expected something, but it doesn't mean I have to like it," responded Harry, checking his watch and noting it was almost time for breakfast. "Wouldn't you be angry too?"

"There vas something more though, vasn't there?" questioned Krum, then the smirk turned into a small smile. "It was French champion, vasn't it? You started getting angry the moment she started talking to you, you were a victim of her allure then."

Harry tensed immediately, causing Krum to widen his smile slightly. The emerald eyed wizard hated the Durmstrang champion more than anyone at that moment. Finally composing himself, Harry turned to look Krum in the eyes.

"You are imagining it, I was in the World Cup and saw those Veela cheerleaders you had. Everyone went half stupid at the sight of them but I did not. My godfather told me that I'm immune to Veela allure. I did not start drooling when I saw her either," responded Harry, still nervous about being called out.

"Not her allure then, but she definitely had effect on you," insisted Krum, his smile still present.

"I need to get going now, it's almost time for class" said Harry, now getting nervous around the issue of the Beauxbatons champion. The frustrations he had been hoping to quell with the morning exercise now re-emerging with a vengeance.

Viktor Krum checked his own watch, and cursed lightly in Bulgarian. "I do not know if I believe you, but I look forward to competing against you in the days to come," with a respectful nod, he then started to lightly run towards the Durmstrang ship.

Harry returned the nod. 'It really says something when the only respect I get nowadays has to come from a foreign student who also happens to be my rival.'

The dark-haired wizard then began to also run back towards the castle, looking forward to a shower and a breakfast.

Harry's hope for a calm breakfast came to a halt with the appearance of the very same person that had been the subject of conversation between him and Krum in the morning.

Fleur Delacour sat on the edge of the Ravenclaw, Harry noticed that she made sure to be surrounded only by females, whether they were from Hogwarts or Beauxbatons. Even with this premeditated precaution, the nearest set of males were still unable to keep their eyes from drifting towards the stunning silver-haired witch, the ones furthest away were not fairing any better either.

Like it had been since the day she had arrived, it was an impossible task of self-control for the wizard population to keep their senses in the presence of the Beauxbatons champion.

From only a brief overview of the Great Hall, Harry could see that the majority of the population were drooling in a way that would make most bulldogs red with envy. Ron Weasley was probably displaying one of the most embarrassing ones, combining his lack of self-control with his eating tendencies; the Weasley male had his open mouth dropping half eaten food back into his plate.

Even the first years were not spared from the shame, even if they sported innocent, besotted smiles rather than lustful stares.

Harry, now growing increasingly appalled, even noticed some of the students worming their hands under their robes to service clearly excited manhoods.

Even some of the women were also affected by the French veela, if Susan Bones' stares were any indication.

'I can see that she's attractive. Okay, massive understatement, she's absolutely beautiful. But can't you all show a little bit of self-restraint? Merlin, this is absolutely embarrassing me, and I'm not even the one drooling.'

At the same time, the looks that they were giving her made Harry oddly… uncomfortable.

'None of you are worthy, so stop looking at her.'

Harry then recoiled back. Where had that come from?

The Veela in question however, was apparently ignoring the attention she was getting from the rest of the Hall. Harry guessed she must be pretty much used to being stared at like the dream come true of the average male psyche.

Fleur Delacour was instead concentrated on her breakfast. Harry once again observed that she had filled her plate with traditional French cuisine. He had noted her apparent dislike for British food ever since the moment she had asked him for a bowl of bouillabaisse the day she had arrived.

She had a small, half eaten croissant in her plate, next to it was another one, still untouched. A steaming cup of coffee accompanied the French pastries. Upon taking a small sip of the beverage, her face broke monotone in favor of a familiar look of contempt, the British roast apparently offending her refined taste buds. She set the cup down, staring at it like a rat had died on it.

The uncomfortable side that Harry had been experiencing these last days told him that a smile would suit her gorgeous face better than the scowl. That or a nice, round ballgag

Harry tore his gaze away trying to forget the foolish thoughts and headed for the Gryffindor table in order to serve himself something to eat. Finding a place, he noticed some of his housemates shuffling away from him.

'So much for House solidarity,' thought Harry as he surveyed the several dishes arrayed around the table.

Settling himself for some eggs and toast, as well as a croissant he had seen in the plates of some of the Beauxbatons students eating… and the French champion, Harry began eating his breakfast. At the same time checking his schedule for the day. All the while trying to place the French witch behind him in favor of the upcoming classes and the first intrusion that the Tournament would make on this year.

After the debrief in Dumbledore's study, Harry knew he needed to get ready not only for the tasks themselves, but for the upcoming issue of the Wand Weighing ceremony. The headmaster had mentioned that Ollivander himself would be attending in order to inspect the champions' wands to ensure that they were in good condition for the rigors of the Tournament.

'Double Herbology,' thought Harry as he looked at his first class. 'I'm not interested much in this subject, so I didn't read up on it during the summer. Next to History of Magic it's the one I have the worst grades on, I need to find a way to get up to speed.'

Harry looked towards the table, most of his housemates were still ignoring him, however seated away from the rest of the table was also the lonely figure of Neville Longbottom. His finished plate was now ignored in favor of a massive book of Herbology, one which Harry noticed was advanced for their year.

Smiling Harry picked up his plate and started to walk towards the Longbottom heir. Sirius had once told him that the Longbottom and Potter houses had been stout allies since the founding of Hogwarts. With most of the school – including his housemates – abandoning him, maybe it was time to renew that relationship.

"Hey Neville, how are you doing," Harry declared with a smile on his face, startling Neville, who was still lost on his book.

"H-hey Harry, what is it," replied the nervous boy. Harry knew Neville had potential, but his self-doubt was his Achilles heel.

"Mind if I sit here," said Harry while putting his plate down beside his fellow Gryffindor.

"O-okay," replied Neville, while looking around the table, clearly not wanting to take another punch at his near non-existing popularity by associating himself with the house pariah, but too kind to tell Harry otherwise.

"Fascinating subject, Herbology," said Harry, looking up to see a more confident Neville smiling slightly, happy at being able to talk about his favorite subject, "I want to learn more about it, what say you help a bit and I help you with Potions."

Harry internally triumphed at seeing the Longbottom's eyes lighten up.

Harry looked pleased as he took his Herbology class. With Neville there to guide him everything was made much easier for him. In fact, Herbology was altogether not that different from Potions. Both required intense observation, following instructions, as well as intrinsic knowledge of the ingredients used.

'So why is he so bad at it?' Harry questioned himself. 'Neville's the best there is at Herbology in our entire year, maybe the whole school, and yet he is completely useless at Potions.'

Harry looked at his companion, who was following Professor Sprout's indications to the detail, while Harry was copying notes on the procedure.

"You see Harry, unlike most plant's, this particular species of magical nightshade can only be watered by of all things, acid, trying to use a base liquid to feed it will cause it to shrivel up and release an unpleasant smell that will stay on you for a month," babbled Neville, clearly excited while slowly nurturing the aforementioned nightshade.

Harry had never really seen this Neville before, he always knew the Longbottom heir to be a bumbling ball of insecurity. Now that he was showing aptitude for a subject he surpassed all other in, his fellow Gryffindor seemed to be beaming with confidence.

"Fascinating, Neville," said Harry, a bit dryly but truly impressed by Neville's seemingly savant ability in the knowledge of his favorite subject.

"Harry," said Neville, with a little more confidence then he had said so during the breakfast at the Great Hall. Said raven haired wizard looked back at him.

"What is it Neville," answered Harry, his attention still on his piece of parchment, copying the instructions that Neville seemed to give at a lightning speed.

"I um… happened to overhear something that the Slytherin students said," Neville explained uncertainly, his previous nervousness returning.

Harry looked over from his notes, now understanding Neville was talking about something other than Herbology.

"What did you hear?" Harry questioned softly.

Neville shuffled on his feet uncertainly, then finally relented started telling Harry what he had heard a couple of Slytherin fourth years saying.

"They're saying something about Malfoy, and they also said that you were involved, as well as the Triwizard Tournament. I don't know exactly what they were talking about, I j-just thought that you should be careful around the Slytherins," responded Neville.

'So, Malfoy seems to know something about me and the Triwizard Tournament, maybe this can all lead back to daddy Malfoy and the start of this plot,' Harry mused.

'Maybe Malfoy was the one to enter my name into the Goblet after all? I better stay on this,' a train full of conspiracies raced through Harry's mind, so much that he failed to notice Neville trying to get his attention back.

"-rry, Harry?!" Neville hushed loudly, making Harry snap out of his thoughts. Looking back at his fellow Gryffindor, he noticed that the class was now over and the students were filing out of the greenhouse in order to go back to the Great Hall for lunchtime.

"Sorry, I was distracted, thank you for telling me this," responded Harry.

"No need, thank you for listening to me Harry, everyone just ridicules me when I talk about Herbology W-will you really help me with the other subjects?" questioned Neville.

Harry smirked, "Don't worry Neville, I'll be there to help you. Now I really need to get going. See you in class!"

With that said, Harry sped off outside the Herbology greenhouse, but instead of heading towards the Great Hall, like all the other students, he took a quick detour towards the Gryffindor common room. He needed to find out what exactly Malfoy was up to and for that, one particular item of his father's that would come in handy.

Arriving at the foot of his bed, Harry waved his wand in order to open his locked chest. Inside he rummaged through his neatly packed belongings, finally locating the item that would be used to find out about the plans hatched by Malfoy.

His father's invisibility cloak.

Sirius had given it to him when he first accompanied him to take the Hogwarts Express in his first year at Hogwarts, and it had been a useful item to have in his adventures.

It was also a piece of his father that he could hold, and one of the most valuable belongings of House Potter. Whenever he placed it over himself, it was like his father and ancestors would be protecting him from beyond the grave.

Placing it in his bag, he then made his way back to the Great Hall, where the students were already getting eager for the food to appear on their tables.

The female students that is, the males were hungry for something else entirely.

Harry followed their stupefied gazes and was not surprised to see that they led towards the seated figure of the French veela. Once again, her perfect face had an indifferent expression. It couldn't be more obvious if she had a neon sign on her exclaiming 'I'm not interested'.

Okay, this is getting ridiculous now. Can it stop? Is this going to be every meal from now on until the end of the year? She's not that pretty guys!

Harry's eyes drifted slightly towards the witch in question.

Ok I'll admit, she is that pretty, she's a perfect ten. Hell, she breaks the meter, she's an eleven. But still, she's not going to pay attention, so just stop and act your age! I thought things like this only happened on muggle cartoons! Harry ranted in his mind.

Still… Harry was aware of his own internal hypocrisy. He had been fantasizing about her more than he was comfortable with, much like his classmates, and Harry doubted even his classmates' imaginations were as… odd as the ones the green-eyed wizard dreamed about.

Maybe I'm not really immune after all? Harry pondered, taking one last, discreet glance at the French champion. At least I can control myself, that's more than you can say for the rest of this lot.

Sighing, he made his way towards his table, once again sitting besides Neville. The boy in question was one of the only males in Hogwarts who could withstand the presence of the Fleur Delacour, and had foregone staring in lieu of practicing his wand waving.

"Hey mate, sorry, had to go back to the common room quickly to get something," said Harry, once again startling Neville.

"T-that's alright Harry," Neville replied softly, then looked around him to see the vision that Harry had been presented with when he arrived, clearly confused. "Is there something going on why? Why is everyone… oh," said Neville, realization dawning in his eyes as he looked at the figure of Fleur Delacour.

"I know she's pretty, but isn't this a… little too much?" Neville said in a low voice.

Harry snorted. "Some people are just weak."

"I'm weak too, so why am I not as fascinated," stated Neville sadly, his eyes once again drifting towards his wand. Harry intervened quickly.

"You're not weak, you just need some assistance, I will help you in class to understand better," stated Harry, bringing a small smile to Neville's face.

Aside from the presence of Fleur Delacour, lunch passed like any other day in Hogwarts. Harry made sure to give himself a full and healthy meal, while eagerly waiting for one particular Slytherin student to slip away from the Great Hall.

When Draco Malfoy finally stood up and left with his ever-present goons: Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, Harry said his quick goodbye to Neville and made sure to follow the Slytherin trio. Quickly entering an empty broom closet, he pulled the invisibility cloak, and placed it on himself. Exiting the closet, he prowled after them.

Even seeing them from behind, Harry knew Malfoy was sporting the biggest shit-eating grin in his face just from the way he was walking. It didn't take him long to overhear the blond ponce's conversation.

"Potter will be furious when he sees them!" Malfoy nearly snarled giddily in a disturbing manner. "It's about time the rest of the school saw him and his traitorous family for what they truly are."

The two goons beside him grunted. Harry was almost sure he hadn't ever heard any words coming from the two idiotic thugs.

'Those two are a true testament to your ideology Malfoy: inbred, racist, fat, and stupid,' Harry thought savagely. The comments about his family making him almost want to get his wand and stun all three of them.

'My family were conquering countries while yours were sucking some French lord's prick for the barest of recognition!' Harry ranted in his mind.

The three Slytherins finally arrived at an abandoned classroom, and tapped the door. Harry heard a lock come loose and the path to the room was opened. The Potter heir quickly entered before it could be closed and locked again.

Immediately he saw that there were two other Slytherins inside. The first one Harry noticed was pug-faced Pansy Parkinson, who threw herself at the Malfoy heir with a disturbing squee, and proceeded to suck his face.

The other one he didn't notice at first, but even with his back turned against Harry, the obese form of Millicent Bulstrode was quickly identifiable.

"Are they ready yet," drawled Malfoy, regaining himself after the sickening display Harry had witnessed earlier. Bulstrode turned back, apparently still working on the objects arrayed around an old table.

"Almost, they should be ready by tonight, tomorrow we can hand them out," came the booming reply of Bulstrode.

"Great then, let's see one that's completed," gasped Malfoy, excitement clear in his voice.

Harry watched as Bulstrode handed to Malfoy what looked like a badge one would put on their clothes to support a political campaign. In it, in bright red letters were the words:

Support CEDRIC DIGGORY

The REAL Hogwarts Champion!

Harry was disappointed to say the least. When he had followed Malfoy, he thought the plot to put his name on the Goblet would be revealed. He had assumed the Malfoy heir had been following the orders of his father in a conspiracy to get him killed in the Tournament.

Now he was finding out it was just another one of Malfoy's petty tricks. Harry frankly didn't care about the badge, Cedric was clearly the real Hogwarts Champion, chosen fairly by the Goblet to participate as the representative of the British school.

Harry didn't care that is… until Malfoy pressed the badge on his hands, and the words and image changed to read:

POTTER STINKS!

The words were the color of puke green, and the proud dragon symbol of the Potters was made to look like a deformed salamander, a clear insult to Harry's family.

Said raven-haired wizard almost erupted in anger at the sight. Insulting him was one thing, insulting the family of his forefathers was another.

Still, Harry fought his anger, and calmed down even with the howling, sycophantic laughter that surrounded the room, courtesy of the five Slytherins.

Harry left after that, taking quick note of the fact that the badges were still neatly arranged in the table for the night. Harry looked brightly ahead.

His next class was Ancient Runes after all, one of his favorites.

There would be some experimenting of course.

And… with the invisibility cloak he could always come back to this room during the night. He would have to.

After all, the snakes, just like all the rest, must be humbled before the awakened dragon

"Professor Babbling, I need some help with these particular question," drawled Harry, calling for the attention of the Ancient Runes professor.

"Yes Mr. Potter, how may I help you?" answered Professor Babbling, sitting in her office after class.

"I have noticed the use of the Push runes, and the fact that they can be used at a varying degree of severity, going from a light shove, to a violent throw. The question Professor Babbling, is one of safety. What would happen if I put two opposing Push runes in a single cluster?" asked Harry.

"That would be extremely dangerous Mr. Potter, two runes inscribed that way would cause both of them to come into conflict with each other and cause an explosion," stated the Professor.

Harry gasped, his acting talents enough to convince Babbling.

"I thank you for telling me this Professor, I will take this warning to heart," stated Harry, before ominously adding. "I will never forget it."

The next morning saw Harry walking towards the Great Hall, upon entering it he witnessed a spectacle he didn't think he would see for the rest of the year.

For once, Fleur Delacour was not the center of attention.

The badges that Harry had seen the day before had made their grand debut. The charmed objects attached to the students' changing from their support of Cedric to the mocking of Harry. In Harry's mind, they were mocking his family name as well.

Harry saw Cedric approach him, a slightly angry and embarrassed look on his face.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I tried to tell them to not wear them, I mean it, I-," Cedric stopped talking when he felt Harry's reassuring hand in his shoulder.

Harry truly appreciated Cedric in that moment, he smiled sincerely to his fellow champion and seeker and answered with a calm voice. "I know you would Cedric, I believe you, it's not your fault. You are a great and loyal friend."

Harry truly respected Cedric, he was the embodiment of the values of his House: fairness, hard-work, and loyalty. The dark-haired wizard then shook him lightly to assure his fellow champion and continued towards his place in the Gryffindor table, noticing with dismay that a few of his housemates had taken to sporting the badges.

Sitting down, Harry kept a facade of calm demeanor, his face a stone-cold expression that would make the Antarctic look like a tropical paradise, yet inside the volcano was seconds away from erupting. The mocking looks the students sent their way make the boiling point come closer with each passing second.

The most obnoxious one was Draco Malfoy, who was decked with six of the badges in his robes, almost all of his fellow Slytherins also sported a badge. The only exceptions were Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis.

Looking towards the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons delegations, he was relieved to see that none of them had a single badge in their clothes. Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum, looked particularly annoyed at the childish display the Hogwarts students were showcasing.

Harry sighed in relief, none of the foreigners had the badges, that was a good thing.

He did not wish to spark an international incident in case one of them got injured.

Speaking of the French witch, now that few people were looking in her direction, Harry felt less ashamed about gazing at her from his position.

An eleven out of ten she was not, there was no metric to measure this goddess made flesh. Now that she was not the object of stares in the room, Harry saw that she was more relaxed in her demeanor. Gone was the face of arrogance that she had sported ever since she saw her, now her face was brighter, her eyes sparkling like sapphires as she talked with two of her friends in French.

Harry noticed that rather than a scowl, her lips now formed a beautiful smile that made the Potter heir tingle inside with want. The opened mouth showed teeth like pearls, her voice babbling away in French was soft and exquisite, a far cry from the shrill nagging that she talked to him with during the night of the choosing.

Just looking at her now seemed to calm Harry, rather than anger him in the way she had before. If this was the true Fleur Delacour, then maybe being under her allure was not such a bad thing. Now he fully understood why everyone was obsessed with her.

'She's an angel,' Harry thought decidedly, there was truly no other way to describe such a being.

Unfortunately for the rest of the school, Harry was indeed immune to her allure, as he demonstrated when he closed his eyes. The calm that had taken over him disappearing, slowly being replaced by the previous fury that had been burgeoning ever since he had followed Malfoy yesterday.

"You have the virtues of all four Houses,"The Sorting Hat had once told him when he first entered the Great Hall of Hogwarts in his first year.

"It seems at the end I will put you in Gryffindor, you will be a lion like Godric!"

Harry's hands touched underneath the table as he remembered the words the Hat had told him them. His fingers slowly drifting towards the ring that had once belonged to his father, and his grandfather all the way to the old Poteria family of Rome.

But I am not a lion, nor a badger, or a raven, not even a snake! Harry thought, his eyes scrunching as he continued to hear the mocking laughs.

His fingers were now touching the symbol of his house, the powerful sigil of the winged reptile that reigned over all magical creatures and animals. His eyes now snapped open, his calm façade now gone, it showed nothing but pure fury.

'Godric Gryffindor'

Harry looked towards his housemates, now cowering in front of peer pressure as more of them took the badges being offered by the other students.

'Helga Hufflepuff'

The yellow colored robed students were only behind Slytherin in the mocking. Betraying the trust of their housemate and their fellow Hogwarts student.

'Rowena Ravenclaw'

Harry's gaze turned to the children of the house of knowledge, taking part in the asinine buffoonery as the rest of the school

'Salazar Slytherin'

The wizards and witches who bore green and silver now showed the dull fruit that was the product of their pettiness and low ambition.

'I am a dragon.'

Harry finally took his fingers away from the ring, and waved them in a small display of wandless magic.

'The Founders built a castle, and turned it into a school?'

'The Potters built a nation, and turned it into an empire!'

The small bit of magic that Harry sent started out slowly but surely taking effect. The badge of a Gryffindor sixth year started to hum softly.

'The Founders helped build a world that now cowers in the face of muggle progress?'

'The Potters helped build two civilizations that would bring the world to heel!'

Slowly but surely the students stopped their perverse revelry, and took note of the rapidly vibrating badges in their robes.

'The Founders' heirs have all but gone? Only a putrid dark wizard left as their living legacy?'

'The Potters are still here, and will always remain!'

'When the rubble is settled, when your rotting world lies in cinders, the dragon will still fly!'

Harry's attention turned to the students, eventually settling on the confused figure of Draco Malfoy

'What do you say now about my family, you waste of flesh and air!?' Harry thought viciously, as his eyes feasted on the spectacle he spent all night organizing until it was perfected.

A loud bang shook the Great Hall, the sixth year Gryffindor was sent flying a foot behind him, smoke coming from the robe where the badge had previously been. He was bleeding from his chest, but still alive and groaning into unconsciousness.

Similar things started to happen to the students that wore the badges, the vibrations started to get out of control, before a controlled but powerful explosion sent them flying.

Harry looked around him, as the students that symbolized the future of the wizarding world were being thrown around like a macabre marionette show.

'Is this your legacy, Founders?' Harry thought derisively, now only he was doing the mocking, standing from his seat to revel in the spectacle of his creation.

'But then again, I guess your kind only ever thought small. Perhaps your shallow and insignificant world did consider you geniuses.'

…

'But you could never reach the level of the Potters.'

Harry surveyed the entire Great Hall, most of the students that wore badges were now on the floor, their unconscious faces still groaning in shock and pain. Some of them would be considered geniuses, just like the Founders were considered geniuses.

'But no matter how much of a genius someone is, their accomplishments are mediocre and insignificant when compared to the name 'Potter'!'

Harry's anger was still spiking, the state of those who were mocking him was still not enough to quench his ire.

That is, until a sight came upon him.

The sight of Fleur Delacour standing slightly hunched, panic in her face, her hands covering her ears. The kind face that had calmed him so now gone, replaced by one of peril and anguish.

On her side, standing on a table, was Draco Malfoy, trying desperately to rip the badges from his robe. Badges that were now millimeters away from the French angel's face.

His anger now gone, Harry sprinted as fast as he could, the badges in Malfoy's robes now vibrating violently, ready to go off at any moment's notice.

In a moment of sheer adrenaline, Harry knocked the Malfoy heir with his shoulder, while at the same time taking the silver-haired goddess into her arms. Harry turned her around, so that his back was facing the panicked figure of Draco Malfoy.

Hugging the beautiful Veela closely, Harry closed his eyes and waited for the bangs that would be coming soon.

He noticed so much more of the heavenly being in his arms with his eyes closed. Her waist length hair felt like the softest silk, so delicate he thought they would break at his tight hold.

Her skin was almost impossibly soft, no imperfections at all scarred the beauty that he could touch. It was like whatever gods there may exist had shielded her from all harm, protecting her from cruelty and harshness of the world.

And her scent!

Sweet vanilla and fruity aromas entered his nostrils, it seemed as though she was untainted by the rough smells that could permeate the Great Hall. The smell was not overpowering or sickeningly sweet, it was just… right. He was addicted in that very moment, Harry doubted he would ever smell anything as breathtaking.

Harry stood there, still holding her in his arms as the last bangs sounded off in the room. He noticed that in the commotion, Fleur was also holding his robes, looking for a lifeline in the middle of the pandemonium. The bangs gave way to groans and gasps of pain.

When he finally opened his eyes, Harry saw the chaos he had spawned.

The Slytherin table was cracked right in the middle, the figure of Theodore Nott in the middle of it. The Ravenclaw table was a mess, platters thrown around all over the place, most of them broken- The Gryffindor table was the least affected of them all, due to the low number of people that actively wore the badges. Hufflepuff was also a disaster, food thrown away haphazardly.

Even the teachers were now on the floor, trying to take cover from what they probably believed was a Death Eater attack.

Some students were not unconscious, and were crawling out from the tables. Harry saw most of the Gryffindor's, including Hermione, Ron and Neville crawl out, as well as all the Gryffindor Quidditch team. From the Hufflepuff table, Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones emerged, accompanied by Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie Macmillan, Cedric Diggory was also was unaffected. From Ravenclaw he saw Lisa Turpin, Su Li, Terry Boot, Cho Chang, and Padma Patil.

From Slytherin, only Daphne Greengrass, Tracy Davis, and Blaise Zabini were intact.

'Potential allies, now that the scum has been sorted out.'

The only person standing in the entire Great Hall, was Harry Potter-Black, holding Fleur Delacour in his toned arms. Looking at the mess, Harry's fury once again started to rise.

'Lions, badgers, ravens, and snakes, you are all exactly where you belong.'

'In the end you all kneel before the dragon!'

His temper once again returning, it was interrupted by a small gasp between his arms. The delicate sound making him look.

Sapphires met emeralds

The rage was gone in an instant, quelled the moment his eyes came into contact with the Fleur's. Dumbledore's best calming charm wouldn't even come close compared to the effect the silver-haired beauty had.

Harry held his breath, unable to say a word, the world didn't matter in that moment, only the angel he had managed to somehow catch in his arms.

Harry didn't know how much time passed until the melodious voice reached his ears again.

"C-could you let moi go, please?" came the soft voice. He had heard the voice before, of course, but it had been haughty and mean-spirited. This one was something celestial, he just wanted to keep listening to it.

'Let you go? Why?'

'You are mine.'

Letting go was the hardest thing Harry had to do in his entire life. Even accepting the death of his parents and leaving the Mirror of Erised was easier. His parents were gone, there was nothing that could change that, but this angel was right in front of him, on the flesh.

Still, reluctantly, he let go. His arms fell to his sides slowly, and her face was slowly removed from her previous position on the side of his neck.

"Zank you," she gasped, and then stepped away. Her back turned to him.

Fleur left him, now looking for her headmistress, her shapely figure gliding away towards the main table. With every step she took away from him, Harry felt the familiar emptiness return, this time with a vengeance.

Taking one last, long look at Fleur, he made his way back towards the Common Room.

Classes had been suspended that day. Everyone was ordered back to their common rooms while the teachers desperately tried to figure out what happened.

No evidence was left however, Harry made sure of that while he put the explosive runes in the badges the previous night. The only person it could be traced back to was Malfoy, who had originally passed the badges around to the rest of the students.

In the end it was chalked up to a malfunction in the charms. Malfoy Sr. had to pay for the treatment of the rest of the students.

It also cost Slytherin over three hundred house points, making it impossible for them to win the cup this year. Only Malfoy Sr. managed to avoid his son getting expelled

Thankfully, none the victims were severely harmed. Most just had light scarring on their chests with first degree burns.

Unless you were Adrian Pucey and tried to inspect the vibrating badge like an imbecile, holding it closely against your eye. The sixth year Slytherin would now only have his left eye, the right side of his face almost scarred completely.

Harry tried to feel bad about the son of a Death Eater, but he had more important things to think about.

Like his almost manic obsession with a certain Veela.

Still awake in the middle of the night, the previous insomnia remedies could no longer work. Harry knew that mere fantasy could no longer satisfy him the way it had the previous nights. His mind now called for the real thing. The newly awakened dragon could not be pleased only with the fantasies of domination he had used previously.

Holding the Veela tightly on his arms had been a revelation, he had never been so vexed by his emotions as he was now. His rational thoughts knew it couldn't happen, it was impossible, and yet every fiber in his being now called out for her.

To Harry, it was frustrating, that one person had that much hold on his psyche. Resigned himself to a sleepless night, he went back to the Common Room hall, to see if he could find an interesting text to keep his mind away from silver hair and sapphire blue eyes.

He stayed awake for quite some time, pouring over texts that he had already read before in the vain attempt to get his eyes tired enough that he could end the night with a modicum of sleep. He had been known the be pretty cranky when he was too tired to function correctly.

It was not until he returned back to his room that he got the idea to once again consult the magazines that only seemed to serve as fuel for the fire that were his perverted desires.

This time, however, he decided to do something that he had never done. He actually started to read the articles that accompanied the extreme pictures. They told of the experiences of several dominants and their submissive partners, as well as the customs and rituals that they went through in order to have a functioning relationship inside and outside of the bedroom.

There was even one part that dealt with some sort of "contracts". While they were not legally binding, they were almost agreements between the master and slave in order to fulfill both of their desires. They included everything that they could agree upon, from common interests, limits, and even a "safe word" that could be used by the submissive to tell when they really wanted to stop.

Harry did not have the time to read all of it, and due to his tiredness, he doubted that he would remember most of it by tomorrow. But it was enough to keep him interested as overwhelming exhaustion slowly creeped his way.

Securing the magazines back into his trunk, he crawled back into his bed and finally managed to get some sleep.

His dreams that night were unfortunately not the ones that centered around Fleur Delacour.

AN: Well there you go, chapter 2. It definitely took more this time around, I had to rewrite some stuff because the nature of the story has been changing. While I'm definitely keeping the BDSM angle of the story. It is now fully a romance.

Harry is definitely darker in this fic. Not evil, but definitely not the paragon of light he was in canon.

I know I said that this chapter would feature the contract, but it just kept expanding and I felt I was rushing the situation to fast without elaborating Harry's state of mind and obsession with Fleur.

Song recommendation is "Destined for Glory" by Swedish power metal band Hammerfall from their 2000 album release "Renegade". Hammerfall are in the sacred pantheon of my most recommended bands if you want to listen to kickass heavy metal.

Until next time

The Metal Sage

REVISED ON 26/03/2018

Chapter 4: Angel Witch

A Godfather's Promise

Chapter III: Angel Witch

"Please, my Lord!" a male voice screamed shrilly, though the only thing Harry could see was a blurred shadow, making it unable for him to identify the kneeling figure. The voice however, was enough to let him know that there was probably a horrified look on his face, as it begged towards the figure.

"Silence!" yelled another voice, this one sounded weak and frail, but still commanding enough that the kneeling figure stopped his begging immediately and recoiled in what Harry presumed to be a painful resignation.

"You keep disappointing me, servant!" rasped the voice, and Harry felt that it was strange to hear a sound so hateful come from a voice so silent. Harry knew, however, that such a thing was not impossible and the proof was being shown to him right now. Just being in the presence of the voice brought an overwhelming sense of dread inside him, worming its way into his body.

"Perhaps this will make it so you remember to take my orders more seriously, Crucio!" snarled the small, spiteful voice. After that the pitiful shadow on the ground started screaming as he spasmed in pain. The sounds were inhuman, as though it was coming from the voice of an overgrown rat and not a person. Harry tried to shut it out by pressing his hands on his ears, but it was no good. The screams were still pounding in his ears.

The worst thing however, is that Harry felt that he was enjoying it. As if the screams filled a hidden, dark, and primal part in his very being. The green-eyed wizard, now pressed his hands against his head. He needed to get out!

The whole scene started to get blurrier, until only blackness remained, yet the squeals still persisted. Harry thought he would never get away from them, and would be trapped in the darkness. Despair started to fill him, breathing started to get heavier. It was getting harder to pass oxygen to his lungs. The Potter heir thought he was beginning to pass out, dying would be better than staying even one more second in there.

Coming back to his senses, Harry immediately sat upright, and found himself staring at the Gryffindor common room. The small specks of light meant that the sun was beginning to rise, giving Harry enough illumination to see the state of his body.

Sweat drenched not only his nightwear, but also the heavy sheets meant to keep him warm in the cold Scottish weather. It looked almost as if someone had thrown a glass of water or two in his bed. The feeling of clammy coldness was felt in his body.

Bringing his hands to his head, he felt that his long hair was also wet with his bodily secretions, the salty liquid still dropping from the raven tips down to his chest.

'It happened again,' Harry realized, still panting heavily from the horrible and realistic nightmare that had invaded in his sleep. His nightly experiences had recently been filled with visions of loveliness and perversity, starring a pale haired beauty. They had frustrated the half-blood wizard, they made him resent the way that Fleur had taken over thoughts in such a way.

Still, the dreams of the French beauty were certainly much better than the alternative.

'What do they all mean? What are the figures? why did I cast an Unforgivable? Why did it feel so good?' Harry's mind went through the questions as his breath was slowly regaining its normal pace. The adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins now leaving him feeling cold and wet.

He had been so absorbed in the thoughts of the French veela that he had forgotten the things that had been plaguing him ever since Peter Pettigrew had escaped from him and Sirius during the end of his third year. Once again, the Beauxbatons champion had left him vulnerable.

'Fleur Delacour, you take the nightmares away. I hope you are in the next one… please come back,' he begged to himself, almost pathetically. Harry hated how he now needed to depend on Fleur in order to make his nightly escapades pleasurable again.

Harry looked around, hearing the snores coming from the red headed figure next to his bed, he realized that his fellow students were still sleeping, apparently undisturbed by the emerald-eyed wizard's night-terror.

Said emerald-eyed wizard sighed, knowing that they would not be awake for another hour and a half, in order to get breakfast.

And people wonder why most male wizards get so overweight when they get older, Harry grumbled internally, getting up from his bed, fully intent on starting his morning routine in order to get his mind of the disturbing nightmare.

Making his way towards the dormitory's mirror, Harry's mind drifted off once again towards the Fleur. Yes, Fleur. Harry had stopped thinking about her as the 'French witch' or 'Beauxbatons champion' or 'her', she was now 'Fleur'.

It's beautiful name, Fleur Delacour,' he thought to himself. He had said it for the first-time last night as he was reading. Harry decided that he liked the way the name seem to come out of his lips. 'Fleur, flower, a beautiful French flower. A beautiful French flower that will probably never pay even the least bit of attention to someone me.'

At the last thought, Harry began to grow uncomfortable. That was until he looked himself at the mirror.

Harry did not consider himself to be narcissistic, up until a year ago he did not start to pay attention towards his physical appearance. Starting with the top of his head, he gave a long stare towards his dark colored mane and sighed. His hair had always been comparable to a bird's nest, Sirius laughed when he had tried to comb it during last summer.

"Just like James, he could never get it down, he tried every charm he could, and it would still rebel," laughed Sirius. "Even your grandfather couldn't control his, Merlin knows Lady Dorea tried to whenever they went to a social event, but the famous Potter defiance seems to affect also their hair."

So, Harry had tried to find a solution, eventually looking at the posters of his favorite musicians, he decided to let his hair grow. Now, the raven locks reached all the way to his shoulders, and kept growing.

Harry frowned slightly, it was getting too long, so much so that it was now interfering with his sight. He would need to get a hair tie soon, in order to prevent his hair from getting in the way of his eyes. Around his face, the early signs of a small beard were beginning to show.

His eyes were the next noticeable thing about him, some people would tell him it was the thing that drew most attention to him, especially the people who had known Lily Potter. Green orbs stared back at the reflection, the only evidence that his mother had left behind in him. Harry had taken to using contact lenses in lieu of glasses ever since they were broken against his fight with Quirrell. They were a temporary measure until the eyes matured enough to get Lasik surgery performed on them.

The rest was pure Potter: hair color, height, broad shoulders, and long arms. The traditional body that characterized his father's family.

The body that he had been training since a young age. Sirius, at Harry's behest, had involved him in Muggle physical activities. It started with the little league soccer team over at his school in Berkshire. At seven however, after seeing many Bruce Lee movies, he asked his godfather to enroll him in the local dojo – which he still attended to this day – in order to learn how to fight with his body.

The rigors of his physical activities had left him well toned. Taking of his shirt he noticed the beginnings of a six-pack forming, and his arms already had well defined muscles. Even Harry had to brag a little in that he was one of the most fit students in Hogwarts. His physique – combined with his tall height – made him very desirable to the witches of his year, and some fifth, sixth, and seventh years as well!

Hell, even if he might have only been imagining it, Nymphadora Tonks seemed to be blushing when she went over during the summer to Sirius' and Harry's house.

Maybe that's why most witches were not currently hospitalized, they did not wear the badges mocking him the previous day. Indeed, most of the people that were currently occupying beds at the hospital wing and St. Mungos happened to sport a Y chromosome.

Quickly changing into his training gear, he once again made his way down to the castle grounds, and unto the Black Lake. Upon his arrival, he was once again met by the sight of Viktor Krum, who appeared to be doing the morning stretches.

Surprisingly, however, Viktor Krum was not the only figure that seemed to be making an appearance in the morning.

Behind him, other footsteps were heard, making Harry turn around to greet the newcomer. He was met with the yellow clad figure of his fellow Hogwarts student and Triwizard Champion, Cedric Diggory.

Cedric looked over at Harry and after small look of surprise, gave a small smile, "Seems I was not the only one who is also taking his training seriously, am I?"

Harry smiled back, his head pointing towards the figure of Krum, who was already at the lake, "Not the only one indeed. Krum and I have been here since yesterday," informed Harry.

"Let's go meet him then, I guess a bit of fraternization between champions is in order," Cedric answered, now making his way to the Black Lake to meet the black and red clad Durmstrang champion, who was now stopping his morning routine in order to greet his rivals.

"Good morning, nice veather for training isn't it," came the accented voice of Krum, who, to the Hogwarts students' surprise, was giving them the ghost of a smile.

"Nice weather?" asked Cedric, incredulously. It had to be at least five degrees in the cold Scottish autumn, the humidity making it so that the freezing wind stuck right into their skin, seeping into their bones.

"Yes, in Durmstrang there is alvays snow, so ve cannot train outside, it is difficult to exercise vhen you are limited to inside school," responded Krum in a cool manner, breathing deeply to take in the cold, humid air that was characteristic of the Scottish Highlands.

"Where is Durmstrang?" Harry asked, he knew Beauxbatons was in France but he did not know where the infamous eastern European school was located.

"It is in northern Norway, close to Barents Sea," answered Krum.

Harry understood, that far north it would always be frigidly cold, and on winter the nights would be longer, leaving them with little daytime to help them keep warm amid the low temperatures and snow. Even the longer days during summer would not be enough to generate enough heat to let them stay out of the shelter for a long time.

"How do you deal with the cold? it's bad enough when winter comes over here," asked Cedric, now starting to stretch his arms in preparation for the morning exercise.

"You don't, you take shelter from it and vait, and stay in castle all the time," answered Krum, giving Harry and Cedric an idea of what life in the cold, Scandinavian school was like.

Harry felt that he much preferred Hogwarts if what Krum was saying was true.

"So, it seems the Triwizard Champions are now going to be training pals in the morning huh? I mean we're pretty much all here," pondered Cedric, looking at the other two wizards who would end up being his rivals when the Tournament starts.

"Ve are not all here though, there is another one of us that still missing," reminded Krum. Harry knew that he was referring to Fleur, causing him to tense up slightly, something that Krum managed to catch. The Bulgarian champion sent a slight smirk his way.

"Do you think she's coming, I don't think she likes the company of men. You've seen how she treats them when they approach her," said Cedric. Harry knew what he meant, having seen Fleur look at the drooling simps that approached her with looks of contempt. Cedric then added, "It might also be too cold for her, I've heard that Beauxbatons is in southern France, near the Mediterranean Sea, it must be a completely different weather for her to get used to."

"I vouldn't vee so sure about that," said Krum, his eyes now looking past both Hogwarts champions, and unto the small hill where the Beauxbatons carriage had been situated.

Harry and Cedric both turned around to see what had caught Krum's attention, and were struck by a sight of loveliness that made Harry's heart start beating faster. The thoughts that had been with him the previous day came roaring back as his world was now centered on what lay before his eyes.

The very person that they had been talking about was now walking down the hill, Harry noticed that Fleur was wearing a light blue tracksuit – almost celeste in color – that was doing a very good job at hugging the contours of her body. The luscious long hair that she usually let flow behind her back was now tied into a long ponytail.

One thing Harry did see however, is that she shuddered slightly, making him think that Cedric did have a point about Fleur being unaccustomed to cold weather. She started to move her limbs arms gracefully, in what seemed an attempt to get her blood pumping for a warming effect.

Suddenly, Fleur's attention now turned towards the three other figures that were also at the lakeside. Harry saw her small lovely smile corrupt itself into her usual haughty expression, her eyes narrowing over at her rivals. Not sparing another glance, she then turned away and proceeded walk to another site around the Black Lake.

"Ouch!" muttered Cedric sarcastically before letting out a small chuckle, "So I guess we can't count on Frenchie to join our little club,"

Harry had heard Cedric, but his attention was focused on Fleur's retreating form, a small pang throbbed in his chest in sadness. The lovely woman that he had held the last morning was now gone. Replaced once again by the "Beauxbatons Champion". Still, the green-eyed Gryffindor was looking at the sensual movement her tied up hair was making.

'Where did you go Fleur? Where is the real you? I saw her the last day.'

Harry kept looking at her until he felt the light touch of an elbow prodding into his ribs. Looking at the source, he found the smirking faces of Cedric and Krum staring at him in amusement. Cedric broke in laughter at first, and to Harry's surprise, Krum actually chuckled.

"What happened Harry? Want to go and take her into your arms again?" said Cedric in between pangs of laughter.

Harry paled slightly, "You saw that?"

"Saw it? Harry, you were staring into each other's eyes for almost a full minute before you let each other go!" revealed Cedric, still letting out small chuckles as he tried to recover himself, "Cho later told me that it looked so romantic," he mocked lightly.

"Veela… I don't know if I should feel pity or envy," said Krum, still smirking at him.

"You guys are getting this all wrong, Malfoy was right beside her with six badges on his robes, she would have gotten seriously hurt if they exploded in her face," Harry tried to explain, but neither Cedric nor Krum seemed to be convinced by his explanation. It did not help that Harry felt his face heating up when being reminded of the events that took place the day prior.

"Sure Harry, saving someone absolutely involves having your faces mere inches away from each other and ready for a good long kis-"

"We should get started with our training, if we dally any longer we won't get any breakfast," interjected Harry, trying to change the topic of conversation.

"What about breakfast? I'm sure there will still be enough food for all of us, half the damn school is hospitalized. Remember?" retorted Cedric.

'Oh yeah, I remember. I was the one who put them there after all,' thought Harry with a small smile of satisfaction.

"They deserved it, that vas a childish display," said Krum, the contempt in his accented voice evident. No sooner did he say this, that he started to jog, "Keep up, or I'll ve the one vinning Tournament," and with that he sped off.

Cedric then started to do his stretches. Taking off his sweater in order to make it easier for his body to move around.

Harry took his sweater off as well. Before starting his stretches, he took one last look at the retreating figure of Fleur Delacour, before sighing and returning to the task at hand.

'I really want to see the real you again, no matter what it takes.'

If anyone were to were to look at Fleur Delacour for the first time without knowing her, they would assume that she was a princess straight out of a fairy tale. Her unearthly beauty certainly made her seem like one. The kind that would end the story on the arms of a charming prince that would love her forever. The stories would tell you that the princess would also return the love, and the prince would never dare to lay a hand or hurt the prince. Most muggle girls were raised with these stories, and the same could be said about Fleur Delacour.

Of course, Apolline Delacour would tell the stories to her sweet daughter, every night as she slept she had told her about how there would be someone out there for her that would treat her like the little princess that she was. When she grew up she would then marry this man and would live happily ever after. The young Fleur Delacour ate it all up.

Not that her mother was to blame of course, she was only trying to shelter her precious daughter. Fleur later came to realize how much different real life was from the stories.

When she had entered Beauxbatons, she had her usual group of friends, ones which she believed she could trust. That was until puberty began.

One of the characteristics of being a Veela was that they matured much differently than human women. Rather than starting to develop from girls to women in their teenage years, Veela remained stagnant until they matured enough mentally to deal with the stresses of womanhood. This was an evolutionary trait of Veela to prevent them from reaching their full potential until they were ready.

For Fleur, that meant that while her friends were starting to grow, develop, and start to gain interest in the opposite sex, she was still stuck with the appearance of a small girl even at the age of fourteen. Fleur still remembered the said days when her so-called friends started to abandon her, afraid of being associated with the 'little girl', and the boys stopped being around her in favor of her human friends.

Fleur cried to herself in her Beauxbatons dormitory during those days – completely alone except for some of her teachers and Madame Maxime – she wished for nothing more than for people to pay attention to her.

'I should have been careful of what I wished for,'

When she was almost at the age of fifteen, attention is definitely what she got. From one night to the other she matured from an eight-year-old girl, to a breathtakingly beautiful seventeen-year-old woman.

Fleur remembered being ecstatic, so filled with joy that she did not mind the fact that had to wait for her parents to take her for a few days off from Beauxbatons to buy her new clothes, as well as take her to the Veela elders for inspection. When she returned to Beauxbatons, surely her friends would come back to her!

But Fleur was wrong. Instead of ignoring her, they now began to hate her. The attention that she wanted… she got. The reason for their hate was the way the males now acted around her. Being a young, newly mature Veela, Fleur did not have the control that some of the older Veela had acquired through experience, that and the fact that she was also more powerful than most of the others, something that made it notoriously difficult for her to control her charms at normal levels. This made her allure very powerful to the boys and young men. Even some of the teachers had to be trained to ignore it as best they could.

There was no charming prince for Fleur, the handsome boys that she wanted attention from now turned into aggressive and drooling barbarians at the sight of her, eager to do anything to gain her favor. If they managed to stop drooling around her that is. They got even angrier when she began denying their requests for physical contact.

She remembered one particular student: Gustave Lefebvre, who was almost three years older than her. He was particularly insistent, always looking at her in a disturbing manner. Following her between classes and all the way to her dormitory.

That is, until one day, when Gustave decided to use the newly learned Bombarda spell on her door during the middle of the night. Fleur listened to the banging sounds from her bed as she saw her magically enforced door shaking. Eventually even the door that had been charmed by Madame Maxime herself exploded. Gustave entered the room with a crazed, lust filled expression; her wand left her hand after he fired a disarming charm, then proceeded to force himself into her bed, tearing away at her clothing.

A panicked Fleur tried to force him away, but it did no good. Sensing her distress, her other form had to take over. When the teachers finally got to her, Gustave had to be sent to the hospital for third degree burns.

After that Fleur realized that she could trust very little people outside of her family, she would have to be constantly on guard, and the probability was that she would never find someone that could resist her charms the way her mother and grandmother had found theirs. Her daily life was exhausting ever since that day, she lived in constant vigilance and only allowed herself a very select company.

She asked Madame Maxime herself to train her to defend herself, and so became the school prodigy after that.

The only positive thing after the event was that she made new friends who had heard about the situation. All women, except for one man.

Louis Duval was the only man in Beauxbatons that seemed to be able to resist her allure. Fleur had been glad that she had one very attractive man that seemed to be interested in her for more than just her body and beauty. He seemed to only have female friends, which was odd at first but Fleur

When Fleur had gotten interested enough in Louis she had asked him if he wanted to go out with her, hoping to start a relationship that could possible flower into something more. Unfortunately, she discovered the Louis was not… interested in women as other men were.

Louis was still one of her best friends, but it definitely left Fleur disappointed.

'The only man that seemed to be decent, and I can't start a relationship with him.'

Fleur sighed as she returned to the carriage after her morning workout. She had opted to go out early, hoping that there were no other students around to see her exercising. The young Veela reasoned that with most of the male Hogwarts population now having to receive medical attention, she could find some time in the morning just for herself.

It had started well enough, with her dressing in her Beauxbatons training gear after a good night's sleep following the pandemonium unleashed during the previous day. The loss of overly hormonal teenage males was a blessing for the French beauty.

It started to go downhill the moment she decided to step outside the carriage.

If there was one thing she complained about ever since she had arrived to the British school of magic was the weather. It was unbearable. The wet, humid, and cold air immediately hit her like a brick wall, the light fabric of her tracksuit not fit for the temperatures of the Scottish Highlands.

Walking down the hill, despite the ghastly weather she allowed herself a small smile, thinking about what she would write to her sweet little sister, Gabrielle. The smile stopped however, when she looked at the Black Lake, and saw that the other Triwizard Champions had had the same idea as her.

The three of them were men. She had met them when she had been chosen to represent her school in the Tournament. Two of them were about her age: one of them was dark eyed and broody Viktor Krum, the other was Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff house.

The third one however, was probably the one that had most interested her ever since she had set foot in this god-forsaken country.

She knew about him from the stories. Even in France they had hear the story of the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter. Although if rumors were true, he was technically Harry Potter-Black. He had surprised her first when she went over to the Gryffindor table for a bowl of bouillabaisse, since the one in the Ravenclaw table had been depleted before she even had a chance to get some for herself. Noticing that the lonely raven-haired wizard had a full bowl next to him, she decided that one overly excited boy was better than approaching any of the other tables that were filled with more than one overly excited boy.

She walked over to him, the drooling students following her with her eyes, their actions making her increasingly uncomfortable. Her constant guard tightening even more as she approached the Gryffindor table.

He had noticed the boy was reading a book, not paying attention to her just yet. Internally, she dreaded the moment his eyes look over to her, knowing that all seriousness would turn into absolute stupidity. Fleur was certain he would fall victim to her allure the same way all of the male Hogwarts students seem to be. The red headed boy several seats away was already making her sick to her stomach by letting the half-chewed food out of his open mouth, his face purple.

Readying herself, she finally spoke to him, "Excusez-moi, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

Sure enough, his emerald eyes searched for the source of the voice that had questioned him. Fleur held her breath, waiting for his reaction. Only to be surprised when all he did is widen his eyes slightly, then looked inquisitively at her.

"Am I wanting the what?" questioned the boy.

'What is this? Where is the open mouth? The drooling? The stuttering voice? The eyes wandering throughout my body?'

Regaining herself, Fleur once again asked, "Ze bouillabaisse", her hand pointing to the full bowl besides the raven-haired Gryffindor. Causing him to take his eyes away from her – once again surprising Fleur – and looking towards the large bowl containing the French dish.

The boy then looked back at her, "is it any good?" he asked her sincerely, his eyes once again not wandering across her body, in fact he looked more interested in the book he had been previously reading than the figure of a Veela in front of him.

'Much better than the greasy slop you barbarians insist on calling food,' Fleur wanted to say, but simply nodded lightly towards the boy. Causing him to take a small portion for his own, smaller bowl, before picking up the larger bowl and offering it to her. "Here, enjoy," Fleur took the offered dish, and saw him promptly go back to reading the book.

Making her way back to the Ravenclaw table, she sat down next to a to a female Ravenclaw student that she calculated could be a year younger than her, and served herself the traditional French dish.

Despite herself, Fleur could not help to look back at the peculiar Gryffindor student that seemed to throw off her allure like it was nothing. Glancing at the Hogwarts student beside her, she asked "Pardon, I would like to know 'o is zat boy over zere," making the Ravenclaw student look over at where Fleur was signaling.

With a small blush, the Ravenclaw student looked back at Fleur. "That is Harry Potter, he's in fourth year. In Gryffindor house," she answered, making the Veela breathe lightly.

"Ze Boy-'O-Lived?" she asked back to the Ravenclaw.

"The very same, although rumor is that he is also in line to be the new Lord Black. When they call his full name it's Harry Potter-Black," added the Ravenclaw student. "You could say that he is kind of our resident rebel, but he is at the top of his year. There are many rumors about him and the things he's done here at Hogwarts."

"'Arry Potter," mused Fleur, now ignoring the Ravenclaw. It was a shame that he was younger than her, finding a man that was so resistant towards her allure was extremely rare. Once found a Veela would usually do anything they could to get the man to notice them and form a relationship. A man that could throw off a Veela allure not only was strong willed, but extremely powerful in terms of magical prowess.

'That is unfortunate, he is a little too young… and a little too British.'

She stopped thinking of him as too young however, thanks to the events that were to follow.

She had been angry when he was also apparently chosen by the Goblet to compete in the Tournament. She believed that she deserved to compete, she had been training for so long to prove herself as a witch and to show the world that she was not just a pretty princess. She did not believe him when he said that he had not placed his name in the Goblet. Unfortunately, she may have said some words that she regretted.

He gave her a look that conveyed an emotion that she had never seen from any male since she had matured. Fleur was used to looks of lust, want, need, desire, shock, and even hunger. Never had she seen a man look at her in anger as Harry Potter did.

Still angry, she once again complained about the fourth Triwizard Champion. She would regret it, Harry Potter had erupted in fury, revealed the Potions teacher and the Durmstrang Headmaster to be Death Eaters, and stormed out of the room in sheer rage. Fleur still remembered being shocked at just how mad he was. He had slammed the door so hard that one of the hinges busted, and several pots in the room fell and broke.

That definitely made an impression on her, but she just thought she was now an incredibly aggressive person that she did not want to have contact with for the rest of her life. So, she once again returned to her routine for the following days, having to concentrate on her training for the tasks that awaited her. Everyday having to ignore the stares that were being sent her way. By this point she was seriously considering staying at the carriage for the rest of her time in Hogwarts, but Madame Maxime had told her that it was expected that a champion present herself to the rest of the school.

What she did not expect was what had happened the previous morning.

A loathsome blond-haired boy from Slytherin and his boorish friends had brought quite a bit of badges mocking Harry Potter. She looked over in disdain as he passed them around, she knew many people would consider her to be a little haughty, but she never turned to the outright mocking cruelty that the Hogwarts students seemed to be displaying.

She had heard of the blond boy. Apparently, he was the epitome of the stereotypical British pure-bloods that considered themselves better than everyone else. Fleur had caught him staring at her at times – like almost everyone at the Slytherin table – not doing his ideals any favors by behaving just like everyone else. His pure-blood was still not apparently strong enough to prevent him from ridiculing himself.

He made an even bigger fool of himself when he tried to give them to the Durmstrang students. They – like her – looked at him in contempt, Viktor Krum giving him a disapproving look before signaling to his friends.

The Durmstrang-Slytherin "alliance" had been dead after that, with Viktor Krum leading his schoolmates away from the green and silver table. The blond-haired ponce then turned his attention towards her and the other Beauxbatons champions. Fleur mentally sighed when she saw him, his idiotic fat goons, and his pug-faced friend make their way to their spot in the Gryffindor table.

She sent a warning look to her friends: Amelie, Clemence, and Monique; who later went on to sent warning looks themselves to the rest of the Beauxbatons students. When the loathsome boy arrived, nothing but glares received them.

Oh, the boy still tried to give some to them, and when he approached her he did so with a stuttering voice and glassy eyes. She gave him the biggest, most contemptuous glare that she could offer until the heavily cosmeticized pug-faced girl elbowed him so they could get away. Said girl then told her what she had come to expect of most jealous women, with an added bigoted twist of course.

"Stay away from him, you filthy creature! the only thing your kind serves for is servicing your betters! Stay away from us proper pure-bloods!"

Fleur only responded to her with a practiced tone, "Oh, zank you for ze advice. If I evair wanted to look for an excitable leetle boy like 'im, I will cake myself in w'ore makeup, making me look so ugly zat 'e would look for any ozzer woman zat eesn't me."

The response caused her friends to laugh at the now red-faced girl.

She did have to reluctantly thank the boy however, the stupid badges for once took her attention away from her. Fleur felt that enough attention was taken of her that she was able to lower her guard, and thus, loosen the control of her allure. She began to talk and smile with her friends, causing her charms to increase significantly. The beautiful French Veela was finally happy for the first time since setting foot inside Hogwarts.

That was until she heard the explosions, causing the entire Great Hall to fall into chaos screams of confusion and terror filled the room.

Fleur saw her friends look hit the floor, trying to find some cover under the tables, Clemence was screaming at her to get down, pulling on her blue Beauxbatons uniform trying in vain to get her to take shelter along with them.

Inside her mind, Fleur Delacour was a mess. She could not move, Suddenly, she was a newly matured Veela hearing the banging noises being produced by Gustave's wand against her door. She stood frozen in place, even when she saw the terrible blond boy from before with the explosive badges close to her face all she could do was place her hands in her ears to try and drown out the pandemonium, and shut her eyes. She was expecting to be blown away any moment now.

No harm came upon her however.

She first felt the rushing speed as a presence seemed to push away the hateful Slytherin boy away with a violent shove. Then she felt something that would usually make her react violently: two toned arms grasped her lithe body, and turned her around so that she was now being placed safely away from the soon to be exploded pompous blonde.

The strong, broad chest signified that she had been grabbed by a male. Panicking momentarily, her mind once again returned to the violent pawing appendages of Gustave Lefebvre. Fleur now expected rough, violent hands to start violating her sensuous body, taking advantage of her helpless state.

No hands came however, only the increasing noises of the exploding mocking badges. Reluctantly, Fleur decided to let her guard down again, all defenses coming down. She grabbed the man's robes tightly, and buried her face into the side of his neck. Her subconscious detected the smell mint leaves, a very nice fragrance that helped calm her during the chaos.

Calm, a mental state that had forever been denied to Fleur Delacour. Always having to be in control of herself, always composed, never letting herself trust anyone, always aware that if she let go, there may be unfortunate consequences.

And now she was letting it go.

In her vulnerable state, she was letting go of everything, putting all her trust into the male figure she had not even seen with her own eyes, and she felt peace as she did so. Digging her nose into his neck and breathing deeply, she felt so secure in this man's embrace as the banging noises started to die down. The thoughts of Gustave and all the men that had taken advantage of her before now far away from her mind, like they had never even existed.

When the sounds died, she finally dared to open her eyes, only to find that she was still being held by the figure tightly. Slowly letting go of his robes, she finally spoke.

"Pourriez-vous me laisser partir? S'il vous plaît?"

The figure did not seem to notice what she had said. In her nervousness, she had forgotten that she had spoken in French. Regaining her senses, she tried to remember her English.

"C-could you let me go? Please?" Fleur asked once again. The figure now turning his attention to her.

Her blue eyes met the young man's green orbs. Fleur was taken aback by the color, and the fact that there seemed to be no gazes of lust as he stared at her. She was being drowned in them until she remembered that she was still being held by a man.

Fleur waited for the usual response, waited for him to take her. Most men would do so in a position like this, and they would do so when the French Veela was in control of her allure. Fleur was not in control anymore; the man was being blasted with the full force of it while he held her.

Yet, instead of doing anything, the young man simply looked into her eyes, his arms still embracing her securely, but in a kindly manner, the way no other man had ever held her before unless you counted her father, Dominique Delacour. Fleur also noted that his mouth did not open, his lips remained close as they were so very near to touching her own.

Finally, the young man did something that no other man would do in his position, he let her go. She felt his arms leave her, still staring at her intently. Fleur stayed still while he did so, as his arms left her perfectly formed body, she once again started to remember that she needed to rein in her allure. After letting it all out in the emerald-eyed wizard's arms, she felt her personal prison come back as she regained control.

"Zank you," she gasped, still looking at those strangely familiar green eyes.

Finally, she tore away her sapphire eyes away from the man and started to make her way to find her Headmistress, getting worried about what happened to her and the rest of her friends during the chaos that had reigned in the Great Hall.

They had returned to the carriage that day, and Madame Maxime had given them the day off to regain their bearings after the traumatic experience that they had suffered that morning. Fleur, however - being a Triwizard champion - had attended a meeting with Madame Maxime.

"I have gained information about your rivals, none of them were injured during the disaster that happened this morning," Maxime informed Fleur, reminding her about her role as a representative for her school.

"Fleur, even if he is younger than the others. I've learned things about Harry Potter-Black makes me believe that you should not underestimate him," The Beauxbatons Headmistress told Fleur.

Fleur then was struck with emotions and let out a small gasp as she remembered the events that had taken place earlier that day.

The emerald-eyed wizard! The one that had held her and did not seem to be affected by the full blast of her allure! It had been the Harry Potter all along!

'The little boy,' Fleur remembered shamefully. In her memories of that morning, Harry Potter-Black did not have the appearance of a little boy, but of a young man.

"-eur, Fleur!" the French champion heard her Headmistress, pulling her out of her thoughts, "Are you sure you are well, Fleur?" the giantess questioned, making Fleur's attention come back to reality.

"I am sorry, Madame Maxime, please continue," Fleur said to the Beauxbatons Headmistress.

"As I was saying, I have heard rumors about the boy from a credible source. He has been the source of quite the talk in 'Ogwarts ever since he arrived three years ago," explained Madame Maxime, gaining breath before continuing what Fleur realized would be a long story.

"You know about the story of the Boy-Who-Lived?" seeing Fleur's nod, Maxime continued, "After his parents were killed, he was taken and raised by his godfather, Sirius Black. He, along with Harry Potter's father: James Potter, were the youngest Auror captains in British history, which tells makes me believe that Harry Potter received advanced training when he was younger. Sirius Black, along with Harry Potter, disappeared from the Wizarding World until the moment of Potter's first year. By the time the year ended, young Monsieur Potter was rumored to have defeated and killed an undercover Death Eater that was secretly posing as a teacher," Madame Maxime told a stunned Fleur.

The beautiful Veela looked incredulous. "Killed a Death Eater, and adult? While he was still a first-year student? How is that even possible?" asked Fleur, nervousness forming in her stomach.

"I do not know that, all that I know is that the very same day that Monsieur Potter had been hospitalized, the body of the Death Eater was seen. His body was almost completely destroyed, a hole the size of a Quaffle ball was in his chest," explained the headmistress.

Fleur was growing increasingly shocked. 'How can a mere boy kill a fully-grown wizard? That is not something that can just happen.'

"There is more," continued Madame Maxime. "Last year he and his godfather tried to hunt down the escaped prisoner, Peter Pettigrew. The same man that betrayed Harry Potter's parents to the dark lord. They were set upon by dementors. Sirius Black was incapacitated and could not hold them off. That's when Monsieur Potter-Black cast a fully corporeal Patronus charm that repelled dozens of dementors,"

Fleur stood up from her chair, "No! I do not believe it; such a thing is unfeasible! It is unthinkable to believe that a third-year student can cast a full Patronus charm! Not even I can cast a full one!" she exclaimed, astounded at the revelations that her headmistress was telling her about the young man. "Is the person who told you these rumors actually telling the truth? With all respect, he could be lying to you Madame?"

Fleur noticed that Madame Maxime actually… blushed, before composing herself, "Suffice to say that I can trust the source enough," the giantess stammered.

"But Fleur, this all pales in comparison of what I heard happened in his second year. Have you ever heard of Salazar Slytherin?" Fleur nodded affirmatively and Madame Maxime continued. "In his second year, Salazar Slytherin's chamber was opened, and his monster began attacking the students. It resulted in several petrifications; fortunately, no students died. One girl was taken to the Chamber though, and was almost killed."

Fleur attention was focused solely on her headmistress now, following her every word.

"She would have died, Fleur, if Harry Potter did not discover the Chamber and followed the monster to its lair," Madame Maxime then took a long, deep, shaking breath before continuing. "Fleur, the monster he found there. The monster that he killed… was a basilisk,"

Fleur sat aghast at what her headmistress told her.

'A basilisk… no, that is just not possible. It cannot happen. A single boy cannot kill a basilisk. It must be false! It must be!'

A basilisk is considered to be the second most dangerous creature in the Wizarding World. The only thing that is above it were the legendary massive Iceni Black dragons that had not been seen since the times of the Roman Empire. For a second-year student to of have killed one of them by himself? Such a thing is unheard of!

"You see Fleur, he is not just a little boy. They say that greatness flows in his veins," said Madame Maxime.

"His veins?"

"Do you not know about House Potter, Fleur?" the giantess asked her prodigious young student, causing her to shake her head.

"They are the oldest wizarding House in existence. They trace their lineage to the patrician families of the Roman Republic. They organized the campaign against Britain and succeeded. They have been in these islands since before Merlin and the 'Ogwarts founders. Their family is one that produces leaders, conquerors, and mighty heroes. Monsieur Harry is the last of his line, maybe those stories are true after all," explained Madame Maxime.

"I overhead that he won't be wearing the Gryffindor colors to the tournament, because he is not representing Hogwarts. He is wearing the ones of his family. Red and Black… those colors and the dragon banner attached to it struck fear in the hearts of men long ago. Be wary of him Fleur!" warned Maxime and Fleur nodded.

"But then again, maybe they are just stories," pondered the headmistress before casting Tempus charm. "Dea Matrona, it is already this late! It has been a long day Fleur, go and get some rest," Maxime shooed, and Fleur was left to her thoughts.

Which brings Fleur to the present predicament. Out of the corner of her eye she spied on the figure with the long, raven hair while she began her morning exercise. Stretching her lithe body as she pondered what had been revealed to her about Harry Potter last night.

'It had to be lies, jokes made at Madame Maxime's expense,' Fleur thought to herself. The things Madame Maxime told her were tales straight out of the muggle fantasy books. There was no way a fourteen-year-old boy was capable of such feats. Not even fully-grown wizards had such capacity, she would tell the rumors to the other Hogwarts students and they would laugh in her face and question her where she heard such outrageous claims.

And yet, Fleur continued to doubt herself. He had resisted her allure, a full blown Veela allure. Such a thing was almost unheard of. Even her father Dominique would get glassy eyed, albeit momentarily, if his wife, Apolline, unleashed the full power of her allure.

The way Madame Maxime would tell her rumors of Harry Potter reminded the times her mother would take her to see the Veela elders along with the other young Veela girls. Her grandmother, Agathe, and the rest of the more mature Veela would tell them legendary tales of beautiful Veela women who would only take into their company the most capable of men.

Agathe would tell her granddaughter that Veela women would seek the best, and would always get them in the end. The fearsome conquerors, the charismatic leaders, the mighty heroes. Veela would turn their head on the followers, seeing them as not worthy to be in their presence. Only the best men were able to resist their allure and claim them for themselves.

'But he is just a boy!' Fleur reminded herself, before once again taking a quick peek at the figure of Harry Potter before she started running along the lake.

'He sure does not look like a boy, that one seems to already be a young man,' a hidden, primitive part of Fleur seemed to retort inside her mind.

'No, he is too young, there will be others that are more suitable for him. Maybe a younger Veela could look for him. Maybe Gabrielle…' Fleur's more rational side countered

'How hard is it for one of us to find a proper man? I enjoyed letting my guard down, to let my allure flow freely like it is meant to do, to be in his arms again,' Fleur's inner Veela raged.

'But… but he is British! An uncultured savage, a barbarian that will-' "Oof," gasped Fleur. Too busy with debating with herself, she had run into the figure of the very same person that had been at the center of her thoughts.

She felt as she ran into what seemed like a brick wall, then started to fall backwards. Fleur prepared herself for impact.

But, almost as a repeat of what happened the previous day, a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her body; pulling her body from an inevitable fall to the hard, cold stones, and settling her once again on her feet.

Fleur, now regaining her senses, looked around at her situation until he found herself staring at the same emerald orbs that she had been thinking of previously. The silver-haired witch looking at the full figure of Harry Potter-Black.

Like Maxime had said, he now seemed to be wearing a set of colors that were not representative of Gryffindor. Opting for a pair of black pants, combined with a red sweatshirt. The latter article of clothing had an engraving on it.

A black dragon, one that according to what she had read in the Beauxbatons private library last night, was meant to represent an Iceni Black, was engraved into the center. Its open mouth was roaring at an unseen enemy, black flames spouting from its jaws. Crossed around the dragon were two Roman gladius swords, a nod to their Roman ancestry. The Potter symbol was certainly eye grabbing.

Yet her attention once again turned to the eyes of the man holding her. His eyes once again were clear yet powerful. None of the usual dreamy, glassy texture was seen. His mouth remained shut, no disgusting liquids falling from it, and his face remained calm, something that would seem impossible by any person holding a woman like Fleur.

To Fleur's own dismay, she once again felt her herself faltering at the sight of those twin emerald spheres. As her allure flared up once again to its full blast, she saw how those eyes stared deep into her soul, almost demanding that she surrender all control to them.

And she did.

Fleur felt that inner peace from the last day reemerging as she gave herself to the young man holding her. The inner Veela nature inside of her swooning as she gave her complete trust to the younger wizard. She felt so free now, like it was always meant to be this way for her. The young prince her mother had told her about in the tales was finally coming for her.

No

The memory of Gustave Lefebvre once again coming to her mind. She painfully reined in her allure. The burden of control settling on her tired shoulders once again.

Taking one look at Harry Potter-Black's green eyes, she tore her gaze from him with a visible wince and ran in the other direction. The direction where the Beauxbatons carriage was situated.

'Remember, there is nothing like that for you. The tales were false, they do not exist,' Fleur thought to herself as she sprinted as fast as she could back the carriage.

'No! Can't you see? He no little boy. The elders said the truth, go back to him!'

'No. He is too young, Fleur. Stop thinking about him. Don't hurt yourself any more.'

The green eyes and raven hair still lingered long in her mind long after she had arrived back into her room and crawled back into her bed.

Harry James Potter kept looking at the carriage that the silver-haired goddess had disappeared into long after she had pulled herself from his arms when he prevented her fall. The intoxicating feeling of having her back in his grasp leaving the Potter heir light headed.

After the Fleur he had seen the previous day had seemingly disappeared again, he had started to despair a little, resigning himself to yet another day. He started to do his morning exercise with stretches. Followed by sit ups and crunches, and finally practicing his martial arts moves.

He had been breathing deeply when a figure slammed into him.

Instinctively grabbing the source of his disturbance, he once again felt his arms encircling the shapely figure of the woman that had taken over his thoughts. He stared at those beautiful blue eyes. This time taking more time to appreciate the lovely witch that had once again found her way to him.

Her mouth slightly open, she was taking deep breaths after the physical exertion she had been putting herself through. Her narrow face was perfect, framed by her defined cheekbones. Perfectly symmetrical.

Her hair was like a sea of silver. Pure and untainted. The eyes however, were still the most attractive part of her by far. He could not get over how beautiful they looked. Especially now that she did not have that haughty attitude she had shown earlier.

That's right, the Fleur he had seen the previous day was back. The arrogance gone from her made her even more beautiful. Beside him he saw that even the usually composed Cedric and Krum were now sporting dreamy eyes and were slowly but surely opening their mouths, as if to say something.

And just like that, she was gone. He heard her gasp once again. The lovely sound engraving itself into his ears. With a look of pain on her face, she tore herself away from now. This time not even asking for his permission, and she sprinted back towards the hill where her school's carriage was.

"Wait!" he shouted, but it was no good. She just kept running away from him. He was about to run after her but the chuckling sounds of his new friends beside him made him stay put.

"And what do you call that Harry? Are you sure you don't want to go run after her and kiss her?" cajoled the voice of Cedric. Krum simply satisfied himself with a small smirk.

"What?!" asked Harry.

"Do you know how lucky most of the guys think you are after that little display yesterday, and now this?" asked Cedric.

"It's not like that," responded Harry

"Try to convince the rest of the school. Rumor around Hufflepuff is that you are already going out together but don't want the rest of the school to know," responded Cedric

"A few of my fellow Durmstrang students think same thing," Krum said, breaking his silence.

"I really need to get going, I need to shower and get ready for the day" responded Harry, not really wanting to continue the conversation. He then started to make his way back into the castle.

"Suuuure, a nice, long, and very cold shower," teased Cedric behind him, Krum snorting lightly

Sometimes, Harry really wanted to kill his new friends.

The Potter heir made his way back to the common room, and before entering the showers, he went to his trunk to pick his clothes for the day, as well as his school robes.

At this point he did not really know how to get to her. He wanted to see the Fleur that only seemed to appear when she was on his arms. His mind was now thinking about her even as he prepared himself for the day.

'How do I do it Sirius, how do I get to know one person that keeps running away from me in only five months.'

He had no idea how to do it. How did his father deal with his mother? Sirius had told him that Lily Evans evaded James Potter for almost their entire tenure as Hogwarts students. It was until the end of their sixth year that they started to truly get close, and by seventh year they were already an item.

Lily had been ignoring him until them. The only times that she did pay attention to his father was when she was lecturing him about treating others better, a lesson his father took to heart later on. Only then did Lily accept him into her heart.

'Why do you keep running away? I'd never hurt you. That'd be the last thing that I'd do.'

It was the truth; his fantasies kept his blood pumping but he did not want to force her into doing anything she did not want either. Harry felt that to do something so inhumane to such a beautiful woman was akin to killing a unicorn.

That was when he suddenly remembered what tomorrow was.

Tomorrow they would have the Wand Weighing Ceremony. Only the champions would be able to attend, of course there would be other people as well, but there would not be many of them. If he arrived early, he might have a chance to speak with her privately.

Deciding on his course of action, he picked up his clothes and went on his way to get ready for another day.

He would have his chance then. He will finally have the chance to speak alone to Fleur Delacour.

AN: Chapter III is here, and quite frankly I have to say something.

I am officially done making promises.

When this story first floated into my mind one tired Sunday evening. It started as something simple: "Make a BDSM story between Harry and Fleur". They were my favorite Harry Potter pairing, so of course it sounded logical to make something I had not seen before. I wanted my own shot at Harry/Fleur and I wanted to make it have a unique twist that no one had done.

Mind you I have never committed myself to writing something like this before, and I almost didn't. The short prologue I initially wrote was less than 1k words and was more of a commitment to myself to write a story with that little idea I had.

Now it evolved into something more. The initial plans I had for it are now gone, it grew into something else. The way the contract is going to be done now will be far more consensual then it was initially planned in my little head.

I promised that this was the chapter that would deal with the contract, instead I ended up making a Fleur POV of why I see her as being a perfect candidate for a sub role in BDSM. So, I failed you guys on my original promise, and I won't be doing them anymore. The kinky part of this story will have to wait.

On the other hand, I am extremely grateful for the attention this little story has received. I love reading all of your reviews and suggestions; so keep them coming!

If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm a huge heavy metal fan (Harry's personality is kind of derived from that in this story if you saw the hints the last chapter), so I have kind of made it my "author mark" to name my chapters after songs and albums that inspired me while I wrote the chapters

And the name of this chapter is "Angel Witch" a song by the British NWOBHM band Angel Witch on their debut album… Angel Witch… yeah. Not many people know about them today, but they were legends in the burgeoning heavy metal renaissance in England after the popularity of punk music. The main guys of that movement were Iron Maiden, but many people forget the other awesome bands that came from there: Saxon, Grim Reaper, Motörhead, and yes, Angel Witch.

The song almost singlehandedly inspired me to write this story. Check out the lyrics and song and don't tell me it reminds you of what a Harry/Fleur relationship could be from Harry's point of view

I hope to keep this little tradition going throughout the story, and my other stories.

If I have any Batman/DC and Naruto fans reading this, head on over to my profile to see the other stories I have planned out and give me your thoughts.

Don't forget to give your review!

Until next time.

The Metal Sage

Chapter 5: I Don't Believe in Love

"Harry Potter" belongs to J.K. Rowling

No longer Fleur's Kinky Contract but A Godfather's Promise. That's it, it's over, not changing it. Is it overdone? Fuck it, let's concentrate on writing the actual story instead of fucking with the title.

Harry meets with his godfather, and asks for his advice with his Fleur problem. He also makes new friends from Slytherin. Fleur deals with her internal conflicts and desires as the Wand Weighing Ceremony approaches.

A guest review mentioned that I made House Potter too powerful in my universe. The word I'd use is notorious. The Malfoys and other families have more influence in terms of political power (in the Wizarding World at least), the Potters are kind of the rebels of the Wizarding World, they are the wealthiest and most notorious thanks to their history of being in cahoots with the muggles, and their military might, but they are not political people. Hope that clears it up a bit. Their power comes mainly from their colorful reputation, wealth, and ancient ancestry. You don't take a dragon as a sigil if you don't mean business, and House Potter certainly did throughout history.

This mainly comes from the idea that while healers and mystics in Britain in the middle ages were physically separated from society (and later burned at the stake), Roman priests and mystics were always part high Roman society. House Potter simply stood by their Roman traditional roots, and early Roman tradition was centered heavily in their military and conquests.

If I ever do more Harry Potter stories, I will probably keep this idea of House Potter as my own little canon, I really like the ideas I have for it. Like a Potter being alongside Wellington at Waterloo, or being a sanctioned privateer in the West Indies, or a knight in Richard the Lionheart's service. I'm a bit of a history geek so I really like the idea.

Another thing: the BDSM angle of this story WILL remain, it's just not going to be smut-centered anymore.

Review if you have any more questions.

Now, on with the chapter:

"Dialogue"

Thoughts

"Foreign language"

Spells

A Godfather's Promise

Chapter IV: I Don't Believe in Love

Fleur did not know how much time had passed since she had returned back to the carriage until Madame Maxime finally came back personally to check up on her. By then she had informed her that it was almost time for lunch, meaning that she had skipped breakfast and her morning classes, and yet, Fleur could still not find it herself to want to leave her bed. Leave her room, go outside the carriage, or be anywhere where he might still be around.

After running away from Harry Potter, she had immediately rushed back to the carriage and into her room, fighting every instinct that a primitive part she had long ignored told her to do. Upon her arrival, she could only kick of her running shoes and take of her sweater before collapsing unto her bed in exhaustion.

Not physical exhaustion, mind you, Fleur had always considered herself an active persona, a short sprint back to her room would not be enough to exhaust her in such a way.

She was exhausted about everything else.

She was exhausted of the stares, she was exhausted of the food, she was exhausted of the cold weather, she was exhausted with seeing the same drab grey stones every time she walked into that ugly hulking castle the British savages deigned to call a place of learning.

Most of all she was exhausted about how she felt about Harry Potter-Black.

Two times already he had held her the way she had never allowed any man other than her father to hold her, she could never trust anyone else to do so without going wild. Twice she expected him to act like all the rest, especially since she allowed herself to lose control over her allure when it happened. She expected another Gustave Lefebvre to be hidden behind those green eyes.

Yet nothing happened, both times he took the full impact of her unrestrained allure admirably. Not that he was unaffected of course, even the most resistant man would be entranced by a Veela's charms, and Harry Potter-Black was no different. He just didn't reduce himself to a bumbling barbarian when in her presence. Fleur was pretty sure that he was interested, thanks to the way she saw his eyes widen and his touch stiffen when he looked at her.

Thus, her dilemma.

Fleur could not bring herself to give trust to someone she had just barely met, especially someone who – despite his appearance – happened to be almost three years younger than her. He would compete against her in the tournament anyway as her rival. She was sure that after that – if he survived – Harry Potter would just go back to being another man she had met. There was absolutely no reason to think more than that.

'So why can't I stop thinking about him?!' Fleur questioned herself.

'You know why!' that instinctive, primitive part of Fleur that she had buried away for so long replied.' He is someone you have been searching for so long, take the opportunity and go to him. He is someone you can relax around and trust not to turn into an excitable savage when he sees you.'

'I can't trust him! I can't trust anyone,' Fleur replied to herself as she closed her eyes, trying in vain to block off the annoying voice that touched her most hidden desires. 'How do I know that he's not already with someone anyway?' she reasoned with herself.

'Have you seen the way he stares at you? The way his eyes look differently when he holds you? He's definitely interested, and not in the way all the others are. You must take your chance now! If you ignore him now, he won't be interested for long. He's not like the others who will eternally try and win your favor, he will move on. Someone like him will have many girls trying to be with him, and he might accept one of them. Act now and stake your claim, Fleur! You might never get another chance if you don't!'

'I can't, I just can't. I want to win this tournament already and for everything to be over with. I want to forget about Hogwarts, I want to forget about this country. I want to forget about him.'

At this point, Fleur was just trying to get some rest and shut down her desires. It proved impossible, she just continued to lay there, ignoring the several knocks on her door all through the morning. That is, until one of the knocks came accompanied with the concerned voice of Madame Maxime.

"Fleur?! Are you alright? We have been trying to talk to you all morning. Will you allow me to come in?"

Fleur slowly opened her eyes, but did not have the will to get up from her bed. She called out to Madame Maxime that she had her permission to enter. The giantess opened the door to her room, comically ducking her head in order to fit in.

"Fleur, what happened? Are you well? You were not in the castle for breakfast and you missed your morning classes, said Madame Maxime, concern present in her voice as she addressed her most prized student.

Fleur sighed, ashamed to look so weak in front of the woman she had come to admire so much in the last years, even if she had her back turned to her, "I feel a bit unwell, Madame, but I should be fine with a bit more rest. I shall join you for dinner later in the day," she responded, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

"Are you sure you are alright Fleur? Tomorrow is the Wand Weighing Ceremony; will you be able to attend it?" asked Madame Maxime.

"I am sure Madame, I will be better with a few hours rest. I promise you I will be back to normal by tomorrow," said Fleur, still feeling awful for lying to a person that meant so much to her.

Fleur heard Madame Maxime sigh softly, "Very well Fleur, I will send some food to you anyway. It's not healthy for you to not eat anything throughout the day. Don't worry, I'll send you something that's not too greasy," and with that, the giantess left the room, making sure to close the door behind her.

Having heard her headmistress leave her room, Fleur once again closed her eyes. To her relief she actually managed to get some sleep. To her growing despair the dreams were filled with raven hair and green eyes.

A surprising lack of turmoil awaited Harry when he arrived at the Great Hall. The usual loud talking seemed to be lessened down a notch. When Harry took a long look at the place, he understood why.

It seemed as if half the students were missing, half of Hufflepuff was gone, a third of the Ravenclaws were absent, and only handful of students occupied the Slytherin table. Gryffindor was almost completely intact, but it was still missing a few usual figures.

Harry was taken aback initially by the sight. He had never seen the Great Hall this empty in the mornings, and was about to go ask another student the reason why.

Then he remembered what Cedric had told him earlier. Half the students were now in either the hospital wing or in some cases, St. Mungos. Harry then remembered to the previous day, to his handiwork, the perverse plan he had planned to get revenge on Draco and the people who were mocking him and his family name.

He once again remembered Fleur Delacour, how sweet she had smelled, how soft her voice was, and…

Harry started to shake his head comically. 'Focus! Think about her later.'

Spotting what had become his usual place at the end of the Gryffindor table, he saw Neville once again. Walking assuredly towards the Longbottom heir, Harry noticed that for once, Neville did not seem to have his eyes on a Herbology textbook. His eyes were instead focused on the Hufflepuff table.

Harry followed Neville's gaze to the blond-haired figure of Hannah Abbot, who was talking excitedly to her best friend and fellow Hufflepuff, Susan Bones.

Smirking, Harry continued to walk towards the table, when he arrived he placed his heavy bag next to Neville. When he arrived, Harry decided to tease his friend a little.

"What are you looking at Neville?" he asked with feigned innocence, causing Neville to slightly jump comically and look at him with panicked eyes.

"H-h-harry, what do you m-mean, I'm not looking at anything," stammered Neville, his hands trying to find the enormous Herbology book loved to lug around everywhere.

Harry, still smirking decided to stop torturing Neville for the moment, and instead sat down next to him. Looking over at the table, he decided to start his day with some oatmeal and eggs. Neville had already started with his own meal, Harry noticed. He also noticed to his amusement his stare occasionally was focused once again on Hannah.

Harry looked over at his schedule with a smile. Charms with the Hufflepuff, followed by Transfiguration with Slytherin.

'I get to make new friends, hold Fleur in my arms again, I'm eating a delicious breakfast, and I get two of my favorite classes. How can this day get any better?' thought Harry with a wide smile.

A rough cough broke him from his thoughts. Looking at the source, Harry found the now clothed figure of Viktor Krum and the rest of the Durmstrang delegation standing at his side. The Bulgarian seeker looking at him with his characteristic slight smirk, the other Durmstrang students wore stony faces.

"Do you mind if vee sit here?" asked Krum, making Harry recoil back at the question. He had assumed that the Durmstrang students were set on sitting with Slytherin House since day one.

"Uhhh, sure," replied Harry, now looking towards the rest of the Hall. They had suddenly become the center of attention of the rest of the room. The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students looked over at them curiously, the few Slytherins that still remained stared at him with loathing. The Gryffindors seem to look over with bright looks in their eyes. Gazing at the high table, he saw Igor Karkaroff send a hateful glance his way. He was probably still angry about being called out as a Death Eater, Harry realized. The rest of the staff just looked back intently.

Viktor Krum's smirk became slightly more pronounced as he sat down next to Harry, the rest of the Durmstrang following suit. More food appeared in the table whose seats had been previously unoccupied. Harry heard a few cheers from the Gryffindor students, turning his head over to see them, he saw that the main cheers came from the Weasley twins. The rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team also sent cheers their way, making Harry guess that they were glad that true internationally recognized seeker had joined their table. Other students looked with smiles at him. The only exception seemed to be Ron Weasley, who gazed at him with the same looked of abject jealousy he had been receiving since the day he had been chosen by the Goblet as the Triwizard champion.

It was getting annoying how much he and his former best friend's relationship had been strained. Harry knew that Ron always had a jealous streak, fueled by the fact that he was the last of six brothers. Harry on the other hand was the scion of the famous House Potter. Since their first meeting, the Potter heir had made it a point not to flaunt his wealth or his family name, knowing that it would not win his any friends if he started to act like Draco Malfoy, and still Ron had found it in himself to be jealous of him.

'It's time to let go Ron, otherwise we will no longer be able to be friends any longer,' thought Harry.

His attention coming back to their guest, he started to converse with Viktor Krum.

"No offense, but why did you decide to sit with us this time?" asked Harry, to which Krum and the other foreign students snorted lightly.

"I have been waiting for an excuse to leave that table ever since the day vee got here. Yesterday's display just gave us excuse vee needed to get avay from them. The blond-haired coochka vas already testing my patience from moment I sat down next to him." Explained Krum.

"Not to be rude, but I expected you would like the Slytherins a lot better. I've heard about how Durmstrang… selects its students, and those views are more prominent over in Slytherin than there are over in Gryffindor," cautioned Harry, trying to tell Krum in the nicest way possible that Durmstrang's rejection of Muggle-Born students would not be viewed favorably by the House of Godric Gryffindor.

Krum's smirk disappeared for a second, his head dropping in his hands for a bit before tracing them lightly down his face, his eyes closed as if suffering from a light migraine. Finally, he composed himself enough to finally respond to Harry.

"That policy is getting removed next year," revealed Krum, shocking Harry. The raven-haired wizard had been told countless times by his godfather that Durmstrang were well known for their support of the pure-blood cause.

"Even Durmstrang now understands that it is not possible to maintain current policies regarding Muggle-Borns. There are not enough students that are pure-blood or half-blood anymore," said Krum, looking at Harry intently before adding, "I vas almost not accepted at first."

"Why? You are the best student from your school," questioned Harry, curious as to why exactly someone of Viktor Krum's caliber almost got rejected by Durmstrang.

"My mother is Muggle-Born," revealed Krum, drawing looks of surprise from both Harry and Neville. "They almost rejected me when they saw that, but eventually my father got around them, he is pure-blood. My mother – even though she is Bulgarian – had to go to Beauxbatons to get magical education because Durmstrang rejected her," Krum said with what Harry detected as anger.

Harry decided to add a little bit of his experiences with Krum, "My mother was also Muggle-Born," he said, making Krum's smirk visible again. Harry continued, "She didn't have to go to Beauxbatons though, she got sorted into Gryffindor, which has always been accepting of Muggle-Born students. My father was also sorted to this House, that's how they met and later got married."

Harry saw Krum nod, and then his attention was taken by the various dishes that were spread around the table. The Bulgarian champion started to pick out for himself a hearty breakfast, making sure to pick a mix between British and Bulgarian cuisine.

Speaking of Beauxbatons…

The door to the Hall opened to reveal the now familiar sight of a troop of blue bedecked uniforms strolling into the hall. The Beauxbatons delegation strode to their usual place at the Ravenclaw table, food appearing where they had sat down. Thanks to the extra space afforded to them, the foreigns students separated themselves from the Ravenclaws a little bit.

Harry watched the students of the French magic school sort themselves out in the Great Hall, hoping to take a small peek of Fleur before he had to go to his morning classes.

Just a little bit of motivation to get this already good day going even better.

However, as he continued to watch the Beauxbatons students enter into the Hall – including the three other female students that he always saw Fleur with – it became increasingly clear that she was not with the rest of the delegation. He still continued to watch, hoping that he could get a glimpse of her.

Krum's hushed voice managed to break away at his gazing.

"It looks like your girlfriend is not coming for breakfast,"

Harry's face flushed to a healthy red color, quickly remembering that Krum – along with Cedric – knew full well about his encounters with Fleur and witnessed the scene that had taken place not two hours ago in the Black Lake.

"I-it's not like that," Harry said, embarrassed. But his mind said something else entirely. 'It's not like that… yet.'

Krum just chuckled silently as he spent the rest of the meal. Harry managed to compose himself but inside he couldn't help but be a bit concerned.

'Did I… do something to hurt her?' Harry thought to himself, his mind going back to the scene that had taken place in the Black Lake earlier that morning. He tried to remember if there was something that he might have done to harm her. All he could remember however, was her running away from him. The memory did make him think; did he harm her in some way?

Harry spent the rest of the morning meal questioning himself about what he might have done wrong.

Harry was accompanied by Neville to Charms class. The Potter heir had to admit to himself that he felt excited about once again taking one of his favorite classes. Sirius once told him his mother, Lily Potter, was considered to be the greatest Charms prodigy that Hogwarts had seen in generations. Harry had been fascinated with Charms ever since his first year, but didn't start to take it seriously until his second.

Professor Flitwick had been quick to accept his apology for not trying his best at first, and since then had excelled in almost every charm the part-goblin Charms Master taught. Flitwick had told him that he had obviously inherited his mother's talent, and Harry swore that every time he successfully mastered another one of his spells, the professor would look into the distance, a small tear-filled look in his eye.

Entering the classroom situated in the third floor, Harry and Neville stepped inside to see a couple of Hufflepuff students already seated, and the Professor standing in his desk in order to better see the students that would soon be arriving to take their lesson.

Harry looked over at the two early arrivals and to his surprise saw that the seats had been occupied by two girls: Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones. Smiling mischievously to himself, he decided that the morning torture he had put Neville through had not been entirely to his satisfaction. Was this how it felt when Cedric and Krum teased him about Fleur?

"Hey Neville, how about we sit next to them," said Harry, his eyes pointing towards the seats next to the two Hufflepuff girls. Turning to see Neville's reaction, he saw the timid Gryffindor's eyes widen before his face started to turn a shade of red that rivalled the Weasley family's hair in sheer intensity.

Turning to Harry, Neville finally stammered out a response, "I-i-I'm not su-sure that's such a g-good idea Harry," he said, a stutter plaguing his speech in a way that would make Quirrell seem normal by comparison.

"Let's go Neville, since we can't seem to get along with our fellow Gryffindors, we might as well get along with the other Houses," said Harry, guiding Neville to the girls.

"B-but Harry, they're from Hufflepuff; Cedric's House! They hate you the most right now after Slytherin," said Neville, trying in vain to stop Harry from advancing further to the girl he had developed a big crush during the last year.

"Well then, we need to start building bridges, don't we?" answered Harry, he and Neville finally arriving to the seats beside the two girls.

"Hey Hannah, Susan," said Harry cheerfully, the two Hufflepuff girls turning to look at the two Gryffindors. Harry almost expected the disdainful looks he had received from the Hufflepuffs in the past few days, only to see Susan widen her eyes slightly. Hannah… to Harry's surprise turned a slight shade of red when he looked at Neville.

"Are these seats occupied? Can we sit next to you?" asked Harry, still observing Hannah's reaction.

'Shouldn't be too hard for you to get this one Neville, play your cards right and you might just beat the rest of the Gryffindors in our year on getting a girlfriend.'

'If I don't get Fleur first that is.'

"Sure!" gasped Hannah cheerfully, making space at her side for the two students to sit, only to find out that there was only room for one of them. Harry noticed Susan started to move to her side as well to make more space, but Harry had other plans in mind.

"Don't worry," he said to Susan, as he forced Neville on the seat next to Hannah, the Longbottom boy sitting still as a statue as he was next the blond-haired girl. Harry started to make his way to other side of the seats, finally sitting down next to Susan. Thus, the two Hufflepuff girls were sandwiched in the table next to the two Gryffindors.

As Harry sat next to Susan Bones, she started noticing her figure more closely than he had in the previous year. She had red hair. Not bright red like the Weasley family were known for having, but a darker shade of red, almost crimson in color. In the back of his mind, Harry noted that it was similar to the same shade that his mother had in the pictures he had seen. Her eyes were a deep grey, and she had a heart shaped face.

Those traits however, were not the things that drew most men's attention towards her. The reason she had become more popular among the boys of Hogwarts was her chest. Being one the first girls to start developing a womanlier figure, Harry could say that she had the largest pair of breasts of the girls their year. Hell, some of the fifth-year girls were probably looking at her in jealousy at the rapidly increasing size.

When Harry turned to look at him, Susan returned the look with a smile. Harry had been told by Hermione previously that Susan was one of the most down-to earth and friendly people she had met since she arrived in Hogwarts. Even if many Hufflepuffs thought Harry took away Cedric's glory by being chosen as the fourth Champion, it seemed as if Susan did not really care either way.

Harry was also aware that she was the top Hufflepuff student in their year, so she was not all looks as it seemed.

"Hey Susan, how are you doing," asked Harry. The sounds emanating from the classroom doorway signaling the arrival of all the other Hufflepuff and Gryffindor students.

"I'm good Harry," Susan said in a quiet but cheery tone. Harry took this as an opportunity to lean closer to hear ear and whisper.

"She's into him as well, isn't she?" asked Harry quietly, his gaze pointing at the sight of the flustered figures of Neville and Hannah sitting beside them, both of them trying and failing to strike a conversation.

Susan made a large smile that perfectly showed her pearly white teeth, "Totally," she said. Harry and Susan shared a small chuckle at the expense of their two friends.

"Good to see you again!" said Professor Flitwick excitedly, now standing atop his pile of textbooks. The authoritative appearance he may have been trying to present disappearing thanks to his almost giddy tone of voice.

"Now, class take your seats. Today we will be practicing a rather interesting spell that has many every-day uses: the Summoning Charm!" exclaimed the excited half-goblin.

"In order to perform it, you must arc your wand like so," said Flitwick, while waving his wand in a half circle motion, "The name for the incantation is Accio. Followed by the object you wish to summon to yourself," the Charms Master then demonstrated the spell himself.

"Accio book!" and a particularly massive textbook flew at Flitwick who managed to catch it admirably despite his size.

"Now, you will try to summon your textbooks," instructed Flitwick, and the students tried immediately to replicate the professor's success. From the corner of his eye he already saw Seamus set his book on fire.

"Accio book," Harry whispered, and the book inched closer towards him, but not towards his hand. The Potter heir then remembered his first flying lesson, where he had to call for the broom with his magic, and let the same feeling envelop him again.

"Accio book!" he said more confidently this time, and the book flew to his hand. It was maybe to fast, and it was more forceful than the way he had seen Flitwick get his, but it got the job done.

"Congratulation Mr. Potter! Ten points to Gryffindor!" applauded Flitwick. Making the rest of the class look towards him in either admiration, jealousy, or awe-

Harry smiled, with his lesson pretty much done, he started to look around the classroom to see his classmates' performance.

Hermione, as suspected, was already close to mastering it, while Ron was still lagging behind quite badly. Turning his attention to the desk he was sitting in, he saw Susan was already close to getting the book towards her hand, while Hannah seemed to have a little more trouble getting it to respond.

Neville… Neville looked dejected, in what Harry guessed was his defeatist attitude.

'He has already given up,' Harry thought, frustrated.

Harry didn't just seat Neville down with Hannah because he wanted to tease him. The green-eyed wizard knew that part of the reason Neville was not very good at casting spells was his complete lack of confidence in himself.

Part of the success that comes with casting a spell or any other type of magic was willpower. The fact is, the more confidently you wave your wand and say the incantation, the more chance of success you have of actually making the spell work. Neville meanwhile, seemed to have completely no confidence in his own abilities. Stunted by the ridicule of his classmates and the constant pressure that Augusta Longbottom put on her grandson, Neville Longbottom thought himself a failure at everything that did not involve Herbology.

Harry wanted to give his new friend confidence, he was going to need a strong ally in the future after all. What better way to give a man confidence than a chance to prove himself in front of the girl they had affections for?

Quickly sending the levitation charm to his book, Harry got Neville's attention. Once the Longbottom heir looked at him, Harry sent him an encouraging look.

Neville sighed, then took out his wand again, and tried the charm, to his own surprise the book moved slightly. Harry saw Neville look at him again, and nodded, this time more forcefully.

The timid Gryffindor then once again tried the spell. To the surprise of many, including Professor Flitwick, the book was sent to Neville.

"Well done Mr. Longbottom, 5 points to Gryffindor!" he exclaimed, making all the students take a look at Neville in an incredulous fashion. How exactly did Squib Neville manage to get the spell right before even some of the more talented students in the class?

Neville however, simply looked embarrassed at the attention he was getting, even more he when he turned around to see Hannah looking at him with admiration. Neville turned a healthy shade of red, even more so after Hannah grabbed his armed and told him if he could teach her how to do it right, causing Susan and Harry to let out small chuckles.

After leaving the classroom, Harry and Neville said their goodbyes to Hannah and Susan, and quickly made their way towards McGonagall's Transfiguration classroom.

If Harry's mother was extremely talented in Charms, then his father was her equal when it came to Transfiguration. Sirius had told him that once James Potter had started to take his classes seriously, there was no one in the entire school that could rival him when it came to that particular subject. Harry's father had even become an Animagus before he even leaving Hogwarts, something that had been an extremely rare feat almost no one could accomplish. Even Professor McGonagall did not achieve her Animagus form until her seventh year.

They arrived in the classroom, to see that there were also other students already seated in place. Unlike Susan and Hannah, who were from Hufflepuff House, these students wore the green and silver of Slytherin House.

The most noticeable one was Daphne Greengrass. She was taller than most of the girls in their year, even taller than quite a few of the boys. She had midnight black hair, almost shining blue in some areas- Unlike Susan's heart shaped face, her face had the traditional aristocratic looks that reminded Harry of Fleur, with the perfect symmetry and high cheekbones. Her eyes were a striking violet.

Next to her was her best friend, a half-blood witch by the name of Tracey Davis. She had dark brown hair and light brown eyes, she had a more girl-next door vibe. The only person Harry had ever seen next to her, in fact. Next to them was the tanned figure of Blaise Zabini, his Italian heritage showing with his dark brown hair and eyes. Of their year, these three were the only Slytherin students that were still intact after Harry had rigged the badges to explode in the Great Hall.

Now that Malfoy and his goons are not here at the moment, I can probably approach this particular group.

Making his way to them, he was suddenly met by the slightly hostile looks of the three Slytherin students. Still, Harry was undeterred and kept on walking to the table.

"Good afternoon," he said coolly, trying to maintain a nonchalant appearance, even if he saw that the Slytherin trio was undeterred. Finally, Blaise Zabini spoke up first.

"What do you want Potter, think we are easy prey now that the rest of our House is incapacitated," said the Italian boy, his eyes still making a glare.

Harry raised his hands in a pacifying manner, "I am not trying to harm or gloat to you, Blaise, I just want to talk to you," he said, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible. He was well aware of the Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry, the two Houses never seemed to get along.

"Say what you will then, and leave us," said Daphne, her violet eyes making an icy glare.

"May I sit down here?" said Harry, pointing to the seat next to Blaise, and before waiting for an answer, he sat down forcefully in the seat, making the three students' glare widen a little, a disgusted look appearing on their face that reminded Harry a little of Fleur.

No, not Fleur. Fleur does it in annoyance, not in hatred. Thought Harry, his mind once again wandering to the French witch. Just one more day until I can talk to her, she will be unaccompanied in the Wand Weighing Ceremony, and I can finally have a chance to talk to her alone.

Finally coming back to reality, he noticed the three Slytherin students looking at him.

"Why do you wish to sit next to us, Potter?" demanded Daphne, her voice a mixture between annoyance and curiosity.

"You might have noticed that some of my housemates do not seem to like me very much at the moment, I thought that maybe I might be making some new friendships outside Gryffindor," explained Harry simply.

"And pray, tell us why do you come to us Slytherins?" questioned Tracey, the final one that broke the silence.

"You are currently here, and that means you are not occupying beds in the Hospital Wing, and that means you did not wear Malfoy's obnoxious badges, and that means I do not hold grudges against you three," responded Harry.

"Just because we refused to wear Malfoy's childish badges does not mean that we like you, Potter," Daphne said coldly.

"Believe me babe, there's a lot to like about me if you get to know me," said Harry, making Daphne look incensed at being referred to as "babe". The dark-haired wizard did not know if she was annoyed because she knew the word, or if she didn't know it. Being a pure-blood witch, Harry assumed she was raised without knowledge of Muggle culture

Messing with the magical raised could sometimes be really fun. Hermione and him always did it around Ron.

A small pit started to settle in his stomach when he started to think about his two former best friends. He turned to look at the red-haired figure of Ron Weasley, sitting with Dean and Seamus, cracking jokes with them. Hermione likewise was sitting next to Lavender and Parvati, although she seemed to be interested more in the textbook in her desk than she was in talking to the female Gryffindors.

Before Daphne could respond, Neville finally came behind him and nervously sat down at Harry's side, trying not to look at the three Slytherins.

Well, I get the chance to make new friends now, thought Harry positively, looking at Neville and the Slytherin trio. I really enjoyed talking to Hannah and Susan, maybe the answer to new friendships lays in the other Houses.

I am also making friends with Krum and Durmstrang.

And Fleur…

Finally, enough students settled in their seats that McGonagall finally started the class. His mind once again abandoning the thoughts of Fleur Delacour.

"Today we will be turning the hedgehogs to pin-cushions, I do not expect you to do it in this class alone, so we will be trying to master the spell for several classes," instructed McGonagall.

It was simple enough Harry thought. He quickly took out his wand and successfully turned the hedgehog into a pincushion in his first try, causing McGonagall to award him 15 points. He saw that Hermione also performed the spell, giving Gryffindor another 15 points.

Harry took the rest of the class to see how the other students were doing. Surprisingly, Seamus did not make something explode this class, but was otherwise unsuccessful. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Daphne was very close to performing the spell, with the other two Slytherins close behind. Finally, Neville looked like he wanted to give up.

Convinced that he did not want to antagonize the Slytherins further – and with no Hannah around to motivate him – Harry decided to once again help Neville with the spell. By the end he had already done some progress, but still needed a lot of work.

Daphne Greengrass did do the spell correctly however, earning her 15 points for Slytherin. A nice gesture, but futile. After Malfoy's badge fiasco, there was no way Slytherin had a chance for winning the House Cup this year.

Finally, McGonagall spoke up, "This concludes today's class, for homework I want you to keep practicing with the spell, you may take the hedgehogs with you after class. Be very careful with the though, points will be taken off if you fail to care for them."

After McGonagall bade her students farewell however, Harry stayed until the rest of the class had left. The only one who hadn't left yet was Neville, who was waiting for Harry to accompany him to the Great Hall for their lunch. He looked at Neville in a playful manner.

"I need to talk with the professor about some doubts I have, I'll see you in the Hall in a few minutes," Harry told his friend, watching as Neville nodded nervously and then quickly left the classroom. The emerald-eyed Potter then looked over at the Transfigurations Professor.

"Mr. Potter, how may I help you?" asked McGonagall with a thick Scottish accent.

"Professor, you are aware that I am competing as a Champion," stated Harry carefully.

"I am aware Mr. Potter. I am also aware that I am instructed that you stand alone in these tasks and cannot help you with the competition," chided McGonagall, making Harry think that she was aware of his intentions.

"I understand Professor, I do not ask you to help me directly in this competition. At the same time, you must understand that I am at a disadvantage, all my competitors are more advanced than I am," said Harry, trying to calm McGonagall in order to make her more cooperative.

"Professor, you are also one of the only people that believe me when I said that I did not enter my name into the Goblet," continued Harry, making the Professor sigh tiredly.

"I understand your situation Mr. Potter, and I am deeply sorry that you must go through this amount of danger again this year, but my hands remain tied," said McGonagall sadly, a conflicted look on her face. Harry knew she was trying to help him, but was battling between concern for her student and her professionalism.

"I am not asking you to teach me advanced magic personally Professor, I am asking you to point me in the right direction. If you have any textbooks or scrolls you might point me towards, I'll do the rest myself," said Harry, making the Scottish Professor make a small frown.

"And what are you interested in learning now, Mr. Potter," she said, finally

"Conjuration," stated Harry assuredly.

McGonagall frown deepened, "Mr. Potter, that is strictly N.E.W.T. material, you have not even taken your O.W.L. tests yet in order to get to that level. We are still looking at Vanishing spells at the moment," she said, in her no-nonsense tone of voice that Harry had learned meant that there would be no further argument. Still, he was adamant.

"Professor, I am going against challenges that will be designed for N.E.W.T. level students, if I am to get through this, I need to get a lot stronger," stated Harry, trying to find the best words to get McGonagall's cooperation.

The Scottish teacher still looked unconvinced.

"Mr. Potter, I cannot teach you the intricacies of Conjuration without first seeing Vanishment spells, and that is next year," stated McGonagall.

Harry now took a determined face and posture before picking up his wand and pointing it at one of the seats.

"Evanesco," said Harry confidently, causing the seat to vanish and a look of astonishment settled in McGonagall's face. Harry thought that she looked like she was seeing a ghost when she turned to look back at him. Sighing, he finally turned to the Transfiguration Mistress.

"Professor, you know what has happened to me in the past three years. I have almost died in some of them… and now it is happening again. If I cannot stope what is going to happen anyway, I might as well be prepared for it," argued Harry, hoping that McGonagall would be convinced.

Said Professor looked extremely conflicted for one moment, deep in thought for what seemed to Harry an eternity, before finally closing her eyes.

"I will think about it Mr. Potter, now go to the Hall and get some lunch," said McGonagall, a tone of finality in her voice.

It's as much as I'm going to get right now, I guess it's better than being to "no", though Harry, accepting the Professor's answer before giving his gratitude and leaving for the Great Hall.

"Mr. Potter," he heard McGonagall say as he was leaving the classroom, making him turn back to face her.

"Yes, Professor?" said Harry.

"…the chair," said McGonagall in comically demanding manner. Making Harry smirk in amusement.

"I'm sorry Professor, I'm afraid I do not know Conjuration," he said smugly before leaving the disgruntled Transfiguration teacher behind.

Arriving at the Great Hall for lunch, Harry was still surprised at the fact that the Durmstrang students were all seated at the Gryffindor table. Some of his housemates were now trying to talk to the foreign delegation. He made his way to them and sat down between Neville and Krum.

Tired by their morning classes, it seemed that neither of them wanted to talk. Instead they filled their plates with the offered food and started to eat promptly.

Harry noticed that – unlike the French students – the students of the Norwegian school actually seemed to enjoy the British cuisine, taking large amounts for themselves and eating it with gusto. He quickly remembered that a lot of the Durmstrang students came from Eastern Europe.

I guess after the number the commies did on their countries, they count themselves lucky that they can eat anything at all, thought Harry.

Harry himself started to fill his plate with a heavy meal. Being that he was physically active since a young age, he always ate quite a bit more than other people without gaining much weight. So, he made himself a side dish with fish and chips: a British staple.

As he picked up his utensils to start eating, his attention turned to the Ravenclaw table, and to the Beauxbatons students. His eyes quickly going through them; however, among the light blue clad French delegation, he could not find the figure of Fleur Delacour.

Maybe she is taking time off to train for the Tournament, maybe she is going through her spells, maybe she is occupied with thinking strategies on how to beat us, thought an increasingly nervous Harry, yet in the back of his mind another, more worrying thought was trying to worm into his thoughts.

Maybe she's had enough, thought Harry.

Maybe she's had enough of the stares, the drooling, the constant propositions, the attention she always gets. Maybe she does not want to deal with it anymore and decided to stay in the carriage for the rest of the Tournament,

The thoughts flew by Harry, each more one more pessimistic than the last.

Maybe today was the last straw, thought Harry as he remembered how he had held her in the morning.

A deep pit started to form in his stomach. If Fleur decided not to step into the castle for the remainder of the Tournament, all chance of him getting close to her were moot. There would be no opportunity to speak to her. The thought of not seeing her again for so long made his heart sink slightly.

There's still tomorrow, the optimistic side of him thought, she still needs to be there tomorrow for the Ceremony.

A nudge from his side interrupted his train of thoughts. Looking for the source of the discomfort, he found what looked to be a Gryffindor first year student looking at him.

"Harry, the headmaster says he wants to see you after lunch in his office," said the boy, making the Durmstrang students look at him. Getting flustered at the attention, the first year then made his way back to his seat quickly.

What does Dumbledore want now? thought Harry as he squeezed a fresh lemon unto the fried fish, his hand roaming to find a particularly big chip and bringing it to his mouth.

"Sherbet Lemon," commanded Harry to the statue that hid the entrance to the headmaster's office. He had learned that Dumbledore had a quirky habit of having his passwords be named after several types of candy – both magical and Muggle – and Harry was trying every combination he knew in order to gain access.

Sure enough, it seemed as the last one was the correct one as he saw the floor below him start to rise like an elevator, sending him to an upper level where Dumbledore awaited. The floor kept on moving upwards for a few seconds until it stopped, revealing a simple yet sturdy wooden door. Knocking on it, he heard the muffled voice of the headmaster from the other side.

Opening the door, he was met with a sight that he had seen several times already, considering how much trouble he had gotten on in the three previous years. So much so that, while not intricately familiar with the office as a whole, what he saw was almost exactly what he had pictured in his mind.

Everything, except for two very important people

"Sirius, Remus!" exclaimed Harry the moment he noticed the two people that had had the biggest role in raising him. They were both sitting next to the giant desk that Dumbledore worked at, the headmaster seated on the opposite side of it.

"Pup!" said Sirius, standing up from his chair in order to walk quickly towards Harry, embracing his godson in a tight, fatherly hug when they finally made contact. Harry returned the gesture himself, making Sirius lose his breath slightly.

"Merlin, you are already stronger than me, and almost as tall as your father was," said Sirius as he started to let go of Harry.

Indeed, Harry was already almost as tall as Sirius, in another year he will probably be surpassing him in height.

"Forgot about me, Harry?" Remus Lupin's voice interrupted in a humorous manner. Harry made his way to him and embraced the werewolf with another hug. This one lasted a little bit less than the one with Sirius, but it was still filled with warmth and appreciation.

"As much as I appreciate a family reunion, there are things we must discuss immediately," came the unusually grave voice of Albus Dumbledore. He was sitting tiredly in his desk, looking like he had not slept for a week. For all Harry knew he had not slept in a week.

The three of them made their way back to the desk, a new seat was conjured in order for Harry to sit down next to both Sirius and Remus. Once they were all seated, Dumbledore finally started to speak.

"I have been investigating around as most as I could about the circumstances in which we find ourselves in. Doing my best to find out why the Triwizard Tournament was allowed to come back in and who were the people who supported it," explained Dumbledore in a serious manner. The information made the other three people pay close attention to what was going to be said.

"Upon Harry's insistence I went to see how the Ministry voted in favor of the championship, there were many people who supported it and opposed it. Though there were many outliers there was one coalition specifically that managed to get it passed," explained Dumbledore.

"Let me guess; Malfoy Sr. and his Pureblood Coalition?" said Harry sarcastically, remembering telling Dumbledore that the Malfoy Patriarch would have a hand in this whole thing.

"Quite right Mr. Potter," responded Dumbledore, his voice lacking any amusement.

"That dodgy cunt," Harry growled menacingly, making Sirius smile slightly.

"Mr. Potter, that language is-,"

"Completely adequate," interrupted Sirius, his voice also dangerously low, "That tosser that married my cousin already tried to kill a large part of the school two years ago, if anyone deserves to be called a cunt, it's Lucius Malfoy."

"So, there's the answer, someone is trying to kill me after all," stated Harry, his voice now neutral. Yet inside him, there was an anger bubbling to high levels. The last time he had felt this angry, only the sight of Fleur managed to get him to calm down.

"I have to say, these elaborate plans to kill me are quite something aren't they. The Italian and Russian Mobs would just send someone to you to riddle you full of bullets. These wankers go to such extents to get someone killed. What's next? Manipulating a building to fall straight below me at just the exact moment?" asked Harry in sarcastic annoyance.

"I understand your anger, all your anger," said Dumbledore, referring not only to Harry but also to Remus and Sirius, "However, there is nothing we can truly do right now, I can't just go and confront Lucius with this or they'll find out we are on to them," the Headmaster continued.

"So, we just sit down on our arses and let Harry get himself killed!?" exclaimed Sirius, losing his normally playful attitude in favor of slight anger.

"I never said that, that is why I called you here," said Dumbledore, standing from his chair in order to go to his Pensieve, after staring at it for a few seconds he turned back to the three visitors.

"I am bound as headmaster of the school to not break previously agreed to rules. As such I cannot help you in the competition, Mr. Potter. That is why I have called Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black. They are the ones that will help you train for this competition. You must survive, you must live so that we may foil their plans," stated the headmaster, making the other occupants' eyes widen significantly.

"Are you sure you want us to do this? Are we allowed?" asked Remus.

"The rules of the tournament say that the Champion cannot receive support from the teachers. I am not blind however, I know that Mr. Krum and Ms. Delacour will receive help from Igor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime. You two, however, are not teacher or faculty, it's hardly against the rules that you help your charge," said Dumbledore, revealing his plans to help Harry. It made sense that he might not want to break the rules himself and leave it instead to Sirius and Remus.

"Not that it matters, from what I remember, you two never had much respect for the rules," he said to Remus and Sirius with an amused tone.

"You got that right old man," said Sirius, his grin finally returning.

"In the meantime, I will continue to observe the Ministry and the Pureblood Coalition to see what they will be planning next. I leave young Mr. Potter in your capable hands," said Dumbledore.

"Headmaster wait," said Harry, his mind now going to more selfish thoughts.

If I'm going to compete in this shit-show, I might as well take as many perks that come with being a champion that I can take.

"If I am going to be sneaking around and training until late hours in the night, I think some changes in my daily and living arranges are in order," stated Harry confidently, making the headmaster look at him in confusion.

"What do you mean, Mr. Potter?" asked Dumbledore.

"I think it's best if none of my housemates learn about my new activities, I do not wish to go around sneaking all the time for nightly lessons" said Harry.

"What is your solution then?" questioned the wizened headmaster.

"I wish to get my own room, outside of the Gryffindor common room," said Harry. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a proud Sirius' grin getting bigger by the second.

"I do not think such preferential treatment will go well with the rest of the school," said Dumbledore.

"Give one to Diggory as well, then you can tell the rest of the school that it's a new Triwizard Tournament tradition or something of the sort," said Harry, making the tired headmaster sight before answering.

"It does seem like a good idea, and it makes it so our activities are more inconspicuous. I shall think about it, and you will have my answer tomorrow. Now I must rest, I will not be accompanying you at dinner, and… please try to stay out of trouble," and with that, Dumbledore dismissed them.

"No promises," said Sirius, before leaving alongside Harry and Remus.

As they were making their way down the magically powered elevator-statue, Harry was made aware of the nudging caused by the elbow of his godfather. Turning to look at him, he saw the ever present mischievous grin of Sirius Black. A look like that could either be very good for Harry or cause him extreme embarrassment.

It seemed Sirius was intent on doing the latter.

"Soooo… I've been listening to a few rumors," Sirius mused to his godson, making Harry feel a little nervous.

"What about?" questioned Harry in the calmest manner possible. Though inside he was already getting nervous about what his godfather would tell him.

"Well, some of the things that happened yesterday. Exploding badges? Really?" said Sirius.

"What about them?" asked Harry.

"Please tell me it was you Harry. Please?" begged Sirius in a mock display of admiration to his godson.

Harry let a small smirk slip out of him, a comical expression hiding the fact that he was referring to one of the most violent and darkest acts he had made in his life. Sirius did not seem to care.

"I knew it! I knew it would be you! Ah, James, if you could only see your son right now, you would be so proud!" beamed Sirius, his previously serious tone taking the laid-back mannerisms Harry had grown used to while he was growing up with his godfather.

"How did you do it?" asked Remus, a little more concerned, yet the old prankster was still hiding in the tone of his voice.

"Runes," Harry answered simply, making Remus let out a small amused whistle and making Sirius laugh.

"I knew it was a mistake not to take that class while we were in here!" guffawed Sirius, his left hand now coming to cover his face in hopes to muffle his laughs. He kept on laughing all the way until the statue was back to ground level. Finally regaining his composure, he then looked at Harry with an even more playful manner.

"I also heard about what happened next, between you and a certain French girl," said Sirius, his eyebrows waggling at Harry.

Said wizard dropped his smile, the familiar butterflies in his stomach reappearing, along with the sensation of heat flowing through him. His face was slowly but surely turning a healthy shade of red, making the smiles of the two older men widen so much that Harry thought they were going to rip off their faces.

"I-it's not like that!" Harry sputtered, though his body reaction was telling a completely different story.

"I knew it was only a matter of time, though I never imagine you would have gone for a French bird. A Veela no less! Ah, I am so jealous!" exclaimed Sirius, making Harry become even redder at the reminder of Fleur Delacour.

"Then again, I guess you are just following Lord Richard's footsteps," mused Sirius.

Harry immediately become more relaxed and attentive at the mention of his great-grandfather's name, "What do you mean? Are you saying my great-grandmother was French?" he asked his godfather.

"Didn't I ever tell you? Of course she was! I told you, before that Lord Richard was in the early expedition to help the French during the Great War," at this, Harry knew that he was in for one of his family's history lessons. He listened attentively, he had always enjoyed when Sirius told him the stories of House Potter.

"He was just a lieutenant when he arrived. He and his platoon were immediately sent to Belgium, near the city of Mons. Under the command of Sir John French, Richard and his boys who were all Squibs, Muggle-Borns and Muggle relatives, helped the French retreat in what was largely known as the Battle of the Frontiers," said Sirius. Remus and Sirius were now completely quiet.

"Despite his magic, the German onslaught was just too much, and Richard had to send some of his men to the nearest aid station. There, he met a French woman he immediately identified as a witch, with the way she could easily heal the soldier's wounds. He was drawn to her, seeing a pure-blooded noble witch was now treating French, Belgian and British wounden soldiers like a normal person. Though, all he learned was her name at first. Aah, what was it?" mused Sirius, his eyes closing in concentration. Harry waited expectantly, now feeling like he was a kid again, listening to Sirius' stories with fascination.

"Victoire! That was her name! Victoire Vigouroux, though she was later known as Victoire Potter," said Sirius, making Harry smile at the name of his great-grandmother.

She was French! Maybe I can break the ice with Fleur with this.

"Of course, that was not the end of it. In fact, she was not into Richard at all when she first met him, according to her, Richard was only an 'uncivilized barbarian who though more with his wand and rifle than his mind', and constantly ran away from him" continued Sirius.

Running away from him? I'm more like my great-grandfather than I thought! Harry mused, remembering the scenes from the previous two days and Fleur's constant need to flee from him.

"Despite giving Fritz heavy losses, Richard and his Tommies retreated back to Paris in order to begin preparations for the great defense. He met her again in one of the hospitals, this time finally being able to speak to her for a few moments. But it was short-lived: The Battle of the Marne had begun, and Richard was once again sent to fight in the front lines in one of the most intense battles in history," drawled Sirius, Harry still thinking about Fleur while still paying attention.

"Richard was promoted to captain, and was sent to the trenches. He was not able to see Victoire for a long time. He never forgot about her however, and tried sending letters to her. None of them were ever responded. The Vigouroux family was not keen on English people. Still, Richard persisted, trying to tell her of the utter hell that trench warfare, and how he kept on going because he wanted to see her again," continued Sirius.

"He did not see her again until the prelude for the Battle of the Somme, Victoire was now in charge of several aid stations, a charge that was unusual for women in the day. Richard was now a top-ranking Major, and in command of his own battalion. Because of the utter hell that the battle turned out to be, Richard often sought comfort in Victoire. She had also been shaken up by the massive amount of wounded and dead. They began to see each other more often. By the end of the war, as the peace negotiations were taking place, both of them went to Victoire's home in Southern France. There he decided to propose to her, and she said yes," ended Sirius. Harry was now smiling softly at the tale.

"So you see Harry, never give up! All you need is to get yourself a uniform, become a Major, and your French Veela will finally be all over you."

Leave it to Sirius to make a joke out of everything, still, Harry let out a small genuine laugh. The first one he had had in a long time.

After his midday lessons, Harry was now readying himself for a nice dinner, before going back to read some more about offensive charms and dueling. Sirius and Remus told him that they would be staying over in Hogsmeade, and would come every night to a special room where they could train.

Harry arrived at the sparsely populated great hall. He noticed that none of the wounded students had come back. Though that would soon change. Madam Pomfrey had announced that the less affected students would be discharged in a couple of days.

The other thing he noticed to his delight was that a large portion of the male population was once again staring at Fleur Delacour. Though the "delight" part was something of a conflict. He was delighted that Fleur was back in the castle again, making his previous fears of her leaving the public eye unfounded.

He was no longer delighted that other people were staring at her. In fact, it was making him quite vexed.

Still, he started to make his way to his usual spot beside Neville. Krum was now speaking with his headmaster, and the further he stayed away from Karkaroff, better.

Sitting down, he did not even wish to speak to Neville at that moment, not that the Longbottom was asking for it. He had another big textbook on Herbology in his lap, and to Harry's surprise, a book on Charms.

He instead just wanted to focus on two things: food and Fleur.

He glanced at her once he served himself, making sure to not stare at her in the same way the others were. He made sure to only take small direct glances, the rest of the time he would look only through the corner of his eyes.

The most immediate thing he noticed was that she now had a blue silk scarf around her head. It did not look like she was wounded or hurt, making Harry feel relieved. It seemed that it was a fashion statement more than anything.

She was French after all.

Picking at his food, he once again pondered the realization that he had the previous day. He did not longer want to just see her like the rest of the people around. He genuinely wanted to speak to her. The sight of her seemed to already be calming the anger that had been bubbling in him ever since Dumbledore revealed his knowledge of the Tournament a few hours earlier. It was an addicting feeling, like he knew that everything would resolve itself. It made him feel so powerful and he wanted more. He did not want anyone else to see her as he saw her, to touch her like he wanted to touch her.

The mere sight of an older Ravenclaw student going to her on bended knee to ask her out was already getting him riled up. He was almost ready to grab his wand and send him to join the others at the Hospital Wing.

Is this how you felt, Father? When other people tried to ask Mother out? How did you do it? How did you manage to get her in the end? I do not have the seven years you had. I have but a few months.

Bringing his feeling back into place, he settled for eating once again. The food now tasteless in his mouth as he continued to see other students go propose to the French beauty. It seemed that today was more common than other times. He even saw Ron trying to get up with his face concentrated on her. That was until Hermione pulled him back to his seat and hit him over the head with a large tome.

Taking another direct look at Fleur, he saw as her gaze now pointed towards him.

It was something he had never seen her do, she was almost always looking either directly at her food, or she was looking at one of her friends. Never at anyone else. Yet for just a few, long seconds, his emerald eyes made direct contact with her sapphire blue eyes.

The both of them stayed still for what seemed like an eternity. Harry remembered the calming yet powerful feeling he had felt when he had looked upon her eyes the two times he had held her and he was once again feeling it with just her gaze. It was subdued of course, she was several feet away and the lack of body contact took some of the effect away, but it was still an entrancing sight.

Harry saw several emotions go through her eyes, from confusion, to fear, and what seemed to be like pain. After breaking eye contact, she promptly ended her meal and made her way out of the Hall as quickly as she could without breaking into a run.

Harry let out another sigh. Yet this time, he was determined, he would no longer back away from the challenge. He would pursue her until she finally acknowledged him.

'Wish me luck, Richard Potter.'

Fleur knew she not stay in her room for much longer without other people suspecting about her. She also knew she could not ignore her hungry stomach. Therefore, she knew that she had to go back to the castle for supper.

The problem was, she could not bring her allure back in control after it had been so free in the morning. Deep down inside, Fleur knew she did not want to. Regaining control over it felt like she was trapping herself in a small cage.

She had to go to more primitive measures of being inconspicuous, as inconspicuous as a Veela could be at least. Going through her wardrobe, she changed into her Beauxbatons uniform, and added a big silk scarf to tie around her waist-length hair. It would not do much, but hopefully it would be enough to keep others from going too crazy around her.

Putting as much control on her allure as she could, she finally made her way out of her room and to her small group of friends, before leaving the carriage to go to the ugly, grey castle.

The supper itself was an infuriating event. Despite covering herself more so than before, her mildly controlled allure could not stop the students from going towards her. This time there were not only males, but females too!

Now, Fleur was not a close-minded person, and even had to admit to being attracted to females in that way sometimes. She was French after all! But it did not make her happy to know that she would now no longer have to contend with only half of the student population.

Her worries only increased when Harry Potter entered the Hall.

He was no longer in his dragon themed sportswear, now sporting the usual ghastly Hogwarts robes that the school made them wear. Yet out of the corner of her eye, she acknowledged that they fit him rather well.

Sighing, she went back to eating her slightly larger meal, she had not eaten anything else that day after running from the aforementioned green-eyed wizard.

She made it a point to eat as fast as she could without looking uncivilized. She wanted to finish dinner and go back to the carriage for some more sleep. Tomorrow would be a big day, and she would have to deal with her competition.

In the back of her mind she knew that it would mean having to come into close contact with Harry Potter-Black, and that made her even more nervous. It had the potential to turn into a very awkward display.

After turning down a particularly annoying Ravenclaw student without even deigning to look at him, her eyes wandered to him. Not knowing that he would also be staring back.

The sight of his eyes made her allure want to break free once again.

Look! He's interested, this is your chance, go speak to him. That annoying inner voice came out once again, she had not heard it since she had woken up from her midday rest.

He did not look at her like the others, and the sight of him made a deep part that she had locked long ago before want to come roaring back. Deep down she knew the voice was right, he was interested. But she could not allow it to fester, she had to take control as much as it pained her to do so.

Fleur still kept looking at him, out of the corner of her eye she saw that her unstable control was making the other students look at her more intently. She tore her gaze away painfully from those eyes and went back to concentrating on her meal. She only ate a bit of it more, before she once again stood up and left the Hall. Not as embarrassing as running away this time, but she did not care at that moment. She just wanted to forget all about him.

It was a fantasy, she knew she would have to compete against him, and that means coming into contact with him at some point.

Making her way back to her room, she went to take a scalding hot bath. The warmth relaxing her and making her body forget the cold weather outside the carriage.

She knew that she could not avoid it, and that made it worse. She had finally given up on love, and as if fate wanted to make her miserable, Harry Potter had come into her life. She knew it was impossible, yet her nature was entranced with him. How she would make it through the next months, she did not know.

When she was finished with her bath, she went back her room and put on some undergarments, followed by a satin sleeping gown. Yet as she tried to go to sleep, she could no longer find it in herself to relax enough.

She calculated that a couple hours went by, but she was still unable to get the rest she craved.

Finding herself increasingly and uncomfortably warm, she shed her sleeping gown, leaving her only in the stylish undergarments. To her increasing dismay, her hands started to wander to her breasts, starting by cupping the twin orbs. Followed by fingers slipping beneath the flimsy bra to touch her stiff nipples, a small gasp escaped her mouth as she did so.

Letting go, she reluctantly let her hands go to the nightstand beside her, more importantly to the compartment in it. She opened it, and without looking at it she retrieved the hidden items that she could not bring herself to show anyone. Not to her friends, not to Madame Maxime, not to her grandmother, father, and mother, not even to Gabrielle.

A pair of light blue handcuffs with the key still attached to them came into Fleur's view. Despite the color, she knew that they were strong enough to withstand the struggles of a grown person.

They had been a gag gift from Clemence, during Christmas of last year. They had made a secret gift exchange and made it a point to see who could give out the funniest gift to another. She had settled with sending a pedicured pig's foot to Monique, laughing as she opened it.

When she opened Clemence's gift, her friends had laughed along with her, seeing the present as nothing more than an oddity before moving to the real presents. Yet after the celebration was over, and she left to her room, she tried them on for the first time, and was surprised at how excited she had felt when she did.

It was something that was humiliating to Fleur, she wanted to be strong and a great witch, yet at the same time she wanted to be tied up in these handcuffs when she was frustrated. They became almost therapeutic, whenever she wanted to lash out and lose control, she would put them on for a few minutes. She practiced with them, sometimes with her hands up front. Sometimes she cuffed her hands behind her back. She also began to combine with soft rope, tying them around her ankles, remembering the helpless damsels she saw in some children's movies when she was younger.

Fleur was conflicted every time she put them on, she knew she was giving up control of herself as she did so, but it was so relaxing when she did. The hopes of finding love however, were almost impossible to her now.

To find a person she could be around was almost impossible for someone like her. To find someone who she could be around and shared an interest in her desires was pretty much an impossibility.

I don't believe I will ever find love. So why do I think about him? She thought miserably, before turning her attention back to the metal restraints.

She decided to keep it simple tonight, only the cuffs and with her hands on the front. Licking her dry lips, she opened the first cuff and let out a small breath when she closed it around her left wrist, the rattling noise making it clear that it was now secure and could not be opened without the key. She did the same with the other cuff and so she was restrained. She set the key between her fingers beside her as she looked at her bound hands.

Fleur could never bring herself to trust anyone with these proclivities of her. She was too ashamed to do so. She was expected to be in control all the time, and her family, friends, and teacher all encouraged her as she did so. Telling them of her primal habits seemed to Fleur to be tantamount to spitting them in the face.

She let her now cuffed hands wander throughout her body, finally grasping the edges of her knickers, slowly letting the fingers wander into her most sacred part of her body.

She started slow, letting the hand trace the side of her labia, the tips of her fingers teasing the increasingly wet folds. Knowing that she did not wish to sully her expensive underwear, Fleur began to slip it off her core.

Finally, free of her clothes, she truly began to give in to her lustful desires.

As she finally started to touch the tip of her pubis, she thought about how much she wanted for someone else to do these sorts of things to her. In her mind, the hand was not hers but of another person.

The person had locked her hands, taken away her key and wand, and left her to his mercy.

Unlike Gustave, however, the person that she imagined would not be a savage, he would be attentive and sweet, rough at times but always with her consent in mind. Against her better judgement, her mind started to add emerald-green eyes to the man that controlled her.

What made it all hurt more is that she knew she would never find that sort of person. But right now, she did not care, she started to lightly pinch her sensitive pearl and was fully aware that she was letting out small gasps as she did so.

Remembering she had not placed a silencing charm on her door, Fleur decided to improvise and grab one of her small pillows, biting down on it as an improvised gag.

A few minutes of stimulation was enough to bring her to an earth-splitting orgasm, her juices flowing out of her love box.

She lay on her climax, too weak and unwilling to search for the keys or her wand to unlock the cuffs, she simply lay there in the afterglow. All control of her allure now gone.

Utterly exhausted, she simply closed her eyes and allowed herself to go back to her dreams. These ones filled once again with black hair and green eyes.

AN: There you have it, chapter four. This was the biggest chapter yet. Hope it was worth the extra waiting time. I don't think the next one will be as long as this one, since I really had to cover a lot of ground in this one before we get to the exciting stuff on the next few chapters. Up next should be the Wand Weighing Ceremony. Harry will finally speak to Fleur, I am pretty nervous about how it will go.

It seems Fleur has her kinky side as well, even if she does not tell anyone of her desires. Though she still seems to be conflicted by them.

Sirius and Remus have returned to Hogwarts to teach Harry advanced magic, and Harry is now on his way to get his own space outside the Gryffindor Common Room.

Seems Harry is now officially a Neville/Hannah supporter, much to their dismay.

I am a bit nervous about writing Fleur, I don't know if I'm doing a good job considering I'm the proud owner of a Y chromosome. So, I'd like to read your opinions if you write them in your reviews.

Song recommendation for the chapter is "I Don't Believe in Love" by Queensrÿche from their 1988 masterpiece "Operation: Mindcrime". This is my favorite album of all time. Just imagine the song being from Fleur's POV instead of Nikki as sung by Geoff Tate… without the political assassinations, murdered nuns, and junkie killers of course.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. This story now officially has over of 1,000 followers and 600 favorites, which is absolutely insane for me considering this is my first ever fanfiction. Thank you so much.

Don't forget to review if you have any doubts, opinions, or criticism. Until next time.

The Metal Sage

Chapter 6: The Dark Side of my Heart

"Harry Potter" belongs to J.K. Rowling

I will probably get around to revising the previous chapters to fix some of the bad grammar, so don't be surprised if it shows that the story has been updated without any new chapter. I find it annoying that in order to make simple fixes, I have to update the chapter in .

I really wish that adopts a system like DA's that makes it easier for authors to make corrections on their stories without sending an update alert to the story's followers. Thus, if you see an update and there's not chapter, this is your warning. If anyone is volunteering as a beta, I'm all ears. Send me a PM.

I am well aware that my writing style has been a bit slow. Hopefully things will start speeding up in the next chapters.

Also, sorry for the late update. I've been playing Kingdom Come: Deliverance and Jesus titty-fucking Christ is it an amazing game. Bugs aside of course. I also wanted to wait a while after was fixed.

That, and classes have been a bitch ever since I started to do my social service. That shit really cuts down on your personal time.

Review if you have any more questions. Or send me a PM, I will answer them as soon as possible.

Now, on with the chapter:

"Dialogue"

'Thoughts'

"Foreign language"

Spells

A Godfather's Promise

Chapter V: The Dark Side of my Heart

After his normal morning exercise, Harry was once again in the Gryffindor Common Room, now getting ready for what he knew would be an important day. Despite his empty stomach calling out for food, his mind was occupied with the scheduled event that he knew he would need to attend today. Not as a Gryffindor fourth-year student, but as a Triwizard Champion.

Today, he would be attending the Wand Weighing Ceremony, and that meant that Fleur would also be attending.

It was a Triwizard Tournament Tradition. An experienced wandmaker would attend in order to inspect the Champions' wands for any deficiencies. In the back of his mind, Harry also knew that it would be a media moment, no doubt the Daily Prophet would be involved in order to take photographs and interviews.

That meant that in order to have a chance to finally talk to Fleur alone, he would need to arrive early and hope that she would be alone. While Cedric and Krum were also early risers, he knew that it was more than anything out of motivation, so if he arrived early, he might have a chance to spot Fleur before anyone else arrived.

That meant that he would need to complete the scheduled class as fast as possible, thus his problem: Potions.

'Of all the classes I need to take at that moment, it has to be Snape's.'

'Merlin's putrid ballsack!'

Harry had gotten a lot better at Potions ever since he started, however, it did not mean that he had to like the greasy-haired professor that seemed to do anything in his power to either belittle him or cause him to mix the potion badly. Sirius had often told him that Snape and his father had never gotten along. Apparently, Snape fancied his mother, Lily. But James eventually ended up with her, and Snape had always resented the fact that Lily chose James Potter over him.

The thought of Snape and his mother ever having contact made Harry involuntarily let out a small shudder.

Quickly getting changed, he started to look over his bag to see what he would be needing during the day. He grabbed his wand of course, several textbooks and a big parchment of paper that did not contain any homework that was assigned by his teachers. It was instead the product of a little project that Harry had been working on ever since he found that large tome two days ago.

It was a small scroll, one that he had written himself. Having read more deeply into the contracts that had been feature in the magazines, he ended up fashioning one for himself. It was a little thing he had done out of boredom, in the long nights where he had been unable to get some sleep.

It was either that or he wanted to avoid the nightmares that he had been avoiding recently. Thinking about how to write such a perverted agreement was certainly out of his depth, but he managed to do one anyway.

Harry knew Fleur had all the advantages. She was older, she was beautiful, he imagined that she was pretty smart if she was chosen by the Goblet to compete, and if what Sirius had told him was true the she came from a very influential family in French wizarding politics, unlike House Potter.

While House Potter was certainly notorious, it had little influence in terms of politics. Harry's family had always been known to be further apart from the rest of the Wizarding World, preferring to consort with the Muggle World as often as possible. It was this reason that prevented House Potter from being named in the Sacred Twenty-Eight families. Pureblood supremacists like the Malfoys and Notts would sneer at his family for making ties with muggles.

If the rumored monetary fortune of House Potter was true, not to mention their large manor, then Harry thought it was definitely worth the sneering.

Apparently the Delacour family was well known in France, and Dominique Delacour was a high ranking official in the French Ministry, that certainly put Fleur above himself in the importance list.

In other words, Harry needed to level the playing field. The thing he didn't know was how he would do it. Thinking about it deeply Harry realized that there was one additional thing that made it almost impossible for him to get on Fleur's level.

He had absolutely no experience with women.

True, he noticed women, growing up with Sirius made sure he had that particular experience on him since an early age. But he had never really been interested in a single girl before. Fleur had been different. A part of Harry had to admit that her unearthly beauty was a definite part of the package, but there was something else that he noticed when he spoke to Daphne Greengrass and Susan Bones previously.

He was interested in women that were not fawning over him or idolizing him. The only women that he seemed to be interested in from the whole female population were the ones that did not seem to be interested in him. The ones that did not stare dove-like at him because of some incident that happened when he was still an infant. Fangirls, he had heard Sirius call them.

One of the girls that was definitely not a fangirl was Hermione. He had been attracted to her initially, but there was one thing that she found completely turned him off from her: her bossiness. Molly Weasley had made it sure that that particular trait was not something he wanted in a partner.

Fleur was not like Hermione. She was haughty, she was arrogant, she acted like she was better than him. He wanted to prove her wrong, that's one of the reasons he was so attracted to her, that's the kind of woman that interested him

'They're the ones that pose a challenge,' Harry thought, remembering his first interaction with Fleur. She had belittled him, taunted him, and made him feel like all his accomplishment seem small. It had angered him, but it also made him want to prove himself. Make her realize that he was the best there was.

The way Harry saw it, Fleur Delacour was not a foolish, petty girl that would be impressed only by his Boy-Who-Lived status, and that is exactly what he wanted.

'Maybe Sirius could help me on this, he certainly knows his way around women.'

Grunting, Harry put the scroll at the very top of his school bag – he did not want other people to see it, he did not trust his trunk as much to hide something like this – and started to make his way outside the boys' dormitory and into the Common Room proper. He did not know why he did such a contract to be honest.

'I should probably just burn the thing before it gets me into trouble,'

When he arrived at the Common Room, he saw the brown-haired figure Hermione Granger, the girl that had at one point been his best friend. That relationship was certainly in question nowadays.

"Harry… I… how are you?" asked Hermione, Harry noticed her usually authoritarian, no-nonsense voice was quivering slightly.

"Pretty good," Harry said dryly, but not in an overly hostile manner. He may have felt a little betrayed by Hermione. But at least she was not Ronald.

"Ready for Potions?" Hermione asked uncertainly, her eyes now finding the wall besides Harry very interesting at the moment.

"Ready as can be considering this is Snape we are talking about. You should be relieved, if you stick to Parvati and Lavender, he won't be on your ass the whole class," said Harry sarcastically. Hermione flinched slightly at the accusation but recovered and leveled a small glare at him.

"You were the one that stopped talking to us!" she half-whispered, her tone a mix between anger, frustration, and sadness.

"Why do you think I stopped talking to you? You were always going to be frustrated that you had a competitor for the first spot. Ron was always going to complain that I didn't spend more times in games. Please don't tell me otherwise, I know you too well," said Harry, getting increasingly annoyed at just how hostile they're formerly warm relationship was getting.

Hermione simply looked at her feet for a moment, her eyes closed for a few seconds before finally speaking in a low voice. "That's not true, we have always been your friends."

"Maybe, maybe not," and with that, Harry left her to stew while he left the Gryffindor Common Room in order to get ready for his day.

Deep down, Harry knew that Hermione did not deserve this, she had been his friend ever since his first year. She had been there when they needed to take down Professor Quirrell. She had helped him figure out that the monster in the Chamber of Secrets was a basilisk. Even when the cracks in their friendship began to show in their third year, she had helped him during Pettigrew's escape.

Harry had to admit to himself, in the last few months he had become to see Hermione as someone who could possibly be more than just a friend.

Yet, despite the role that Hermione had had in his life in the past three years, thoughts of her were lost on Harry in favor of Fleur.

If there was one thing that Remus Lupin had come to appreciate ever since James and Lily died, it was the quiet and peaceful moments. A far cry from his escapades with his group of friends back in Hogwarts. Back then, everything was an adventure, James and Sirius making sure that there was never any lack of mischief in the school and in their lives. For someone like Remus, going from those exciting days to the mostly droll times he faced now should have been the precedent for what muggle psychologists called a "mid-life crisis".

The war had changed all that.

In war the unexpected stops being exciting and alluring, and instead becomes foreboding and terrifying. The monotone of peaceful days is shattered only by quick moments of adrenaline or horror. For Remus, the pleasure that James and Sirius would bring to him when they would find another way to prank the student and faculty would forever be tainted by feelings of dread that another one of their friends was now dead, or that a particularly nasty group of Death Eaters decided to attack them while they were going on their daily lives.

Yes, Remus Lupin definitely had come to appreciate the quiet and peace, and he was pretty sure that Sirius felt that way as well despite his appearances.

Not many people may notice it. If they saw the same thing Remus was seeing at the moment then they would see Sirius once again being the center of attention, a bar wench was sitting on his lap as some of the inn's regulars were listening to his gaudy jokes. His face broke into a wide smile as he laughed at his own humor.

Yet Remus noticed that his jokes had a certain somber and realistic tone. His laugh was slightly forced, as if trying to hide some long-lost pain, and the smile as he looked at the woman in his lap did not really reach his eyes. The werewolf was the only person really knew Sirius long enough to know the differences in all the little things his last surviving friend did. It took a lot more to make the Black Lord truly smile nowadays, and those moments were reserved only for his closest people.

Unlike Remus, Sirius Black made the best attempts at hiding his pain. Maybe because he had to raise their best friend's son for fourteen years.

As the morning passed and breakfast was served, Remus watched as the customers made their way out of the Three Broomsticks Inn, each of them eager to start their day. Remus and Sirius stayed behind for a while, their business in Hogsmeade was not to work, but to teach their charge, something that would have to wait for some time. Time that the Marauder werewolf was planning to use to speak to his last remaining friend.

"So… another year then?" said Remus, watching as Sirius raised looked over at him with tired eyes. The faux euphoria that had been present not ten minutes ago now gone in favor of an exhausted look.

"Yeah, well, at least now we seem to be getting to know that he's going to be in trouble at the beginning of the year rather than waiting until the end of it to know that he killed a dangerous magical creature," responded Sirius, all the humor that he may have wanted to portray was lost thanks to his cynically downcast face and slight sneer.

"Didn't help us last year," reminded Remus, watching as Sirius' exhausted face took on an uncharacteristic glare.

"That rat got away again!" growled Sirius.

"He won't be running for long, we will get him eventually," consoled Remus.

It worked lightly, Sirius' face returned to the same spent look he had been sporting ever since they had arrived at Hogsmeade yesterday.

"What can I do Moony? How can I stop these events from happening around Harry? I promised James I would take care of him, but every time I take my eyes of him, he always gets in danger," sighed Sirius as he picked his mug filled to the brim with butterbeer and downed half of it.

"I don't know," admitted Remus, his hands also wandering to his own mug.

"What would Lily say?"

"She would understand… and so would James."

Sirius took a few seconds of silence his gaze pointed at the counter. Remus say a range of emotions that raged in his friend until finally he extended an arm and wrapped it around the Black Lord's shoulders.

"If we can't stop these things from happening around Harry… then the only thing we can do is make sure he is prepared," Sirius said finally.

"I think Dumbledore is also coming unto that realization. He always told us he wanted Harry to be ready for whatever challenges. What do you make of that?" asked Remus

"It means that he is finally being honest with us. Harry needs to get stronger… and fast," answered Sirius, his voice now determined.

Remus sighed heavily, slumping down on his chair. He thought of James and Lily then. Why did fate have to take both of them? Even he wasn't convinced about what he had told Sirius earlier.

'What would they think about their only son learning how to fight?'

Lily would probably scream at them. She would tell them that she did not wish for Harry to suffer this. James… he had changed so much after his son was born. While the younger James would have been adamant on teaching Harry the spells he would need to fight, the older James may have agreed with his wife.

Fatherhood truly does change your life in ways Remus believed he never would be able to experience.

"I always knew Harry would not be a normal child, I knew that the moment I picked him up that day," Sirius said softly, taking a small sip off the mug before continuing. A small, genuine smile forming on his lips as he started to talk.

"He was always special… driven. Even at a young age I could see it. He was different from the rest, always the leader, always the fearless one."

"He is a Potter," reminded Remus.

"I know, but he was special even for his family. James took some time to mature, to become truly great. I saw greatness in Harry's eyes before he started his first year," Sirius revealed.

"He always was an… intense child," said Remus, remembering his limited interactions with a younger Harry. The young Potter certainly had odd tastes in almost everything.

Sirius snorted and almost laughed.

"You should see his porn collection," he commented, his voice a sarcastic whisper, almost as he intended to say it to himself. The comment did cause Remus to cough out a bit of his beverage.

"What?!"

"Never mind!" guffawed Sirius, a genuine smile on his lips, "You're right Remus. If we can't prevent Harry from getting into danger, then we must ensure that he is ready to face it. He's not going to be a child for much longer, he must become a man, and he will have to grow faster than James did."

"He is already more mature than James was," said Remus, remembering when he first met James. "Except when it comes to women. James was already interested in Lily from the moment he saw her."

"There's that French bird, I heard that she's the most beautiful girl that the school has seen. She is a Veela after all," mused Sirius.

Ah yes, the school had seen new arrivals, including delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. One of these was the famous Viktor Krum. The other person the school had been talking about was previously unknown French Champion, who happened to be a Veela. According to Dumbledore, Harry was interested in her, something that Remus thought was strange.

"I never thought Harry would be attracted by looks alone. I always thought that he would get more interested in someone like the Granger girl," said Remus.

"Maybe there's more to her pretty face. Being beautiful would simply be a bonus," voiced Sirius. "Lily turned out to be more than just a pretty girl."

"Still, a Veela?" questioned Remus.

"A French one at that!" exclaimed Sirius with a smile.

"Even if it does happen, I don't think the Ministry and the British traditionalists would approve," warned Remus.

"Since when does House Potter give a damn what the Ministry thinks? James certainly didn't when they warned him not to marry a Muggle-born. Franky, I don't care who Harry chooses to love, so long as she makes him happy, I'm good," announced Sirius.

"It's still a long shot, I guess," said Remus.

"Didn't you see how flustered he got when we told him? I think he's definitely interested," said Sirius.

"Maybe, that will have to wait. Right now, we need to focus on getting him ready for the first task," said Remus, changing the subject of conversation. "What should we be teaching him?"

"Let's start with some offensive spells," proposed Sirius, now taking a more formal and professional tone. "Once we find out more about what this first task entails, we will teach him something that will be able to help him win this."

"Win? I thought we only wanted him to survive," said Remus.

"I do. Sorry Remus, but you don't know Harry as much as I do. He may not have wanted to compete at first, but now this is no longer something that he will back down from. This is a chance to prove himself," said Sirius.

Remus furrowed his brow.

"What makes you say that?"

"You saw the champion's clothes he ordered? Red and black with the black dragon sigil. He's not representing Hogwarts or Gryffindor, or even Britain. He's representing his House now, and he will try and win under those circumstances," declared Sirius.

Remus only listened at Sirius' reasoning, making sense of what he was saying. It was true, the werewolf had not known Harry as much as the Black Lord had. After the war had ended, he distanced himself from Britain for a few years. He worked underground for Dumbledore in the werewolf communities, trying in vain to bring support over for the Dark Lord's inevitable return. He only visited Harry a few times every year, finally taking a more active role the previous year as his teacher.

He sighed, knowing that deep down, Sirius was telling the truth. What he saw in Harry was the combination of James and Lily at their best. Lily's intelligence and James' drive. Lily's determination with James' stubbornness.

An intense individual through and through.

If Harry intended to win this. Then they would help him throughout his struggles.

Harry did not hate Potions, despite what many people seemed to believe. He thought that it was one of the most interesting subjects in their curriculum. Sure, it did not involve using his wand, and was not necessarily an art that was limited for only wizards. Due to its nature, even muggles and squibs could probably be able to make use of it, and there were certainly plenty of uses to the plethora of magical potions that wizards brewed.

The reason people thought that he hated Potions class was probably because he hated the person that taught it.

How do you describe the clash between Harry Potter and Severus Snape? To say that they got along like water and oil would imply that they got along like a couple of good friends. It was more probably more accurate to say that they got along like matter and anti-matter, and even then, Harry Potter would say that that particular comparison lacked the vitriol to signify just how much he disliked the Potions Master.

Suffice to say, the less Harry Potter and Severus Snape saw each other, the better. Which is why Harry cursed whatever fate saw fit to give him a Potions class before the ceremony where he could have a chance to speak to Fleur alone.

Striding over to the greasy haired professor, he managed to say his practiced line.

"Professor, I must leave early in order to attend the Wand Weighing Ceremony, if there are any assignments, I would like to know before the class starts," Harry stated, watching as Snape glowered at him with his usual sneer. The Head of Slytherin had probably not forgotten his accusation at the choosing.

"If you finish your assignment early, you may leave, Potter. If not then I will not grade your work," and with that, Snape turned around and looked ready to prepare his class.

Glaring at him, Harry turned away to look at the arrivals. He had once again been early to class, thinking that that would give him a head start in whatever convoluted activity Snape would be assigning them at class. It was a fool's hope, but at nobody could say that he didn't try.

Ignoring the figures of the other Gryffindor students, his gaze was instead drawn once again to the trio of Slytherins that he had introduced himself to the previous day. Once again, they were the only Slytherin students that were in good enough conditions to attend classes.

That would be changing tomorrow, some of the less wounded people would be discharged and allowed to start with their classes once again. This meant that he potentially only had this class to get to socialize with what he considered to be the only three decent Slytherins in his year.

Looking at the other students he saw that Hermione had opted to seat with Lavender and Parvati once again, while Ron sat with Seamus and Dean. Neville stood by Harry's side. Ignoring the pleading looks of Hermione, he made his way to the Slytherin trio once again. This time the glares he received were minimal compared to the ones he got during McGonagall's class. Rather than hateful, they were disdainful.

The real hateful ones came from Ronald Weasley, his frown following him as he sat down in the same table besides Daphne, Neville finding his seat beside him as to avoid sitting directly next to the green and silver clad Slytherins.

Looking around, he saw that Seamus and Dean had joined Ron in sharing his disgusted look at the two rogue Gryffindors. Harry simply gave them a quick nonchalant gaze before looking over at Hermione.

She did not stare at him with the hate he saw in Ron, but he did see sadness in those brown eyes. In any of the previous years, that same look would be enough for him to want to go to her and reassure her. But he had other things to deal with at the moment.

Him choosing to sit down with the Slytherins was not just because he wanted to know Daphne, Blaise, and Tracey better, but also because he knew Snape would bother them less if he sat down next to his precious snakes. With Snape bothering him less than his usual self, it would make it easier for him to finish his potion as early as possible and leave his damn class early. Not to mention, he knew from past classes that Greengrass herself had quite the talent for brewing.

Therefore, he ignored Hermione. Much to his discomfort, he realized that any chance he had of seeing Fleur was taking precedence over the emotional well-being of his best friend. Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, he instead payed attention to the midnight haired girl next to him.

"So, Potter, you and Longbottom don't seem to be disgusted at our mere presence," Daphne sneered, her violet eyes staring straight ahead as she started her usual belittling.

"I am known for my tendency to maintain only the best of company," Harry retorted, watching as Blaise looked over at Ron Weasley, before adopting an uncharacteristic playful expression he had not seen before.

"Evidently," mocked Blaise.

Harry ignored the jab at Ron as best he could. Deep down, he knew that Ron was not the brightest of individuals, or the most orderly, or the most couth. The reason why he had counted him among his friends initially was because he was loyal to him, something that the red-haired wizard had now been backing away from ever since he was chosen as a champion.

Still, it was a little hard to restrain himself from trying to defend Ron against Blaise's disdain. The Weasley had definitely shared adventures with him in the past, and these recent series of events was not enough for him to regard Ron with any amount of hate. Harry's estimation of him had simply gone down considerably.

"Just make sure Longbottom doesn't ruin it for the rest of us," sighed Daphne, making Neville slump down on his seat, his eyes looking downcast. Harry simply put a reassuring arm around him.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure he gets it right this time," assured Harry while giving a confident shake to Neville in the process.

The greasy, gravelly voice of Snape interrupted them as he gave out his instructions for the day.

"Antidotes!" he shouted, making the entire class stop their conversations and pay attention to the dark robed Potions Master.

"Potions that will save you from the many poisons you can contract from either a magical creature or a… nefarious individual," he drawled the last part while looking directly at Harry.

"On the board texts you will see the instructions for the particular antidote that can save you against the poison of an acromantula. Due to a recent ingredient shortage…" Snape scorned, once again looking at Harry, "…I expect you to work in groups. If any of you dunderheads manage to destroy your potion, then the rest of your team will also suffer," sneered Snape. At his side, he noticed the Slytherin trio glaring at poor Neville, causing him to cower in his seat.

"Now, begin. For next class I also will expect a six-parchment essay on the creation and uses of antidotes," and with that Snape left them to do their work.

It really was not a difficult potion, in fact – considering this was Snape – the potion was fairly easy. The main problem with potions of course, was that it took time to brew them. Time was something that Harry Potter did not have an abundance of at the moment.

Looking at the instruction he noticed that what was needed was really a combination between to different mixtures. Given that the brewing itself was meant to span the whole double class, he imagined that Snape intended for them to do the two mixtures individually, one after the other.

Good thing that he paired with someone who was also pretty good at potions.

"Hey Daphne, why don't you do the first mixture, while Neville and I do the second?" asked Harry, looking over at the violet eyed witch. Said witch looked at him with disdain.

"Don't address me so familiarly, Potter!" growled Daphne, her eyes narrowing. "And why would I want to help you do this quickly anyway?"

"Come on Daphne," the witch's eyes narrowed even more, "I really need to get going, I have to do some champion business and if I don't finish this quickly I'll lose the points."

"And how does that affect me exactly, Potter?" questioned Daphne.

"Look at it this way, the faster we finish this thing, the faster I will get out of your pretty hair and go my merry way," said Harry with a smirk. Daphne in response was now openly glaring at him, though he did notice that her cheeks seemed to be tainted a little pink.

"F-fine," spluttered Daphne. "But you better get Longbottom under control, or he might destroy the potion."

It took some time to get the mixture right, but there were little distractions. Teaming up with the Slytherins turned out to be a great idea. Daphne knew her stuff pretty well, soon she, Blaise, and Tracey were brewing the first part of the formula very professionally, and Harry had not doubt that their side of the potion would be more than adequate.

That left him and Neville to do the second portion… or more accurately, it left him to do the second portion. Yet, without a moment of hesitation he started to grab the ingredients necessary for the potion, all the while instructing Neville on their basic use. He did not go as profoundly as he would have preferred, but he needed to get done as quickly as possible if he was going to have any chance of leaving this class early.

What he did notice however, is that Neville seemed to be doing quite well in helping him mix the ingredients. That is until Snape came over to inspect their work. Immediately, Harry felt his fiend beside him start to tremble so much that he almost messed up the very specific stirring that needed to be made in order to get the best results.

'So that's the reason he's so bad at Potions. He gets so nervous around the greasy git that he screws up everything. It really says something about your skills as a professor when your presence makes students worsen their abilities.'

"Potter! Why are you separating your duties!" snarled Snape, noticing Harry's strategy.

"I just supposed that it would be easier and quicker to… divide and conquer," Harry explained.

"Don't give me your drivel Potter, you were supposed to go through the mixtures individually!" thundered Snape, his beak now just inches away from Harry. The Potter heir did not give in to his intimidation, merely looking at him coolly.

"The instructions did not say that, Professor. If you wish to take points from us, then be my guest. Of course, you also said that you would be failing all students in the team," responded Harry, while giving a mockingly pointing his head to the Slytherin trio.

Snape's sneer simply got more pronounced but didn't respond. The small explosion from Ron's team gave him enough excuse to leave Harry's table and instead focus on tormenting another group of Gryffindors.

'I knew teaming up with the Slytherins would be a good idea. Unless he wishes to see his precious snakes' points go down, he will have to accept these the potion.'

With no more distractions, Harry and Neville immediately started to finish the final parts of the mixture. It still took them the better part of an hour, and he needed to guide Neville so that he could do them correctly. Once Snape had left them alone, however, he saw that the Longbottom heir actually performed fairly competently in the making of the mixture.

He was not a great student, but he certainly did not have the same tendency for explosions that Seamus and Ron had once Neville was away from Snape's intimidating scrutiny.

"Finished!" Harry declared finally, seeing that his mixture's color fitted the description of the one in his textbook. Turning over, he saw that Daphne was only adding the finishing stirs to their mixture.

"Not bad Potter, you might not be such a useless waste of space after all," drawled Daphne snootily. Harry simply smiled at what he assumed was the best compliment he would be receiving from the dark haired Slytherin girl.

Placing a bigger cauldron, they carefully stirred both mixtures until there the correct color for the antidote was completed. Immediately they called on Snape, who grudgingly gave them a good score.

Looking at his wristwatch, Harry saw that there was still half an hour until the ceremony would officially start. Not waiting for Snape's approval, he simply took his bag and made his way to the classroom where the weighing would be realized.

Dumbledore had told him previously that the Headmasters of the schools would be arriving late to the ceremony, since they would be otherwise busy with their duties. That means Harry would not have to deal with them until much later.

He also knew there would be some sort of press involved. An event like the Triwizard Tournament would surely be the talk of the wizarding world not only of the United Kingdom and Ireland, but also of the magical communities of several other nations. France's and Bulgaria's would certainly be interested in the various interview and photographs of the champions. Harry knew however, that they would most certainly be only allowed to enter when the Ceremony officially began.

Cedric Diggory would be in class, much like he was supposed to be at the moment. Cedric did not have any urge to leave early, so he would most likely arrive until later.

That left only two factors, Fleur and Krum.

He did not know anything about Beauxbatons' and Durmstrang's schedule. Meaning that he needed two things to happen: Krum needed to arrive late and Fleur needed to be there earlier. Two very unlikely possibilities but ones that he desperately hoped would happen.

His quick pace quickly turned into a quick jog, only stopping at the moving stairways that he had to take all the way to the fourth floor. Finally, he arrived at the closed door the Headmaster had mentioned to him. Taking a small moment to compose himself he made himself ready for what may lay inside. Calming himself, he confidently opened the door.

Ever since he had first set foot in Hogwarts, Harry had become aware that if there was such a thing as fate or destiny, it was most definitely not on his side. Every event seemed to turn against him, constantly in danger of what the world decided to throw at him, he needed to be aware at all times that what Muggles called "Murphy's Law" very much applied to him.

Yet there were times that fate decided to reward Harry. When Fawkes came to his aid during his fight against the basilisk, when he conjured a full patronus that saved Sirius from the Dementors. Today, was another day that fate had decided to reward Harry, something he found out when entered the small classroom where the ceremony would take place.

Opening the large door, he was met with the lonely figure of Fleur Delacour.

She was sitting on one of the desks chairs that were strewn across the room, her attention was focused on her wand, which she was polishing with great care with a fine piece of cloth. Harry allowed himself a small moment of weakness and stared at her for a few moments, trying to drink as much detail as possible.

She was dressed in her usual form-fitting light blue uniform. She had abandoned the scarf she had worn yesterday. In fact, she currently did not have her usual hat, letting her silver hair cascade freely down her shoulders and below her waist. The sunlight pouring through the window making the pale strands glow ethereally.

Harry only had a few moments to compose himself before the sound of a new arrival made Fleur look away from her wand and to the source of the disturbance.

For a slight moment their eyes met once again. This time however, the connection was broken first by Harry. The emerald eyed wizard was desperately trying to remember all he could from Sirius' whisky influenced lectures on women.

'Don't make a fool out of yourself, don't give her a reason to run, pretend you are not interested in her. Just say something that is in no way suspicious at all.'

Deep down though, it was a herculean effort to stop his heartbeat from thumping any faster, almost as difficult as tearing his eyes away from those sapphire orbs.

"Hello, is this where the ceremony will be taking place?" asked Harry, silently congratulating himself for not stuttering. Not that the vision before him was not stuttering-worthy. Fleur simply returned her attention to her wand.

"Oui," Fleur said quickly, and after that she did not pay him further attention.

'Very good, now act natural. Find a place to sit.'

Harry eyes quickly found one of the seats. It was two chairs away from the one she was sitting in. He did not want to take the one closest to her in fear that she might leave. So, he picked one that was not too close but not too far either. Sitting down, he calmly took out his own polishing kit despite his rapidly beating heart and the butterflies in his stomach and began to inspect his own wand.

He remembered picking it up alone, while Sirius had stayed behind at Gringotts to discuss something with the goblins. Ollivander had given it to him after several failed tries. Finally, they had settled on an eleven-inch holly wand, with a phoenix feather core. Later, Ollivander hat told him that the same phoenix that had given the feather also gave another one.

That other feather was the core to a wand given to Tom Marvolo Riddle… later known as Lord Voldemort.

But that dark memory was lightened by the young woman beside him. Slightly he allowed himself a small glance with the corner of his eye, which later made him turn his head slightly and to his surprise their eyes met again. Fleur had also been glancing his way.

Before he even had a chance to react, Fleur turned her head the other direction in a snooty manner. A few days ago, Harry would have been annoyed at such a reaction, thinking it was just the French champion being insufferably arrogant. Now, he just thought it was charming, another one of her attractive features.

'Say something!'

'What do I say?!'

'Compliment her clothing!'

'That's too obvious… and that's her uniform!'

'Talk about the weather then!'

'Okay… I'll do both!'

"Aren't you cold?" Harry finally said, wincing internally but congratulating himself at the same time for not stuttering like he had seen many of the boys do.

Fleur simply looked straight ahead, not even looking at him as she responded.

"Eet is a leetle cold," she admitted, her voice almost monotone, yet it sounded beautiful to Harry.

"Don't you have warmer clothing?" asked Harry, his confidence soaring despite the fact that she did not seem to want to engage in conversation at all.

"We 'ave no need for zem back 'ome, we do not 'ave zis ghastly weazer zat you 'ave," responded Fleur, veiled disdain hidden in her voice. Harry thought that it was better than having no emotion at all. Hell, he even started to like her arrogant tone, finding it to be fairly attractive combined with her heavy French accent.

"You could always ask some tailors in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade to make you warmer clothing, we buy all our robes from Madam Malkin's," offered Harry, only to watch to his delight that Fleur turned her head quickly to glance over at him before another disdainful look marred her face before quickly turning it to the other side with a 'hmph'.

It was such a stereotypically pompous gesture that most of Harry's fellow countrymen would interpret as incredibly unbearable. Harry himself thought that it was unbelievably cute.

"If I 'ad to choose between freezing to deaz or wearing zose robes, I will save myself ze suffering and gladly jump out of ze tallest building in zis ugly castle," Fleur said snootily, her eyes closed in a display of disdain.

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed. A real laugh, the times he had allowed himself to do so in the last two years were scarce, and sometimes practiced or planned. This time he laughed with little control. It was so strange to him how much one person can change your outlook, yet Fleur seemed to make him feel things that he could not explain, letting all his emotions show themselves finally in a way that neither Hermione or Ron managed to do so.

It just made him want to talk to her more. So, he did so, this time with less apprehension.

"Should have guessed that you wouldn't like our clothes, they are quite practical," said Harry teasingly.

"Zey are not practical. Practical suggests effectiveness. Ze only zing zey are effective at ees making you look uncouth, zey are ghastly," she responded, opening her eyes. Harry thought that her bright blue eyes were looking at him at the sides. Then again it may have just been his imagination.

Harry laughed again, the insecurities he had been feeling about approaching the object of his recent affections evaporating as he did so. But now it was time to change the conversation, make it more interesting for her.

"My godfather told me that my great-grandmother disliked most of Potter Manor's furniture that she immediately replaced it after she married into the family. She was French."

That statement made Fleur look over to him in surprise, their faces finally meeting without any extreme compulsion the way they had before. Harry was mentally cheering that he had gotten that bit of info into his family recently.

Thank you, Sirius!

"Really? How did he meet 'er?" asked Fleur, her previously arrogant tone gone in favor of actual curiosity.

"Richard Potter, my great-grandfather, fought in the Great War. That's where he met my great-grandmother, Victoire. They married after the war was over and she became Lady Potter," explained Harry.

"Wait. 'E fought in ze First War?" she asked, to which Harry nodded affirmatively. "But why? Ze Eenlgish wizards didn't take part in ze fighting."

"He didn't fight as a wizard, but as an officer in the first Expeditionary Force. It's a bit of a family tradition, joining the muggle forces despite being wizards," Harry explained. To his delight, he now had Fleur's undivided attention, her wand now forgotten.

"He fought at Mons, at the Marne, and at the Somme. Victoire was a witch, she worked as a field doctor, so she and Richard talked between skirmishes. They fell in love and married," finished Harry.

Fleur simply turned her gaze to the ceiling, as if in deep thought, before leveling her eyes to his own.

"My great-grandfazzer also fought. But 'e fought in Verdun. I nevair got to speak to 'im, but my family said that 'e was not ze same after zat. My 'istory teacher said zat ze battle was… horrible," Fleur told him, slipping into French pronunciation at the last word.

"What was his name?" Harry asked, so engrossed with the conversation he had almost forgotten that he was speaking to the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

"Maxence," she replied. "Maxence Delacour."

"May he watch over you during these tasks," he offered, to which Fleur offered him the ghost of a smile. It was enough to make his heart flutter.

"Merci," Fleur said genuinely.

'Okay, now it's time to bring out the big guns.'

"Fleur," Harry said, taking a chance by saying her first name, something that he managed to see made her tense a little bit. Still he prodded on. "I never said sorry."

"Sorry for what?" asked Fleur, but Harry noticed that her tone had become low, her eyes darting slightly.

"You know, sorry for yesterday at the lake, and for what happened at the Hall," explained Harry carefully, seeing the barely noticeable red hue that spread across her refined cheekbones. The dark-haired wizard immediately thought that he was an idiot for bringing such an issue at the forefront.

"Eet was nozzing, I was just surprised… you 'ave seen 'ow ze ozzer boys look at me, non?" she asked him.

"I have," admitted Harry. He could not really blame them for looking, but he did not like how they lost all control around her. It had been annoying at first, but now that he was actively rooting for a chance with her, it was quite infuriating.

"I zought zat you were someone zat was taking advantage of ze situation. I 'ave to zank you for 'elping me wiz ze blond boy. As for ze lake, I am the one 'oo should be sorry, I should 'ave seen where I was going. I was ze one zat ran into you."

"Anyone would have helped you in that situation," said Harry humbly.

"But zey 'ould not 'ave let me go like you did," responded Fleur.

Harry could not argue with that logic. He quickly looked at his watch and noticed that it would not be long before the others arrived. He quickly tried to remember Sirius' advice when it came to speaking with women. So far it had been very successful.

"Remember pup, when you have to end a conversation with a girl, always try to end it with a promise of a date, even if she doesn't know it's a date," his godfather had told him before he left for his first year. Back then he ignored it as another one of Sirius' useless lessons on relationships. Now it was all the advice he had.

"They sure are taking long, they must be lost through the hallways," said Harry, still looking at his watch.

"Zis castle ees quite confusing, zere is no sense of direction. I almost got lost when I tried to find ze classroom. Zankfully Madame allowed me to not take ze class, so I managed to find it after some time," admitted Fleur.

"You know… if you want a tour of the castle, why don't you ask anyone?" asked Harry.

"I don't trust anyone enough to take me to ze dark places of zis school," she responded.

"I could give you a tour, I don't think you need to be afraid of me, I'm only a fourth-year little boy after all," said Harry playfully.

"I will 'ave to zink on zat offer Meester Potter," said Fleur.

'Score!'

Was it really this easy? Just the previous night Harry had not been able to get any sleep on how he would be able to speak to the girl in front of him, and now he was finding out that the only thing he needed was a good preparation and enough confidence to not make himself look like a fool.

Just as his attention returned to polishing the wand, the door opened to allow entry to more people. They were five, two of them were his fellow champions, Cedric and Kurm, the other one was Ludo Bagman, the main organizer of the Tournament. The last two figures seemed to be the media presence that he expected would be covering for the Daily Prophet.

Upon entering, Cedric gave him and Fleur a look before giving him a knowing smirk. Krum simply took one of the seats, apparently back to his normal detached demeanor. Harry used the opportunity to stand up and take a seat next to Fleur.

"I know that reporter Bagman's talking to…" he whispered to the French champion. "… she's a scandal saleswoman, better stay away from her if you don't want to get defamed."

Fleur simply gave an understanding nod. Harry was just blissfully aware of how close he was to the pale-haired beauty. He did notice, however that the woman known as Rita Skeeter and Ludo Bagman sat down in a couple of ornate chairs and started to discuss with one another. The last person he had not noticed yet was a middle-aged man who was busy carrying equipment for what Harry believed would be a photograph shoot. The man was busy until he caught sight of Fleur and started to gaze at her openly.

He could almost feel how uncomfortable Fleur was getting at the staring, and quite frankly, he was getting tired of it himself. A slight anger emerged from him, causing him to discreetly stop running the fine piece of cloth through his wand and instead casting a silent tripping jinx. The next thing the hormonal male knew, he was sent face first to the arms of one of the chairs.

Looking slightly at his side, he could see Fleur turn over to give him a small look, and found appreciation in those blue eyes, quickly followed by a whisper only he managed to hear.

"Zank you."

In response he felt a warm tingling in his spine, along with the satisfaction that he managed to not only please Fleur, but also teach a small lesson to the photographer.

'You better keep your eyes off her if you know what's good for you.'

Another distraction rose when Ludo Bagman and Rita Skeeter stood up from their seats and addressed to the champions.

"Everyone, this is Rita Skeeter, she will be writing a small piece on the ceremony for the Daily Prophet!" announced Bagman loudly, all the while sporting one of the biggest grins Harry had ever seen.

"Thank you, Ludo. Now, I would like to start with a few interviews," came the reporter's sickeningly deceptive tone as she surveyed the area, her eyes finally resting on the spot where Harry sat next to Fleur.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she said to Bagman while she watched both champions with glee. "The youngest champion, you know… to add a bit of color?"

"Certainly!" cried Bagman. "That is – if Harry has no objection?"

Seeing the magenta clad reporter heading their direction, Harry contorted his face in the most intimidating glare he could give. Skeeter did not seem to notice, nor did she seem to have a healthy concept of personal space, considering she placed her pedicured hands on his shoulder, trying to make him stand up to leave to another location.

Harry – reeling his anger as much as he could – shoved her arm off. That definitely caught her attention.

"Fuck off!" Harry growled, looking directly into her eyes with a gaze of pure contempt. The shocked reporter tried to compose herself as much as she could. Bagman on the other hand completely lost his grin, his eyes now looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Er… very well then, ladies first!" chirped Rita Skeeter, her predatory gaze now focused on Fleur.

Hearing the reporter's intentions, Harry immediately jumped from his seat, his glare still levelled at the blond slanderer. Without thinking, he placed a protective hand on Fleur's shoulder, making the Veela look over to him in shock.

"Why don't you take your lies somewhere else!" he growled.

Harry saw Bagman compose himself, he looked pathetically helpless. He did finally find the words to calm everyone down.

"L-look, you can just do a piece on the ceremony itself, Rita," he consoled.

Rita Skeeter however just looked elsewhere, as if the confrontation never took place. Her eyes settled on Cedric immediately, and walked over to him.

Cedric himself looked like a deer in the headlights. Harry felt really sorry for him, but he was more concerned with Fleur.

"Hello handsome, you must be the Hogwarts champion, how about we go somewhere more private for a small talk," she said as she took hold of his shoulder and marched him towards a small closet.

'Sorry Cedric, better you than Fleur. I'll make it up to you when I can.'

Harry felt said witch shift beside him.

"Um, Pardon," came the voice of the beautiful woman beside him. Looking down, he noticed that his hand was still on her shoulder, lightly touching the wisps of her silken silver tresses. Immediately, Harry removed his hand.

Thankfully, Fleur did not seem to be bothered too much by the physical contact, so he sat down and relaxed on the chair, content merely to be beside her. He once again grabbed his wand cleaning kit and started to treat the wand until it was polished to a mirror sheen.

Eventually, the doors opened once more to allow entry to heads of the three schools: Albus Dumbledore for Hogwarts, Madame Maxime for Beauxbatons, and Igor Karkaroff for Durmstrang. Behind them, the short figure of Garrick Ollivander, Britain's foremost wandmaker. It was as Harry suspected, they would need to bring Ollivander in order to judge the champions' wands.

Karkaroff immediately went to stand beside Krum, Madame Maxime on the other hand looked at Fleur, and then to him. She seemed unsure whether or not to interfere. Harry was thankful for this, that gave him even more time to be closer to Fleur.

Dumbledore on the other hand went to the cupboard where Rita Skeeter and Cedric Diggory disappeared to, eventually returning with the perturbed Hogwarts Champion in tow, a frustrated Rita Skeeter following closely behind. The door opened once again to allow entry to Mr. Crouch. All judges were now assembled inside the classroom.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, making his way to the judge's table. "He is the chief wandmaker in the British Isles and will be examining your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

Ollivander took a small smile to the champions and a bow to the judges, then started looked over at the Fleur. Harry noticed that his eyes did not glaze over when he gazed upon her.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have a look at your wand first, please?" asked Ollivander.

Fleur left the seat beside him and swept over to Ollivander and offered him her ornate wand.

"Hmmm…?" he said

He twirled the wand between his long fingers. As he did so, Harry began to notice just how decorated Fleur's wand was. Unlike his own wand, there were engravings, including a couple small Fleur-de-Lis on the handle. Said handle was also carved with a small arch. The wand proper was also decorated with what looked to some sort of flower. It was a beautiful wand, truly suited to its owner.

Ollivander kept inspecting it, emitting a number of pink and gold sparks, then held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.

"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches… inflexible… rosewood… and containing… dear me…"

"A single 'air for ze 'ead of a veela," declared Fleur proudly. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

'So, she's not a full Veela. Huh, I've never heard of a quarter-Veela before, they must be rare.'

"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used Veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands… however, to each his own, and if this suits you…"

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, checking for scratches or bumps; then muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.

"Ver well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handling them to Fleur with her wand. "Mr. Diggory, you next."

Harry saw Fleur go back to her seat, happily noticing that she did not pick a seat further apart from him, though he did catch a slightly angry look in her face. Harry thought that maybe she had taken offence to Ollivander's appraisal of her wand, probably because of the side comment of her heritage.

"So, you have your grandmother's hair as a wand core. I've never heard of something like that before," he commented, grabbing Fleur's attention. "Though I have to say, it does sound quite beautiful," he added.

"Oui, my grandmuzzer gave offered 'er 'air after none of ze wand cores in ze store worked for me," she said, then a beautiful smile touched formed in her face. "Every time I use eet, I feel grand-mère ees wiz me."

"I didn't know you were only part-Veela, when I see the reactions you get from the male population I imagined you were a full Veela, your grandmother must be very powerful," said Harry.

Fleur's face contorted, first into confusion, the into realization, followed by a smile, and then… she let out the most beautiful laugh he had ever heard. Harry glanced over at the rest of the room and saw that the attention was turning on them, causing Fleur to control herself, but was still letting out quite giggles as she looked at him.

"What is it? I'm sorry if I offended you. I just don't know anything about male and female Veela," said Harry, waiting for Fleur to calm herself.

"'Arry," she whispered, making Harry ponder just how beautifully she butchered his name, "zere ees no such zing as part Veela, zere ees also no such zing as a male Veela. Veela are Veela. Eef a Veela 'as a daughter, zen she ees also Veela, eef she 'as a boy, zen the boy ees a wizard. Boys born from Veela are known to be vairy 'andsome. I am not part Veela, I am Veela," she revealed, her eyes still looking at him with amusement, making Harry give her a bashful smile.

"Sorry, I don't really know that much about the Wizarding World, I was raised by my godfather and he wanted to raise me away from the magical societies until I entered Hogwarts," said Harry.

Fleur gave him a questioning look.

"You mean you did know about 'ow famous you are? We know about you even in France, my seestair Gabrielle knows all about you" she said, prompting Harry to shake his head. Tucking away the knowledge of her sister for future use.

"Not really, it was a shock when I first arrived at Diagon Alley. My godfather raised me the Muggle way, with movies, elementary school, football, and Muggle music. I don't really like when people look at me because of my fame, fame I did not have control over. I want to earn my own fame. For myself and for my family name," he told Fleur. The silver-haired Veela's face nodding in understanding. Harry noticed a smile slowly form in her face, her cheeks slowly tinging pink.

Harry continued to be captivated until a voice called for his attention.

"Mr. Potter!" called Mr. Ollivander.

Harry looked around the classroom and saw that everyone was staring at him and Fleur. Dumbledore's face had a small smile. Madame Maxime looked concerned. Karkaroff simply glared at him.

Confidently, Harry stood from his seat and approached Ollivander, handing him his trusty wand.

Unfortunately for him, he did not notice that when he stood up from his seat, a piece of parchment fell from the bag slung across his shoulder. Nor did he notice that Fleur picked it up. Her curiosity getting the best of her, she began to read the contents.

"Aaaah, yes," said Ollivander, his pale eyes gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember this wand. One of the best I have ever made. Holly, eleven inches, quite supple. No doubt it has served you well this past few years… in perfect condition, you have taken very good care of it," Ollivander praised, his bony fingers tracing over the wand, before giving it back to Harry.

Bagman suddenly stood up and looked over at the Dumbledore.

"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" cried Bagman excitedly. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"

"Of course, and then some individual shots… maybe some with only two champions," said Rita Skeeter, looking over at Harry and Fleur particularly.

The photographs took a long time. It was almost impossible for Madame Maxime to get her gigantic frame into the shot. To Harry's annoyance, the photographer was still looking at Fleur, telling her to position herself so that she gained more prominence. Rita Skeeter encouraged him, but also made it so Harry was next to her. While appreciative of being closer her, the emerald-eyed wizard could not shake over the feeling that it was being done for nefarious reasons.

After an extensive number of photographs, the Ceremony was officially over.

Mr. Crouch, Ludo Bagman, Rita Skeeter, and the photographer were the first to leave, followed by Karkaroff and Krum. Dumbledore and Cedric left after that. Madame Maxime gave one last look to Fleur, after that she left hurriedly, leaving the silver-haired beauty and Harry alone in the room. The raven-haired wizard took a quick glance at his watch and saw that there was still half an hour before lunch.

'I still have some time to talk to her,' thought Harry as he looked over at Fleur, her back turned to him.

He made his way over to her, intent on continuing their previous conversation, only to suddenly see her turn around to him, her waist long her trailing behind her. Her face, which had previously been smiling when he had spoken to her before the photograph session, was now contorted into a full glare.

Harry immediately stopped at seeing her like this, wondering what was it that had made her so mad. He thought that maybe she had been angry at the way the photographer had looked at her. Maybe she was still mad at Ollivander for the perceived insult to her Veela heritage.

Unfortunately, it seemed that she was angry because of him.

"t'es un salaud!" she screamed at him. Harry did not understand what she had told him but was pretty sure that it was in no way flattering.

"Did you zink I was a fool?! Zat I would not notice?!" she continued, her blue eyes now devoid of all warmth and replaced with an icy coldness.

"What is it Fleur, I don't understa-"

"Do not call me by my name!" she hissed. Her hand shot up to his face, and then he finally saw the reason for her anger. Clenched between her fingers was a fine piece of parchment.

At first Harry did not know what it was, but suddenly, upon closer inspection he began to realize. His eyes widened as he recognized the parchment.

"I zought you might be different, zat you were not like ze rest of zem. How wrong I was, I should 'ave known zat you were ze same!" she cried. Harry noticed that her voice was cracking emotionally, her eyes seemed to be getting glassier with liquid.

"You don't understand Fleur, I was going to get rid of it. I-"

"Shut up, shut up!" she continued, "I do not want to 'ear your lies. I nevair want to see you again. Nevair speak to me again. Ze next time zere is an explosion, just leave me alone. Even eef it leaves me scarred and ugly. Maybe zen, you and ze ozzer men will no longer be interested!"

With that, she started to storm away from the classroom. Harry made a final desperate attempt to catch her. He gently grabbed her hands before she managed to reach the door.

"Wait I'm sorry, I did not mean to-"

The he saw it. He saw the twin raw red marks that circled around both of her wrists. It did not look like a cut, rather it looked like something been placed on the base of both her hands tightly for a long time. It almost looked like they had been tied together for a few hours.

It can't be.

His eyes wandered to her own, and he saw something other than anger. In those blue orbs, he perceived what he thought was plainly fear, followed by humiliation and embarrassment. Her face went a violent red as she snatched back her hands from his grasp. Harry made no attempt to stop her. Nor did he attempt to stop her again as she quickly left the room.

He could not believe what had happened. Everything was going far better than he expected, she was finally opening up to him, they had a potential date. She had even started calling him by his name.

And his desires had destroyed that.

"I have majorly fucked this up," his voice echoed in the lonely classroom.

AN: There it is, the fifth chapter, *whistles quietly as the audience pick up their torches and pitchforks*

I told you it would go a lot differently than you thought. Don't worry, they'll get back on good terms soon.

Let me tell you some advice if you ever want to write, the challenge is not the descriptions as I initially thought, the real challenge of writing comes in making up the dialogue and character interactions. This was probably the reason why this chapter took a lot longer to write than the previous ones. You end up rewriting a lot. If you read "The Half-Blood Romantic" by Sophprosyne and compare it to this, you'll know what I mean, his prose makes mine read like ass. It's a lot harder than it looks at first glance.

I hope it becomes clear that Harry is in no way a ladies' man, he is an inexperienced teen who is just having his first real love. One that he fantasizes about often, but it is still a brand-new experience for him. It was pretty fun to write actually. Also, I really needed to get Fleur's accent down in this one. Reading HP/FD stories, there seems to be two camps writers fall into: the pro and anti French accent. I am very much a pro Fleur accent guy, in my opinion it is not only adds quite a bit of flair to the dialogue, but also makes Fleur even sexier to read.

This is the chapter that finally has Harry and Fleur engaging in dialogue. Not that it ended well for Harry, he let his desires blind him and now the woman he has wanted to engage in a relationship with will no longer look at him in the same light. What circumstances will drive them together you may ask? Hopefully it will be answered in the next chapters. Again, no promises.

Also, some Remus and Sirius interactions.

I really want to speed up the writing, it took me over 40k words to get the main character's love interest to engage in dialogue. I hope to cut down on the minutiae from now on.

Song recommendation for the chapter is "The Dark Side of my Heart" by German metal legends Accept from their 2014 album "Blind Rage". One of my favorite bands of all time, especially their "Restless and Wild" and "Balls to the Wall" albums. Their new material is amazing though, even without Udo Dirkschneider.

Don't forget to leave your review. Give me your criticisms, or PM me. Also, I have begun to answer questions through PM, so if you are a Guest reviewer, I can't really do it. I will try and answer in a single AN paragraph, but at the same time, I don't want to have a wall of blacktext to answer all the questions, sorry.

I don't really know when I'll be able to update next, it has been pretty hectic these days with my social service. Hopefully I do not take more than three weeks to write the next chapter.

Until next time

The Metal Sage

Chapter 7: Crazy

Chapter 8: Still of the Night

Chapter 9: Into the Fire

Chapter 10: B.A.D.

Chapter 11: You're in Love

Chapter 12: Caught in the Middle

"Harry Potter" belongs to J.K. Rowling

Chapter 13: Evil Fantasies

“Harry Potter” belongs to J.K. Rowling

AN: Chapter 12.

I hope all of you Luna fans liked the last chapter. I hope you like this one even more.

Chapter song is “Evil Fantasies” by Judas Priest.

With that out of the way, enjoy the chapter.

“Dialogue”

‘Thoughts’

“Foreign Language”

A Godfather’s Promise

Chapter XII: Evil Fantasies

Harry’s world returned to reality with the now familiar warm embrace of Fleur around his body. Previously, his girlfriend would opt to wear progressively more provocative garments. That small veneer of formality was now gone. The French Veela was as naked as the day she was born; skin glowing with the morning sun like a real-life Aphrodite. Perfectly formed breasts enveloped his arm. She had snagged it in the middle of the night.

Fleur was extremely clingy at night.

She never made a sound, always sleeping quietly. Harry himself did not know how much noise he made during the nights, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t the cacophonous car crash that Ron Weasley was. That at least was enough for Harry to not be bothered much by it.

Clearing the morning haze from his mind, he quickly remembered the other occupant in the room.

The wizard carefully pried himself away from his girlfriend’s grasp, replacing his form with a pillow. Fleur moaned but otherwise did not complain much.

Harry watched as Fleur took the pillow between the valley of her breasts. Long legs wrapped themselves around it, and the Gryffindor felt the unrelenting need to go back and take its place. He stilled himself, however. He had another responsibility to get to.

Luna was just as soundless in her sleep as Fleur was. She looked completely peaceful, at least with what little could be noticed considering a large part of her face was covered by the leather blindfold, yet the witch was still the very image of serenity.

A small part of Harry was worried that she wasn’t breathing properly. He knew it was foolish. Every precaution had been taken as to not endanger Luna’s life, but that did little to assuage concern.

The small movements on her chest calmed him, however, and he sighed in relief. If anything were to happen to Luna’s wellbeing, the diagnostic runes inscribed into the leather sack would have alerted him. She was just as calm as the night in her slumber.

With Luna’s state assured, Harry went over to get dressed for the day. Today would be quite long, it being Valentine’s Day would have been enough with only Fleur, but he had other issues to attend.

One of which was a getting a special gift he’d ordered for just this occasion.

The emerald-eyed wizard took a quick bath, then put on a pair of comfortable clothes, and walked out to see Fleur, already waking up.

The French beauty stretched her arms upward, displaying a pair of glorious breasts before focusing on Harry and giving him a woozy smile.

“Bonjour, mon chéri,” she said before noticing his state of dress. “Already leaving for ze day?”

“I have to run some errands,” responded Harry. “I imagine we’ll be having breakfast here, but I also must pick up a surprise from my godfather.”

“A naughty surprise, Maître?” Fleur added saucily.

“Maybe,” teased Harry before he looked over at their guest. “You’ll need to stay here and look after her while I’m gone.” He looked at her seriously. “I know you’re not very much into being in charge – at least not in private matters – but I need someone to take care of Luna while I’m not here.”

Fleur nodded dutifully. “Of course, Maître – you can trust in me, non?”

She stood up and made walked over to the bathroom. That was, until Harry stopped her.

“Hey beautiful… how about I give you your first present for the day?” asked Harry.

“You ‘ave somezing for me?” Fleur responded in feigned innocence. “I ‘ope it’s nozzing perverted, mon chéri!”

“Don’t put on anything after you’re done,” Harry whispered, before delivering a light swat to her exposed behind.

“Oui, Maître.”

Harry’s attention then returned over to the big trunk underneath his bed, the one containing all those presents he had bought for their little games. Most of them were wrapped like presents, thankfully, he remembered their contents.

He took out two objects, one was packaged, the was not. One was for Fleur; the other would be used on Luna.

The piece of equipment looked like a ring, with two straps at either side, black in color. It was known as a ring-gag, and if fitted inside a person’s mouth, it would force it open.

He looked over a Luna, who was now beginning to shift slightly inside her bonds. The smile plastered on her lips told him that she was enjoying it. The girl was more resilient that he had thought. Most girls would either have fled or be struggling wildly by now, not being used to such deprivation of basic movements and senses.

Harry approached her slowly, taking in every single detail of the bound girl. Maybe with accidental magic the bonds could be undone, but if the person inside was a muggle, or if the witch was deprived of her wand, then it would be impossible to escape the heavy bondage they’d be in.

It was a risky move to introduce Luna in such a severe manner. Harry had gone to a restless sleep last night, worried that he might have been to harsh.

The fact that Luna seemed to revel in it was a relief.

‘She must be thirsty,’ Harry thought and immediately eyed the water filled pitcher on the table and filled a cup. Carefully, he then placed himself besides the divan and started to caress Luna’s blonde tresses.

“Good morning, Harry… or Fleur!” Luna said, lightly moving her head towards the direction of Harry’s fingers.

Harry chuckled before gently lifting up Luna’s head and pressing the cup to her lips. Slowly, he made sure she drank the water, which the blonde did eagerly.

“Thank you,” said Luna after she finished the whole cup. Harry set it aside and continued to caress Luna’s blonde hair.

At times, his hand would wander over to the rich leather enveloping the witch’s body and smiled satisfactorily. The Gryffindor had asked for the highest quality leather, regardless of the cost… the store had been more than willing to supply him with such.

He grabbed the ring-gag and with pointed his wand at it, watching it decrease in size significantly, until it was safe to be worn of a good period of time without hurting the jaw.

Gently his fingers moved to the witch’s smiling lips and gently tried to pry them open. Luna responded by timidly sucking at them. Harry guffawed before trying again, this time more forcefully.

The Ravenclaw finally seemed to understand the order and she opened her mouth slowly. This done, it was a simple matter to maneuver the ring inside her mouth until it rested comfortably inside.

Luna tested the deceptively strong piece by repeatedly biting it, each time a little stronger, until she finally gave up, and then tried using her tongue to explore it while Harry maneuvered her blonde hair in order to secure the straps behind her neck.

The silver-eyed witch giggled loudly as she continued to play with her gag, alternating between using her tongue and futilely trying to close her open jaw. It did not open her mouth completely, given the reduced size, but it was definitely enough to make it impossible to close it.

The struggles soon spread down to her entire body. Luna examined how much she could move, which was reduced to merely a few centimeters if she tried really hard. Before long she gave up, and panted slightly through her open mouth.

Harry, smirking, continued to pet Luna’s hair softly. He was already getting excited from hearing Luna’s excited mewls. She was trying her best to move her head to the direction of Harry’s fingers, but was now unable to do anything but lay there helplessly.

It was an intoxicating feeling, having someone under your control in such a manner. It was even more gratifying that Luna – being her first session – already seemed to trust Harry in such a way that she did not protest even for a minute the further addition to her bondage.

“Thank you, Luna,” Harry whispered to the deafened girl, before continuing to run his fingers along her blonde hair.

Almost instinctively, Harry’s fingers went from the Luna’s hair over to her open mouth and slowly tried to pry into it. In a sight that reminded him of a lost puppy, she lightly started to lick at his digits while the sounds she made alternating between needy mewls and light giggles.

The opening of the bathroom door told Harry that Fleur had finished with her morning ablutions. Indeed, turning his head around, he beheld the sight of his girlfriend still drying her hair with a white towel, but was otherwise completely nude as he had ordered.

Fleur gazed at the dark-haired wizard seductively before her sight was captured by the added restraints that had been secured to their guest.

“What is zat?” the Veela asked excitedly.

“One of our toys… I had intended to use it for you first, but… you know – I thought it look great on our little crazy pet.”

“A ring-gag? What else ‘ave you ‘idden from me, mon chéri?”

“Well,” Harry smirked before grabbing the package he’d retrieved earlier and handing it over to an intrigued Fleur, “why don’t you open it, love?”

The French witch tore at the envelope like an overly enthusiastic child at Christmas. All dignity and composure that usually exuded from Fleur was gone as she revealed quickly tried to get at the present hidden within the box.

A small gasp was the first reaction, followed by a look towards Harry…then to the box again, before she carefully took out the expensive gift within.

“You didn’t…” Fleur gasped.

Harry’s laugh resounded across the room. “I sure did. I know how much you wanted one of those.”

With trembling fingers, Fleur took out two light blue garments – the same color as her Beauxbatons uniform – and looked at them clearly. They seemed to shine, almost reflecting the light around them. It was an odd garment that many people would be quite confused as to their nature yet Fleur held them almost like a priest would a communion chalice.

“’Arry… zis is…” Fleur tried to find the words, but was too entranced with feeling the rubbery garments in her hands that suspiciously looked like women’s underwear.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful.”

Fleur continued to look at her first pieces of latex clothes. A bra and panties, both of them in her favorite color. Harry grinned the entire time, smugly congratulating himself for his choice in gifts. ‘Though, I have to say – she’s not the only one who’s going to enjoy it. Do most guys who give their girlfriends underwear feel the same way?’

“’Maître… zank you… zey are beautiful… I – what I mean to say is – “

“Try them on,” Harry encouraged. “There should be a bottle of lubricant inside the box that will make it easier. There’s also a manual on how to properly take care of it. The clerk at the store told me that it needs to be washed differently than most clothes.”

“Oui. I already knew zat… still – eet is nice to ‘ave more instructions to clear any doubt,” said Fleur as she dug further inside the box to retrieve a black plastic bottle.

Harry’s manhood started to ache once again as he stared at Fleur carefully applying some of the clear liquid around upper legs and pelvis, until it took a slippery sheen that made her pale skin glow even brighter upon the morning sun.

Beaming, she then went on to grab the odd panties and began to pull it through both her legs and then upward like a it was a normal piece of underwear.

Turns out, that was the first mistake, latex did not stretch like most clothes did. As such, Fleur struggled in order to inch the panties closer and closer slowly, more than likely afraid that she might damage the blue garment. Every time she let go of them, there was a wet slap as the rubber impacted her wet skin, it almost groaned as she slowly and methodically pulled it closer and closer to her flower. The sounds were quite intoxicating when combined with the joyful giggles of the French beauty as she tried her best to put her gift on.

“Can you ‘elp me wiz ze brassière?” asked Fleur after she was finally satisfied with the position of her panties. With one hand, she held the other half of the set and in her lips, a sultry smirk.

Harry walked over to her and whispered, “As my lady commands.”

She then began to put on more of the lube around her breasts, making sure to give a good show to Harry as she spread it obscenely. No place was left uncovered, from the top of her bosom, to the underside, and her pale nipples.

The bra was a much simpler to put on compared to the panties, yet Fleur asked Harry to help her fasten it behind her back.

The rubber was strange to feel at first, yet not unpleasant. Harry was quite sure he could get used to touching the stuff very quickly. He would have to after all, considering just how much Fleur seemed to be in love with the stuff.

The store offered outfits that were way more elaborate – and expensive – than the lingerie. Harry had even bought Fleur a few more surprises. He would have to take her there one day to pick up what she wanted.

He was confident the Potter fortune could afford such lavish clothes, even if it was Fleur.

Maybe…

With a one quiet snap, the ensemble was finally complete, and Harry stepped back in order to behold the sight.

There was still a slight dullness to the look, a stark contrast to the pictures in some of the ads on the box. Those were far shinier. Fleur however, seemed to know how to fix that.

Once again, she took the bottle of lubricant (Harry was now beginning to understand why the store clerk recommended buying additional ones) and poured the clear liquid into her hands. She rubbed them around the latex, and it started to take on the characteristic shine the fetish garments were renowned for.

Fleur looked magnificent in them, an opinion she seemed to agree with considering the way she modeled and posed in front of the full body mirror. The beaming smile seemed to never fall off her lips as she continued to fix any creases that might have formed, or spreading the liquid where any dullness might still be present.

“How does it feel?” Harry finally asked. “Is it as good as it looks?”

“Eet’s… tight,” answered Fleur. “But not in a bad way. Almost like it’s constantly ‘ugging me. Eet’s almost as eef ze rubber wants to fight my movements. Eet really digs into you…”

The latex clad Veela took a few steps, exaggerating the movements on her chest and between her legs, experimenting with the feeling. Every once in a while, Fleur would trace them with her fingers, teasing herself. By the end, she looked a little flustered and was breathing slightly heavier.

“So… you like it?”

Fleur twirled like a ballerina with a musical laugh, before finally turning towards Harry. “Like eet? I love eet!” She hugged and kissed the raven-haired wizard. “Zank you so much, mon amour!”

Harry grinned as his hand lightly groped her generous bum. “I still have so much left to give you… you’ll just have to be… patient until I come back.” He gave a light swat to the latex covered cheek, earning him a playful moan.

“I can’t wait, Maître.”

“Good… now!” Harry announced, changing to a serious tone. “I’m going out for a couple of hours – I’ll make sure to get breakfast when I’m done – but until then, I need you to keep an eye on Luna.”

Fleur seemed unsure of herself, uncomfortable by the request. “’Arry… I don’t know…”

Harry grabbed her chin softly and their eyes met. “I know you don’t like being in control in private,” Fleur nodded slightly, “but I am sure you will make a good job… you just have to make sure that she’s comfortable with everything. Check the stone by the bed – it’ll show you if anything is wrong. Also, count half an hour and give her a bit of water.”

The wizard took a deep breath. “Just… you have to – er… you need to find the best way to care for her.”

Fleur nodded. “Like you take care of me, oui?”

“Exactly.”

“Vairy well, ‘Arry… I will give eet a try.”

“Thank you, beautiful. If you do a good job, I’ll reward you with some more presents,” Harry teased.

Fleur licked her lips. “I’ll be good, Maître.”

“Right… also,” he added, smirking, “don’t put any more clothes on… I think I kind of like seeing you in latex.”

“Believe me, mon cheri, I don’t even want to put anyzing else on.”

He was sure Fleur would make a good job in taking care of Luna. Even if his girlfriend was not sexually dominant, her kind nature was a good supplement to look after another submissive. The fact that it was another girl would make it easier for both subs to communicate easily – even if one of them was unable to talk.

With a quick kiss and a farewell pat to Luna’s head, Harry finished putting on his winter clothes and set off to his business.

It was simple at first to take care of Luna. Given that Fleur needed to pen a delayed letter to Gabrielle, she doubted that there’d by much distraction from the heavily bound Ravenclaw.

So, the Veela sat down on her table – which she had moved so that’d she’d always have a clear view of Luna while she was busy – promptly grabbed her elegant quill and a piece of parchment, and started to write.

Fleur hadn’t even finished the first paragraph when she started to fill the effects of her new rubber lingerie.

She hadn’t been lying when she said that it felt like her sexual areas were being hugged. More than that, it was as if the latex was fighting her every movements. With most clothes, people get used to their presence so that their minds don’t even register as they’re being used in every day life. Not so with this set of underwear, for she noticed it almost constantly, like if Harry’s hands were constantly groping her.

It didn’t help that, because of its lack of elasticity, the latex panties felt as if they were giving her a constant rubbing of her sacred cavern, digging into her folds incessantly.

Before she knew it, caressing her breasts and womanhood replaced writing to her little sister in priority. She could almost feel the heat that was being trapped inside the rubber each time her digits passed over her core.

It became even worse when Luna started to giggle.

The noises were cute, but became more noticeably arousing as they went on. The rustling of metal and creaking of leather were next, which only increased Fleur’s horniness. She didn’t even notice when she’d stopped paying attention to the letter and concentrated fully on the bound blonde.

At first, it was only a matter of rubbing herself to satisfy the desire, but the demands to get closer to Luna increased with every single moan. The groanings of her own rubber clothes were soon added to the symphony of pleasure and lust. Almost automatically and uncontrollably, Fleur stood up shakily and walked over to where the black clad figure struggled playfully.

Unable to restrain her desires anymore, the French witch frantically snatched her wand and aimed it at one of the ornate couches that were part of the improvised living room and immediately levitated it, drawing it closer to herself and setting it down besides the divan where Luna’s leather encased body lay.

Fleur sat down on the comfortable chair, her eyes never leaving the blonde, who was still breathing calmly in the intense bondage. She positioned herself as best she could while her latex covered crotch seemed to ache with unrelenting need.

Once she had settled herself as best she could, Fleur’s fingers immediately went over to tend to her womanhood, setting aside the rubber that currently covered it.

Most clothes that people wore were made out of cloth, wool, or another absorbable material for a reason. It absorbed bodily secretions like sweat and was eventually let to dry out naturally. Latex did not such thing; it retained those same secretions within its confines. So, when Fleur’s fingers dug inside the blue rubber panties, she immediately felt the accumulated wetness of her arousal.

Fleur was not bothered by it. In fact, it made the situation even more exciting for her as she stared at Luna, digits now tracing her shaved mound unabated.

With a giggle, Luna them mysteriously fell silent and started to breathe normally, almost as if she had fallen asleep. Being that the blonde was so quiet in her slumber, the rise and fall of her petite chest was the only sign that she was still breathing.

It looked as if Luna was in a state betwixt waken and dormancy. It reminded Fleur of articles she had read of Muggle monks in the east that could achieve another state of being though pure concentration.

‘Could it have anything to do with being deprived of so many senses at the same time?’ Fleur wondered.

She remembered achieving something similar when Harry had spanked her all those nights ago. That time, she had forgotten about everything and was only concentrated on the pain and pleasure that her boyfriend’s hand was bringing her.

Fleur was a little embarrassed to say it, but she secretly yearned to be spanked again after that time.

Nervous, she wanted to see if Luna was still reacting alright. The French witch knew that the stone by her desk was enchanted to let her know if the petite Ravenclaw was in any trouble, but doubt still clouded her mind.

She was too horny, however, to let her hands leave her pleasure points, and so opted to use other means.

Gingerly, Fleur laid her bare feet on the leather that covered Luna’s stomach, letting her soft soles feel the rich leather that so thoroughly confined the petite blonde in it’s tight embrace, she never stopped teasing her throbbing core.

Luna seemed to notice the contact, giggling lightly and attempting to struggle. Attempting being the key word – the birthday girl could barely move a couple of millimeters before the unrelenting grasp of the leather restraints stopped her from moving any further, and returned the silver-eyed witch back to her original position.

The struggling aroused Fleur even more. She wildly imagines herself in Luna’s place – thoroughly bound and robbed of sight and sound, mouth forced open to accept anything that Harry would decide to introduce inside. Being completely helpless in every single respect as her beloved Maître shoved his formidable manhood into her gagged throat.

Absorbed in her fantasies, Fleur’s right foot started to wander, dragging itself across the leather and inching ever closer to Luna’s face – what was left of it, at least – until the French witch eventually settled it on top of the blonde’s chin.

Luna almost immediately reacted to the new stimulus. Being deprived of her senses for such a long time must be finally taking their toll. It started by trying to move her head, but it was hard for her to move her head upward, it seemed to be pretty tiring as well.

The French witch’s left hand went to her breast, touching the stiffening nipples underneath the light blue latex brassiere as she watched Luna come to terms with the new sensation and using one of the remaining senses she had left and started to sniff through her nose.

The French Veela raised an eyebrow but grinned mischievously and shuffled her foot closer to the blonde’s nose, observing as Luna continued to inhale in the scent, scrunching her nose but never once opting to breathe in from her mouth.

Fleur had always made sure to take extreme care of her own body, especially when it came to matters of personal hygiene. Flowery scents where almost a constant with her, something that Harry seemed to be pleased by. But even then, there were areas where it couldn’t be helped, even for Veela. Foot odor was never too strong with her, but it was still present as it was in every person. She took it as a compliment then, that Luna did not seem to be turned off by it.

Suddenly, her thoughts were broken by a wet sensation on her sole. Instinctively, she pulled her foot away from Luna’s face and back to herself, only to see the blonde’s tongue extended from her open mouth. The Ravenclaw whined slightly once Fleur ripped her foot away, like a child whose toy had been taken away, she struggled once again, and like last time, all movement was restrained absolutely.

Breathing heavily, Fleur curled her manicured toes, still feeling the wetness from Luna’s tongue. She was surprised that the blonde would actually do such a thing. The French witch had heard of people doing such an activity with feet, but the idea that the innocent looking Ravenclaw would be one of them was definitely a shock.

‘You’re such a dirty girl, Luna.’

Curiosity and arousal won in the end. Tugging at her breast even harder, Fleur slowly moved her foot back to Luna’s face, placing it once again atop the girl’s ring-gagged mouth. The leather-bound girl squealed excitedly before her tongue once again darted to lick the offered treat, lathering it in warm saliva.

It was a strange feeling at first, but Fleur would be lying if she said that it didn’t get quite enjoyable after she got used to it. If Luna’s cute moans were any indication, the feeling was mutual. She felt the tongue continue to explore her sole slowly, as if the blonde wanted to savor every single inch. The champion saw the bound girl try to move her restrained neck, attempting to explore more.

‘That’s right Luna… keep going.’ Fleur started to move her foot slowly. She noticed that Luna’s breath was getting a little heavier due to the effort she put in moving her body upwards and decided to help the hungry blonde. It was a small price to pay for the pleasurable sensations the Ravenclaw’s delightful little tongue was bringing her.

Fleur’s fingers returned to rubbing her slit. The delicate motions steadily became more frantic around her core. Her other hand now pinched hard on the hardened nipple

The other foot soon followed the first, and Luna was no less enthusiastic in her oral ministrations. For want of lustful mischief, she even forced her toes inside Luna’s mouth, engaging in a playful battle with the younger witch’s tongue.

It didn’t take long for the combined stimuli to finally reach its inevitable conclusion. After just a few minutes of pleasure, Fleur let out an involuntary scream of pleasure as her juices flew out, landing mostly in the hand that she had used to pleasure herself.

The pale-haired Veela panted, trying her best to regain consciousness after the self-induced orgasm. ‘Luna… I have to take care of Luna.’ She steadied herself slowly on the comfortable chair, womanhood wet from the climax.

Fleur examined her hand – which was now almost completely covered in her love juices – and immediately went on to taste her own syrupy essence. She could still feel Luna servicing her feet despite the orgasm. The blonde just seemed to be unrelenting in her hunger for stimulation.

It was then that Fleur suddenly got a very naughty idea.

The sliver-haired Veela removed her foot from the blonde’s face and shakily stood up on wobbly legs, still breathing erratically as she wordlessly advanced over to Luna, who’s tongue was raised in the air, more than likely waiting to continue servicing Fleur’s feet. Either that or she was waiting for some more water… the cute moans more than likely meant the former.

Like she had done with her foot, Fleur first placed her trembling wet hand in front of Luna’s nose and as before, there was no protest from the odd girl, she merely offered her small, pink tongue once again.

Fleur slowly fed the open mouth her fingers, watching as the tongue gently grazed them at first before retracting back. She figured Luna was trying to give it a taste before digging in completely, much like she had done earlier with the Veela’s feet. It only took a small amount of time before the tongue darted back out, practically begging for more.

Fleur grinned mischievously before feeding the eager girl practically all of her fingers and watched in fascination as Luna began to lick them without rest, her tongue not resting until every single drop of the French beauty’s essence was completely cleaned out.

The Veela retracted her hand, satisfied with the impromptu cleaning, yet once again her nether regions began to pulse with need. Slowly but surely, Fleur sensed the wetness beginning to simmer inside the rubber clad panties. Despite the cold outside and her state of dress, the French beauty could not help but sense the overwhelming heat that surrounded her entire body, something that usually only happened when she was in the presence of her beloved Maître.

The excitement once again took over Fleur’s being. She snapped the rubber to the side, exposing her sweltering love box, and then put herself above the leather-bound girl, so that her womanhood was poised directly above Luna’s open mouth.

Gently, she descended, the excitement was still not overwhelming enough that she forgot about Luna’s state. It did not take long until she felt Luna’s heavenly tongue come into contact with her throbbing pussy.

There was no hesitation from the blonde this time. As soon as Fleur felt Luna’s tongue, it quickly started to worship the Veela’s folds.

“Mon Dieu!” gasped Fleur, trying her best to stabilize her body as the blonde continued to provide ceaseless ministrations to the Veela.

Divine was the only word to describe the feeling. Clearly inexperienced, Luna still made up for in eagerness. During the entire time, she never once stopped stimulating Fleur’s womanhood. The encased girl seemed completely insatiable, Fleur could swear that she felt each and every millimeter of Luna’s excited tongue exploring her sacred flower.

‘More…’

It did not take long for Fleur to orgasm yet again. Pure pleasure coursed through her very being in and earth-shattering climax. The Veela made sure to lower her wail of pleasure, through the haze of arousal, she had forgotten that she didn’t cast any soundproof charms before giving in to her desires.

This time, her essence was received almost completely by Luna, who did not seem bothered in the least. In fact, she almost took pleasure in making sure to clean her caretaker’s womanhood completely.

When Fleur was satisfied, she pulled herself away from Luna’s mouth and covered her mound back with the blue latex panties, satisfied moans leaving her mouth automatically as the rubber went back to tease her satisfied core.

Once the post-orgasm haze left her, Fleur reached behind her partner’s gag and undid the buckle, followed by both earplugs. She left the blindfold on however.

“Hello, Fleur. How are you today?” said Luna as if nothing at all had transpired previously.

“Ah… b-bonjour, Luna,” Fleur greeted, still a little shaken from the orgasm. “Are you alright?”

“Never better.” The Ravenclaw licked her lips as if trying to savor every last bit of a particularly delicious feast.

“Are you cold?”

“Nope! It’s warm and fuzzy in here. Quite comfortable, really.” She wiggled as much she could to emphasize her point. “That was the best night I’ve had in quite some time.”

“Right… sorry by ze way.” Fleur could almost feel the inquisitive gaze behind the black blindfold. “For… err… forcing you to do zat with my feet and my… um –”

“Vagina,” Luna stated bluntly, in the innocent way only she could pull off.

“Oui… sorry for zat.”

 “Oh, believe me – it was a very pleasurable experience. You are quite delicious.”

Fleur did not know how to think about that compliment.

“You’d better be careful to not let the Flabbering Fleshticks get to close to you… they’ll eat you whole!” continued Luna.

“I’ll be sure to be careful,” responded Fleur, still stroking the blonde’s cheek. “I will be putting ze gag back on. Are you comfortable wiz eet?” Luna nodded. “Vairy well. Zat stays on zen… so will ze earplugs.”

“Please. They are utterly enjoyable.”

“Anyzing else?”

“Nope!”

Fleur grinned before taking the small, black plugs and carefully stuffing them back inside the blonde’s ear canals, blocking all sound.

Luna remained calm and quiet, so much so that Fleur believed she had fallen asleep. The miniscule struggles that the younger witch had put up earlier were gone now. Perhaps the bound girl was satisfied after having serviced her partner’s lovebox? Could anyone be satisfied by servicing their partner?

Fleur would need to find out when Harry came back.

It took longer than Harry had expected for him to return back to Fleur and Luna. He had already planned to go to Hogsmeade first in order to get the more innocent present he’d asked Sirius to get for his girlfriend.

“Here you go,” said Sirius, the omnipresent smirk was somehow even more evident as he gave his godson a gift-wrapped box.

“Thanks for the trouble, Padfoot.” Harry took the gift and placed it inside his bag. Considering the weather, he was pretty sure nothing would really happen to the treats that lay inside.

Sirius blew an impressed whistle. “That’s a mighty gift for just some lady,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows at Harry. “When can I meet this wonderful witch that has my godson buying the most preeminent chocolate in all of Britain?”

“Never, if you don’t stop pestering me about it,” responded Harry as he took another sip of butterbeer.

“Oh, come on,” guffawed Sirius. “I need to know if this girl is good enough for my one and only heir, after all.”

“She’s more than ‘good enough’, Sirius.”

The Black lord put up his hands defensively. “I know, I know… I just want to meet the girl who’s gotten you in such a good mood lately. You’re improving at a great pace in our training sessions and I don’t doubt that Ms. Delacour is to be thanked for it.”

Harry raised his eyebrow. “I don’t believe I ever told you that she was my girlfriend.”

“Oho! It’s ‘girlfriend’ now!? I didn’t know things had gotten so… serious.”

“Your puns are awful.”

Sirius chortled a laugh. “It wasn’t hard to figure out – the rumor mill has been wild that Harry Potter has been seduced by a French Veela so gorgeous that she makes even straight witches feel hot below the neck.”

Harry grumbled as he took yet another sip.

“Not to mention that Rita Skeeter has been going through story after story about it,” continued Sirius. “I wouldn’t be surprised if at some point Dominique Delacour decided to intervene and file for a defamation lawsuit.”

Anger started to well inside Harry again – a feeling that he’d been forgetting since he and Fleur got together. That damnable gossip-monger had been a plague ever since the very first they he’d met her. Especially since she’d been making it a point to constantly defame his wonderful girlfriend.

“One of these days we’re really going to have to deal with that woman,” said Harry.

“Don’t worry too much about it – it hasn’t affected your relationship with her, has it?”

Harry smiled. “No… it hasn’t,” he said. “Hell. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t even have remembered her.”

“Too busy being led away astray by your beautiful girlfriend?” taunted Sirius.

“Perhaps…”

“Anyways, I’ve kept you here long enough. Go enjoy the day of love with your girl,” said the hound Animagus before going back to his own drink. Harry hadn’t even left the Three Broomsticks before his godfather was already chatting jovially with two witches at another table.

The next delay happened when he was walking back to the castle. Through the ice and snow, he managed to spot the hulking form of Hagrid pacing back and forth while holding a crudely packaged gift in his massive hands. When Harry got close enough to greet the half-giant, he noticed that Hagrid was in fact muttering to himself.

“… made ‘em meself this mornin’. Hope yeh like them… no! Think o’ summat different! Ah –“

“Good morning Hagrid,” Harry interrupted, trying not to laugh at the sight of such an imposing person bumbling back and forth.

“Oh… good mornin’ ter yeh, Harry! Wha’ are yeh doin’ this early?”

Harry showed the gentle giant his neatly packaged present. “Getting something from Sirius… what are you doing, Hagrid?”

Hagrid looked at his own package like a kid being caught dipping his hand in the cookie jar. “Er… nothin’…jus’ some – err… deliv’ries I have pendin’ since las’ week.”

“Really… anything to do with new magical creatures?”

Err… now tha’ I think abou’ it… I do have ter tend to tha’ wounded unicorn tha’ I stumbl’d upon a couple days back.”

Harry was actually surprised. A unicorn had been wounded? Memories of his first year came flooding back to him when Voldemort’s shade was suckling the silver blood from a murdered unicorn. Firenze the centaur had mentioned that bringing harm upon such a pure creature was one of the lowest moral crimes a witch or wizard could undertake. Only those corrupted with darkness could go ahead and do the evil deed.

“Who do you think could have done such a thing, Hagrid?”

“I dunno ter be hones’. It’s strange tha’ someone would want ter harm such a misunderstood creature. If a unicorn has been harmed, then it means dark stuff is involved, be certain of tha’.”

A feeling of regret started to gnaw at Harry. For some reason he started to think back on Luna – probably being taken care of by Fleur back at their room – and the situation he’d left her in. Bound and speechless with only a small stone being the only way to communicate any discomfort.

A stone he’d almost threatened her not to use.

“Have you told Dumbledore about this? He’ll want to know!” he said finally, trying to ignore the feeling of disgust with himself that was slowly brewing insde.

Hagrid shook his head. “Haven’ been able to see the Headmaster… too busy with them Ministry folk ‘cause of the Tournament… I’ll be cheerin’ fer yer by the way!”

Harry smiled appreciatively. “Thanks Hagrid. Was anything taken from the unicorn? Was the perpetrator after something?”

“Didn’ notice anythin’ missin’. Guess he got scared tha’ he’ll get caught. Even poachers won’t go after unicorns… they’ll know better than ter take advantage of one,” said Hagrid while shaking his head.

“What do you mean?” asked Harry.

“Unicorns are pure creatures, Harry. So much so tha’ they’ll give other some of their magical features like their hearstrings or hair fer wands… but when they give them, it’s a thing of trust. Takin’ them away or abusin’ a unicorn is a foul deed tha’ will follow you the rest of yer days. Yer have ter be humble and patient with a unicorn.”

A deep pit started to form within Harry’s stomach. He ignored it at first, trying to justify it, but every second seemed to make him feel worse.

The Gryffindor briefly compared a unicorn to Luna – a witch who had trusted him so and he had been too rough with her this morning. He’d even threatened and blackmailed her to not use the “safe word”. The blonde seemed to be accepting and even happy with the addition of the gag, but Harry wondered how much that had been influenced by fear of being cut away from both Fleur and himself.

“I made a mistake… again,” Harry muttered to himself. He’d abused Luna, there was no mistake of it now. She had trusted him, and he’d failed.

“Wha’ was tha’, Harry?” asked Hagrid, still trying to make the clumsily made package look slightly more presentable.

“Nothing… by the way,” he thrust a couple of galleons into the half-giant’s massive hand, “Honeydukes is selling some great stuff today… why don’t you go ahead and see if there’s anything you like.”

“Harry, I can’t accept this –“

“Gotta go, Hagrid! See you at the second task!”

The Gryffindor sped up to the castle and went to the kitchens as quickly as his legs allowed him to. The elves were kind enough to give him more than enough for breakfast. They even gave him some chocolate pudding after a special request.

With the meals in tow, he started to walk over to the stairs. There were a few students that were lazily going down to the Great Hall to catch breakfast. Since it was a Saturday, many students preferred to sleep in.

Finally, Harry got to the painting of the black knight in front of his room and gave out the password, making sure that nobody was there to listen beforehand. He hurried inside, his heart beating furiously in dread at what had happened to Luna while he was gone.

“Welcome back, mon chéri!” said Fleur, sitting behind the desk. She had apparently moved it so that she could keep an eye on Luna.

His girlfriend immediately stood up and went over to him. She was still wearing that set of light blue rubber underwear and nothing else. Harry marveled at how the material seemed to cling to Fleur’s body like a second skin.

“Hey… brought breakfast.” He laid the contents he’d been carrying on the table, along with the gift-wrapped parcel. “And another present.”

“You are spoiling me today, Maître.”

“I love spoiling my girl,” said Harry, his finger went down and started to lightly tug on the waistband, stretching carefully, “especially when it makes her looks so sexy.” He let go of the latex, letting it snap back to Fleur’s skin.

Fleur giggled. “You ‘ave anyzing else for your Fleur today, mon chéri?”

“Later,” Harry said firmly and took a more serious tone once he looked back at the still bound form of Luna, laying completely still on the divan. It was still an incredible sight, but mixed in with the arousal was a massive wave of regret.

He walked over to the Luna and quickly undid the ring-gag, setting it aside. The blonde did not say a word, merely tested out closing her jaw. If there was any indication of harm, she did not show it. This was a small relief, but the green-eyed wizard still continued on unabated.

The blindfold was next. Silver eyes blinked a few times in order to get used to the light, before settling on Harry and Fleur.

He followed by taking off the earplugs. It was then that Luna finally found her voice.

“Thank you, Harry,” Luna sighed, her characteristic dreamy smile quickly formed on her face.

“Hey Luna… are you alright?”

“I believe that I am doing quite well,” Luna responded in a sing-song voice.

Harry nodded. “Right… let’s get this off you.” With a wave of his wand the little locks started to undo themselves one after another. Another wave and the little metal contraptions were removed from the straps that secured the sleepsack to the divan and levitated towards a little nearby table.

“You don’t have to take it off, Harry,” Luna said. “It’s quite comfy in here, all things considered.”

The green-eyed wizard did not respond, he simply grabbed the petite witch – not that hard considering she weighed even less than Fleur, even with the heavy leather apparatus – and carried her over to the bed like he’d done yesterday. Once she was face down and the restraints were revealed, a spell made sure to release the blonde from the imposing, black device.

“Did I pass the test?” Luna asked, her protuberant, silver eyes watching him expectantly. She was still nude, seemingly unperturbed upon being seen without clothes.

“Luna… I’m sorry,” said Harry.

“Sorry for what?” the blonde asked dreamily.

Harry looked at the sleepsack – completely slack since its prisoner was now free – and then back to Luna, who was still holding the rune covered stone he’d given her last night.

“I was an ass to you,” he said, looking into those curious bright eyes of hers. “I should have treated you better… asked you what you wanted to do. Instead, I forced you to do something that I hadn’t even done to Fleur. I even threatened you not to use the stone!” Behind him, he felt Fleur put a consoling hand atop his shoulder.

Luna looked down at the stone in her hands, then back at him. “I was having fun… but I think I wanted to have fun with the two of you. It was delightful to completely let go of reality for once though.”

“Even if you enjoyed it, it doesn’t make it right on my part… I abused you, Luna. I thought only about myself and what I wanted. Only right now did I figure out that I never once considered your feelings and wants – I was a complete bastard.”

“’Arry,” said Fleur, hugging him from behind. “We all make mistakes. Eet is unavoidable, what is important is zat we learn from zem… and to try our best to not repeat zem again. Maybe you made a mistake, but zat does not make you a bad person. Eet just makes you a person.”

Harry smiled sadly, feeling a little better. His gaze returned back to the quiet witch. “I’m sorry Luna. Fleur and I…” he took hold of Fleur’s arms. “… we’re a pretty new and inexperienced couple – still learning the ropes. If you don’t want to continue with us, that’s fine…”

“No!” she yelled. “I want to continue with you… I really want to!”

“Are you sure, Luna?”

“I’m sure!”

Harry grabbed her small hand and caressed it. “Very well,” he said. “What do you want to do today then? You get to choose – consider it your reward for being so brave.”

Luna lips puckered slightly, and she put a finger on her temple – the classical sight of a person deep in thought.”

“Well,” she finally said. “I really want to see the two of you. Just like you have when you’re having one of your fun times.”

“I thought you wanted to join?” Harry asked, confused at the request. Then again, this was Luna Lovegood.

“Daddy always says that observing and listening is the best way to learn,” Luna answered, as if reciting the wisdom of an ancient Greek philosopher.

“Well… I guess we cannot go against a parent’s wisdom,” said Fleur, who had been mostly silent up until now. So much so that it seemed like Luna had finally taken notice of the older witch and her… unusual attire.

“That looks amazing!” exclaimed Luna, her wide eyes fascinated with the shiny lingerie.

“Zank you,” Fleur said while tracing her hands across her breasts. “Eet was a gift from Maître.”

“Can I have some too?” Luna asked.

‘Why do I feel like the Potter vaults are begging for mercy right now,’ Harry thought. “Maybe later. Do you just want to watch or do you want… something else?”

“Hmm… I want to be tied up!” chirped Luna.

“Alright then. I wanted to give this spell a try for sometime now. How about you sit down on that chair over there and put your hands in the armrests?”

Luna did just that, sitting down on one of the comfy looking chairs that was moved for some reason or another, putting her arms of the padded armrests.

Harry took out his wand and pointed chanted, “Incarcerous!” From the tip, two strands of soft, black rope shot out and aimed directly at Luna’s hands, rapidly binding them to the armrests and tying themselves in a knot.

When it was finished, Luna tested the strength of the restraints by tugging at them, but they had very little give.

“Too tight?” asked Harry.

“Not at all. Just tight enough.”

Harry nodded. “Very well. Now… before we start. I don’t want this mistake to be repeated again. I need to know what your safewords are.”

“Safeword?” asked Luna.

“A word you say when you want to stop what we’re doing if you can’t take it. Just think about the stone I gave you… that kind of thing.”

“But I don’t want to stop!” Luna exclaimed.

“Just taking safety precautions. Think of one word that you won’t say by accident.”

“Hmm… I know! Quibbler!” the Ravenclaw finally said.

“That’s… quite a word. Most people just go for a color,” said Harry.

Luna smiled. “Quibbler is Daddy’s magazine, and it always makes me feel happy and safe when I read it.”

It made sense. Coming from Luna Lovegood, at least.

“What about you, beautiful?” asked Harry, turning his gaze over to Fleur.

“Froid,” she said simply. Harry was about to ask further before she said. “We Veela are creatures of warmth and intimacy, mon chéri.”

“Alright then… shall we start?”

Fleur visibly shivered in anticipation. “What do you want to do wiz your Fleur zis night, Maitre?”

“How about another present?” Harry teased while going over to the large chest that contained their equipment. “How about you kneel down and close your eyes?”

“Oui!” responded Fleur before doing exactly that. She even put both of her hands behind her head, giving Harry a full view of her body.

Harry rummaged through the giant, black chest. The sleepsack had taken much of the space available, but there were many, smaller pieces of gear that he’d bought. Excitement was screaming for him to try out some of the stricter objects, but he quickly controlled himself when he remembered about Luna. Deciding himself, he picked out four smaller things and closed the container.

They were leather cuffs, two for the wrists, and the other two for the ankles. He’d been informed that despite their look, they were quite comfortable to wear thanks to the padding on the inner side.

“Stand up,” Harry ordered.

Fleur followed his command, still keeping her hands behind her head while she left her kneeling position and stood upright, eyes firmly closed.

“Hands,” said Harry, and immediately grabbed one of her arms the moment Fleur obeyed.

Once the cuff had enveloped her wrist, he closed it with the help of a strap. A small hole in the prong allowed for a lock to be fitted through, preventing the small buckle from being undone by anyone other than the keyholder.

That or magic – but Fleur never used her wand in their games. She trusted him so.

The other wrist soon followed the first. Two, wider cuffs were applied to her ankles. The black leather contrasted with her pale skin nicely.

“Open your eyes, beautiful.”

Fleur’s sapphire orbs concentrated first on him, and then to her restraints. She smiled at first, before she started to move her wrist, more than likely to test them.

“Comfy?” he asked.

“Very.”

“It’s been a tiring morning… why don’t you go back to bed, sweetheart?” Harry offered.

“What eef I don’t’ want to go to bed, Maître? Fleur challenged.

Harry held up the box he’d gotten earlier. “Then you won’t get your present.”

“Tease.”

“You know you love it when I tease you.”

Fleur answered by very slowly and seductively crawling on the bed, making sure to sway her latex clad derriere with ever movement she made, until she turned around and sat in the center.

Harry took grabbed the leather blindfold he’d used on Luna previously and showed it to Fleur. “You’re gonna have to guess your present for a little longer, beautiful.”

Fleur made a cute pout. “You are delaying zings, non?”

“Look at it like a carefully made meal. Too quickly and it’s raw and nasty. Linger too long and it will be burnt and tasteless.”

“Comparing me to food now, Maitre?” responded Fleur. “’Ow romantic.”

“Aren’t you the one always complaining about British cuisine?”

Fleur scoffed haughtily. “Cuisine? I don’t zink ze dirty slop of fat you put inside your mine can be accurately called ‘cuisine’.”

“Hush now,” said Harry, going over to her and placing the blindfold over her eyes. “If you don’t stop fussing then I will change the breakfast menu from French to British.”

“I’ll be good,” whimpered Fleur.

With his girlfriend now blinded, he quickly grabbed a foot and tugged, making her squeal but also positioning her spread-eagle across the bed. Before she did anything else, Harry grabbed his wand and pointed it at the bed.

“Incarcerous,” chanted Harry, watching as four long strands of rope shot out of the wand and followed his command.

Around the bed, there were four posts that could be used to drape curtains along the canopy. Each of the rope went to a corresponding wooden post and quickly and efficiently started to bind themselves to them. As soon as they were secured, the thick threads each went for a cuff.

“Ah!” Fleur started to lightly struggle against the ropes as they started to bind themselves to the D-rings attached to the leather cuffs.  Once they had looped around the metal links, they went back to their corresponding posts in order to make a secure knot, leaving the bound Veela unable to move her limbs from their spread positions.

“Now Fleur… remember that we have an audience,” Harry chided before turning around and giving a small wink to Luna, who was looking at the scene wordlessly, but with visible excitement in those silver eyes.

“What are you going to do wiz your poor, helpless slave today, Maître?”

Harry chuckled but didn’t answer. Instead he went over to the water-filled pitcher and poured some in his hands before pointing his wand at it and wordlessly sending the accumulated water in the air and taking a cube shaped form. A freezing spell caused it to solidify into a clear piece of ice. Devilishly, he then showed the result to the sitting form of Luna, who was barely holding back a giggle.

The Gryffindor slowly walked over to the bed. He put the ice cube down for just a second when he reached Fleur’s left foot and knelt down.

Slowly, he started to massage it, hearing Fleur moan in appreciation.

“Mmm… zat’s right, mon chéri… eet feels really good.” She visibly relaxed in her bonds, only curling her red painted toes slowly from time to time, but otherwise started to leave her defenses down.

Which is exactly what Harry wanted when he pressed the cube of ice directly to the sole of her foot.

“Eeek!” Fleur, instinctively trying to remove her foot from the unpleasant sensation, only for the rope to lose the little slack it had left and prevent it from being pulled any further. “Eet’s cold!”

Harry chortled before he started to move the ice upwards, towards her red painted toes. Fleur mouth was letting out a mixture between gasps and mewls, along with some involuntary giggles from the stimulation as her naturally warm body came into contact with the frozen cube. As it was dragged to her ankle, a trail of cold wetness was left to mark its path.

“Now Fleur… you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” Harry asked, never ceasing to slowly drag the ice through her leg, inching ever closer towards her thigh.

“Oui… I am your good girl – or your bad girl! Whatever fits ze situati – ahhh…”

“Good,” Harry semi-whispered. “Cause you’re gonna tell me everything that you did with poor Luna while I was gone… you were a good girl, weren’t you?”

“Oui, Maître – I was a good to Luna.” Harry quickly placed the cube on top of the latex covering Fleur’s womanhood. “Merde! Alright… maybe I was not zat good.”

“Such language from my good girl… maybe I should put a big gag on your mouth. Merlin knows I bought enough.” He removed the ice and started to drag it slowly towards her stomach. Fleur was visibly shaking. Whether from the cold or excitement, he did not know.

Maybe it was a little of both.

“Now, beautiful. You’re gonna tell me – in detail – what you did to Luna while she was under your care.”

Fleur licked her lips nervously before she started to speak.

“I was writing a letter for Gabi when – oh, Maitre… she looked so sexy just… laying zere all perfectly bound up and wiz ‘er mouth open. You would ‘ave done ze same, non?”

“You used her helpless, little mouth, beautiful?”

“I couldn’t ‘elp eet!”

Harry slowly dragged his index finger through the wet trail the cold water had left behind, passing lightly across Fleur’s rubber confined lovebox, and eventually reaching the shiny blue bra. Softly, his hand started to fondle the latex covered orb.

“I know my gorgeous French flower can’t control herself.” Fleur gave a needy whimper. “That’s why I’m here, aren’t I?” Harry said while tenderly poking the French witch’s nipple through the shiny, blue rubber.

“Oui, mon chéri,” the Veela gasped.

“What did you make her do?” Harry asked again.

“I… started to please myself… while I was dragging my feet all over ‘er body,” Fleur stated, before her face turned an even healthier shade of red. “Zen she… licked zem.”

Confused, he turned around to see Luna making a satisfied smile.

“I thought it smelled nice. They were smooth and tasty,” she said simply. “It was fun!”

If it had been anyone else, Harry would have been a little flabbergasted. As it stood, it was a perfectly normal answer from the odd blonde.

Harry laughed as he dragged his fingernail across the sole of Fleur’s foot, eliciting giggles from the witch.

“I didn’t know you were into that, beautiful,” he teased.

Fleur briefly stammered nervously before she could manage to get something coherent out. “Eet felt nice.”

“Really,” Harry said as he started teasing her toes. “Maybe you should return the favor to our guest, then.” He turned back. “What do you say, Luna?”

The Ravenclaw giggled as she started to wiggle her silver painted toes. “We can do it another day, Master.”

“Alright then… what else did you do to poor Luna?” Harry asked, returning his attention to her confined breasts.

“Mmm…” Fleur moaned. “I… came,” she admitted. “Luna… I let Luna clean me out.”

The Gryffindor slid his hand inside the latex bra and felt Fleur’s nipple – already hard from the combination of cold and arousal – and pinched it softly. The Veela moaned and whimpered, biting her own lower lip.

“Such a naughty girl,” Harry whispered, not letting go of the hard nub. “Taking advantage of a pure and helpless girl like Luna.”

“I’m not pure!” chirped Luna from behind. “I really liked it! It was warm and soft and it tasted very good!”

Harry let out a muffled laugh. “Looks like I got my hands full with two very naughty witches. What should I do with the both of you?”

“Give us the cure!” Luna almost begged.

“Cure?” asked Fleur in a nervous tone.

“We were very naughty… quite wicked and villainous! We need to be given the cure for the bitch-flu!” said Luna excitedly.

“I don’t think we can blame this on you, Luna. You didn’t have a choice.” Harry turned towards his blindfolded girlfriend. “Beautiful, on the other hand…”

“Awww…” Luna complained. “I want my bum to look nice and red too! The other girls always say that I should work on getting better skin complexion.”

“Your skin is nice and pretty, Luna,” Harry assured before he grabbed the box of chocolates Sirius had been generous to procure for him.

He tore the envelope slowly, trying to drag out the moment as long as he could. Bound on the bed, he saw Fleur was twitching slightly with anticipation as to what she would be getting. Out of the corner of his eye, he also managed to spot Luna’s discarded underwear, which he proceeded to pick up as well.

“Open your mouth, beautiful.”

Fleur slowly did so with some hesitation. Harry left her like that for a full minute, trying to see if she’d do anything against his orders. She did not.

The raven-haired dominant grabbed the first piece – milk chocolate just to be safe – and slowly presented it to his expectant girlfriend.

Fleur closed her mouth, and moaned immediately as she did so. She took her time savoring the treat, struggling in her bonds as if trying to tantalize Harry to do more.

He did just that when he suddenly grasped her latex covered quim, eliciting a sharp and excited gasp of air.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, love,” he said, while using his thumb to rub the place where the sensitive bundle of nerves lay trapped beneath the latex. The twitches Fleur was making seemed involuntary at this point, much like it had been during their bath together.

Fleur started to rub her pelvis towards his hand, trying to get more and more stimulation than he was giving her. He knew she desperately wanted to cum by now, but she couldn’t do it out of her own free will. He was the one only one that was able to stimulate her needy slit. He controlled when and how much pleasure she got, and when she was able to cum.

Harry owned her orgasm.

He demonstrated that when he removed his hand.

“P-please… ‘Arry...” Fleur begged.

“Please what, beautiful?”

“M-more… p-please give me more!”

Harry chuckled. “I don’t think so beautiful. You already had two today – without my permission to top it off.”

“I didn’t know I ‘ad to ask for permission.”

“You do now,” Harry whispered, his hand now focusing on her breasts.

Fleur mewled, tugging at her bonds helplessly, trying to get as much pleasure as she could. “Please… I need more, Maître! I… I’ll go crazy!”

“Shhh…” Harry took another piece of chocolate – a bitter dark one – and offered it to her mouth. She took it happily, but still continued to moan, desperate for some more attention.

“It’s only morning, love,” Harry said as he caressed her long, silver hair. “Tell you what – if you behave and continue to be a good girl, I’ll reward you tonight. Is that alright, baby?”

“Al-alright, Maître.” Her voice was shaky and filled with pure, unadulterated desire.

“Good girl,” he said before bending down and kissing her. “Open your mouth again, beautiful.”

The witch did so immediately, more than likely expecting another chocolate. She let out a surprised and muffled yell when he shoved Luna’s underwear and pressed his hand on her soft lips.

“Don’t spit it out,” he ordered, rapidly unknotting his tie and promptly using it as a makeshift gag to hold the Ravenclaws underwear inside.

“Mmph!” exclaimed Fleur, followed by a rapid flurry of French that he wouldn’t have understood even if he knew the language.

He raised his wand over to ropes and vanished them. “Don’t touch yourself, beautiful. You’ll be tied and helpless again in just a moment.”

Sure enough, he summoned two of the padlocks that had been used on Luna’s restraints earlier and secured both of her ankles first, followed by doing the same with the cuffs on her wrists once he managed to maneuver them behind her back.

“Come beautiful… we still have to give Luna her show,” he said while winking over to said younger witch. She had been silent up until that moment, but the rubbing of her legs showed that she was getting very excited as well.

Harry helped Fleur stand up on her restrained ankles and watched as she hopped over to where he was guiding her. Their destination happened to be an armless chair that was in front of Luna. Once he sat down, he instantly pulled Fleur on his lap face down until she was bent – a position that he’d used once in the past to administer her first spanking.

Fleur noticed her position immediately and moaned. She knew what was coming.

“What do you think, Luna?” he asked the quite blonde. “Should we teach this bad girl some manners?”

“Oh absolutely!” chirped Luna while bouncing on her seat excitedly.

Harry summoned the fruity scented bottle he had used previously and then turned his wand towards Luna, vanishing her bonds.

“Why don’t you help me?” he suggested while motioning to Luna towards them.

Luna almost skipped over to his side and quickly asked, “What do want me to do, Sir? Or Master? What do you prefer?”

“We’ll talk about that later,” he said nonchalantly. “As for what I want you to do.” He handed the bottle over to her small hands. “How about you help me by giving Fleur her bad girl lotion.”

The Veela on his lap huffed at the name and struggled a little futilely. A short swat across her left cheek stopped it and she slumped back down in surrender.

Luna uncapped the bottle and placed some of it on her palm. The strawberry aroma hit his nose immediately, Fleur too if her relaxed state was any indication.

“All over her bum, Luna. Make sure you don’t miss a spot.”

Luna took her time alright, laughing as she made sure to spread the clear liquid all over her bountiful derriere. He, on the other hand, was caressing Fleur’s back reassuringly, periodically passing his fingers through the shiny lingerie.

“Done!” Luna trilled, still curiously touching Fleur’s latex panties. “As shiny as a Twinkling Tetramite!”

“What’s a Twinkling Tetramite?”

“They’re little bugs that live underground and lead lost children back home,” Luna stated matter-of-factly. “Unless you’re a grown wizard, then they’ll just eat you.”

“Right.” He pointed over to the ground in front of them. “I want you to kneel now, Luna. Enjoy the show.”

Luna did just that and once she was in place, made her biggest smile yet as she beheld the spectacle.”

Despite the show, the spanking was very light. Last time he wanted to drive a point in with Fleur, to make her reveal all her desires and to not take shame in any of them. To be completely honest with him and with herself.

This time, he wanted Fleur to enjoy it. He’d heard of women who took particular pleasure in being spanked, mentally and physically. As such, his administrations were less harsh, and he did not make Fleur count them.

“Mhmm…” Fleur moaned as the first swat, and her body went rigid, as if expecting the next one to be harsher. It was not. After the fifth time his palm met her bum, she relaxed noticeably, almost slumping bonelessly on his lap.

Even the sounds coming from her seemed to be tinged with pleasure and satisfaction, rather than pain.

She did start to struggle again, however, when his hand travelled downward and rubbed her slit. He did not linger there long. Usually grabbing her waistband and tugging on it, before making the rubber snap back.

Luna went mute once again, simply looking on with a smile that threatened to tear her face apart. Those big, silver eyes never seemed to leave Fleur’s rapidly reddening derriere.

“Do you like it, Luna?” asked Harry.

“I do. Do you mind if I touch her?” responded Luna.

“Of course. Come here…”

Luna crawled over, her position meant that she was still at the height of his lap. Bowing her head, a little, she was face to face with Fleur’s blindfolded, gagged face. Still, the blonde girl went on to touch away, fascinated at touching the Veela’s soft skin, groping her rubber clad breasts, even running her fingers to the fine leather cuffs.

Most curiously, she went over to Fleur’s bound ankles and started to run her nails through the soles of the French witch’s feet.

Almost immediately, Fleur went from being relatively calm to struggling harder than she had done even during her impromptu spanking session. Even the improvised gag did not make her laughs any less musical as she tried to dislodge Luna’s fingers from the unusual torment.

“You never told me that you were ticklish, honey,” Harry teased, doing his best to keep the silver-haired beauty from falling down. “I guess now I have a new punishment for you.”

“Nhhh!” Fleur half yelled, half laughed as she continued to do her best to avoid Luna’s excited fingers.

“That’s enough,” he commanded. Luna did so unquestionably, though not without a cute pout.

“Oh, pooh,” she said, disappointed.

Fleur immediately slumped down once again. Breathing heavily through her nose, but otherwise unchanged.

A couple of swats later – along with the appliance of the medicinal cream – Harry shifted so that Fleur’s reddened bum sat on his lap. The blindfold came off next, and the Veela’s eyes immediately settled on the blonde newcomer. She did not say anything until after he took out her gag and the cotton panties underneath.

“Luna!” she hissed. “I will get back at you one of zese days!”

“Please do!” Luna almost begged.

“Now, now… don’t be mad at Luna, beautiful. She’s just having a little bit of fun. You do owe her.”

“I guess…”

“And speaking of owing her. It’s still Valentine’s Day and Luna still hasn’t had her treat.” Harry took his wand out and aimed at one of the bags he’d retrieved from the kitchen earlier. A brief “Accio” was all it took for something that Luna immediately recognized to come out.

“Pudding!” she exclaimed giddily, eyes now completely focused on the chocolate flavored treat.

“Oh, dear me,” Harry said dramatically. “It seems I forgot to ask the elves for a spoon.”

“That is a problem,” Luna said sagely while Fleur rolled her blue eyes.

“Come here Luna – we’re gonna have to… improvise,” he said while dipping his fingers inside the thick chocolate treat.

Luna did as she was told and once again opted to crawl over to him, the twin silver orbs fixated on his fingers. Once she was at his side, Harry offered the chocolate covered digits to her mouth, which she wordlessly opened and started to suckle.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Luna.”

While his right hand was occupied with feeding Luna, his left wandered across Fleur’s body, especially her still hungry womanhood, an act that was rewarded with needy mewls and protesting struggles. He’d stimulate her enough to cause arousal, but without any orgasms.

Once his digits were cleaned completely, he dug once again into the pudding but instead of offering them to Luna, his left hand pulled Fleur’s latex bra to the top, revealing her C-cup breasts, along with hard pale nipples.

Harry grinned before slathering the pudding all over Fleur’s naked tits, paying special attention to the hard nubs. He took more and more of the tasty treat until the Veela’s previously latex clad bosom looked to be covered now by a chocolate brassiere.

“Well then, Luna,” he said to the kneeling Ravenclaw, “time for breakfast.”

Luna almost lunged the moment the order was given, almost assaulting Fleur’s exposed mounds with gusto. She switched between dragging her tongue across the chest, and suckling on a particularly rich area, usually the excited, pale nubs at the center.

Fleur on the other hand was moaning heavily, heavy breaths returning and throwing her head back at times. They were silenced when Harry inserted the leftover pudding into her mouth, which she proceeded to clean out, her tongue dancing around his fingers to get every single bit. Even after it was completely gone, she continued to suck as if on a daze.

The same could be said about Luna, who had by this point completely cleaned Fleur’s breasts, leaving only a trail of wet saliva across the pair of womanly mounds. Still she continued to ceaselessly drag her tongue around, and would likely have done so longer if he had not ordered her to stop.

“Alright, pet,” he said to Luna. “Do you want to feel good?”

“Of course,” responded Luna, who had gone back to kneeling attentively.

“Very well, because I think beautiful here still has to repay you for the pleasure you gave her earlier.” He moved his lap, shaking Fleur from her own lust filled stupor. “Isn’t that right, love?”

“Oui… mon Dieu…” She continued to go on in a sluggish babble of French but kept on nodding her head.

“Very well. I think Fleur is the one who’s gonna be tasting Dobby’s special pudding now.” Harry grimaced a little. “Merlin – that really didn’t sound right.”

He waited until the horny Veela regained her bearings before he turned his attention back to Luna.

“Hands behind your back,” he ordered as he took out some black rope.

It would probably be easier by this point to use the Binding spell with a flick of his wand, but there was still something wholly enjoyable about the act of taking the rope in his hands and personally tying a girl’s arms until they were completely helpless. Every time he passed the rope around Luna’s wrists was enjoyable, and the art of making a secure rope was exquisite. Even with the advent of magic into their games, sometimes it was best to try his abilities in ropework.

“On the bed,” he commanded, and Luna followed instantly.

With two more coils, he tied the Ravenclaw’s ankles to the post of the bed, almost in the same fashion as he’d done with Fleur, but Luna’s hands were secured behind her back.

Harry snatched the last of the pudding and dipped his fingers into it. As he had done with Fleur, he also began spread it across Luna’s skin.

Harry did not go for the breasts this time. Instead, he started with Luna’s left foot, slathering the underside and the petite toes, trailing up towards her leg, all the way towards her thigh… and ending on her pink pussy lips.

Luna gasped silently as he softly applied the last of the coffee colored treat, taking special care to not mess up her soon to be shaved pubic hair that much.

Once he was done decorating the petite witch, he climbed atop the bad and positions himself behind Luna, making sure to grasp her tightly before calling out to Fleur.

“Beautiful,” he said to the bound Veela who was now looking at Luna like a delicious meal. “Make her feel good.”

Fleur grinned before she knelt down and started to lick the pudding off of Luna’s toes. Slowly using her tongue to scrape off every last centimeter.

Luna started to giggle, twirling her toes either out of reflex or to make the older witch’s task a harder challenge. Given that Fleur did not have the use of her hands, she had to rely only upon the movement of her head.

Harry continued to hold onto Luna as Fleur inched ever closer upwards, the chocolate path disappearing until only the last bit was left.

Everyone in the room was breathing heavily, none so more than Luna as her wide, protuberant eyes locked completely with Fleur’s. To Harry, it seemed as if they had both reached an agreement through sight alone, from one submissive witch to another.

It did not take long for Fleur to attack.

Luna’s first reaction was to squeal, the involuntary sound leaving her mouth as the sensations seemed to overwhelm her. Fleur apparently took notice, because she slowed down considerably, limiting herself to using only her tongue.

There was very little pudding left, but everyone knew that it wasn’t the point.

Harry soon added to the blonde’s stimulation by pinching and tugging her nipples. The increased moaning meant that the sexually inexperienced witch would climax very soon.

Below them, Fleur continued to swirl her tongue around Luna’s folds, teasing her slowly yet getting more daring each and every time until she was teasing the blonde’s sensitive pearl. Finally, she took the hardened bundle of nerves and started to suck on it, driving the Ravenclaw into a frenzy.

With a high-pitched wail, Luna came, her juices flying directly at Fleur, who did her best to catch all of it with her mouth.

As soon as her climax ended, Harry felt Luna crash down into his arms, moaning incoherently about Nargles or something similar, before closing her eyes, absolutely spent.

Wordlessly, Harry unlocked the padlocks that restrained Fleur’s cuffs together. Another spell untiled Luna’s ropes and threw them off the bed.

The Gryffindor felt the now unbound Fleur crawling shakily besides him, and immediately started to caress the passed-out blonde.

“So,” Harry finally said after what felt like an eternity. “What do you think?”

Fleur looked ponderous for only just a moment, before she traced the pale skin of Luna’s neck with her finger.

“I zink,” she said with a loving smile, “zat you need to buy anozzer collar.”

AN: Late chapter, I know. Suffice to say that aside from my very first case of writer’s block, I’ve also been pretty busy. Hopefully, you’ll have to wait less for the next chapter, which should be more action oriented.

Hope the people that are here for the BDSM stuff were satisfied by this one. I had to rewrite some aspects when it came to the various scenes (another reason why this chapter took so goddamn long).

To the people who have favorited/followed this story: I will be doing a thorough revision after this in order to fix all the grammar, punctuation, and other writing mistakes that I’ve been ignoring for so long. Be warned if the alert comes over to you and there’s not a new chapter. I’ll do it all at once to make it easier and less annoying for you guys.

Please review and favorite and/or follow if you like the story. I always read my reviews and look for some constructive criticism.

If you want to get into contact with me more directly, go to my Discord server, link in my profile.

Until next time.

The Metal Sage.

Chapter 14: Call of the Sea

“Harry Potter” belongs to J.K. Rowling

AN: Chapter 13. Had a busy couple of months.

I hope all of you Luna fans liked the last chapter. I hope you like this one even more.

Chapter song is “Call of the Sea” by Kamelot. This is before Roy Khan was on vocals, so it may be a little different than some of their later, more famous songs.

With that out of the way, enjoy the chapter.

“Dialogue”

‘Thoughts’

“Foreign Language”

A Godfather’s Promise

Chapter XIII: Call of the Sea

It was already past lunchtime when Harry managed to dress himself properly and leave the room. He took one last glance at the bed before he stepped out of the door and couldn’t help his lips tugging into a small grin as he took in the sight.

Luna was still sleeping – just as soundless as she had been the previous night – her uncovered form was being held closely by Fleur. The Ravenclaw’s head was nestled safely in the valley of the Veela’s breasts, her blonde hair being slowly caressed by the French witch’s fingers.

“Take care of her,” ordered Harry, his green eyes piercing Fleur’s.

Fleur giggled. “You know I will, Maître.”

Harry nodded before closing the door behind him and started to walk upstairs almost automatically. His destination had been the same he’d gone to almost every day since the moment the dark-haired wizard set foot inside the castle – the Gryffindor common room.

There were many students abound, many of the girls were giggling at the prospect of receiving a heart-shaped box that would be undoubtedly filled with chocolates from many of the bored looking wizards. He ignored most of them though, until he saw a familiar witch that was wearing the same blue lined robes that a certain blonde back in his room had been sporting the previous night.

“Cho!” he called out, getting the attention of the Asian girl. She was carrying a box herself. Cedric’s probably.

“Good afternoon, Harry.” Her voice was a little dreamy as she clutched the box close to her heart, reminding Harry of Luna.

“Likewise,” Harry responded dryly before his gaze hardened a bit. “Cho… would you mind if I talked with you for a bit.”

The Ravenclaw gave a weird look for just a moment. “Err… sure Harry,” she said before following to one of the empty hallways. “What is this about?”

Harry sighed. “I need to talk to you… about Luna.”

He did not miss the frown that formed on her features. “Loony Lovegood?”

“Don’t call her that!” Harry almost snapped. “If you mean Luna Lovegood, then yes.”

“What about Loo – Luna?”

The Potter heir looked straight into her eyes. “I want you to stop bothering her.”

Cho half glared at him. “I don’t bother her – “

“I’m not talking about you, Cho,” Harry interrupted. “I’m talking about the other girls in her year… make them stop. I’m certain you have quite a bit of social pull over on Ravenclaw.”

The oriental witch closed her eyes and sighed. “Harry… I know you don’t like it when people get bullied, but you don’t get it! That girl is not… she’s not right in the head!” She gritted her teeth. “She always asks these disturbing questions, and she always goes on and on about some crazy conspiracy, and… and… she sleeps in the n-nude!”

“You let me take care of disciplining Luna. I’m not asking you to teach or raise her,” replied Harry. “I’m asking you to tell them to just ignore her and stop bothering her. I’ll make sure she has all the friends she needs.”

“Harry,” Cho breathed, “I don’t think I can convince them to ignore her…”

“Then you tell them,” he said in a strict voice, “that house Potter has quite some pull outside of this castle… and if they do not stop with this, I’ll make sure that they’ll have just a tad bit of trouble when it comes time to look for work outside.” He let the threat hang for a bit, seeing Cho’s eyes widen.

“A-Alright then.” She nodded and started to walk back towards the main hallway before turning back. “I… I know I shouldn’t pry,” she muttered, “but does Fleur know about this? I thought the two of you were an item.”

Harry smiled. “That’s my business, Cho.” He turned around and started to walk in the opposite direction. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Harry did not know what to expect when he entered the Gryffindor common room after being gone for so long. He half expected the place to have completely changed after not seeing it for nearly a month; the same way the room of a married couple would be transformed after a particularly nasty breakup.

It was almost a shock to him then when he entered and saw that almost every thing had been the same as the last time he’d seen it, as if it was only yesterday that he packed his trunk in favor of the smaller, yet more private room he now shared with Fleur.

“H-Harry?” squeaked a voice from one of the corners. Glancing at the source, he found saw that it had been Ginny. Besides her was Ron, who’s demeanor soured almost immediately.

The rest of the common room also quietened a little, but they awkwardly went about their business once again, trying their best to show that Harry’s arrival had not surprised them. The outcast Gryffindor barely noticed his surroundings however. His eyes searched only for the mass of chestnut hair that belonged to Hermione.

She was sitting down as she always did, with a characteristic book in front of her. She probably had not even noticed his arrival, too busy with studies like the brightest witch she wanted everyone to see her as.

“Hermione,” he said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder.

The brunette witch jumped at first – barely muffling a rather cute squeaking noise – before she turned around and immediately embraced Harry once she noticed his presence.

“Harry!” she gasped. “Sorry. I didn’t expect you would come.”

Harry almost winced at the words. “I wouldn’t leave my best friend alone for today,” he said before adding, “I need to make sure my ‘Mione’s admirers are the decent sort.”

Hermione seemed to lighten up. “Oh, you idiot,” she admonished. “I have far too much to worry about than some silly little holiday.”

“I think a lot of people think it’s more than just a silly little holiday.”

“Apparently,” she responded dryly, her gaze pointing towards Parvati and Lavender. The two witches were giddily receiving and giving small cartons that were surely filled with chocolates.

Looking around the common room, Harry spotted many more boxes and wrappers from magic brands like the ever-famous chocolate frogs, to muggle brands that one could find in London shops easily.

“That reminds me,” said Harry before taking out a small box from his robes. “Here you go, Hermione. Now, I know that you’ve told me many times before about how they are terrible for your dental hygiene but –

“I love them,” interrupted Hermione, taking the box with a smile. “I need to make sure Ronald doesn’t go about eating them.”

Harry quickly glanced at the red-head, still sitting down besides Ginny. He made sure not to turn his head, so that Ron did not know they were talking about him.

“He’s still mad, I take it?” asked Harry.

“He’s just being a jealous prat.” Hermione’s eyes then became more serious and whispered, “you brought any for Ginny?”

The black-haired wizard made a face. “I… erm… no.” He glanced back at the couch to see that Ginny was looking at him almost expectantly. “I forgot about her,” he confessed to Hermione. “I only thought of you.”

“You’re sweet,” thanked Hermione. “I just hope she takes it in good faith. She’s been… difficult, since you and Fleur got together.”

Harry sighed. “Honestly, that’s not my problem, Hermione. If she can’t get over her childhood crush then it’s none of my fault. Fleur it my girlfriend now and there’s little that can change that.”

For some reason or another, the brown-eyed witch took in a sharp breath.

“I… I understand.” Her tone was definitely a bit solemn but Harry did not know what to make of it. “I think I should go now… you should too, unless you want Fleur to start worrying.”

“I guess I should.” He gave the witch a quick peck on her cheek. “I’ll come visit you later ‘Mione… hey, where’s Neville?”

Her cheeks were flushed red a little but she still responded. “I-I think he and H-Hannah went over to Hogsmeade for the day.”

“Good for him.”

“Yes,” she muttered silently. “Good for him.”

He did not stop to talk to anyone on his way out, even though he noticed that a few of the students were quickly trying to gather enough courage to say something. It didn’t matter, there was very little for them to say that would interest him.

Going down the stairs, Harry noticed that it was a lot less crowded than when he ascended them. The usual loud conversations were replaced by mostly silence – with the exception of a couple of excited first years, of course – the dark-haired wizard was almost surprised to see a familiar figure going up the stairs.

“Susan?” he asked.

The witch did indeed turn out to be the redheaded Hufflepuff. She gasped a bit once she noticed his presence but quickly stammered out a response.

“H-Harry?!” squeaked the buxom redhead. “I’m s-sorry. I didn’t see you.”

The champion merely chuckled a bit. “No need to apologize – in fact… let me see here.” Harry rummaged once again through his pockets until he found what he was looking for: a shrunken box, similar to the one he’d given to Hermione.

He took out his wand and cast a quick enlargement spell; the box quickly returned to its normal form. The green-eyed wizard promptly handed it to a red-faced Susan.

“Hope you like them,” he said before sheepishly adding, “I guess I should have asked if you like chocolate first, but that would have ruined the surprise.”

The grey-eyed witch slowly took the gift from his hands, her face getting almost impossibly redder with each second until she managed to control herself.

“Why would yo-? I mean, thank you!” she almost exclaimed before catching her breath. “I… I don’t know if you should give me these, Harry – I mean… does Fleur know about this?”

Realization dawned on Harry. The Hufflepuff’s reactions were now beginning to make complete sense.

“Those are meant for friendship,” he said quickly. “Back in my muggle school, I always gave chocolate to every-one of my female classmates. I guess it just became a bit of a tradition with me.”

“Oh.” Her eyes looked towards the ground. “Do you consider me your friend, Harry?”

“Of course, I do,” he responded, his emerald eyes meeting her grey orbs. “I always like spending time with you. Don’t you?”

Susan’s face became red again. “Yes! Yes, I do! Thanks for the gift, Harry!” she exclaimed while hugging the box close to her left breast. “S-sorry… I’m in a bit of a hurry! I…I’m late for class!”

Harry nodded and let her pass. The redhead quickly ran towards one of the corridors in the sixth floor. She was still holding the box almost crushingly tight against her chest as she hurried towards the classrooms.

The dark-haired wizard looked on until she disappeared, letting out a sigh once Susan turned around one of the corners. He thought nothing of it until he reached the door to his room.

Odd. He was pretty sure there were no classes today.

Susan was sure that her heart would burst at any moment; it was certainly pounding hard enough that even Seamus Finnigan would notice. It was making her feel so lightheaded that she nearly forgot why she’d walked all over to the sixth floor.

‘The one at the end of the corridor. The one at the end of the corridor,’ she repeated in her mind, trying her best to take her mind off Harry.

Quite a hard thing to do when she was holding his gift so closely.

The Hufflepuff calmed herself a little by the time she reached the end of the corridor. There was a wooden door in front of her – a bit aged compared to the rest but still sturdy. She took out her wand and unlocked it and quickly looked behind her in case there were any onlookers before entering.

“You sure took your time,” came a voice from inside the abandoned room.

The redhead slowly turned around to see the elegant sight of Daphne Greengrass sitting on an expensive looking divan – a stark contrast to the drab classroom.

“Sorry,” Susan said sheepishly. “I had to deal with a dozen wizards who were asking me out to Hogsmeade. The amount chocolate I got could last me for years.”

Daphne’s face contorted into a familiar image of contempt. “Yes, quite insufferable. Very few in my house bothered because of their contempt for Muggles, but even I got some from them.” She scoffed. “As if I’d even consider accepting.”

Susan giggled. “You’re too harsh. I just told them that I’m not looking for a partner at the moment.”

The violet-eyed girl let out a sigh. “Then they’ll just ask you again next year, if not sooner. Better to say it once and for all – it’s better for everyone involved.”

The redhead walked over to Daphne slowly, almost timidly. “I suppose you’re right. You always are.”

“Of course, I am,” responded Daphne. “I’ve been having to deal with marriage proposals since the day I arrived here. They were not convinced themselves, naturally. I believe most of them were following orders from their parents.” She smirked almost cruelly. “Not an inch of spine among any of them… and they haven’t changed throughout the years, as much as they love to talk and talk about their supposed ‘ancient families’.”

“I don’t really pay much attention to how old the families are,” said Susan as she timidly sat down on the opposite end of the divan.

“Don’t be so modest,” chided the Slytherin witch. “Bones is one of the oldest ones; along with Greengrass, Longbottom, Abbott, Black –“

“Potter?” interrupted the redhead, unconsciously clutching the box closer.

“Yes… Potter. They’re not from these islands – not originally at least – they’ve always been different from us. My father does seem to talk a lot about their wealth, however.”

“Years of service to the crown will grant you that,” chirped Susan.

“You’ve done your homework,” noted Daphne, “and here I thought you didn’t care much about the old families.”

“I…” Susan trailed off, feeling that warm sensation spread to her cheeks once again.

“You only cared about Potter, didn’t you?” guessed Daphne, smugness now evident in those aristocratic features.

Susan did not respond, but she was sure that her heated face said it all. “D-Don’t look at me like you didn’t look into it too.”

“Of course, but my parents made sure that learning about the families was one of my earliest lessons.” Daphne smirked. “Don’t try to make excuses when you’re caught; you’ll only be digging deeper into your own grave.”

The buxom witch puffed her cheeks a bit. “Don’t look at me like that. You said that you like him, too.”

Gazing away from Susan, the Slytherin witch huffed arrogantly.

“I do find him attractive,” admitted Daphne. “But that does not make him any less of an ass. It just means that if I had my pick of the smoldering refuse that is the wizarding population, I’d find him to be the least offensive choice to stick his thing in me.”

She grimaced. “It has to happen at some point, right? I have to give at least one boy for House Greengrass or my family disappears… and I’ll kill myself before I let Nott or Malfoy,” she spit the name with hatred, “have the satisfaction of procreating with me, let alone one of my sisters.”

Susan shuddered at the idea of having to spend the night… procreating with the pureblood fanatics in Slytherin. It was not even about their looks – although Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe were definitely lacking in that area – even the admittedly attractive ones still carried that aura of malice that repelled her from them before they even had a chance to speak.

“He’s much better than that!” defended Susan.

Daphne sighed, turning her gaze back at the redhead. She now seemed to notice the box that Susan was still gripping close to her.

“I thought you didn’t accept gifts,” said the dark-haired witch, frowning a little before she managed to put two and two together. “It’s from Potter, isn’t it?”

Susan let out a giggle, powerless to help the tug on her lips. “He just gave them to me.”

“Why?” asked Daphne. “Doesn’t he have that French tart to content himself with?”

“Her name is Fleur,” berated Susan. “And he gave me this as a token of friendship. I’m sure he’ll give you some if you meet him today.”

Daphne snorted. “I didn’t ask for presents, I don’t need presents.”

Susan almost giggled when she shot a quick glance at the box of chocolates like a puppy that had been denied a treat.

The redhead set the box atop the table in front of the divan and opened it. She did not recognize the label, nor did the chocolate piece spring to life, meaning that it more than likely came from a Muggle shop. Not that it mattered to Susan; she had learned to appreciate Muggle products the few times her Auntie brought her something.

She picked one of the pieces and immediately gave it a taste, taking her time to savor the expensive treat. The Hufflepuff knew with taste alone that it was of high quality.

“You know, when we planned this little meeting, I did not realize that you were going to come here to stuff your face,” said Daphne.

Smirking, Susan picked a piece of white chocolate and offered it to the aristocratic witch.

“I told you that I don’t want any,” huffed Daphne yet it did not deter Susan from placing the treat right in front of her lips.

Sighing, the Slytherin beauty opened her mouth and accepted the piece of chocolate and ate it quickly. “Yes, yes. It tastes good now how about –“

Her little rant was interrupted when the redhead decided to give her another, different treat.

Warmth spread all around Susan’s body once she felt the Slytherin’s lips meeting her own. She’d had a long time since the Yule Ball to memorize Daphne’s mouth, her scent, and her tongue.

The redhead was always the more playful one. Her kisses were always passionate and eager, wanting to take as much as she could for herself.

Daphne, for her part, was always far more elegant in her affection. Her kiss was far more practiced, as if the movements were a part of a very complex dance or choreography, yet even her emotions would show from time to time.

That’s why Susan knew that beneath that cold exterior, Daphne sought affection as much as she did.

“We’re together, yes?” asked Daphne. The tone of her voice was much more vulnerable than most would imagine from the distant witch.

Susan pulled away from the close contact to see the violet-eyed girl fully.

Daphne Greengrass was so beautiful. Taller than most girls, especially when compared to Susan. Her sharp facial features were perfectly symmetrical. High cheekbones were a nod to her noble lineage, a natural rosy blush complimented them, and her hair was so dark that it almost turned a shade of blue with the right lighting.

The shorter Hufflepuff smiled softly before both their foreheads met, grey eyes meeting the Slytherin’s amethysts.

“I’m with you… for as long as you want me.”

An uncharacteristic glint appeared on Daphne’s face as she grabbed Susan by the back of the head. The buxom witch understood the message immediately and she started to go below, landing kisses all over the pale, slender neck.

Daphne had already done away with her jumper and was unbuttoning her shirt, but Susan was going even lower, down the valley of the Slytherin’s smaller breasts and unto the stomach.

The redhead was acting almost unconsciously as her fingers grasped the hem of the other witch’s skirt and she slowly pulled them down, revealing white and admittedly old-fashioned underwear.

Susan never realized that the Ice-Bitch of Slytherin could be rendered speechless until she started to have these… meetings with her. Normally, Daphne would be the first one to shoot down anyone with a jab that had the uncanny predilection of hitting right at anyone’s self-esteem but at the moment the only thing that seemed capable of coming out of her mouth were muted gasps.

“Sue?” asked the tall girl.

“Y-Yes?” Susan gasped back.

“Can you do m-me a favor?”

“Yes?”

“Call me a dirty girl.”

Susan blinked but quickly shoved it away. Two months of spending intimate time with the stunning Slytherin had made her aware that Daphne had some interesting predilections that almost always ended up in some odd request.

 The redhead grabbed the panties on both sides and pulled them down, revealing her partner’s pink folds.

“You’re a dirty girl,” purred the Hufflepuff before thrusting her tongue at Daphne’s core.

‘I hope she didn’t forget to cast the silencing charms.’

Harry had long prided himself as someone who could resist the cold far better than most of his classmates. Even though he couldn’t compete with the likes of Krum and the Durmstrang students, he still managed.

That said, it was always a nice feeling when he felt the warmth of stepping inside the confines of his cozy bedroom, especially when its other occupant was still inside.

“Welcome back, Maître.”

“Hey beautiful.” Harry looked around and noticed something was missing. “Where’s Luna?”

“She ‘ad to leave. She’s not a champion and is not excluded from ze rules like we are, mon chéri.” She sauntered over to him and gave a welcoming kiss. “I made sure she was properly dressed before she left. She said she’ll visit when she can.”

Harry chuckled. “You know… I was almost certain that she wouldn’t come back after last night. I… I really went rough on her.”

“Per’aps,” responded Fleur. “But Luna is… a little odd.”

“Little?” teased Harry.

“She’s not crazy,” responded the witch. “She just reasons everyzing ze way you and I do not. Besides,” she smirked, “we are all a little odd, aren’t we?”

“Of course.”

“Just be a little more careful next time, Maître,” she said a little more seriously.

“I know,” said Harry. “I learn everyday that I have a huge responsibility to take care of you.”

“Oui,” acknowledged Fleur. “Zat is why I prefer to submit to you when it comes to ze bedroom, mon chéri. Feeling jealous?”

“You kidding?” joked Harry. “I always wanted to be trusted as deeply as you trust in me. Thank you, beautiful.”

“Bien!” exclaimed the silver-haired Veela before going back to the bed. Harry finally noticed that she was wearing the same rubber underwear that he’d gifted her and nothing else. She had also opted to don her collar.

“By the way.” He revealed a few letters that he’d hidden inside his robes. “I picked up your mail too. Thought you’d appreciate not having to go through the Scottish winter for them.”

“You are too good to your lowly slave, Maître,” teased Fleur before grabbing the letters that had her name on them.

Harry stretched his limbs tiredly before sitting down on the couch, right in front of the small fireplace that kept the room warm enough for Fleur to not complain about the cold weather.

He didn’t have to wait long for said French witch to sit down besides him, laying down at the opposite and placing her legs atop his. It was enough for him to remember that the only one that hadn’t had any sexual gratification that morning was him.

Still, he reigned his instincts in and merely let his hands explore her legs. The dark-haired wizard looked at the small in front of them and noticed that the book Luna had gifted him was still there.

‘I’ve been meaning to read this,’ he thought, grabbing the leather-bound tome. It was best that the next in line to be the Lord of House Potter and House Black knows at least the basics of Magical Society.

The first chapter detailed the history of marriages of old, where Celtic customs still reigned in the Isles. Naturally, House Potter never engaged in these practices, but he kept on reading anyway.

He was halfway through the second chapter when Fleur stirred in surprise.

“Zut!” exclaimed Fleur as she held on to one of the letters. “Gabby caught ze flu and she says zat she won’t be able to come see us.” She set the parchment down, visibly upset. “Oh, mon cheri… I really wanted you to meet ‘er.”

Harry put his arm around her. “There will be another time,” he assured, “I did not have it in my plans to stop seeing you after the second task.” He lightly grabbed her face. “Or the third… nor after this whole thing is finished.”

Fleur grinned before she pecked at his lips. “I do not intend to leave you, Maître. I am afraid zat you are stuck wiz me for quite some time.”

“I can think of far worse predicaments, beautiful.”

Their lips met and Harry forgot about life-threatening tasks and old-fashioned marriage customs. His hands immediately started to explore the Veela’s half-nude body.

The shyness of the previous months had been slowly chipping away. Nowadays he was quite comfortable with letting his hands wander as much as he wanted. The side effect was that the arousal he tried to ignore earlier was coming back with a vengeance.

Fleur was more than happy to be touched, however. That is, if her moans were any indication. She even thrust her chest at him. He quickly passed his hands over the light blue rubber and boldly let his fingers explore underneath the fetish underwear, where her nipples were hard as a nub.

“Oui, Maître… your French Veela slave is ‘ere for you,” moaned Fleur as she started to slip further and further down. Confused, Harry never broke the kiss until she was kneeling on the floor in front of him.

“Erm… Fleur?” he asked the silver-haired witch. “What are you doing?”

The French witch said nothing but the mischievous look she was giving him was enough to know that she wanted more than a simple kiss.

Fleur’s breath started to quicken as her hands slowly grabbed the zipper on his pants.

“Fleur?” he asked, quite aware of the fact that the crotch area of his pants now looked like it was sporting a tent.

The beautiful Veela hummed, “Poor Maître. Me and Luna ‘ad an amazing morning. Our ‘Arry made us feel ze most amazing zings while he ‘ad to ignore ‘is urges. I zink Maître needs to take more advantage of ‘is girls, non?”

Harry tried to come up with a reply but could only stare as Fleur started to undo the zipper and nervously dug inside to extract his now fully erect member.

“I told you, beautiful,” he responded, finally regaining his wits. “I want our first time to be special.”

Fleur giggled. “Silly Maître. Zere are more ways your Fleur can give you pleasure. I am your slave, oui?”

The Potter heir felt pretty dumb now. Given his girlfriends posture it was pretty clear what she planning to do. Quickly shoving his nervousness aside, he gave a firm nod.

The blue-eyed witch grinned slowly as she tore her gaze from Harry and concentrated fully on the dark-haired wizard’s tool.  She visibly wet her lips slowly as if she was looking at a savory treat. Gingerly, Fleur slowly opened her mouth and gave his tool an experimental lick.

Harry did his best to compose himself but could still hear himself breathing far more heavily than before. The moment Fleur’s tongue came into contact with the tip of his cock, he took in a sharp breath.

If there was any hesitation on Fleur’s side, it soon melted away. She began by using her tongue far more boldly than before, exploring more and more of his cock with the soft, pink muscle.

It didn’t take long for her to find out that the most sensitive area was the tip, and soon it became the center of her attention.

Eventually, after a few minutes of using her tongue, Fleur’s mouth opened and she engulfed his entire tip with her mouth. Harry was pretty sure that she was inexperienced but he didn’t care for that. At that moment, Harry James Potter was convinced that he was in heaven.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered while he looked at the coals burning in the fireplace. His right hand sought her head and almost unconsciously started to pet her long silver tresses. ‘My beautiful, naughty French girl.’

Fleur never stopped with her ministrations. Once she got used to having him in her mouth, she started to go deeper and deeper, stopping only when it seemed that she needed to get accustomed to his size before trying again.

“You’re amazing, beautiful,” he gasped almost deliriously. He couldn’t barely believe how good it felt.

The statement seemed to encourage Fleur, as her speed suddenly picked up, and before he knew it, the tip of her nose was touching his pubis.

“Sweet Merlin,” groaned Harry as the kneeling Veela started to use her tongue once again, this time all over the underside of his cock. This, combined with the sensation of Fleur starting to suck like a vacuum was almost enough for him to explode then and there.

Still, he suddenly heard Fleur gurgling a bit before she quickly withdrew in order to take a deep breath of air, leaving his member feeling relatively cold now that it was no longer engulfed by the witch’s warm mouth.

That did not last for long though. As soon as she had regained her breath, Fleur opened her mouth again and inserted his cock back inside, this time going deep. She began to bob her head back and forth, using her tongue much more eagerly than before.

Harry almost didn’t notice that he had now firmly grasped the French Veela’s silver hair and was gently forcing her head to take more and more of him with each push. Finally, the overwhelming pleasure became too much to handle and he quickly let out a warning.

“I’m… I’m going to –“ He could not finish the sentence but Fleur seemed to understand all the same. She stopped her ministrations and withdrew until only the head stayed in her mouth.

The restrained excitement of the previous days was relieved in one single, long moment. He felt his essence burst out of the tip of his cock and directly into Fleur’s mouth.

The silver-haired champion did not budge in the least, taking his entire release without any complaint. When he was sure that it was over, he finally let go of her hair, signaling to the kneeling witch that it was done.

Fleur seemed did not say anything for the next few moments, her mouth still housing his seed, as if debating what to do with it.

It did not take long for her to make a decision. Harry soon saw that she started to slowly swallow, her eyes closed as she breathed calmly.

She opened her sapphire orbs for a few seconds to look at the dark-haired wizard. Harry could immediately see the small smile reach those beautiful blue eyes before she laid her head down on his lap.

The Potter heir immediately picked up the kneeling witch and laid her on the couch. Sitting down beside her and laying her head back on his lap again. He did not say anything, but expressed his thanks by caressing her silver hair.

He spent the next few hours like that, letting his beautiful submissive rest while he forgot all his worries. In the back of his mind, he tried to remember the book that was now at his side; vaguely recalling that he was on the brink of getting to some pretty interesting information but Harry chose to leave it for the moment.

Talks of marriage could wait. After all, it wasn’t like there was some mind-blowing revelation awaiting him.

Certainly not.

He was too young to think of such things.

Sometimes, Harry Potter believed that mother nature (or whatever deity ruled the weather) made its presence known as if to protest a particular event. In this case, it seemed like that omnipresent presence seemed to protest the existence of the Triwizard Tournament by reserving one of the coldest temperatures in the past two months to the day of the Second Task.

Fleur had been the first to notice, complaining even more than usual about how unbearably cold it was after they met for one last time before going to prepare for the upcoming event.

After Valentine’s Day, Fleur had to return once again to the carriage. As before, Madame Maxime had been more demanding and the fear that one night the Beauxbatons Headmistress might open the door to her prize student’s room and find an empty bed was too much of a risk for the Veela.

Luna had been pretty busy as well, and if Harry was being honest with himself, he was still uncomfortable with the idea of being alone with the blonde Ravenclaw.

Despite Fleur knowing – and being the main instigator – of their relationship, Harry still felt like he would be cheating on his French girlfriend if he spent some time alone with Luna Lovegood. It’s something that he would need to get used to if the three of them were to keep their current relationship.

He really did not wish to hurt Luna in any way.

“You’re prepared, then?” asked Hermione. There was definitely nervousness in her voice. There had always been a hint since their first year but this was the first time that the bright witch could do nothing to stop what was about to come.

“I’m fine, Hermione. You know I always come back,” he responded with a slight bit of arrogance.

Hermione furrowed her brows. “Don’t get cocky Harry. Just because you’re in first place does not mean that –“

“Hermione,” he said a little bit more forcefully this time, “I’m going to be fine. You know that I’m going to be fine.”

The brown-eyed witch looked at the floor and for a moment it seemed like she was going to reply before she was interrupted by a new presence.

“Ms. Granger?” came the voice of Professor McGonagall, who was standing right behind both of them.

Hermione immediately turned around to face the Deputy Headmistress. “Yes, Professor?” she declared respectfully.

“We require your presence now, Ms. Granger for… that thing we discussed earlier. Are you still willing to go forward with your decision?”

The Gryffindor witch nodded quickly, with a little blush tinting her cheeks. “I do… just give me a minute.”

Professor McGonagall nodded and started to walk confidently over to the Hufflepuff table.

Harry looked back at Hermione. “What was that about?”

Hermione’s cheeks reddened just a little bit more before she quickly hugged him tightly. Harry was a little surprised but he returned the embrace, matching the brown-haired girl’s strength with his own.

“If you die out there,” Hermione whispered into his ear, “I’ll kill you.”

Harry let out a chortle. “Well I wouldn’t want that. Better make sure I come back safe and sound.”

“You better,” responded Hermione, her tone almost a mixture between demanding and pleading.

Once the hug ended, Hermione picked up her bag and strode over to where the Professor’s table was set, eventually entering through the same door Harry had gone through the day when he was picked out to be a champion by the goblet.

The green-eyed wizard bit his lip and sat back down to the table to finish the food on his plate. His attention was now focused entirely on Fleur, who was still eating a light breakfast. Oddly enough, her friends were nowhere to be seen, there was only Cho Chang; at her other side, however, was Luna.

Taking one last glance, he stood up and was about to leave the hallway when a rough sounding voice interrupted him.

“Potter!”

Harry turned around to see Viktor Krum marching towards him, along with a pretty, dark-haired woman that was holding hands with the Bulgarian seeker.

“Krum,” he greeted back. “Ready for the task?”

“Da. I vill be beating you today. I hope you liked being number one,” responded the Durmstrang champion before he introduced the witch at his side.

“This is girlfriend, Lena,” declared Krum. “She came by to see me beat you.”

Lena gave a cool smile before greeting Harry. “Pleased to meet you. Viktor has been talking about beating you in Quidditch. I never understood the sport myself,” she said. Unlike Krum, she barely had an accent.

“You and Hermione would get along fine,” said Harry. “She’s Muggleborn, so she’s not that much into Wizarding sports.”

Lena nodded. “Seems your friend and I share something in common – I’m also Muggleborn.”

“You’d really get along well then,” joked the Gryffindor champion.

“Yes,” she mused before taking a glance to her watch. “Sorry, but I have to go.”

Harry nodded; both he and Krum watched Lena quickly walk back to the Great Hall.

“I told you I would only borrow Hermy-own-ninny for one night,” said Krum, his eyes never leaving the sight of his girlfriend.

“Hermione’s not…” he protested. “I have a girlfriend already. You know that.”

Krum gave him an amused look before he muttered something in Bulgarian and walked towards the main entrance. He’d most likely go to prepare.

‘I must go prepare as well.’

The first task was meant to be a surprise. Not that it mattered since almost all of the champions knew what they were going to be facing but the fact of the matter was that the unwritten rule was that none of them were aware of the fact that they’d be going up against dragons.

This upcoming task was different. Not only were they given a tool that would assist them in knowing their next challenge, but Ludo Bagman himself mentioned that the egg held a clue.

In short, proper preparation for the first task was more than likely against the rule. If one champion were to show up ready to face a dragon then it’d go against the rules. For the second task, they were more than likely supposed to show up prepared.

The fact that he’d be expected to swim under the Black Lake in mid-February further cemented that.

Despite the colder than average day, the signs of thawing were visible on the ground. Where it was once covered by white snow, it was now slightly slippery with dark, cold mud. Harry was thankful that he chose to wear boots.

By the time he arrived, both Krum and Cedric were already inside the champions’ tent. He nodded at them before sitting on one of the chairs, awaiting the arrival of Ludo Bagman.

It didn’t take long for Fleur to arrive; cursing what Harry assumed to be either the mud, the cold, or the fact that he’d ordered her not to orgasm until they met once again. Maybe there was another reason, but he was not familiar enough with the French language to know exactly what.

Nevertheless, she seemed to compose herself once inside and sent Harry a quick smile before sitting beside him.

Harry didn’t even have time to talk to Fleur they were called outside, where Ludo Bagman awaited alongside Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and Professor Dumbledore.

The seats had been slowly filled throughout the morning and were now almost completely occupied by Hogwarts students, with the darker uniforms of Durmstrang taking one side and the light blue of Beauxbatons taking another.

The crowd cheered loudly once the champions appeared, but the names where sometimes mixed up. Harry could not help but get quite an ego boost once he saw that the black dragon of the Potters was far more prominent than it had been in the previous task. Most of Gryffindor sported it, and even a few Ravenclaws.

Almost all of Hufflepuff still cheered for Cedric of course.

Slytherin cheered for no one.

“Right then!” exclaimed Bagman in his usual excited tone. “I believe that everyone has prepared efficiently?”

All of the champions nodded, Harry included.

“Good-o! Very well then! Take your positions at the edge of the pier and wait for the signal!” ordered Bagman.

Harry and the rest of the champions did as they’ve been instructed. Most of them shed their outer clothing on the way, something that probably explained why their audience had suddenly gone silent for just a moment.

The crowd’s attention – the male half, at least – was fixed entirely on one part of the proceedings: the sight of Fleur Delacour wearing a bathing suit.

The term “bathing suit” may have been a misnomer. It was a swimming garment that covered her entire body with the exception of her feet, hands, and everything above her neck. Made out of neoprene, Fleur had been busy last week in enchanting it with warming charms. Something Harry made sure to emulate.

Judging by their looks, the crowed was definitely disappointed, at least a little. When they’d been told that the second task involved water, they had doubtlessly envisioned the sight of Fleur Delacour wearing a revealing outfit, and were instead greeted with the sight of her covered from ankle to neck in the admittedly tight suit.

Still, he was at least satisfied that it would probably be the closest thing his classmates would see to a revealed Fleur – a sight that he was now enjoying in private almost daily.

‘Enjoy it while you can. She’s mine… not yours… never yours.’

Harry took off his own clothes until he was only in a similar neoprene swimsuit. Unlike Fleur’s, which was a combination of dark and light blue, his was black and red.

Looking at his side, Harry saw that Krum and Cedric were not as well equipped as he and Fleur. That did not mean that they came unprepared, however. He was pretty sure that the Hufflepuff champion and the Bulgarian seeker had something up their sleeve to prevent some life-threatening hypothermia.

The Gryffindor champion only had a few seconds to look at his competition before Ludo Bagman raised his Sonorus enhanced voice.

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One… two… three!

Upon hearing the shrill sound of Bagman’s whistle, Harry immediately plunged into the Black Lake. The water was indeed cold, as would be expected from the Scottish Highlands near the end of February.

Still, Fleur’s charms worked like… well like a charm, and his body kept relatively warm.

Keeping his body warm was one thing, but he still needed to find a way to breathe underwater. Luckily for him, he managed to spend the last few days taking Ancient Runes teachings quite seriously.

Especially when you always could break into the forbidden section and check out some of the more advanced books.

Harry dug his fingers inside a little utility belt that came along with the suit. Along with fishing out his wand he took out a small, brass tube.

It was an odd little thing that one might bring to a life or death situation, yet Harry knew that it was perfect for his purposes. On the side of the cylindrical metal object was a small hole, big enough to for the tip of thumb to enter with some difficulty.

Quickly, the Potter heir bit into the brass tube, with the orifice firmly inside his mouth and took a deep breath of clean air.

If one were to take a closer look at the insignificant tube, they would find out that it had been inscribed with air runes. Even with all his efforts, Harry had only managed to fit in thirty minutes worth of oxygen into the small tube.

He made sure to pack three, just in case.

With the respiratory situation finally solved, he pointed his wand in front of him and quickly thought of the words for the other secret he’d hidden under his sleeve.

‘Echolos!’ he chanted internally, and his senses were suddenly assaulted with odd noises all around him.

The purpose of the spell had been quite simple: echolocation.

Sirius had mentioned how a Muggleborn acquaintance of his was deeply entranced by dolphins and their uncanny ability to detect things underwater. So much so that she had managed to create a spell that did it’s best to mimic the way those underwater creatures used their senses to see.

Once Harry had gotten used to the slight sensory overload, he started to detect the most important things. In front of him were three figures, one of which was trailing slower than others, as if unwilling to leave something behind.

‘Fleur.’

Steeling himself, the youngest champion used all of his strength to propel himself towards the presence. Every few seconds he’d cast the spell again to see if he could detect any more details that would help him complete the task.

It wasn’t long until he manages to detect a new presence.

A lot of presences, in fact.

All of them headed straight for Fleur.

If he’d left some energy in reserve, it was certainly being used now. Harry strained the muscles of his arms and legs until he finally reached the French Veela.

Once he did manage to get around the overgrown reeds his eyes were greeted by the image of Fleur being assaulted from all sides by grindylows – tiny horned water demos known for their mischievous cruelty.

Fleur herself was fighting as best she could, trying to prevent the grindylows from tearing at her Bubblehead Charm. Even with the speed she was throwing spells, however; they were too many to handle.

Angered, Harry immediately took out his own wand and cast a cutting charm towards one of the loathsome water creatures, killing it instantly.

Fleur immediately looked back at the source of the spell and their eyes met for a brief, blurry second before the both of them started to cast almost all of their repertoire of offensive spells at the horned pests.

By the end, Harry did not know just how many minutes had passed. It was all just so fast that the ability to detect the passage of time was gone. The grindylows seemed to have had enough after seeing many of their own either injured or killed and decided to finally leave and pester something else.

Turning around, Harry finally took his time to watch Fleur, who was breathing deeply after the ordeal. Briefly, he remembered the day when she was attacked… she looked just as defiant now as she did back then.

Slowly, she turned around to face him… and after seemingly floating towards Harry, she finally let go of her defensive posture and embraced him.

‘She never surrenders to any challenge,’ Harry thought to himself. ‘Only to me.’

The dark-haired wizard momentarily forgot what was happening around him. All that mattered was the fact that Fleur was alive and well, no longer in danger from whatever man or beast wanted to harm his lovely French witch.

After spending a few seconds finding comfort in one another, he gently started to let go. Fortunately, Fleur seemed to understand the need to continue on with the task.

Raising his wand, he cast the echolocation charm once again and paid close attention to whatever he could perceive around him.

The grindylows seemed to be disappearing in the distance, the beats of their hearts were quite easy to detect. Sensing further, he finally found what he was looking for.

One of the presences was far more aggressive than the other, and was quickly and short-temperedly looking around almost all around. The other was far calmer, and swiftly approaching towards a place where more activity was clearly evident.

‘Krum, without a doubt. The other one must be Cedric.’

Gazing back at Fleur, he nodded towards the direction where he sensed the older Hogwarts champion and they both started to advance together, making sure to not separate this time around.

Harry did not care if he lost this task anymore as long; as long as Fleur was safe, he didn’t care if he came dead last.

Just before he managed to reach the place where the number of presences peaked, Harry noticed that it was getting harder to draw oxygen from the tube. Thinking fast, he took it out of his mouth and fished inside his utility belt in order to find another of the cylindrical brass objects and took a deep breath before continuing towards the destination.

He was about to reach through the overgrown algae when he heard a what sounded almost whispers. Upon further inspection, it was a haunting mersong.

“An hour long you’ll have to look,

And to recover what we took…

… your time’s half gone, so tarry not

Lest what you seek stays here to rot…”

Immediately after the vaguely threatening verse ended, both Harry and Fleur were treated to the sight of dozens of merpeople that seemed to in and out of their caves to leer at the couple. At his side, the wizard felt his girlfriend grab his hand tightly while they both swam further inside the colony.

The underwater onlookers seemed to increase in number as they swam towards the center of the subterranean city, until there were so many that any place one was to look at would be filled with the gray-skinned creatures.

Eventually, Harry noticed that the haunting song was being chanted by a choir of merpeople that were situated around a giant statue of a merman. Attached to its tail, were four figures that were instantly recognizable.

At the far left was a figure that he recognized as Lena – Viktor Krum’s girlfriend. At her right was Cho Chang, more than likely Cedric was meant to retrieve her.

Despite the cold water, Harry could feel himself burning up in anger once he saw the final two figures that were bound to the stone tail.

Short, crimson hair was the first thing he noticed, along with a pretty heart-shaped face. Susan Bones looked awfully pale, a far cry from her usually red-tinted cheeks.

She looked like she was dead; the little air bubbles leaving her mouth were the only evidence of life.

Harry felt Fleur’s hand tighten around his, at first it seemed like a plea so that he didn’t take out his wand and immediately throw a curse towards the merpeople but upon looking at her face, he saw that the French Veela was also looking in anger at the sight.

Once he fully noticed the final figure, he was pretty sure that if Fleur were not there to calm him down, he would have gone to Azkaban for murdering an entire merfolk colony.

Hermione looked almost peaceful, like she was sleeping, but deep-down Harry could not shake the image of the dark days when his brown-haired friend was petrified by the basilisk in their second year.

Deep down, he did take comfort at the fact that Hermione looked a bit more serene than the horrified expression she had when she’d almost been murdered by Salazar Slytherin’s legacy.

After a few seconds of staring, Harry saw Fleur swimming swiftly towards the bound hostages. He soon followed her, his eyes almost never leaving Hermione’s form.

Looking closer, the bright witch looked almost peaceful as she lay tied to the rock. Deep down, Harry knew that very few people would have believed that the usually strict and uptight Hermione Granger could look so calm and peaceful. Even less could imagine that she’d been bound with what looked like green rope made out of strong underwater flora.

‘I think I’m the only one who has ever seen her like this. She looks so…’ His mind couldn’t come up with an appropriate word. Perhaps there was no word to describe the way Hermione was at the moment.

Ignoring any more thoughts, Harry’s attention turned towards Fleur and Susan. The silver-haired witch was clearly concerned about the Hufflepuff, bound just like Hermione was with the green, rope-like restraints. As if in unison, both champions aimed their wands at the ropes – making sure that the hostages themselves were outside the line of fire – and shot a weak severing charm in order to cut them.

It took several tries with the charm until both Hermione and Susan were free, and once they were, Harry and Fleur both took hold of them and prepared to rise to the surface.

The dark-haired wizard hesitated at the last moment, realizing that if both of them left now, they’d be leaving both Lena and Cho behind.

Despite knowing that both Cedric and Krum were capable enough to of arriving soon – a quick casting of the echolocation charm was enough to confirm that – Harry did not have inside him to leave the remaining two hostages behind with the merpeople.

‘Lest what you seek stays here to rot…’

He noticed Fleur pointing upwards, turned his gaze towards the bound figures and shook his head.

The Veela looked conflicted for just a moment, looking at Susan for a few seconds as if to check if there was anything wrong aside before sighing closing her eyes and nodding.

Harry looked back appreciatively at Fleur, knowing that she wanted nothing more than to leave the cold lake as quickly as possible not only to win the match, but also to escape the cold.

Suddenly, there was a small disturbance happening behind them. Harry turned around to see some of the mermen holding spears against him and Fleur.

“Leave!” one of them hissed. “You take your hostage and leave!”

The Potter heir shook his head and pointed at the two remaining hostages.

“They are not for you to take, earth dweller!” snarled another merman who had joined the first two. “You will leave!”

Harry shook his head slowly, staying as put as he could and keeping a tight grip on Hermione.

More and more mermen were slowly surrounding the pair of champions, holding their weapons tightly, looking like they were just waiting for an excuse to use them against the outsiders.

From the corner of his eye, he peered at Fleur and saw that she too was holding steady, keeping a strong hold of Susan while her other hand clutched the elegant wand. Harry knew that she was at a disadvantage underwater but that did not seem to deter the French witch even slightly.

Just as the situation was reaching its fever pitch, Cedric approached through the same way that Harry and Fleur had come through.

The Hufflepuff champion did not even afford a glance at either Harry or Fleur; he was too concentrated on Cho. Once he arrived, he took out a knife, cut away at the ropes with a delicate swiftness, and pulled her upward out of sight.

Once the distraction was gone, the previous tension between earth and water dwellers slowly began to resume. It would have continued if some of the younger ones didn’t start to panic slightly once a new figure came into view.

It was an oddly monstrous sight at first – like it came from the pages of a really bad Silver Age comic book: a human body in swimming trunks with the head of a shark… and with the temper to match the latter as well once it saw the last hostage.

‘Krum,’ realized Harry. ‘Guess he’s also none too pleased to his girlfriend strapped to an underground rock in the middle of the lake.’

The partially transfigured Bulgarian dashed at Lena and tried to free her from the ropes with his new, razor-sharp teeth unsuccessfully.

‘He’s going to rip her in half if he doesn’t stop!’

Suddenly, Fleur raised her wand and pointed it at the ropes. She cast one last severing charm, freeing the dark-haired witch from the rock.

Just like Cedric as before him, Krum quickly snatched Lena and raced towards the surface, leaving the last two champions alone without a second glance.

Now that the everyone was gone, Harry took one last glance at the underwater colony. ‘Time to leave.’ His gaze turned towards Fleur and gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Despite the situation, she looked like she was giggling.

‘I must teach her to not diss the classics,’ Harry mentally grumbled.

Swimming was a little more difficult while having to hold on to Hermione but his training had made sure that carrying the additional weight didn’t give him much trouble.

“Never tell her that,” Harry could imagine Sirius saying. “If there is one universal touchy subject with women from all walks of life, it’s weight.”

The light started to get brighter and brighter. Before he knew it, the surface seemed to be just twenty meters away… fifteen… ten. The water got slightly warmer as well, yet even then it was extremely cold.

As soon as Harry broke through the last wall of water, he almost spit out the tube in order to breathe in fresh, cold air. Less than a second later, Fleur emerged as well, sputtering out any droplets that clung to her face.

Whatever spell had been set on Hermione and Susan dispelled as soon as they came into contact with oxygen.

Harry felt Hermione gasp desperately, clinging onto him tightly. Oddly enough, she didn’t seem to notice the cold water. Perhaps the work of an extremely powerful heating charm?

Susan was also clinging onto Fleur, her previously pale face now returned to its usual healthy tone. In fact, as she was taking comfort in the arms of the French Veela, the red-haired Hufflepuff was even redder than usual.

“You’re alive!” Hermione interrupted, apparently forgetting their predicament and hugging him just as tightly as she did during breakfast.

“I was afraid that you’d kill me,” joked Harry, “and I wouldn’t let you rot down there. I’m pretty sure your parents would kill me.”

“Oh, Harry,” said Hermione. “You didn’t really believe that song, did you? You really think Dumbledore would let us drown? The threat was only meant to urge to complete the task as swiftly as possible.”

“This is a school that has thrown mountain trolls, dementors, dragons, and basilisks at us,” deadpanned Harry. “I think a healthy dose of paranoia is more than warranted.”

Hermione grumbled. “Point taken.”

“As much as I would love to ‘ear about your adventures,” interjected Fleur, still holding onto an embarrassed Susan, “I believe zat we ‘ave a task to complete, mon chéri.”

“Right,” Harry responded sheepishly.

“Ah!” gasped Susan, as if suddenly snapping out of a dream. “Thank you, Fleur… Harry.”

“Eet was nozzing. I couldn’t let a pretty girl down zere all alone. Belisama knows zat beauty and grace are rare enough in zis forsaken island,” said Fleur while swimming towards the shore, unaware of the way her words made Susan turn an even deeper red.

Hermione looked like she wanted to respond but a small nudge from Harry prevented that. Sighing, she too began to swim towards the shore, where the crowd was waiting… along with some twenty or so merfolk.

Once they reached land, they were beset by the familiar sight of a fussy Madam Pomfrey.

“Come here – all of you,” she commanded before wrapping them in tight blankets and giving them a hot potion.

They sat in silence for a few seconds, none of them seemed to want to speak either out of exhaustion or embarrassment until – to Harry’s utter amazement – it was Susan who broke the silence.

“Erm… I’m sorry F-Fleur,” stuttered the redhead. “They told me your sister got sick and… well.” She looked like she was trying to find the right words to say, but her blush just kept on intensifying with every second.

“They didn’t have anyone to be your hostage – except for Harry – but he was going to be competing as well… since you danced with me at the ball…”

“Non. Don’t be ashamed,” responded Fleur. “I am zankful zat you decided to go participate. At least I know you. Alzough… I am surprised zat zey didn’t ask my friends.”

“There was no time. I was a last-minute replacement,” muttered Susan. “They only found out about your sister yesterday night… and your friends were nowhere to be found this morning.”

“Ahh… zey ‘ave been sneaking in ze morning to zat leetle town. Zey say ze food is better zere.” Fleur looked at Harry. “By ze way, mon chéri. You still ‘ave not taken me zere for a date.”

“I’ll take you there soon. It’s a promise,” said Harry.

“Yes… well… that’s why I was there,” finished Susan.

“I was lucky. You are easier to carry around zan Monique, Amelie or Clemence.”

Harry couldn’t help grin a bit at seeing Susan sputter a bit before looking at the ground.

He looked at his side to meet Hermione’s eyes. She tore her gaze away almost immediately, as if she were surveying the area behind him.

“I guess I should thank you as well,” said Harry. “I… well… if it really was voluntary, I’d never imagine you’d accept to go down there.”

“They were going to ask Ron after me,” informed Hermione. “If that prat qualifies then so do I.”

Harry snorted a laugh. “Thanks for that,” he said before swatting above her hair. Hermione sent him an odd look. “Water beetle,” he responded.

For some odd reason, both of them started to giggle… then it turned to chuckles so infectious that Fleur couldn’t help but add her own musical laughter to the mix. Even Susan surrendered to the atmosphere by smiling.

“Harry? Ms. Delacour?” interrupted Bagman, who chose that moment to appear before the participants. “They will be giving the score in a few minutes! Please come along!”

Harry nodded and stood up. “I’ll see you when this is done,” he said to Hermione before leaving with Fleur.

“You ‘ave great friends,” commented Fleur.

“I do,” responded Harry. “Sorry.”

“For what, mon chéri?”

“I… it was dumb,” said Harry. “I should have known that nothing would happen. I dragged us both down.”

Fleur hand grabbed his and they looked at each other’s eyes. “Non… I will not ‘ave you blaming yourself for zat. Eet was a noble zing to do.”

“But…” protested Harry. “I’ve sunk your chances of winning now. We came in last!”

Fleur let out a dignified giggle “Oh, silly Maître,” she said. “I joined zis tournament because I wanted to be seen as somezing more zan a pretty face. I know zat I cannot change the opinons of everyone, but I ‘oped zat I would be able to find some meaning in ‘ere.” She looked at him. “I already found somezing else… somezing more zan a silly tournament.”

“Fleur?”

“You mean more to me zan any tournament, mon amour. Ze fact zat you chose to stay until everyone was safe makes me glad zat I picked you. Eet means zat I made ze right choice.”

Harry scratched the back of his head. “Well… that’s something I guess.”

“Just promise to reward your Fleur later, Maître. I’m so cold zat ze leather sleepsack looks quite warm and comfortable now.”

Harry subtly pinched her bum. “Naughty girl.”

“Your naughty girl, Maître.”

Ludo Bagman’s voice suddenly erupted, silencing all other conversations.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows…”

“Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour.” Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd; Harry saw Cho give Cedric a glowing look. “We therefore award him forty-eight points.”

‘If Cedric came in after the time limit, that most certainly means all of us did as well. Even so, it seems that Diggory has this tournament in the bag now.’

At his side, Harry noticed Hermione opted to join the announcements rather than stay behind with Madam Pomfrey. She was dragging a still flustered Susan behind her… who herself was accompanied by…

“Daphne?!” Harry asked.

“Potter,” drawled Daphne. “You live. Now I have to deal with Malfoy being even more insufferable until he assures us all of your impending demise in the third task.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” responded Harry.

“I’ve come to expect that out of Gryffindors,” snarked Daphne.

“Oh, would keep quiet?!” snapped Hermione.

Daphne looked down at the brown-haired witch. “I’m not the one shouting like Knockturn Alley street vendor, Granger.”

“You –“

“Calm down, both of you,” said Harry.

Hermione and Daphne continued to glare at each other but said nothing as Bagman continued to reveal the scores.

“Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points.”

The Durmstrang students roared their approval as Krum raised his hand triumphantly. Besides the famous seeker, Lena smiled while grabbing his arm.

“Harry Potter and Fleur Delacour were the last to arrive.” Bagman continued. “Well outside the time limit… however,” he interjected.

“Ms. Delacour must be commended with her masterful use of the Bubble-Head Charm. Mr. Potter on the other hand, employed his advanced knowledge of Ancient Runes to great effect. Such a feat is beyond his current year. He also used a quite odd charm that allowed him to detect life-forms underwater.”

“The Merchieftaness also informs us that Mr. Potter and Ms. Delacour were the first to reach the hostages and the delay was due to their determination to see that all the hostages returned to safety, including Ms. Chang and Ms. Romanova,” announced Bagman.

“That is not all! The Merchieftaness also mentions the fact that both Mr. Potter and Ms. Delacour came across a particularly nasty school of grindylows and with their combined forces, managed to repel them efficiently.”

“Most of the judges,” Bagman gave Karkaroff a disapproving glance, “feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. Their final score is forty-five!”

Harry’s supporters and the Beauxbatons delegation started to cheer loudly at the announcement. The crowd members wearing black and red were roaring unintelligibly but enthusiastically. Fleur’s friends were chanting in French.

“Congratulations!” exclaimed Hermione giving him a third hug for the day. “Tied with Cedric… you’re actually going to win!”

“Yes, yes… win eternal glory,” mocked Daphne. “Eternal glory apparently means your name being marked on a book nobody ever reads and being mentioned by Professor Binns in a class nobody ever pays attention to… oh, there’s that little money prize too! What is it? A thousand galleons? How quaint; just imagine how much knock-off jewelry you can purchase with that.”

“Daphne, please,” pleaded Susan and to Harry’s surprise, the Slytherin witch huffed and stopped talking.

“Maitre?” whispered Fleur. “Next time you want to punish me, remember zat zere are witches zat deserve eet a lot more zan your lovely Fleur.”

“Duly noted.”

“The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June,” continued Bagman. “The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions.”

It was over, Harry thought, as they were herded back towards the castle… was only one task left. One last challenge before he could commit himself fully to his personal life.

“I guess you’ll want the shower?” asked Harry.

“I see no reason you can’t join, mon chéri,” responded Fleur. “I do want a warm bed… and a collar on my neck… and a Maître to sleep wiz… ze orgasm you promised me can wait for tomorrow.”

Harry smirked. “I’m sure I can provide.”

AN: Late chapter again, hope it was worth it.

I decided to come up with a spell called Echolos, which is meant to mimic a dolphin’s ability of echolocation.

Belisama is a Gaulish goddess, her name meaning “brightest one”. Gaul is the name given by the Romans to the geographic area that today is mostly compromised by modern day France. I thought that having Fleur invoke Merlin’s name like many others do wouldn’t really fit since Merlin or Myrddin is a native to the British Isles.

To any artist out there, you are welcome to do fanart if you’re inspired to do so.

If you like the story, please leave a review, I love listening to some feedback. It’s also great if you wanna have a conversation.

I have a Discord server where you can get into contact with me more directly. Be aware that it can be a bit NSFW compared to other servers.

Link: FEKnu79

Chapter 15: Living a Lie

“Harry Potter” belongs to J.K. Rowling

AN: I want to extend my thanks to the great members of my Discord server, who have helped me with the writing of the chapter itself, but also re-igniting my passion for this.

Special thanks go to Meneldur, who has not only aided me with the crafting and editing of this chapter, but also the story as a whole.

I would also like to inform my readers who are interested in BDSM of another great fic by Rtnwriter. Most know him as the author of “Soul Scars” but he also has another fic in AO3 called “Two Little Words”. It’s exceptional and even better written than this one.

Another great writer is Neptune20, who has two BDSM fics: “The Brightest Witch” and “For Every Day After”. Both are Harry/Hermione, the first one is with Harry as the dom, the latter is with Hermione as the dom.

With that out of the way, please enjoy the chapter!

“Dialogue”

‘Thoughts’

“Foreign Language”

A Godfather’s Promise

Chapter XIV: Living a Lie

The air seemed less cold than before. At least that is what Harry believed. Sure, there was still snow – It was still technically winter – but he definitely felt a sense of warmth that had not been there since the early days of November.

Then again, walking through Hogsmeade hand in hand with a gorgeous French witch would make anyone feel a little hotter.

“Here it is,” Harry announced, opening a door for Fleur.

Word around Hogwarts said that the best place to take your significant other to a date was Madam Puddifoot’s in Hogsmeade. Once he managed to peer inside, Harry’s world was immediately assaulted with bright colors.

The walls were painted in a mixture of blue and pink. Bows of the latter color were splayed everywhere; the walls, the tables, the chairs, even the windows. There were many other details that were so comparatively subtle that it passed his mind. In the end, the only way Harry could describe the setting was overwhelming.

Feeling like a deer in the headlights, Harry immediately tried to bring himself back to reality and led Fleur to one of the least visible tables.

Apparently, their entrance had not gone unnoticed by some of the patrons.

“I’m going to ze bathroom,” Fleur whispered heavily, so much so that Harry was momentarily taken aback. She usually used that kind of tone when they were doing their sessions.

Harry nodded and sat down awkwardly and made his best not to meet anyone’s gaze.

He grabbed the menu and saw that it mostly various types of tea and coffee for drinks, and an assortment of sugar treats for solids. He’d heard of other, colder drinks that were offered at the establishment but given the temperature, it seemed those were reserved for a comparatively hotter climate.

The sound of a slap made him come back to reality, courtesy of a Hufflepuff witch whose partner had been watching a more composed looking Fleur walk towards their table.

The French witch sat back down elegantly, yet even a brief glance at her direction told Harry that she was sending a calculative glare at every single corner of the… colorful establishment. She didn’t even sit down before she finally voiced her opinion.

“Eet is very cold outside, but zat didn’t mean we needed to come to ‘ell.”

Harry closed his eyes momentarily and sniggered. He couldn’t blame Fleur; the sheer intensity of the colors made his skin crawl almost immediately.

Fleur didn’t stop there. Her eyes traced every single detail around them and "Harry was sure that if she could have made a disparaging comment about every single one, she would have. Apparently, she was only sticking to the more important ones.

“Did nobody tell ze owner zat pink is to be used sparingly?” she snarked. “What is eet wiz you Eenglish? Don’t you know zat zere is a middle line between drab and ostentatiousness?”

“Pretty sure she’s just trying to make it look like a romantic area,” Harry commented. “Can’t fault an old woman for trying.”

“Ah, mon chéri. A proper romantic setting should be pleasant to look at, somezing to get you een ze mood, but not so gaudy zat eet takes attention away from your partner.”

“Pretty hard to not notice you, beautiful,” Harry flirted, earning a smile from Fleur, who then bit her lip as Madam Puddifoot started to walk at their direction.

The stout owner of the extravagant establishment immediately took out a quill and parchment. “Welcome! What can I get you m’dears?” she asked before she noticed Fleur. “Oh my! I did not know that I was serving a witch from Beauxbatons. I took some inspiration from the French, y’know!”

“Really?” Fleur drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm. She was about to say something before a stern look from Harry stopped her.

“What would you like, beautiful?” asked Harry, looking at the menu.

“Tea, s’il vous plaît,” responded Fleur, not even looking at the menu.

Harry nodded. “I’ll have the same.” He watched Madam Puddifoot scribble their orders before going away to another table. “Tea? I thought you hated tea,” he questioned.

“I don’t ‘ate tea, mon cheri. Coffee is just much better… and I razzer not know ze taste of ze coffee of zis particular place,” she stated, sniffing haughtily. “I’m convinced eet will ‘ave more sugar zan ze entire Caribbean.”

Their drinks came just a short time later and just as Fleur had suspected, it was almost sickeningly sweet. Harry wondered just how she managed to keep on drinking it; the cold weather seemed to be the only viable explanation.

“So…” drawled Harry.

“Oui?”

“I’ve been thinking about… well… about us,” he said, grabbing her attention. “Remember what you told me that first night?”

Fleur nodded. “I wanted you to take control from me because I trust you not to take advantage of eet. I ‘ave not come to regret zat decision, Maître.”

“Right… but there is the fact that I’m… well, I’m a little reluctant to do a lot of things with you.” He tried to find the correct words. “I guess what I’m saying is that I’m not a good dom.”

“Non!” Fleur almost shouted back. “You are good but you are still learning… I am also learning every day what eet is to be your sub.” She pursed her lips. “I do admit zat sometimes I want you to go… further wiz me.”

Harry nodded. “That’s… that’s something I have to get into too, I guess. I don’t want to do something that will truly hurt you.”

You can never ‘urt me, Maître,” she assured. “You could never ‘arm your Fleur.” She squirmed on her seat a bit, before a seductive smirk framed her lips. “Besides, I do ‘ave a safeword, non?”

“You do,” nodded Harry. “But by the time you say it, I may already have gone too far. The safeword is meant to stop everything.”

Fleur hummed. “You are correct, mon chéri. What eef zere was a secondary word? One zat allows me to communicate zat you can continue, but carefully.”

Harry had to admit that it was a good idea. “What are you thinking of?”

“Frais,” said Fleur. “Froid is my hard safeword; it translates to cold. Frais is less potent, but you can start to notice ze changes.”

“Very well then. Frais and froid.”

Harry took a careful sip of the overly sweet tea, watching as Fleur tried to get herself comfortable on her chair. He noticed several irregular things; the way she was biting her lips not unlike her sessions, or how she started to let out barely audible whimpers.

“Maître… I need to go to ze bathroom", she half said half whimpered.

Harry furrowed his brow. “Again? Are you feeling alright?”

Fleur’s allure slipped a bit as she continued to chew on her bottom lip. Her face became a slightly flustered as she tried to position herself again. “I am fine, Maître,” she gasped.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” said Harry, a little more forceful.

Fleur did not say anything. She looked around, seeing that most of the others were occupied with their dates before she slowly opened her coat.

Harry watched as she rummaged though the layers of clothes, seeing a glint of the collar hidden beneath her scarf. That was not what Fleur intended to show however. Slowly, she pulled her undershirt and he finally saw a telltale piece of blue rubber covering her breast.

“You’re wearing your latex lingerie?!” Harry whispered.

Fleur nodded. “Oui, Maître.”

The Gryffindor looked around again to make sure no one could hear him. “Do you also have the…”

“Oui… ze panties…”

“Are you serious? You didn’t tell me?”

Fleur quickly arranged her clothes until her fetish underwear was out of sight. “I didn’t zink eet would be zis difficult!” she whispered frantically. “Juno’s mercy… eet’s like being fingered in public!”

“And you still decided to wear them here,” reprimanded Harry, his stare – as well as something else – hardening as she started to rise from her seat. “Sit down,” he commanded, voice stricter than before.

“What!?” Fleur half whispered, half whimpered. “Eet’s clinging to me like –“

“Like a second skin,” Harry finished. “You already knew that, beautiful. Even before I bought them for you; you knew what latex clothes do.”

Fleur had the courtesy to look sheepish. “Oui, I knew… but I never zought –“

“That’s a mistake you need to learn from, then.” Harry did not know where this newfound boldness was coming from, but he could not stop now. “You’ll have to bear them until we go back to the castle. That’s an order… slave.” He hesitated briefly at referring to her like that, but it had its effect.

Fleur sat down, apparently seeing that demanding was not going to work; she flushed and let out a coy smile. Still, he did not relent and merely took out another small sip of the tea.

She sighed. “Alright. I will take my punishment.”

“I’ll take my punishment…” He dangled the last word.

“I will take my punishment… Maître.”

“Good,” said Harry while taking out some coins and leaving the appropriate amount on the table. “Let’s go then before both of us contract diabetes.”

Fleur smiled before getting up from her seat and walking outside with him. She pulled Harry towards the direction of the castle but he stopped her.

“What is eet?” she asked, still a little frustrated. “Ze castle is zat way.”

Harry smirked, suddenly feeling like one of the Weasley twins. “I know how to get back, beautiful. But I never said that we were going back right away.”

“But Maître!” she whined.

“Hermione asked me if I could get her a new cauldron,” he drawled, ignoring her pleas. “Neville has been looking to replenish his personal stock; I need some new quills, and it’s only fair that we stop by Honeydukes to buy something nice for Luna.”

Harry almost sniggered at the despairing moans.

Fleur Delacour prided herself in being observant. At least observant enough that she could see when a person was clearly personally distressed; they were distracted quite often, slept less, and were generally higher strung than usual.

That was the look that Harry had been trying to hide the past few days. Sure, he was an early riser while she preferred to stay in bed for longer – especially with the ghastly temperatures – and he usually held a dourer and more serious demeanor than Luna and herself, but these past days he had been almost obsessed with the little book the Ravenclaw blonde had gifted him.

So drastic had been his change in mood that Fleur had started to find ways to make him respond, even if those actions were to earn her a punishment; acting out, being overly bitchy, anything that might make him respond. It was so jarring to see him be so indecisive after being so… commanding back in Hogsmeade.

Finally, she just gave up on trying to talk; drastic action had to be taken.

The leather cuffs would probably feel comfortable on her skin, remembering the first time Harry had put them on her. The insides were fluffy in order to prevent chafing; she could see herself wearing these like accessories. The color did not fit really well with the rubber lingerie she decided to wear once again but she unfortunately did not have any more latex clothes at her disposal.

After her ‘punishment’, Fleur told herself that she would swear off the rubbery garments for good… a promise that only lasted for a couple of days before she decided to wear them again. They were like an addiction to her now; the fact that they looked so dazzlingly gorgeous was a nice bonus.

Fleur looked down at the chest containing their toys. Harry had forbidden her from opening it without his permission. Perhaps breaking that rule will finally make him snap out of his mood, she thought.

Looking inside, she spied several toys that immediately made her heartbeat quicken. There were things that she had already seen, such as the lovely leather sleepsack that Harry had used on Luna. To her excitement, she also saw a smaller one that was made out of blue latex. Less imposing than the leather one, but to Fleur it was much more beautiful.

She also saw many forms of restraints. Her old light blue handcuffs were inside, along with the sturdier cuffs Harry had used to bind her during their session in the Prefect’s bathroom. Chains and ropes were present in abundance, as well as an object she later identified as an armbinder.

There were also the gags. The ring shaped one that had opened Luna’s mouth lay alongside a couple of ballgags – one in red and another in black.

Fleur tried her best not to act like a child that had been left alone at the candy factory. She momentarily eyed the latex sleepsack but decided against it; she wanted her body to be displayed. Thinking quickly, the French witch grabbed four lengths of chain along with the same number of padlocks, the leather blindfold used on Luna, and after a moment of hesitation, snatched the red ballgag as well.

She took one good look at herself on the mirror and checked for last detail. Her silver hair was loose, falling all the way to her waist. Her lingerie was beautiful as always, reflecting the light from the candles she had lit up around the room. The cuffs and collar completed the look; a fetishized version of herself stared back, Fleur couldn’t help but lick her lips in anticipation.

With a wave of her wand the four lengths of chain attached themselves to their corresponding post of the bed. An experimental tug of her wand made sure they were nice and sturdy. She then did the same without her wand for extra reassurance.

Biting her lower lip, Fleur grabbed the smaller cuffs and started to secure them on her wrists. A padlock sealed them shut, making them impossible to remove without the keys… or a wand, if you were a witch, but it was more fun to believe that your freedom depended on a piece of metal held by someone you absolutely trusted.

The two larger cuffs were for her pale ankles. The contrast of black with her white skin looked pretty nice. Two more clicks from the small padlocks followed.

She held the red ballgag in her hand. Fleur had seen them on models before and had fantasized about putting one inside her own mouth. Now, as her fingers slowly squeezed the hard rubber ball, she felt a bit of hesitation. With her heart beating she willed herself to open her jaws, inserted the gag, and experimentally bit on it.

Her mouth felt full. There was not as much strain as she thought initially, but it did make it so it was impossible to close her jaw as one instinctively would. She looked over at the full-length mirror and momentarily admired her own form; collared, cuffed, her body naked except for the blue latex lingerie, and the red rubber ball that would make her speech useless.

The French witch fumbled with straps until they connected behind her head. Her hair was in the way at first, so she had to unbuckle it and refasten them when the leather fastenings were touching the back of her head.

Fleur laid on her back and first started to spread her limbs to the four corners, trying to see how comfortable she would be. After moving the pillows around to a more comfortable positions, she grabbed her wand and wordlessly waved it towards the chains near her feet.

The metal restraints came to life; slowly snaking towards Fleur’s ankles. A little part of her instinct was telling her to pull her feet away before being trapped but she remained still, watching as the two padlocks joined the ends of the chains to the D-rings, leaving her legs helplessly splayed apart. The only thing protecting her sex from the world was the tight, blue rubber underwear that showed almost everything while still leaving something to the imagination.

With her heart beating, she pointed her wand at her left and watched as the chain also trapped her wrist. Now only her right hand was left. Another flick of her wand and the last chain was dragged towards it but stopped just enough so she could lock the last padlock with her hand.

She bit hard into the ballgag as she concentrated fully on her wand and feeling magic on her fingertips, she levitated the piece of wood onto the nightstand. It was definitely a lot harder to use wandless magic, and she doubted she’d ever go without her trusty wand, but she was still making a point to get better at it.

Fleur was getting tired, but she still managed to get enough raw magic to manipulate the blindfold so it settled over her blue eyes.

Her world was now dark. Bound and helpless; the only senses that she had left were her hearing, and her smell, and her touch. She tugged on her restraints, playfully at first before giving more force to her struggle. The lack of sight made her breath become even heavier.

‘Did Luna feel this way back then?’ It was as if everything she could feel was increased. The lovely feel of latex on her skin was enhanced, making it feel even more pleasurable than normally. Unlike the trip to Hogsmeade, the constant arousal was now very welcome and she wanted more… more.

Fleur was already sweating before she noted that her hips and chest were moving, trying to rub her nipples and sex against the sensual clothes. It was with great frustration that realized that the lingerie could only do so much.

Slumping down on the comfortable bed, she thought only of one thing.

‘Hurry back, Maître!”

Unfortunately for her, it took quite a while for him to get back. Long enough to regret putting on a ballgag for such an extended period of time.

The drool was the first thing – and most embarrassing thing – she noted. Even lying down it was almost impossible to stop her mouth from generating it. Gravity did its thing, thankfully, most of it went back down. She could only imagine what would happen if she were standing upright or, even worse, facedown.

The ache started soon after. It was not so bad; the ball was not as large as some of the other ones she had seen in the magazines. She tried to think if there were any spells that might make the act of wearing such a gag again easier in the future.

In her boredom she tried to think about Luna and her time with the sleepsack. Just how accepting the petite blonde had been after an extended time in bondage. How she had accepted everything from her feet to her throbbing core. Fleur realized that now she was beginning to hope for any new sensation.

Still, despite all the complaining of her situation, Fleur had to admit that this level of restrictive bondage was… thrilling! She couldn’t believe just how much she had progressed from just a few months ago; she doubted that it was even possible to go back to just binding her own hands in front with blue cuffs in front of her when these new heights were so exciting.

There was something so profound about being so exposed, so helpless and bare that exhilarated her. Fleur knew that this was something that could be shared with another so easily, but her Maître was different.

Harry. Harry James Potter – her Maître and owner. Her Harry who she trusted to take care of her. Her Harry who treated her like a slave and a princess all at once. Her Harry who knew her and her desires so well.

Her Harry who had been so distant as of late.

‘I’m yours Maitre. Just say anything and I’ll do it. Please tell me what is wrong and I’ll help you.’ Thought Fleur, using her feelings to struggle against the strict bindings; a way to release frustration and lust all at once.

She did not count how long it had taken for him to come back. Fleur could only surmise that it had been around an hour until the door creaked open.

“Hey beautiful, sorry I’m –“ His voice cut off. Fleur couldn’t see but she was almost sure that he was momentarily stunned at the way she had chosen to present herself.

“Fleur… what the hell?” he asked calmly.

Fleur tried to say something, but she’d momentarily forgotten about the red ball in her mouth and it all came out as an unintelligible garble of noises. After her futile attempts at communication, she started to struggle gently and moan. It took a while for Harry to finally come to her aid and soon her black world turned to life as the blindfold was taken off.

“Fleur! Are you mental?! Do you know how dangerous it is to do self-bondage without any supervision?! You could have damaged your muscles! The air flow may have been cut off! How could you be so reckless?!”

At hearing his words, Fleur had to admit to feeling a little shame but it was nothing compared to what she wanted to tell him. Unfortunately, Harry decided not to take out her gag along with the blindfold and her lips produced only incomprehensible babble.

She lay silent as Harry started to check her body. To her chagrin, he did not touch her like he usually did, but rather as a medic with a patient.

“Do you feel any pain?” he asked and she shook her head. Her jaw did feel a little sore from the ballgag, but it was nothing too painful.

“Beautiful,” drawled Harry in that commanding tone she loved so much. “I really need to go to the bathroom, so you have around two minutes to come up with a really good explanation for putting yourself in this amount of danger.” He stood up and started to walk towards the bathroom. “If you’re in pain, scream twice and I’ll come.”

She did not need to, that did not stop her mind from racing through several ways she could express what she wanted to say; no way to put her feelings to words.

 Once Harry came back, he finally started to fiddle around with the straps that secured the ballgag. “I wanted this to be a surprise. I was pretty sure you would like it. Guess now I know that I was right.” Once she felt Harry had undone the bindings, she used her tongue to push out the red ball.

“Zank you, Maître,” she slurred. It hurt a little to close her jaw again after having it be forced open.

Harry sat down besides her, putting a cold hand on her stomach. “Now… you were going to tell me what in Merlin’s name possessed you to not only disobey my order about not opening the toy chest, but also forget the ‘safe’ part in ‘safe, sane, and consensual´?”

“I…” Fleur tried to find the right words. “I… I’ve felt so alone, Maître,” she confessed and to her surprise her breath got caught up in the words, she could even see her vision get a little blurry. “What is eet? I try to get you to talk, but you’ve been… closed.”

“Fleur,” Harry sighed. Fleur guessed that he was also trying to find the correct words. “I won’t lie to you – something’s come up… but it doesn’t mean that anything between us has changed.” Something told Fleur that it was a half-truth. “I need to find out more about it.”

“Maitre… mon cheri… ‘Arry,” continued Fleur feeling a couple of hot tears leaving her eyes. “I trust you, ‘Arry… I trust you like I’ve never trusted anyone before. Why don’t you trust me ze same way? A dom should trust ‘is sub, non?”

Harry bit his lip, looking like the words actually stung him. “I’m sorry, Fleur. I… I do trust you. This is something that I must confirm with someone first.” He gave her a sweet kiss. “I promise you I’ll tell you everything, my love.”

“ ‘Arry…” Fleur moaned. “I need you too. I zought zat zis would get your attention. I’ve broken ze rules… so please tease me, punish me, Mon Dieu spank me eef you must, just please do somezing wiz me!"

Harry took a deep breath; many features started to tighten as if he was in deep concentration. He looked as if he wanted to say something but could not get it out. Fleur felt his hand start to caress her stomach for a few minutes. She closed her eyes as all thoughts were frustrations were slowly being driven away.

“Beautiful.” His hand stopped moving. “I have not told you anything because I did not wish to worry you. There’s been… something I have found out recently but I will not say it’s definitive,” he said, eyes hardening. “I need to speak to Sirius.”

“For now, however,” he drawled before she could say anything. “I must answer this with a punishment. I need you to think more with this,” he touched the top of her head, “than with this!” The hand near her stomach now grabbed her latex-clad crotch. She let out an involuntary gasp, yet even then she could feel how hot her core was getting.

“I… I understand, Maît –“ She was interrupted by Harry jamming the ballgag firmly in her mouth. Fleur moaned, feeling the straps being refastened behind her head.

“Beautiful,” said Harry, his tone now softer as he caressed her tresses, “I need to go speak with Sirius. I promise you I will tell you everything soon… okay?”

Fleur nodded shakily. She tried to move her finger in the right direction to the nightstand where she had left both her wand and the keys to the padlocks. Harry looked before chuckling a bit more darkly than she was used to.

“I don’t think so, beautiful.” His hand left her hair and groped her breast. Once again, she gasped at the intimate act; both in surprise and excitement. “I told you that you need to be punished. You decided to put yourself in this situation and now you’re going to endure it,” Harry told her with a look that seemed to say ‘it’s your fault’. “I thought you had learned your lesson from Hogsmeade.”

Fleur almost snorted. Stop wearing the things she liked and limiting the boundaries of her kinks? Never! She wanted more and more each day! Seeing all the fun toys inside the chest only made her want to go further.

“You’ll remain like this until I return,” he said before taking out his wand and conjuring a small dragon Patronus. “I’ll bring someone to babysit you while I’m away.”

‘Luna?!’ The thought of the blonde oddball “babysitting” was… interesting to say the least. Luna wasn’t even a dom. Then again, Fleur supervised her last time and she’s not a dominant either.

They spent the next few minutes in silence. Fleur closed her eyes and enjoyed Harry’s teasing; he mostly caressed her hair but his hands would lightly touch her legs and what lay between them from time to time. She could not help but whine – she wanted more!

There was a light knock on the wooden door and Harry stood up from the bed swiftly to open it. Her suspicions had been true; Luna almost jumped inside the room.

“Good morning, Master!” she chirped before looking at Fleur’s direction. “Good morning, slave!”

Harry chuckled. “Hello, Luna. I guess you decided on ‘Master’?”

“Yes. I believe it was the most appropriate term for you, Master,” responded Luna as she started to take of her robes, followed by her vest and shirt. She continued by taking off her shoes and skirt (Fleur noticed that she still didn’t have socks). Each piece of cloth was neatly folded and placed upon a table. The last pieces to be removed were her underwear. Fleur briefly marveled at just how confident the airy blonde was when revealed her bare body.

Harry’s face betrayed no emotion as Luna knelt before him, fully nude and willing. He did raise an eyebrow when, with both her hands in front of her, she offered the green-eyed Gryffindor her wand.

“Am I doing this correct, Master?” asked Luna. Her submissive voice sounded adorable to Fleur. “I saw it in the illustrations that this is how you offer things to your Master.”

“I… it’s alright, Luna… but why are you giving me your wand?” asked Harry.

Luna smiled dreamily. “I don’t need a wand when my Master takes care of me.”

‘Damn… that was good! How come I didn’t think of that?!’ Fleur eyed her own wand on the nightstand. Luna was right; she didn’t need it when Harry was taking care of her.

Harry hesitated a moment before he grabbed Luna’s wand and held it in his hand. “Thank you for putting your trust in me. I won’t betray it.”

Luna seemed to swoon at the contact. Fleur couldn’t help but feel a little left out and gave one vicious tug to her restraints. Soon, two pair of eyes concentrated on her.

“But,” continued Harry before giving Luna her wand back. “I’d prefer if you kept it for now. You may need it for any emergency since I won’t be here.”

Luna took her wand before giving a confused look to Harry. “You won’t be here, Master?”

“Right,” said Harry with a firmer tone. “I guess I should tell you that I didn’t call you here for a session, Luna. I need someone to take care of beautiful for a while.”

If Luna was displeased, she did not show it. “Oh… that’s great, Master. I will not disappoint you.”

“I’m sure you won’t,” responded Harry. “Beautiful here earned herself this punishment. You are not to take off her bindings unless she says her safeword. Do you remember her safeword, Luna?”

“I do! That French word, right?” she asked.

“Correct. Frais if she wants to take it slowly, froid if she wants to stop completely. If she moans three times through her gag it also counts. When I come back, I think we should also talk about your other safeword.”

“Alright, Master,” nodded Luna. Fleur could see the barely contained excitement behind those silver eyes and she shivered slightly, remembering the things she had done with Luna last time.

Harry then walked towards the nightstand and grabbed the rosewood wand and held it in his hands, looking directly into her sapphire eyes. Fleur felt insecure at first; the wand was her connection her magic, her heritage, her grandmother… her pride. Holding her breath, she nodded and watched as Harry gave it to Luna.

“This is Fleur’s,” he said to the dreamy blonde. “Take care of it as if it were your own. Take care of it as if it were Fleur herself.”

Luna grabbed the wand delicately. “I will, Master.”

The initial trepidation that Fleur felt started to drift away seeing how caring Luna was handling her wand. It was only fair; Luna was willing to do it herself. She was willing to give her connection to magic to their dom and the French witch would not allow herself to be left behind.

“Oh, and Luna?” said Harry as he started to put his robes back on. Both Fleur and Luna paid attention at what he said next. “If you want to have fun with beautiful, you have my permission... within reason, of course.” He looked over at her. “It’s only fair; isn’t it, beautiful?”

Fleur barely heard Luna’s excited squeal as her mind rushed through all the things she had done with the Ravenclaw back then… and all of the things Luna could do with her now.

‘Juno save me!’

“I’ll be back later… I expect the two of you to behave or you’ll be in for some punishment,” Harry commanded and walked towards the door. The barely audible creaking ended with a loud click as it was shut.

As if on cue, Luna whirled around to face her, flashing a smile. Fleur had never seen a gesture so cute and yet so devilish at the same time. The nude Ravenclaw skipped to the nightstand before carefully putting both wands on top. Then she almost jumped on the bed to join the bound captive.

“Oh wow!” exclaimed Luna, her silver eyes feasting on Fleur’s restrained form. “So pretty!”

Fleur was about to respond but once again only garbled words came out; the gag was still taking some time to get used to.

Fleur closed her eyes and let herself go, content to enjoy the dainty hands that were curiously exploring her body. Luna’s touch was different from Harry’s. His was slow, confident, and dominating; hers were quick and excited. Still, Fleur would take any kind of stimulation right now; she needed release so bad.

Luna fingers eventually found Fleur’s tits but the blonde seemed a more interested in the bra than what lay beneath.

“Shiny,” said Luna. Fleur opened her eyes to see what the blonde was doing. “I think I can see my reflection.”

“Eet’s meant to be shiny.” That was what Fleur tried to say but the ball in her mouth once again destroyed her words.

“I’m sure it is,” responded Luna, much to Fleur’s astonishment.

“You can understand me?” asked Fleur, barely even understand what came out her mouth.

“Of course; it’s not that different from Goobledegook. Daddy and Mommy taught me when I was six,” responded Luna. Fleur was not sure what to think about her usual voice that – in her opinion – sounded lovely in her native French language, was being compared to a language that was even more crude than English.

Still, it was nice to have someone understand her jumbled verbiage for the moment. “Can you take ze gag off?” she tried to ask.

Luna debated for a moment. “Oh… no,” she responded. “I think it looks quite charming on you, slave.” Fleur’s eyes narrowed a bit. When did this cute little witch get so confident all of the sudden?

Fleur grumbled but tried to maintain her dignity at being denied by a witch almost four years her junior. She huffed and slumped back on her bonds, trying to enjoy as Luna caressed her latex-clad breast. Quick pecks from the blonde’s lips touched her stomach and the valley between her breasts.

The French witch started to breathe heavier as Luna’s other hand decided to go from one of her breasts, to her stomach… and lower… and lower. She took one big, shaky breath when she felt those petite fingers started to give feather like touches to her core.

‘Yes… oh, Venus yes!’ thought Fleur as the blonde seemed to take interest in the neediest part of her body at the moment. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had orgasmed; Harry had been so hard to convince these last few days.

She lightly opened her eyes to see that Luna was concentrating almost fully on pleasing her. The same dreamy smile was plastered on her face as she continued to work her fingers over the latex that covered Fleur’s most sensitive areas.

The rubber not only did not impede pleasure from reaching her, it enhanced the feeling. Latex was so good! Not just for fashion, but also to use it during their little games. She truly needed to buy more. ‘I’ll impress Harry next ti –‘

 Her thoughts were interrupted as Luna decided to get a little bolder with her touches. Feather light caresses became firmer and the pressure was really getting to Fleur. Behind the rubber, she could feel her core start to get wet.

“Blue looks very good on you,” said Luna. To Fleur, the tone didn’t seem like it came out of someone that was fingering her pussy. “Ravenclaw has blue as well, but it’s not as nice as this shade.”

Fleur huffed. ‘Of course. Everything that Hogwarts does, Beauxbatons can do better!’ She took one big lungful of air and hitched it when Luna pressed tightly into her pearl. Whether the younger witch knew what she was doing or her enthusiasm made up for inexperience, she did not care, she just wanted a climax, and she wanted it now!

Luna’s ministrations became bolder and bolder every second. Touches became full on kneads and rubs and the effect was almost instant. Within a few minutes, Fleur could feel the distinct feeling of an orgasm coming.

“More,” she moaned behind the gag as she anticipated the sweet release. ‘I’m almost there… just a little bit more!’. Fleur let out a shivering gasp before firmly biting down on the hard rubber ball. Closing her eyes, it was like she could see the end of a very dark tunnel.

“Oh, no!” exclaimed Luna and the next thing Fleur notice – or didn’t notice – was that the blonde had suddenly withdrawn her fingers right as she was on the cusp of a mind-blowing orgasm.

Fleur eyes immediately opened as she watched the Luna’s slightly horrified voice. “What is eet? Go on! I’m so close!” she tried to scream.

Luna’s silver eyes pierced Fleur’s before she gave her reasoning. “I remembered that Master told us that we shouldn’t get release without his permission.”

‘What!?’ Fleur’s mind raged, her gaze fixed on the fingers that had been giving her great pleasure, expecting them to continue as if nothing had been said, only for them to stay still. ‘Is… is she serious? No… no, no, no!’

She screamed on her gag, angrily demanding for Luna to continue on. Yet as incomprehensible word after incomprehensible word left her mouth it seemed as though the dreamy Ravenclaw just stood still. Fleur could see a look of sympathy or… pity… in those silver orbs, but her requests still went unfulfilled.

It became apparent after a while that she – Fleur Isabelle Delacour, champion of Beauxbatons – had just been edged by Luna Lovegood.

She continued to scream and moan but the demands and insults were now in French. Deep down she knew just by looking at Luna’s eyes that there would be no release for her and the words were now said in anger and frustration rather than a plea for pleasure. She couldn’t believe it! She had just been denied by a child!

“I’m s-sorry,” Luna muttered meekly. “I forgot.” She continued to make excuses but Fleur could barely be bothered to pay attention. The feeling of the coming orgasm slowly receding away left a bitter taste in her mouth.

A furious desperation ate at Fleur as she could feel release slipping away. Soon, along with the curses leaving her gagged mouth, she started to struggle like a madwoman, tugging at the chains the restrained her hands. Knowing that it was useless, she began to thrust her entire pelvis to the air and back, hoping that the skin-tight latex would be able to be enough stimulation to finish the job.

It was not. The sensation of her libido slipping away felt like a door was being slammed shut in front of her. She needed to cum so bad!  Angry blue eyes turned towards Luna accusingly.

“I… I didn’t mean to do it,” gasped Luna. “I didn’t know what I was doing!”

Eventually, Fleur felt her anger start to recede; it was hard to keep the ire burning as she continued to see Luna’s crestfallen expression. She took a few deep breaths to calm down but the sting of her lost pleasure did not want to go away.

“Harry is our Master. He told us that we needed his permission for that,” justified Luna. “I can’t disobey him. Only bad witches disobey their Master; I am not a bad witch.” Her gaze pointed towards the ceiling. “I have not touched myself ever since Master ordered me not to, even when I wanted to really badly. I don’t think you would want to disappoint Master, would you?”

‘No, but you didn’t need to edge me!’

“Take off my gag,” Fleur commanded. This time, Luna did not object to unbuckling the leather straps, making it possible for the red rubber ball to be forced out.

“Ah… zat zing looks lovely but eet can really start to ‘urt your jaw after a while,” said Fleur, taking a moment to flex her jaw to prevent any more soreness before looking back at Luna. “You are right; Maître did tell us to not orgasm wizzout permission, but eet was still mean to do zat.”

“I forgot!” responded Luna. “Your panties looked so lovely and I couldn’t resist touching them!”

Fleur snorted. “Well I cannot blame you for zat. Zey are gorgeous, are zey not?”

Luna nodded frantically, looking like she just wanted to feel the rubber once again.

The bound witch swallowed her pride. “Eet cannot be ‘elped, zen. I just ‘ope we can convince Maître to give us permission when he comes back. Ask ‘im in zat cute voice you do – no one can resist eet.”

“Huh?”

“Just ‘elp me convince ‘im!”

The blonde nodded again. “I’ll try.”

“Bien! Now let me recover. Eet is not fun being edged, I’ll tell you zat,” she half-snapped and regretted it almost immediately when she saw Luna hang her head once again. It did not last very long; a small almost immediately appeared on the blonde’s face.

Fleur watched as Luna’s expression suddenly turned as her face lit up. The French witch could almost see the lightbulb appear on top of the Ravenclaw’s head.

“I can make it up to you!” sang Luna, as if the previous mood had never even been there to begin with.

The bound Veela furrowed her brow. “ ‘Ow? I don’t know eef zere is a way to make eet up to me for denying me my pleasure.” The words came out harsh, but she had a right to be pissed.

Luna giggled. “There are other ways to receive pleasure,” she said before sliding off from the bed and kneeling between both of Fleur’s feet.

Fleur briefly recalled last session and Luna’s little tendency for her feet. “Please don’t tickle,” she half pleaded to the blonde.

The Ravenclaw giggled. “I won’t be doing that,” she said while delicately grabbing Fleur’s right foot and started to rub, her fingers almost magically being able to find the most sensitive spots.

‘A massage? Well… this is pleasant,’ thought Fleur; the ruined orgasm was still fresh in her mind but she had to admit that the resentment was slowly leaving now with the new ministration that Luna was giving her.

If Luna had never done this before, then she was a natural. She knew just the right places to rub, the right amount of pressure needed for each spot, and the sore areas that made Fleur feel like she was being pampered once again. It wasn’t long before the denied Veela was letting out moans of pleasure, this time unimpeded by the ballgag.

After a few minutes, the blonde switched from Fleur’s right foot to the left and once again started the process. The French champion became aware of some of the liberties her caretaker was taking this time around. A brief glance showed her that Luna’s face was closer, small exhalations tickling her sensitive feet slightly. She could also feel nails tracing her toes, even at some point feeling the distinct texture of lips.

It mattered little; the fact that Luna seemed earnest in wanting to make up to her – not to mention that the massage was quite pleasurable – was more than enough for Fleur.

“Eet’s very nice. Zank you,” she murmured, her posture relaxed once again. Even without seeing the blonde, she could almost feel Luna’s face brightening. The barely audible giggle was evidence enough.

“They are very beautiful,” responded Luna. “I don’t think I’ve seen a better pair than yours.”

Fleur bit her lip. “You know – I’ve ‘ad men and women of all ages admire my ‘air, told me zat my legs are stunning, my eyes beautiful, and my face perfect… but I zink you are ze first to compliment my feet.”

“Feet are pretty,” stated Luna matter-of-factly. “More people should examine and take care of them more than they do, I believe.”

“I could sure use a nice pedicure right now. Zut, I zink I’ll need a full body treatment after I’m done wiz zis tournament,” said Fleur before looking back at Luna. “Going back to ze matter… feet? Does ze smell not bother you? What about eef zey are dirty?”

“I like the smell if it’s not too strong, but I will admit that I prefer to avoid dirtiness. Clean and soft are best,” responded Luna, her index still tracing Fleur’s right sole, her face just an inch from it. “May I?” she asked with an uncharacteristically timid voice.

Fleur couldn’t help but be amused; even bound it was clear that she was more dominating than her caretaker. She couldn’t deny Luna her wish with that tone. “Go on. Just no tickling.”

Luna nodded before she cautiously closed the gap and start by planting small kisses on the ball of Fleur’s foot. The bound witch could feel the uncharacteristic nervousness coming from the blonde. It was understandable when one starts to open up about their kinks. She remembered a few weeks back when she first donned her latex lingerie and the feelings she experienced: excitement combined with fear and trepidation.

“Zat feels nice,” she encouraged. “Don’t be afraid, you can do more eef you want.”

Luna apparently took the words to heart because Fleur immediately felt a small tongue being dragged across her sole, leaving a hot, wet trail. It felt just as pleasant as before and this time she didn’t have to do any of the work. Content, she relaxed in her bonds and let the dreamy Ravenclaw worship to her heart’s content.

The blonde was almost insatiable, beginning with the sole, she quickly moved up to Fleur’s blue painted toes and started to suck on them one by one. Seemingly, she had special affection for the big toe, inserting it into her mouth and sucking it in a way that reminded Fleur of the way she worshipped Harry’s tool before the second task. From there it apparently turned into a competition of how many Luna could fit inside her small mouth.

To her surprise, Fleur actually started to silently moan, especially when Luna’s little pink muscle made its way between her toes; a soft spot that didn’t truly tickle her, but definitely stirred things between her legs once again.

‘I could actually get used to this; far more pleasurable than I thought it would be,’ thought Fleur as she absentmindedly wiggled her toes to play with Luna’s tongue. She smirked, opening her eyes and gazed down at the blonde who looked oblivious to the world around her.

“Luna!” she said with some force. The younger witch did not stop her oral activity but did open her silver eyes to look at Fleur. “Ze ozzer one is lonely,” she said, tugging at the other foot.

Luna wordlessly shifted her place and was soon doing the same with Fleur’s remaining sole. The French Veela was a little more playful this time, tugging away her foot when Luna was ready to lick and wiggling her toes, tempting the blonde to try harder. The scar of the ruined orgasm was beginning to heal now; it was just very hard to stay mad at Luna. She had been right after all. This was fun.

“Do you want to try?” asked Luna once she had crawled back atop the bed, her blonde head resting on top of Fleur’s rubber-clad breasts.

“I’m not sure –“

“You’ll like it!” gushed Luna, sitting cross-legged to look at her own pair of feet. To Fleur’s surprise, they were pristine. “Mummy and I used to go around the forest near our home without shoes when I was younger. You notice a lot of things with your own two feet that you’ll never notice with your eyes. She taught me some spells to protect them and keep them clean.”

Indeed, despite knowing that Luna had gone barefoot or sockless since the day they Fleur and Harry met her a few months back, one would be hard-pressed to find any damage done to the pair of dainty feet. ‘I really need to ask about those spells, then. Might be useful for other things.’

Fleur looked like she was about to deny her once again but another thought started to form in her mind. “Hmm… ‘ow about we make an… exchange of sorts?” she proposed.

“Oh, what would you suggest?” Luna asked curiously.

Fleur swayed her chest a bit. “You like what I’m wearing, non? ‘Ow about zis – I agree to indulge in your leetle kink eef you agree to indulge in mine.” Seeing Luna’s face, she knew that she had the blonde in a receptive mood. “So, I get to choose what you wear, unless eet’s your obligatory ‘Ogwarts uniform of course.”

“I don’t have many clothes,” confessed Luna. “But I do like what you’re wearing.”

“Zat is not a problem. I’ll buy what you wear from now on, oui? Leave ze shopping to me.”

The blonde still looked a bit doubtful. “I think I know how to dress myself. Why do you think you can do better?”

Fleur huffed. “Never doubt ze fashion sense of a lady from France!” she declared haughtily before smirking. “Remember ze first time we were togezzer? When I painted your nails and fixed your ‘air? Zink about eet like zat.”

Looking at her toenails – still painted as silver as her eyes – Luna deliberated for just a few seconds, finger on her chin as if pondering complex philosophy. “I agree, then,” she said.

“Great choice! You will be ze envy of witches while you are under my care,” beamed Fleur, thinking about all of the things she could do with a willing young witch. She’d dressed up her friends at times, even little Gabby, but they could be really fussy at times. Luna would be different, of that she was sure.

Luna nodded before drawing her legs forward. Fleur now remembered the other side of their little deal and couldn’t help but feel a little nervous herself.

‘Well… here it goes.’ Fleur started by kissing the surprisingly soft sole. They were far more delicate than would be expected from a witch that she had mostly seen walking around barefoot around the ancient castle.

Unable to hold her breath any longer, she filled her lungs. Fleur had been worried at first about the smell but, despite her eccentricities, Luna was obviously a witch that cared highly about personal hygiene – a weird specimen when it came from the normally savage English population – thus, the scent was actually quite mild. Her father’s artisanal cheese collection was far more potent and she had enjoyed most of them even as a child.

Feeling more confident now, she parted her lips and let her tongue get a taste of Luna’s small foot, which earned her a few giggles from the Ravenclaw. Remembering the time she had put Harry’s manhood in her mouth, Fleur moved on to the toes and started to suck on them, trying to remember everything Luna had done and replicate it herself while trying out some new stuff. Every once in a while, she used her teeth to bite down lightly. Never would she dare do this with Maître but she was willing to be a bit more daring with the eccentric younger witch.

Luna’s moans had always been cute; almost like giggles but there was definitely a difference between the two and Fleur was noticing it now that she was apparently stimulating one of the blonde’s main erogenous zones. What was surprising is that even she started to feel a bit hotter; a quick movement of her hips confirmed that she was definitely a bit wet.

“You were really good,” complimented Luna before removing her feet. “I told you you’d like it!”

Fleur smiled. “Eet was… somezing else. We should always be open to new zings, I guess.”

Luna grinned before going back to her previous position, resting her head on Fleur’s breast. Her small hands still continued to roam at times but not in a more intimate manner, enough to keep the bound witch aroused yet not frustratingly so. Every once in a while, her eyes would wander towards Fleur’s collar with a look that seemed a little bit jealous.

‘Maître needs to get her one soon… if she remains with us, that is.’ Her thoughts were interrupted by Luna’s finger prodding her bra once again, this time it wasn’t on the more sensitive places at least.

“Now that you’ll be telling me how do dress, will you give me things like this?”

Fleur grinned. “Bien sûr! Not just what you wear. I zink your ‘air could use some curls – your eyelashes are long and pretty so we can do somezing zere as well… hmm… your lips would look great wiz some color. Rouge? Bleu? I ‘ave a lot to experiment wiz!”

The blonde witch kept on dragging her finger on the latex. “I don’t think I’ll look as good in it as you. Daddy says I take after Mummy and she was small, so my chest will not grow as big as yours. Mummy was short, too – I don’t expect to grow much more than I am now.”

Fleur shook her head. “More zan a ‘andful is a waste! Your size does not matter. Fun zings come in small packages at times. I believe zat I can find somezing zat you’ll love.”

Luna smiled dreamily. “I think I will leave it to you. Make me a doll, or something else. Something that Master can be proud of.”

“You talk of yourself like you are an object. Zat is not ‘ow Maître sees you,” commented Fleur.

“I don’t see being treated as an object like a bad thing. I often find that people care more about objects than they care about each other. If being an object makes me, Master, and you happy, then I’d be quite glad of being the best one there is.”

Fleur blinked. Quite a philosophy for a witch that was often looked as being a clueless idiot by most of her peers. Luna was a Ravenclaw for a reason, she must be there for a reason even if her brilliance was sometimes a bit hard to understand for most.

“You are very sure of zis,” said Fleur, trying to find the best way to say the following words. “Do you intend to stay wiz ‘Arry?”

“I do,” responded Luna. “I want to stay with Master… and you.” She snuggled her head in between Fleur’s breasts. “Nobody has treated me as well as the two of you. If I tried to talk to others about my interests, they’d laugh at me.”

Fleur swallowed a knot in her throat. “Many people do not understand. Zey can only see abuse – Folie à deux – a shared delusion between people. Zey will never understand ‘ow… liberated I feel when I am bound and controlled by ‘Arry, why I love wearing latex or ze delights of being spanked. I guess zey would feel ze same about someone wiz a predilection for feet and being completely restrained in leather.”

She could feel Luna nod between her breasts. If her body was not still bound, she would have hugged her. “But zat is what makes you and me and ‘Arry different… and eef I’ve learned anyzing zese past months eet is zat being different is great… and I say zat in more ways than one.”

They both stayed in silence for a moment before Luna spoke. “I don’t want to leave,” she said. “I know that I’m not as pretty as you… and I know that there are many witches that would throw themselves at Master – some of them not because of his wealth and status. That’s why I want to be the best witch I can be so I can be worthy of being Master’s property.”

Fleur closed her eyes and contemplated for a moment. She did not know where this relationship would take them but she did know that there was no way she’d break Luna’s heart without even trying. “You’re still young. Your beauty is yet to show eetself. I… I want you to stay, too.”

“But what will Har - Master say?”

“Oh, I believe we can both convince Maître, non?” Fleur asked, her voice a bit more vivacious now. “You are mine as well. I’m not letting go of my new modèle quite so easily. Besides, I zink I’m starting to develop a liking for foot massages.”

Finally, Luna giggled back in familiar tone. “I am quite flattered.”

“Bien! Now… I need to know somezing.”

“What is it?”

“About zese witches… ze ones zat you said don’t necessarily want Maître for ‘is money and family.”

Master Zheng had said many times in the past that breathing is a good way to keep a clear mind, and keeping a clear mind meant more than inner peace; it meant that your judgement was clear enough to correctly analyze a situation in order to find the best solution possible. A calm person is less prone to mistakes and more towards success, be it a test, a battle, or an argument.

Harry Potter had been doing quite a lot of breathing recently. Especially now that he was facing the big door of the Room of Requirement.

Drawing one last lungful of cold air, Harry let his hand grasp the handle tightly and pushed it open. The first thing he heard was that familiar voice that had always been present since his earliest memories.

“Hey, Prongslet!” greeted Sirius. He had apparently already transformed the room to his desires considering the posters of bikini models that made it impossible to see the stone walls and bean bag sofas all over the place. Harry’s godfather was sitting on one of said sofas, reading – or more accurately, seeing – an adult magazine.

“Sirius,” Harry almost growled. He hadn’t done enough breathing, apparently.

“So,” said Sirius, grin still plastered on his face as he opened the magazine centerfold, “it’s your free day and the last task is still months away. Shouldn’t you and your lovely French temptress be out on a date before spending the night with some hot, steamy –“

This time Harry did growl, along with sending a tome directly at Sirius. The animagus caught it immediately, still grinning, before looking at the title and the smile quickly went away.

“When were you going to tell me?” asked Harry.

Sirius looked a little bit like a deer in the headlights. Harry could almost see the turning inside his head; trying to find the best way to explain why he’d never told his godson about the responsibilities of a lord, let alone the future lord of two ancient Houses.

After closing his eyes, Sirius finally ended his silence. “I guess I couldn’t keep it away from you forever, could I?”

“Right now, I’m asking myself why you would even hide it in the first place!” exclaimed Harry, trying but failing to calm himself.

Sirius put his hands up defensively. “Hey! Don’t shoot the messenger!” He let out a breath. “Look… Harry. I wanted you to live a normal life, living life like a normal teenager before I told you all about your – er… responsibilities.”

“Responsibilities?” snarked Harry. “Is that what they called a double marriage back in the olden days, Padfoot?”

Sirius snorted. “I guess that’s a sugarcoated way of saying it, but yes, marriage.”

Harry sighed. “I just only managed to get a girlfriend –“

“A smoking hot girlfriend.”

“Be serious!”

Sirius’ laugh returned. “Alright, Serious Sirius.”

Harry’s anger started up again. “Good! Now that I know the truth, I guess I better start getting used to the idea that I’ll have to marry two women.”

“Well look at it this way,” offered Sirius, his voice sounding strangely genuine, “you already have one.”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know if Fleur will agree to that particular arrangement. I’ve been trying hard to avoid the conversation, don’t want her to know yet.”

“Harry. Women are angrier when they find out things you didn’t tell them rather than you admitting it.”

Harry closed his eyes, the exhaustion of the previous days finally crashing all at once. “So… let’s say she does agree to it. What happens next? I have to find someone else – who will it be? Hermione?”

“Err… about that,” said Sirius. “I think it goes a little more complicated than that. Remember the Black family’s words?”

‘Tojours Pur – Always Pure.’ Harry nodded.

“My mother.” Sirius spat out the last word. “Made sure in her will that those words were very true for the next generation after me before she died. I can’t change those rules thanks to Gringotts, that’s a duty that will go to your son. You’re already scratching the line with being half-blood, but it’s under the condition that your wife and offspring be more… pure.”

“Can I… not marry?” asked Harry in a tired tone.

Sirius shook his head. “Not if you want to inherit House Black, you can’t. I mean I could take you off the inheritance… but it’d go over to the nearest male descendant, and the nearest male descendant is –“

“Malfoy. To hell with that.” Harry grimaced. “So I have to marry a pureblood, then?” Sirius nodded and he felt his headache grow even more potent. Who was there to marry? Ginny? No way! Pansy? Yeah, maybe if he wanted to commit suicide by wife-poisoning-your-dinner. Hannah? He’d never do that to Neville. Daphne?

Daphne.

“What about the Greengrass family?” asked Harry. Daphne would hate him but he was grasping at straws here.

“The Greengrass family? The only person who knows what Cygnus Greengrass thinks is Cygnus Greengrass,” responded Sirius. “I’m surprised. I thought you’d think of Ginny first.”

“She’s Ron’s sister,” said Harry. “And I’ve told you before, I’d rather not have Molly Weasley as a mother-in-law.”

Sirius shuddered. “Yeah, I’ve had enough overbearing women in my life to last me a lifetime, thank you very much.”

Harry rubbed his temples before sitting down on one of the bean bags. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. “What about the Potter family? Do they have any old timey laws about who precisely I can marry?”

“Nothing against Veela that I can remember. Your family never gave a damn about who they can and can’t marry.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” At least he could still have Fleur. Everything is better with Fleur around. He could trust her with so much and vice versa. Merlin, he could even trust her with another witch.

“Bloody fucking hell!”

Sirius almost jumped from the sofa. “Merlin, it’s not that bad! There has to be one nice witch you like!”

Harry almost didn’t hear his godfather amongst the gears spinning inside his head. The answer was so clear; it had always been there. “Sirius, what are the conditions for inheriting house Black?”

“Well, I told you – you have to marry a pureblood witch,” responded the animagus.

“Yes, I got that, but are there any more conditions?” asked Harry. He could almost see the pieces falling into place now. “Do they need to have any kind of extra wealth? Do they need positions on the Wizengamot?”

Sirius shrugged his shoulders. “Far as I know the only thing that’s needed is for it to work is that she has to be Pureblood.”

Harry jumped from his seat. “Got to go! See you later!” He could still hear Sirius yelling behind him but he did not listen. The only thing that he had on his mind at the moment was to get back to his room.

Luna. The answer had always been there; she was definitely the easiest solution to this. Her family was of modest means just like the Weasleys, but the level of wealth still did not change her blood status. Harry knew that she was Pureblood.

But what would she think? Merlin, what would Fleur think? He didn’t want to bring Luna in at first, and now he was thinking of her as just a key to inherit the Black Family. She was a great friend and sub, but did that mean that they loved each other?

‘I… I need to talk to them. They have to know. I need to tell them now.’

“I need a drink,” sighed Sirius. Despite his reputation, he had never really been that much of drinker. It wasn’t really something he indulged in; far too much responsibility raising Harry that he couldn’t afford to crawl into a bottle. However, there were times that a grown man was in need of a bloody drink, and this was one of them.

“Butterbeer, Sirius?” asked Rosmerta with a wink. Usually Sirius would respond with a flirt but he wasn’t feeling it right now.

“Ale – no, scratch that – give me the whisky,” stated Sirius. Ogden’s would do; he couldn’t give a damn about the taste right now. “Leave the bottle, too.”

The burning sensation felt good for a while, enough to lift the Lord of House Black just a little from the numbness following the disastrous meeting with his godson but not good enough as to stop reminiscence about his fallen friends.

This was hardly the first time Sirius lamented the loss of James and Lily, but there were only a few times that he truly felt overwhelmed with the responsibility of looking after Harry. The first one was the night he held his godson; the weight had been enough to prevent him from following after the traitorous rat. The second time was when the Hogwarts letter had arrived.

Now, Sirius felt that weight settle once again, gnawing at his very core. This had been something he had wished to keep away from Harry for a later date. He wanted his godson to grow without the pressures of Wizarding nobility… just like Lily wanted to. Get a girlfriend, make some friends: live a little.

It hadn’t done much good. Harry had been everything but normal but at least that was something Sirius could at least understand. James hadn’t been very normal either. What worried him was the lack of people his godson kept around him. Secretly, he had hoped that Harry would get together with Hermione; she was so much like Lily in many ways. Not all, but enough.

Fleur Delacour had been a godsend. Finally, Harry was opening up his more emotional side. ‘And all it took was a mutual interest in the spicier things in life,’ mused Sirius before taking another swig of the bottle.

And now he’d buggered that too.

“Good evening, Moody!” called Rosmerta besides Sirius, prompting him to send a lazy gaze to the grizzled Auror. Moody did not respond, he simply made his way towards him.

“Evening, Alastor,” greeted Sirius, voice slightly slurred. With some effort, he sat himself on the stool to try and look as dignified as possible.

“Look at you!” growled Moody. “A Death Eater won’t even need to use his wand. A well-placed knife on the back would suffice. Could you even raise your wand right now?!”

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. “I see no Death Eaters here.”

“Constant vigilance!” shouted Moody, sneer plastered on his face. “Just because you cannot see does not mean there is nothing there!”

Sirius grumbled. “What can I do for you?”

Moody took out a flask and drank generously, wincing a bit after swallowing. Odd, the grizzled veteran was not one for spirits; the constant paranoia made him swear off alcohol in order to be constantly prepared for any occasion. “I’m here to ask what you’ve been teaching the boy.”

“Offensive spells, mostly. Fighting and dueling… the usual stuff,” responded Sirius. “Mostly we try and prepare him for the specific challenges of the tasks but he comes up with most of the stuff himself.” He couldn’t the pride in his voice.

“Any particular spells he knows? Any aces up the sleeve?” demanded Moody in a way that started to irritate Sirius. What bug had crawled up Moody’s arse these past years? The man was always in your face but not this much.

Taking a swig off the whisky, he shot back. “Listen, Alastor – I’m not really feeling like daisies at the moment. Could you please bugger off?”

Moody sneered. “Dumbledore gave you the responsibility to look after Potter. Looking at you now I can’t help but think he made the wrong decision.”

Sirius grit his teeth, unable to prevent the blow to his ego. “I’m not your subordinate now. I don’t have to listen to you.”

“Aye, you’re not my subordinate anymore, but I had the feeling that we were still on the same team. You were on my team when we took out Rookwood, remember? We’re still in this fight together.” retorted Moody before picking up his staff and going the exit.

Sirius grumbled and slumped back atop the counter. It would take a few glasses of water to prevent a hangover in the morning. Enough for him to remember that he wasn’t on that team that went to capture Rookwood.

Why had Moody said that? The whole report of Rookwood’s capture had been doctored in order to fool more of Voldemort’s spies. Sirius had been hiding with Harry in Hogwarts during that time but the Auror office kept on releasing documents to make it seem like he was still on the force. Surely Moody hadn’t gone senile. Merlin, the man had been the one to suggest it in the first place!

Sirius couldn’t help but ponder on it until exhaustion overcame him and he finally drifted off into slumber.

I have a Discord server where you can get into contact with me more directly. Be aware that it can be a bit NSFW compared to other servers.

Link: FEKnu79

Chapter 16: Snake, Meet Bird

“Harry Potter” belongs to J.K. Rowling

AN: I want to extend my thanks to the great members of my Discord server, who have helped me with the writing of the chapter itself, but also re-igniting my passion for this.

Special thanks go to Meneldur, who has not only aided me with the crafting and editing of this chapter, but also the story as a whole.

With that out of the way, please enjoy the chapter!

“Dialogue”

‘Thoughts’

“Foreign Language”

A Godfather’s Promise

Chapter XV: Snake, Meet Bird.

Fear is such a complicated emotion. Mainly because there were many instances in which it would creep into people. There was a primal fear, such as when one was faced with direct physical danger. This was the kind of fear that even animals – especially magical if Hagrid could be believed – could feel.

However, there were types of fear that seemed to be exclusive to humans. Perhaps because of the level of emotional complexity or the tendency to take a simple situation and make it infinitely more convoluted but the reasoning mattered little. It almost didn’t matter if it was an upcoming exam, a job interview, or in Harry’s case, confessing to one’s girlfriend.

“Hey… I’m back.” His voice was tired, he didn’t even try to hide it. Same thing with his posture. ‘Is this the way someone headed for the gallows would feel?’

“Maître!” exclaimed Fleur. “Welcome back! Could you be so kind as to let your lovely and perfect girlfriend out of zese binds?”

Right, Fleur was still tied up. Just seeing her lifted up his spirits and he returned an exhausted smile. “Oh… I don’t know… I’m not sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

“I ‘ave. Tell ‘im, Luna!” She turned her gaze to the smaller blonde, who until now Harry had believed to be sleeping but now realized she was snuggling between Fleur’s breasts

“Her behavior was most satisfactory, Master.” reported Luna. “She complained about not being able to orgasm but we found other ways to have fun.”

Harry chuckled. “Good to know. I’m impressed that you managed to take care of beautiful so well. Would you want a reward?”

Luna’s eyes flashed at the toy chest. “I would like to spend the night in the sleepsack again, Master.”

Harry was surprised a bit at the request before going to the chest. “You know, I first thought that this thing would intimidate you from wanting to play with us. Shows what I know.” He took out the heavy, black leather sleepsack along with the blindfold and the rubber earplugs. Once again, the equipment was too big for Luna’s small size, but a quick spell made it so the leather sack was reduced for the appropriate fit. “I think you already know what to do if you want out?” She nodded heartily.

He turned to Fleur first and undid her bindings, watching her stretch her muscles after being tied spread-eagle to the bed for several hours. His eyes never left her as she returned to her playful demeanor.

“Eef you were trying to discourage me from being naughty, you really shouldn’t make punishments so… delightful, Maître.”

“Alright. How about I don’t let you use your latex lingerie and I extend your chastity time?”

“Non! Your Fleur can’t take zat ‘orrible cruelty! Miséricorde!”

Harry grabbed her chin before giving a peck on her lips. “Don’t worry, beautiful. You’d have to be really naughty to warrant that kind of punishment.” He nodded towards Luna and the leather sleepsack. “How about you help me put Luna to sleep?”

The process was a bit less intimate for Harry, still thinking about the exact words he would tell Fleur about the new development that would potentially involve the petite blonde that was currently being swallowed by black leather. Once the sleepsack was chained and the blindfold and earplugs added, Harry knew that he had to speak now.

“I just talked with Sirius,” he said dumbly, staying quiet for a few seconds as he watched Fleur get under the covers. She had opted to go to bed still wearing her shiny lingerie. “He told me… a few things.”

Fleur snuggled up to him, slowly rubbing her womanhood against his leg. “Can’t eet wait until tomorrow, mon chéri? Your slave is needy zis evening.”

He honestly considered it; it’s only natural to want to hold off difficult situations as much as possible… but he needed to be honest with her. “I have… I need to tell you something.”

“What is zis zing zat ‘as you bothered, mon chéri?”

“Remember that book that Luna gave me for Christmas?” He felt Fleur nod into his neck. “Well, turns out that there are certain… customs that are expected from someone with my heritage.”

“Ze backwards Eenglish do not allow you to be wiz a Veela?” muttered Fleur, pain marring her voice. “Are you bozzered wiz my ‘eritage, ‘Arry?” Harry. She never used his name unless it was really serious.

“No!” Harry whispered loudly. “Neither or I nor House Potter care what you are… but the House of Black does.”

Fleur dug her face deeper into his neck. “Are you going to take ze opinion of zem over our… zing?”

“I will not,” assured Harry. “I will keep you for myself. There’s no way I’m going to throw you away over what my grandmother’s family thought about your kind.”

“Zen why bring eet up?”

“There… there has to be another. You know… for the House of Black.”

“Anozzer?”

“Yes… she also has to be pure of blood. If I don’t meet these requirements, Draco Malfoy will be next in line for inheritance and that means everything that comes with the title.”

“You are talking about anozzer mariée? Am I to assume zat I’m to be ze Lady Potter?” To Harry’s surprise, she started to laugh. “Zis is a razzer odd way for you to propose to me, mon chéri. You are vairy bold to believe zat I would accept.”

“Y-You won’t?” Harry took a deep breath, a pit forming inside his stomach. He had feared that this would happen but didn’t want to believe it would. “I… see.”

“’Arry,” said Fleur, delicate hands turning his head to see her eyes, “We are not even emancipated yet… and you are zinking about marriage? We are still young – why are you bringing ze subject of marriage when we still ‘aven’t graduated?”

“I like to plan ahead, beautiful.”

Fleur hummed. “You worry too much, mon chéri. We will get to eet when we need to. As for zis new… person… who do you ‘ave in mind?”

Harry bit his lip. “Well… she’s with us right now.”

“Luna? ‘Ave you told ‘er yet?”

He shook his head. “I… don’t know how to explain it to her. Merlin, I almost ripped my head out trying to find a way to say it to you.”

“Maître,” she whispered hotly into his ear. “Don’t worry about eet. We’ll tell ‘er later… and if anyone’s going to accept an arrangement like zis, zat person is Luna. Whatever ze case, I may not accept marriage right now… but you are making eet vairy ‘ard to say non in ze future.” She went on to rub her body against his again. “Now… I zink you should take care of you Fleur, oui?”

Harry felt as if a huge weight was taken off his shoulders. Whatever was ahead of him, the fact that Fleur was going to be there with him made it all seem much more trivial than before. “Not tonight, beautiful,” he heard her whine, “I’m exhausted. Besides, I really like how clingy you get when you’re frustrated.”

Fleur growled. “I’ll show you ‘ow clingy I can get when I’m frustrated, mon chéri.” Her movements got harder, blatantly gliding her core against his leg.

Her tantalizing movements had an immediate effect on him; if it went any further there would a tent between his legs. “Are you sure you want to engage in a battle of wills, gorgeous? I don’t think you’ll like the outcome.”

Fleur gave a particularly hard and slow grind. “Oh? You zink I am weak willed, Maître? Such a shame zat you believe such zings about your Fleur.”

Harry shook his head. “No, but I’m not nearly as horny as you are right now. Having little control of your future tends to kill the libido.”

Fleur hummed against his ear. “Well eef you want to control somezing, I am available for you.”

Harry felt tempted. So very tempted play with Fleur tonight, but at the same time he just wanted to hold on to her for as long as possible. She talked about things not changing, but the possibility that one day she might be taken from him continued to eat at his very being. “I just want to hold you tonight.” He could not control the small bit of fear from injecting itself into his voice.

“Vairy well… but you owe me.”

“Tomorrow night.”

“I will ‘old you to zat, mon chéri.”

Seating arrangements had never really been something important to Harry. Especially in the Great Hall during mealtimes. He and Ron would usually just sit wherever Hermione did; the brilliant witch was always the first one to arrive. Since the strained relationship with Gryffindor, he sat at the same table, but separated from the rest. This time, it seemed he was the one that attracted the others to sit with him.

Fleur was with him, of course. Not that she was breaking with Beauxbatons because by now many of them had left the Ravenclaw table and just sat where they had made friendships. Most still stayed with Ravenclaw, some were in Gryffindor, others in Hufflepuff. Very few of them went to the Slytherin table.

Harry now sat at the end of the table with Fleur and Hermione. Neville would usually sit with them but was currently with Hannah, barely suppressing his blush. What did draw some stares from Hermione was when Luna walked to them and sat on Harry’s lap with a large tome in one hand and a portion of chocolate pudding in the other. Thankfully, most eyes were still on Fleur but even Harry was shocked at the Ravenclaw’s boldness.

“Always upholding school virtues, aren’t you, Potter?” Daphne Greengrass was always sharp if nothing else. At least that meant that she was not drooling over Fleur… though by the looks of it Harry could not say the same about Susan.

“If it isn’t my favorite Slytherin! How have you been, Daph?” She did not respond so Harry turned his attention towards her red-haired companion. “Sue? Hard to believe you’re accompanying someone other than Hannah. Doing alright?”

Susan snapped from her stupor. “I-I’m sorry… what was it?”

Harry waved a hand towards the seat in front of them. “Want to accompany us?”

Daphne scoffed but still sat down after Susan already made the decision for both of them. The Slytherin grabbed only the most expensive looking dishes in front of her and did not overindulge, something that contrasted with her companion, who was already on her second helping of shepherd’s pie and downing it with gusto. Unlike Ron, however, she had proper table manners.

“It all goes to your breasts, right?” asked Luna, licking the remaining pockets of pudding still in the cup before pointing at her own chest. “You’re lucky – the food I eat doesn’t go anywhere.” Both Harry and Fleur let out a laugh, even Hermione looked about to split a grin as Susan’s face went as red as her hair.

Daphne, however, was not as pleased. “If you’re adopting a stray dog, Potter, at least you can train it in manners and etiquette.”

Before Harry could respond, Fleur jumped in. “Etiquette? Ah, such a novel concept in zis country. Of course, you would know all about being a proper lady, oui?”

“I believe it’s a lost art on the other side of the Channel, but being proper is still regarded as important over here.”

Harry could have intervened, but a part of him wanted to continue spectating the match between the two most sharp-tongued witches he’d ever met. Knowing Fleur, this was actually her friendly side.

“Oh, believe me, we do grasp ze concept of manners, just not as old-fashioned as ze ones I find over ‘ere. I would say you ‘ave ze mindset of ze etiquette of a princesse… a rough princesse, but a princesse nonetheless.”

Daphne raised an eyebrow. “Oh? A princess? That is not a label I would give to myself, of course. They say that simple people are impressed by simple things. Maybe simple people see respectable people and assume they are queens.”

“I remember ze last time France ‘ad a queen… eet did not end well for ‘er, unfortunately. At least you can say zat France ‘as a proven way of dealing wiz nuisances.”

"Yes, I've heard of those barbaric French customs. Here in civilized England, however, they tend to be crowned and go on to have very successful reigns. Of course, I suppose as a follower of the Salic Law, you've never experienced an actual queen,” she sent a brief look at Harry before returning to Fleur with a smirk, “just… arm candy for kings.”

Fleur scrunched her nose for just a second before the confident smirk returned. “Ah, oui. It’s ‘ard for a princesse to find ‘erself a good prince, non? We don’t ‘ave zat much trouble in Beauxbatons… but as for a Slytherin princesse?” She nodded towards Malfoy and his inbred looking minions before setting her eyes on Susan, then back to Daphne. “I am afraid you will ‘ave to go shopping for carpets.”

‘Oh crap.’ Harry knew that he should intervene but Sirius had told him before to never get in the middle of a verbal bitchfight.

Daphne finally revealed her famous sneer. "Well, it's going to be curtains for you in a few more seconds! At least Hogwarts doesn't need its champions to seduce a Goblet in order to get chosen!”

“Daphne!” Susan whispered loudly. “Please stop!”

The intervention made Harry regain his senses and grab Fleur’s arm just as she was taking a breath to come up with a response. She turned around with an annoyed look but Harry simply tightened the grip and sharpened his eyes. He then stood up and led her away from the Great Hall but that did not stop Daphne.

“I see you’re going with the better part of valor, as the French often do!” snarked Daphne with Susan begging at her side to stop.

Fleur turned back even as she was being pulled outside. “Well, at least I don’t need to be kept on a leash like you!”

“That’s a lie,” quipped Luna as she joined them while Fleur continued to curse in French all the way back to the room.

“What was that?” demanded Harry once the door was closed.

Fleur gave an indignant look. “Ze bitch started eet. She insulted Luna.”

“Did she?” asked Luna. “I did not notice.”

“She called you a stray dog,” deadpanned Fleur.

“Oh… that’s not an insult – dogs are the best,” responded Luna before she headed out the door. “I need to go study, Master.”

Harry waved her goodbye before returning to Fleur. “She might have insulted Luna… but you did the same to Susan. She was just as innocent as Luna.”

To her credit, Fleur did look ashamed. “I do admit zat I went a little overboard but… zat little putain!”

“Daphne has a talent to get on everyone’s nerves. She isn’t called the ‘Royal Bitch of Slytherin’ without good reason. You just have to learn to deal with her… and attacking her sexual preferences? Really? I think it’d be extremely hypocritical of us to judge someone for what happens behind closed doors.” He took a second to reflect. “Though… I have to admit. I didn’t think Susan swung that way.”

“Non. At least not Susan.”

“What do you mean?”

“Susan swings for both teams.”

“You mean like Luna… and I guess you now? How do you know that?”

Fleur sighed before sitting down. “Women know zese zings… and a little angel told me some interesting zings.”

Harry stood for a few moments. “I can’t let this go unpunished; you know that?”

“Maitre! You can’t be serious!”

Shaking his head, Harry held out his hand. “Give me your lingerie.” Fleur grumbled before going to the drawers and giving him a pair of black silk undergarments. “You know which ones I mean?” chastised Harry. She was wearing them of course, and he waited patiently for her to slip out of them. “You won’t be wearing these for a while.”

“Non! I love zem, Maître! You cannot be so cruel!” whined Fleur like she was ten years younger.

Harry did not listen and placed them on the toy trunk before taking out a ballgag and some cuffs. “You will be cleaning the room every day for the next two weeks… starting now.”

Fleur sighed exaggeratedly before taking out her wand but before she could let out a spell, Harry stopped her. “No. No magic.” He summoned a broom and a duster before cuffing her hands in front of her and gagging her. “It’s the muggle way for you. And no speaking, either. Perhaps I will let you use your mouth if stop complaining. Oh… and orgasms are a no-no.”

A muffled wail of despair left Fleur’s lips as she took on the rest of her tasks. At times mumbling about her lost privileges. Other times complaining about the boring looking lingerie that Harry made her wear. Hopefully she would learn something before the week was over.

Susan always found it hard to be angry, and if she did, the feeling would usually leave quickly. There was little use to being angry; it only hurt oneself and prevented conciliation with others. All it did was lead to the worst aspects of human nature.

Disappointment, however, was a different thing altogether, and Merlin help her if she could not feel disappointed in Daphne.

“That French tart! Somebody needs to shut her mouth or she’ll find that it makes a tempting target for a little potion or two in her morning coffee,” ranted Daphne. She had not stopped stomping elegantly around the room since they’d arrived.

Susan shook her head, sitting down on the transfigured couch. “Don’t use your talents to harm others, even Professor Snape says that.”

“I don’t want to kill her… but maybe a few boils on her face will wipe that smile away.”

“Please don’t be so petty,” pleaded Susan, gingerly grasping Daphne’s hand to sit down. “I don’t like it when you act like this.”

Daphne scoffed but sat down. “You can’t live successfully without getting into conflict. Be more assertive!”

“Maybe that’s true… but this not a conflict that needs to happen,” responded Susan, her grip on Daphne getting tighter. “Why can’t you just… not talk to people like that?”

Daphne let out a breath. “Stop, Susan. I already get enough sermons from others. Not you.” She let a slender hand softly trail up Susan’s thigh. “I have more than a little stress to let out.”

For a moment, Susan wanted to resist, as if it were punishment for Daphne, but all the right buttons were being pushed. She let the hand go upward until it was undoing her yellow and black tie, followed by the buttons of her robe. The redhead was about to help but a kiss stopped her, and could barely afford to use her feet to kick of the black shoes.

Regaining her senses, she looked right into her lover’s amethyst eyes and smiled, feeling a sharp warmth spreading across her cheeks, just as it was doing between her legs. The Hufflepuff returned the favor by rapidly undoing Daphne’s uniform, lacking the same grace that the Slytherin beauty had. Soon enough she saw the white, old-fashioned underwear that Daphne wore, never having shopped outside Magical Britain.

Both of them ceased the teasing for just long enough to shed the remaining clothes they had left. “Did you lock the door?” asked Susan, trembling fingers fidgeting with the clasp of her bra.

“I did.”

Susan finally managed to get off the garment that seemed to be getting tighter every day. ‘When will these things stop growing?!’ Getting her underwear off was easier, revealing her fully nude body to Daphne. “A-And the n-noise charms?”

“In effect. Don’t worry and enjoy yourself.”

There were more precautions that Susan wanted to ask but seeing Daphne bare in front of her made was enough to make her choke on whatever words were going to come out. Feeling as if she had no control over her body, the redhead leant forward and planted a kiss on the Slytherin’s breast; the caresses on her crimson tresses she got in return were heaven.

Susan had come to realize in the months since the relationship had started that she enjoyed herself more when she just let go and let Daphne take the lead. Melting on the couch, she let Daphne’s hands lay touches on her that were as reserved and in control as she expected her lover to be. The Hufflepuff had always imagined that her first time with another person would consist of her partner pawing at her form like a beast, but the Slytherin acted as anything but… at least not when it was her being touched.

“Can I ask something of you?”

And there it was. Daphne may not have acted like a beast, but it was like she expected Susan of all people to act like one, when she requested one of her little… additions to their special time together.

“W-What do you want?” She was a little concerned of what the brilliant Slytherin might ask for this time. It had started simple at first – a little pinch here or a slightly degrading word there… but last time the dark-haired beauty had been asking for way too much.

“I… want to let out some stress,” said Daphne.

“I-I’m not going slap your breasts.”

Daphne sighed. “I believe that I was a little too demanding with that… how about something easier?” She crawled until she was bent atop Susan’s lap. “Can you… spank it a little?”

“W-What?!”

“It’s not that hard… just use the palm of your hand and,” she swayed her bottom, “strike.”

“I… I don’t –“ Susan took a deep breath to ease herself. This was the side of Daphne that she was most concerned with; the side that was asking for more and more… punishment? Pain? She did not know why someone wanted such a treatment but she tried not to judge. “Alright… I’ll do it this time.” She was at least pleasing her partner.

Daphne let out a breath and said no more as Susan tried her best to think about what to do. Trying to steady herself, the redhead softly caressed the pale behind, smiling when her partner let out a moan. Feeling more confident, she hardened her palm and struck.

The sound of flesh against flesh echoed inside the silent room. Aside from the sharp tinging on her palm, Susan felt Daphne stiffen before letting out a moan. “W-Was that too hard?” ‘I should have been more careful!’

The Slytherin shook her head. “No… in fact… can you go harder?”

“Harder?!”

“I can take it,” assured Daphne before settling down again.

“I… I don’t think I can go harder. Doesn’t it hurt?”

Daphne sighed loudly. “Let out your anger on me if you need to.”

“I’m not angry at you,” responded Susan.

A laugh escaped Daphne’s lips. “Are you not? Were you not angry with me just a few minutes ago? You looked quite miffed when I was putting that French whore in her place.”

“Don’t call her that!”

“There it is. Even you can get angry. Why don’t you use that to teach me a little lesson?”

Susan was not angry… but she would be lying if she said she didn’t want to see Daphne get a little bit of comeuppance for what happened at the Great Hall. The problem was that she wasn’t keen on being the one that administered that comeuppance. Resigned, she palmed her hand again and struck with a little bit more force than before.

“Harder!” gasped Daphne, jumping again when another slap came. “Oww…harder!” Both her pale cheeks were turning a healthy red but that did not deter her. “I’m a massive cunt, right?! Treat me like a massive cunt! Harder!”

The Hufflepuff’s hand was hurting and she didn’t want to do any more but it was like Daphne was a hungry for more pain than she could give. Ignoring the numbness, she struck again.

“Pull my hair!” demanded Daphne. Susan had never seen her lover be so… undignified. Daphne Greengrass had always been the epitome of refined pureblood; the pain on her palm was the only thing that convinced her that it was not a dream.

“That would really hurt yo –“

“Morgana’s tits, Susan! Can’t you give me this one thing?!” Susan relented and pulled on the long, dark tresses. “Aaah… yes! Just like that! Harder! Harder!”

“Enough!” yelled Susan, letting go of anything and staring at her throbbing red palm. “I don’t like doing these things to you!”

Daphne did not respond at first, laying still on Susan’s lap and breathing heavily. The image of pureblood perfection she was not – her ass was almost as red as Susan’s hair, and when she managed to turn around the expression painted was anything but that of a proper lady. “That’s alright. I believe that’s enough to get me properly excited.” Sure enough, her flower was wetter than Susan had ever seen. Her arms encircled the Hufflepuff and went back to passionate kisses.

Despite what had happened before, Susan went back to letting go of herself, letting Daphne take reign of the situation but in the back of her mind she knew that her lover was trying harder than desired. She did not wish to say anything to upset Daphne, but the redhead was feeling as if the passion of their first meetings was receding into a mire of dissatisfaction. Susan still loved Daphne despite having to deal with the downsides; she wanted to spend more time with her… but the more physical side of the relationship was beginning to go sour.

She tried her best to satisfy the pureblood Slytherin… but there was no enjoyment to be had in doing the punishing. At first, Susan was excited when she started a physical relationship with Daphne but now there was a healthy mix of anxiety accompanied the thrill.  “Am I enough?” she asked.

“What kind of question is that?” Daphne asked back with a hand teasing her own flower. “We work well together, do we not?”

Susan bit her lip. “I’m not sure I can go through with what you want. Would you not prefer… someone else?”

Daphne sighed and sat back on the couch, regaining the usual refined elegance even with the unkempt hair and nude body. “We work well enough. Having the responsibility of an heiress is not an easy prospect but one must learn to make the most of what one has.”

Closing her eyes, Susan rested her weary head on Daphne’s shoulder. “I don’t want to just be enough… but I think that is what I will end up being.” A hot tear trailed down her cheek. “I don’t want it to be just good enough to live with it.”

“What do you wish for? It’s not going to be easy to find another person to join the two of us.”

Susan imagined the situation. Certainly, it would be easier for her to be the observer when Daphne asked for her little eccentricities. Merlin, she may even find it a bit exciting to see a humbled Slytherin every once in a while… but Daphne was right; it would not be easy to find someone to satisfy all that. “I will do what I can. I… I do love you… and I don’t want our sexual needs to get in the way of that.”

“Oh, my sweet Susan. I don’t intend to end it just yet. If I ever do, it will not be your fault.”

The Hufflepuff wanted to believe her lover more than anything, but as she laid down to enjoy Daphne’s sweet touches, they did nothing to relieve her heavy heart.

Today was finally the day; the day in which Fleur would meet his godfather. It wasn’t like he was nervous – Sirius of all people would hardly object to his choice in partners – but there was still something inside him that put him on edge. More than likely it was Sirius not being able to control himself in front of his girlfriend.

“You look nervous, mon chéri… afraid about ‘ow eet will go.” Despite still being clearly peeved about the whole punishment ordeal, Fleur seemed as cheerful as ever. More than likely because vacation was here and with that came the end of her punishment.

Not to mention the fact that Harry had promised to take her shopping.

“I am sure zat your parrain will not be bozzered by me.”

‘Gorgeous, the only person that might get bothered is you.’ “We’re going to the seventh floor. Remember the Room of Requirement?”

Fleur grabbed his hand tightly. “Oui… ‘ow could I forget ze place where zis… zing between us started.” She licked her lips. “You collared me zat night, tied me up… slept wiz me.” A silent giggled escaped her. “We even met Luna back zen.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, well, aside from being a great place to put collars on gorgeous French witches, I’ve also been using it as a place to practice with Sirius. It’s great – lets us get all sorts of equipment for training.”

The laugh Fleur let out let him know that they were back to naughty talk. She whispered into his ear, “You know… I ‘ave a lot of ideas for a room zat can give us all sorts of equipment.”

He surveyed the area, making sure that there was no one around before sending a firm slap to her behind, smirking at her silent and oddly dignified yelp. “I’m not spoiling you before Friday, beautiful.”

“But I like being spoiled!” whined Fleur. “I’ve been good, non? I want to be naughty again!”

“And how would you go about being naughty?”

Fleur’s breath against his ear admittedly sent a shiver down his spine. “I’d be wearing my lingerie, évidemment. On ze bed… or is kneeling better? Yes, I zink kneeling… kneeling and collared on ze bed. You’d come ‘ome since you’re so tired from training. Everybody needs relief, non? Did you know zat Veela learn a traditional massage? Eet involves me using my entire body to take your… stress away. By ze end, ze only zing I will not use is my mouth… but zen I can do zat zing zat you like so much wiz my tongue.”

“Enough,” said Harry. The last thing he needed now was to show up with the front of his pants as a makeshift tent.

Sirius was not alone when they arrived. Not that that was an unusual thing; Remus was often waiting to help train Harry as well. But it wasn’t the former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that was speaking with Sirius. The figure had his back to them but the colorful robes betrayed the identity.

“Professor Dumbledore,” greeted Harry, a little uncertain about seeing Dumbledore speaking to Sirius on the Room of Requirement rather than the Headmaster’s office.

“Harry,” greeted Dumbledore and then slowly turned towards Fleur, “and Ms. Delacour. Wonderful afternoon, is it not?” He turned towards Sirius and gave a nod. “Well… I believe that we can continue this conversation some other time.” The Headmaster slowly walked to the entrance before turning towards Harry again. “Now Harry, I trust you know that this room is to be used responsibly, correct?”

“Of course, Professor.” Harry waited for the Headmaster to leave before turning towards Sirius. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing.”

Harry looked at Sirius with a dead expression. “It’s a bit hard to be prepared when I’m not being told what’s happening, isn’t it? I’m sure somebody in history lost a war due to being poorly informed.”

Sirius made a small wince. “I guess there’s no harm in telling you – Crouch is dead.”

That was certainly something that Harry wasn’t expecting. Briefly, he tried to recall a face to go along with the name but he had barely paid attention to the man. Among the judges, Crouch was the least interesting when compared to the Hogwarts Headmaster, former death eater Karkaroff, the towering Madame Maxine, and even the flamboyant Ludo Bagman. The only thing that Harry seemed to remember was a neatly dressed man that was more comfortable with Muggle style clothes rather than wizarding robes

“Crouch? Ze boring looking judge?” asked Fleur. “What ‘appened?”

Sirius shook his head. “I don’t know. We found his body in the Forbidden Woods shortly after the Second Task but there was nothing else… nor have we found a reason that anyone would want to murder him aside from being dangerously dull.”

Fleur huffed. ““I mean, I zought ‘is choice of clozzing was a crime but I zink zat killing ‘im for eet is a bit far-fetched… especially een zis country.”

Cackling, Sirius changed his mood and the conversation. “So this is the lovely young woman that managed to snag my godson.” He grinned and gave thumbs up. “Now I can see why you’ve been hiding her. You’ve probably spent the last months driving other guys off with a stick. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle.”

A soft giggle escaped Fleur’s mouth. “’Arry’s not ze only one wiz a stick, Monsieur Black.”

“Please, call me Sirius… or Padfoot. My last name makes me feel old.”

“Well my last name is too beautiful to make me feel old, but you can call me Fleur.”

Harry snickered “You are getting old, old man. You were struggling to catch your breath the last session.”

Sirius let out a loud laugh. “You still have a lot to learn to beat me, Prongslet.” He flicked his wrist and a wand appeared. “Let’s not waste any time. You’ll get to enjoy your girlfriend later.”

The Gryffindor champion took out his wand as well and stepped over to where the pads were. Fleur, on the other hand, walked to a simple wooden chair, closed her eyes and shook her head derisively, transfigured it into an ornate chaise longue and laid down on it like a model during a photoshoot.

“Eyes on your opponent,” chastised Sirius, looking like he wanted to laugh. “Never take your eyes off your opponent, even if there are better things to look at.”

Harry admittedly flushed a bit but was determined not to show anything and turned his attention back to his godfather and threw a quick stunner, noticing that Sirius’ gaze had wandered to Fleur. “Eyes on your opponent,” he mocked

Sirius quickly returned to his senses, enough to shield against his spell wordlessly at the last moment. “You’ll need a lot of more training to get the drop on me,” he laughed before sending a stunner himself. “How about a little warmup?”

Harry dodged the stunner and waited for an opening to strike himself. Once he saw that Sirius was slowing down, he sent stunner after stunner against his godfather, giving him little to no time to recover. He used his youth and vigor in battle, barely feeling tired at all despite the number of spells leaving the tip of his wand.

He used almost every spell on his arsenal that did not include life-threatening curses, but Sirius was still blocking all of them expertly, as befitting of an veteran Auror. It was a contest of experience against youth and sheer power.

The tables turned again and Sirius sent a few shots at him. Until now, Harry had preferred to dodge spells rather than use shields. The former was simply much more intuitive than bringing up magical protection, especially when he had still not mastered the art of summoning them wordlessly.

“So crude,” commented Fleur while still posing like a supermodel. “Zere is no grace ‘ere at all, mon chéri.”

Harry turned to see his girlfriend. “I didn’t realize that fighting was meant to be some kind of artistic expression, beautiful.”

Fleur sighed loudly, “Everyzing is an artistic expression. Zat is somezing zat you and ze rest of zis backwater do not seem to understand.” She stood up and took out her wand. “Commençons!”

“Beautiful, I don’t want to –“

A laugh left Fleur’s mouth. “You don’t want to fight me, mon chéri? Do you zink I am too weak? Do I need to you remind you zat aside from being perfect, your girlfriend is also a champion?”

Harry shook his head. “I know that you’re a great witch, but I’m uncomfortable with the possibility of causing my girlfriend any pain.”

Fleur smirked and calmly walked up to him until her whisper could not reach Sirius’ ears. “You seem to ‘ave no problem wiz giving me painful lessons in private, Maître.”

Harry was too distracted after that that he barely noticed Fleur stepping back into position and firing a stunner. A last-minute dodge made sure he wasn’t hit by it but there was another that he noticed just in time to make a quick shield.

“Shields? Zat is good, mon cheri. Let us see ‘ow well zey can ‘old up against me, oui?”

Harry took the opportunity to launch a weak stunner towards her but she effortlessly dodged it like an expert dancer following a strict choreography. In fact, the whole situation made him feel like he was in a dance, with him being the one that was stumbling on his partner’s toes while Fleur expertly maneuvered around him, sometimes with shields, sometimes with sheer physical grace. Every spell he sent was effortlessly dealt with while he was finding it difficult to step aside or pull out a shield at the last minute.

Suddenly, Harry found himself stuck in place. He looked down to his feet to see that they would not budge, like they were stuck with some sort of superheated glue. ‘A sticking charm!’ he realized, too distracted to see a mild stunner heading towards him; impossible for him to dodge, and too late to pull out a shield. The spell hit him on the chest, sending him to the ground.

The next thing he noticed was that he was laying on the ground, with both Fleur and Sirius looking down on him. He groaned before trying to stand up with his godfather’s help. “When did you use a sticking charm?” he asked, trying to recall their duel.

Fleur’s blue eyes danced with mischief and mirth. “When I walked and whispered to you, mon chéri. Did you not see me point my wand to ze ground or were you too… distracted?”

Harry did not let the embarrassment show in any way once he remembered that he had in fact, not been concentrating on anything other than what his hormones dictated.

Sirius chortled loudly as he finished helping Harry. “I can’t say I blame you there, Harry.”

“You are vairy strong, mon chéri, your raw strength is greater zan mine.” She tapped a finger to her temple. “Zat is why I ‘ave to fight wiz my ‘ead more zan wiz my natural power,” she lectured. “You can’t just throw spells at someone and expect to win. You ‘ave to expand your strategies, learn more spells and zeir uses. When you look at professional dueling clubs, some fights are won before zey even begin. Eet is more important in a real fight where rules matter little – especially to ze dark wizards and witches.”

Harry chuckled tiredly before getting close to Fleur and kissing. “Well you know I can’t let it end like this, beautiful.” He secretly pointed his wand at her. “Incarcerous!” From the tip, long black ropes were summoned and, as if they had a life of their own, wrapped around Fleur’s body tightly like snakes. They did not form the professional patterns he’d seen from several pictures, but it was a work in progress.

“Quoi!?” gasped Fleur, letting go of her wand after the surprise attack. Harry made sure to pick it up carefully. “You cheat, mon chéri!”

“I guess you were too distracted, love,” snickered Harry, picking and placing her over his shoulder. “Don’t be a sore loser now.” He turned towards Sirius. “Think that’s enough for today?”

Sirius laughed. “Sure, but it’s going to be rougher next time. I have a spell for you to learn.”

Harry nodded before adjusting his wriggling girlfriend and whispering, “Stop whining, beautiful. You always did say I’m a barbarian.”

Fleur huffed but continued to struggle playfully. “Eet’s in your blood, you savage. Years of breeding wiz brutes can’t ‘ave been good.”

“Oh… right. I remember now that we did help conquer Gaul.” He waited until he was out of the room and gave her a spank. “And Agincourt now that I remember.”

“Orléans… Hastings. You louts seem to forget zat your kingdom started zanks to us.”

Another spank. “Waterloo. We can do this all day, beautiful. Now… this barbarian has taken a great prize and now wants to take her back to his lair. Do your nation proud and surrender.”

Fleur became silent for a while before gasping. “Maître! We are een public! Put me down!”

That had been a concern at first for Harry, but most students were currently eating at the moment. The halls were empty. “Nobody’s going to see us, beautiful… maybe the ghosts but nobody takes them seriously.”

“Zey will ‘ear us.”

Another spank. “Then you’ll have to be really quiet, beautiful.”

“I’ll talk to you when I get back,” said Hermione while shrinking her trunk, ready to go out on the train back to her parents for Easter break. “Please try and stay out of trouble while I’m gone, alright?” While her words were similar to the authoritative ones she used in their first years, her voice was more of concern than anything.

Harry hugged her closely. “Don’t you worry, Hermione. Have fun.” He turned towards Fleur. ‘We sure as hell will.”

Hermione huffed. “I wasn’t saying it to you – I was saying it to Fleur. I know you’ll just do the opposite of what I say.”

“Oui, oui. We will be good.” She grabbed his hand, and smirked at him, her blue eyes sparkling with a strange sort of greed.

Like almost everyone in Hogwarts, Harry had been looking forwards to Easter holidays. Not because of family gatherings or trips to the beach, but because of the woman that was holding his hand with barely restrained excitement.

Neville had already boarded the train. Before that, he had seen Susan and Hannah get inside already, and Daphne had done so as soon as the doors had been opened. Hermione though, was taking more time than usual to say her goodbyes, avoiding her usual punctual habits. With a final slow wave of her hand, she stepped inside.

“Enfin!” Fleur exclaimed once they both arrived to their room, lying down on the divan. “No classes and no Madame Maxine – two weeks all for ourselves!”

“So, you are staying? I thought you’d be eager to go to your family since you didn’t see them last month.” Not that Harry was unhappy to the idea of her staying, he even had a planned trip that would be far more fun with her in tow.

“Évidemment, You weren’t going to make any plans wizzout me, were you, Maître?” teased Fleur as she started to unbutton her uniform. “Because zere are a lot of zings I wanted to do wiz you… and Luna stayed, did she not? Magnifique!”

Harry nodded. “She told me her father went on a trip, so she decided to remain here.” He watched as Fleur stripped down to her underwear and dragged their trunk from under the bed, taking the catalogue inside.

“Let us see… we need more gags, we still do not ‘ave an armbinder,” she grabbed the leather cuffs and began fastening them to her wrists and ankles, leaving the collar for last, “zere is a disturbing lack of rope. Now zat I zink about eet, you ‘ave not used eet on me much. Oooh! We absolutely need to buy a collar for Luna!” She spent the rest of the day and well into the night marking her wishes on a list.

It was easy to convince Sirius to get them a portkey to London, and Harry had been preparing the Ageing potion for days with the help of Fleur.  With that and a quick transfiguration to make his clothes bigger, he was ready to hit the streets.

“I ‘ope zat four years go by quickly,” said Fleur once Harry stepped out of the bathroom, four years older.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Harry saw that his features sharpened, and his height was such that Fleur was almost a head shorter than him while normally they’d be around the same size. Other than that, not much had changed; his messy black hair and green eyes were still the same but a pressure from below the belt-line told him that’d he’d matured quite well.

“Our first time shopping! Oh là là! Do you want me to model for you?” gushed Fleur as they passed through the crowds, with many men and more than a few women blatantly staring at her.

“This potion will only work for a few hours. Let’s get right to the business at hand.”

“Ah! Ze naughty zings first! Could not agree more.”

The establishment they eventually arrived at did not have any advertisement that made its nature known, but anyone who pondered the name “Garden of Venus” for more than a second, as well as the dark tinted windows, probably knew what was sold inside. Inside, it was surprisingly empty, with the exception of a female clerk that happily welcomed them.

“Welcome to Garden of Venus! Ah, Mister Potter! You are back… and I’m guessing your companion is…” she greeted, letting the sentence hang with her eyes fixed on Fleur’s collar after the French beauty had taken off her scarf.

Harry nodded. “Good to see you, Olivia.”

“My, my. Now I know why he was keeping you hidden. He must have a hard time getting all the guys off you.”

“Zat is an effort for ze both of us, believe me.”

“Anyways, you’re safe here. Don’t be ashamed to ask anything you want. We’re here to fulfil your kinkiest desires.”

“Do you ‘ave outfits? I ‘ave zis exquisite lingerie and I want more.”

As Fleur stepped into the clothing section, Harry felt himself more at ease. The first time he’d stepped inside the sex shop he had almost felt his heart jump out of his throat, but the second time around – even with an excited Fleur – was definitely easier now that he didn’t look like a curious kid that didn’t know what he was doing. Taking his time, he walked over to where he’d last seen the collars and inspected the different types.

Harry was already familiar with the leather ones; those were the most comfortable given the material, so his eyes were more focused this time around the metal ones. With a warming charm, he would be able to make them easier to wear on cooler weather. Right next to the collars were the shackles and cuffs, neatly arranged by size.

Something caught his eye, however. Right next to some porno mags and erotica novels there were several manuals. Some of them were for the care of most of the material that was available on the store, others were tips and guidelines on BDSM relationships, and one that he immediately picked up was a book on rope bondage. The reason why he hadn’t used rope much on Fleur was his admitted inexperience with binding a person with it.

With only Harry and Fleur as customers, it was easy for him to hear the conversation between Olivia and his excited girlfriend. “Here we have the costumes. We have cute outfits in leather, vinyl…”

“Latex?!” questioned an enthusiastic Fleur.

“Ah! You looked more like a lady that appreciates latex. Did you like that lingerie?”

“I love eet! Do you mind if I look around?” Harry turned gaze to see Fleur running her hand around several outfits, picking some of them and using the mirror to check them. “So beautiful,” she swooned while holding a gleaming red dress before gently passing it to Olivia. “I’ll be taking zat one.” She then grabbed another, this one with a short skirt and black in color. “Zis one too… and zis one… and zis one… oooh! Zis one has such exquisite pattern! I’ll take eet! Ah… zere are ze stockings as well… and I need more lingerie. Are… are zose leopard prints in ze gloves?!”

Once Harry saw his basket filled with gear – not to mention Fleur’s rapidly growing pile of fetishwear – that he was thankful that he was using a credit card; no wallet in existence would be able to hold enough cash to pay for all of it.

“I zink zat is enough,” sighed Fleur as she placed one last skirt on the counter along with an instruction manual and kit to take care of her new purchases. “Enough for now at least.” She turned to Harry and whispered, “You are making your Fleur very ‘appy, mon chéri.”

“Well… I have to say that you have behaved. In the last week you have only criticized English food half a dozen times.”

“A difficult task, I will ‘ave you know.”

Harry spied the price number increasing exponentially and then looked before turning back to Fleur. “Do you want to buy something as a surprise? Maybe for Luna?” He looked back at some of the objects offered on display. “I think I want to keep a few things for the right moment.”

Fleur’s eyes flashed towards the price and looked back. “Are you sure? You may regret giving a woman permission to continue shopping, mon amour.”

“Go ahead,” assured Harry and smiled as his girlfriend’s face brightened up again, leaving him enough time to grab a garment he’d seen last time and to his delight, was still on offer. Grabbing the black and white outfit, he walked back to the counter. “Can you pack this in secret, please.”

Olivia sent a knowing smirk. “Ah… the classic. Bit cliché, don’t you think.”

“Hey, my girlfriend’s French. Pretty sure it’s against the law if I don’t have her wear this at least once.” Harry passed the plastic card to Olivia and stepped out, waiting for Fleur to finish with the rest of her surprise purchases.

“I zink Luna will like what I bought ‘er.” She grabbed Harry’s arm and nestled it between her breasts. “Zank you so much for spoiling your Fleur, Maître.”

“It’s not like I won’t enjoy it as well, beautiful.” Harry smirked before both of them said their goodbyes to Olivia and walked to an isolated alleyway where they placed the purchases inside a shrunken trunk that Harry kept in his back pocket. He felt the effects of the potion starting to recede just as they arrived back to the Leaky Cauldron. With Sirius’ help, they were back to Hogwarts by nightfall.

“My… ‘ow will I be tied up today? Maybe somezing daring?” pondered a fully nude Fleur, lying face down on the bed with a rubber armbinder on one hand. “Maybe somezing a little more practical.” On her other hand was a pair of cuffs. “Decisions, decisions… so ‘ard to make zem. I leave it to you, Maître.”

Harry ignored the restraints that Fleur had placed in front of him, going instead to the trunk and picking out a length of pure white rope, its softness made specifically for bondage. He had spent the day reading the manual he’d bought earlier, and now he felt the need to try his new knowledge on the willing French submissive. “I believe you were complaining about me not using enough rope.”

Fleur smiled seductively, swinging her legs back and forth slowly. “A basic and crude method… but een ze right ‘ands… it can create art. Is your barbarian mind enough to use your canvas, Maître?”

“Be it crude or elegant, you tend to enjoy it either way.” Harry returned Fleur’s smile with a confident smirk that widened when she turned around and placed her hands behind her back. He placed both her arms with each palm on her elbows so they resembled a square, quickly putting his earlier study of the so called “box-tie”, he maneuvered the soft rope. First, the forearms were bound and with the same length of long rope, it was attached to the shoulders, and later around the entire chest, both above and below her breasts. The Gryffindor finished the ensemble with a knot that would easily be undone if it was necessary.

“It’s a lot more intricate than your average Incarcerous spell,” mumbled Harry, testing the binds, admiring the way It made Fleur’s chest bulge slightly forward.

Fleur let out a giggle. “Sometimes, magic can be too blunt to be beautiful… kind of like ze Eenglish now zat I zink.”

A loud spank silenced her. “Behave,” chastised Harry as grabbed another length of rope and concentrated on her legs, “or you’re going back into punishment.” The manual and the pictures that were contained within showed quite a bit of different ways to bind someone with rope. There was one in particular that he wanted to out.

Instead of binding the two extremities together as was often the case, the binding method described as the “frog-tie” called for the entire leg to be folded as if kneeling, and then binding the ankle and calf against the thigh, leaving the legs bound and yet still able to spread them open, leaving easy access to Fleur’s core.

“You ‘ave gotten good at zis, Maitre,” whispered Fleur as she playfully struggled in her bonds, trying to move her legs up and down, leaving Harry with a wonderful spectacle of a foreign beauty inadvertently showing off all her assets until she stopped, panting for a break. “I guess backwards savages know well enough ‘ow to bind a woman. Now zat you ‘ave captured your French prisoner, what will you do wiz ‘er?”

Harry’s thoughts were broken for a moment. So concentrated was he on getting Fleur bound that if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t really have a plan after that. His eyes were still lingering between the French witch’s legs when he felt his body moving forwards until his face was only a few inches away from his girlfriend’s core. Only at that moment did he realize that Fleur had stopped moving, a quick look and he saw she was now staring wide-eyed at him with a healthy flush of red spread across her cheeks.

Neither said anything as Harry used his fingers to spread the petals apart, exposing more of the sensitive pink flesh. He allowed himself a brief time to take what was in front of him into account, and a part of him could not help but return to Sirius’ haphazard attempts at sexual education, yet the female sex in front of him was very much similar to those described in both magical and muggle textbooks.

His fingers were soon feeling Fleur’s labia, which appeared to be glistening more and more as he intensified the ministrations, feeling a tell-tale wetness on his digits. “You are such a dirty girl behind closed doors, aren’t you?” he said, finally finding his voice.

“J-Just for you, Maître.” Fleur was biting her lip, yet it did little prevent the moans from escaping, only stopping when Harry stopped teasing her and watched her respond once more. Her face now fully flushed, she looked to be resting but her pussy was almost throbbing with need; wet to the extent that light reflected upon it.

Harry stared for a few moments, not knowing what to do for a few minutes, until some sort of instinct took over and he opened his mouth, tongue spilling out and gave an experimental lick to the velvety folds.

“ Ah… ‘Arry?” gasped Fleur. It had been a long time since she had used his real name.

“You’ve done this to me plenty – It’s only fair that I return the favor,” He dove in again, this time a little more confidently. The biggest surprise was the taste. Slightly sweet; nothing like what he’d read it’d taste like. In the back of his mind, he catalogued it as another in the list of “Veela features” that Fleur had yet to reveal. Right between overnight puberty and rapidly healing scars.

As licks turned to suckles and even soft bites, muted moans turned into screams. Thank Merlin for privacy charms because one of the first things he’d learned about Fleur it was that her strong voice was not just for haughty remarks.

Whether by instinct or reflex, Fleur spasmed and tried to close her legs but Harry kept them pinned at the sides while all methodology left him and he simply tried everything to push Fleur further and further towards the edge of orgasm.

“D-Do I ‘ave permission?!” screamed Fleur while trying to thrust her pelvis further. It was at moment like these that Fleur looked like a completely different person: sweating, panting, and with a red flush all across her body. So completely unlike the persona she portrayed in public.

Harry let the question hang for a few moments before he pulled away from his girlfriends’ sex and continued to edge her with just his fingers. “Hold,” he commanded.

“Maître!” Fleur whined but Harry only kept edging her.

“Just imagine your friends… your colleagues… your teacher. All of them seeing you like this. Where’s the classy Fleur they all know?”

“I… I…” Fleur could not finish whatever sentence she wanted to say, merely shutting her eyes and gritting her teeth as Harry prolonged the coming climax more and more.

Seeing that his submissive was too far gone to respond any more, Harry finally sped up the process, leaning his head forward and saying just one single word. “Cum.”

Fleur released a combination of a gasp and a scream before slumping down while Harry felt his already wet hand feel even wetter. His girlfriend lost all control of her herself and even he had to admit that he felt almost woozy at the sight an unrestrained Veela allure. It took several minutes for Fleur to stop twitching in her bindings and become coherent again.

“Z-Zank you,” she gasped before accepting Harry’s help to return to a seating position. She was still bound, but had already stopped struggling. “Am correct right in believing zat my punishment is over?”

Harry smiled. “In a way. Not like I don’t want to see you enjoy your purchases… but before we get to that.” He undid his pants and brandished his hardened tool. “I think it’s time you returned the favor.”

AN: Seven months… oof!

Yeah, I don’t have the same amount of time that I had back when I started writing this story, but I hope that this chapter is enough for you pervs. I can’t really say when I will be updating next, but I have no plans to drop the story at the moment. I plan to do another chapter for my Naruto/Marvel crossover next. Check it out if you’re interested.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Join my Discord for more updates or discussion. Please review if you liked the chapter or wish to give some feedback.

Link: FEKnu79

Until the next time.

Chapter 17: Love and War

Chapter 18: The Calm Before the Storm

Potter” belongs to J.K. Rowling

AN: I want to extend my thanks to the great members of my Discord server, who have helped me with the writing of the chapter itself, but also re-igniting my passion for this.

Special thanks go to Meneldur, who has not only aided me with the crafting and editing of this chapter, but also the story as a whole.

With that out of the way, please enjoy the chapter!

“Dialogue”

‘Thoughts’

“Foreign Language”

A Godfather’s Promise

Chapter XVII: The Calm Before the Storm

By the time Fleur woke up, Harry had already been gone, undoubtedly to train with Sirius Black. The French witch stretched with a sigh; she missed it when Maître stayed longer in bed.

Harry had been training harder after his nightmare. Normally, Fleur would not really care, but the first week of classes was boring. So much to do and so little time. It wouldn’t be a problem if she were also taking classes, but all she did was practice on her own. There was no challenge to the next task like with the egg – the area and time of the final challenge had already been revealed to them.

A heavenly smell was enough motivation to make her get up and smile at the sight of freshly baked croissants on the table along with her imported brew of coffee. Never let it be known that Maître was not considerate. Eyes closed; she dragged her hand through her lingerie with a grin. At least the latex was fun.

She stretched again while walking to the shower, carefully stripping off her rubber lingerie and setting it in warm water, casting several charms to they could be cleaned and stored. Latex was so beautiful and yet so fragile and needed extensive care to maintain. So far, Fleur was satisfied to see that none of her rapidly growing collection had been torn or stained. Once she saw that the spells she’d mastered were working, the French witch entered a boiling hot shower herself.

The charms were already drying and storing her sleeping lingerie when Fleur got out and dried herself with another spell. ‘What do I do today?’ There was the textbook she was meaning to read, as well as some daily practice and preparation… and suddenly she remembered that Luna was supposed to surrender her wardrobe today!

With a big smile, Fleur went about her morning ritual and stepped outside the bathroom, still fully in the nude, and eagerly dug through the fetish clothes she’d bought. She picked up daring black panties and a pink minidress that only covered several inches below her waist. After donning it and shining herself in front of the mirror, Fleur saw that the outfit itself was see-through and were it not for the underwear, her flower would be easily visible to any onlooker. As it was, her nipples could clearly be seen, hardening against the top of the dress.

‘Have to read the book.’ After admiring herself on the reflection and fixing any dullness with an application of shining liquid it was time to continue her practice.

Unfortunately, the book contained nothing that was new to her, only the stale instructions of yet another overly tedious author trying to explain techniques that Fleur had already learned years ago. It was impossible to not roll her eyes and drop the tome with a bored melodious groan. She almost followed the desire to use the paper as fodder for the hungry fireplace, yet her better senses dictated to place the book back in its place.

Fleur debated which of the other books she should re-read, passing through the old and newer covers and yet her eyes were drawn to reading material that would never be taught in any classes in Beauxbatons.

With a smirk, the French witch gave into temptation and fished for the magazine she had bought during her time shopping with Harry and proceeded to lie down on the sofa with a giggle. “Rubberium,” it was called, and if the name was too subtle or the cover that featured a rubber parody of a nurse’s outfit was not enough of a hint for some oblivious reader, it would quickly be fixed with the subtitle: “The Number One Resource for the Latex Enthusiast.” With an elegant sip of coffee and a small bite of a buttery croissant, Fleur opened the first page, pouring fuel onto her fantasies.

The first few pages were filled with several new high fashion outfits, some of which looked like they may have taken weeks to design and create and looked beautiful, such as an experimental full-body kimono. Next there was the catalogue, filled with the usual suspects that nonetheless made Fleur wet her lips; the rubber nurse, the maid, and the sexy schoolgirl were in high demand.

A knock from the door shook Fleur, yet she already knew the rhythm played on the wood. “Come in!” she announced, and Luna came in with a smile and her large chest in tow. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Mistress,” Luna repeated, adding the title she had chosen for Fleur.

“Did you bring zem?” asked Fleur and saw Luna nod from the corner of her eye. “Very good, lay zem on ze bed… but I want you in ze nude first. Your gear is in ze top drawer.” The French witch observed as the Ravenclaw revealed her pale naked skin before smirking and concentrating back on her magazine.

Turns out there was not only a catalogue for clothes, but also several accessories. The one that caught Fleur’s attention most was the photo of a woman wearing a rubber nightress to sleep… sleep between latex sheets. ‘That looks like heaven!’ There was a price tag along with it. She could order them from Garden of Venus! Her nipples stiffened, clearly visible through her dress, and along with a bite of her lower lip, Fleur lightly pinched them and felt the waves of pleasure going from her front down to her sex.

Fleur was distracted by the sound of clicks; a quick look and she saw that Luna was dutifully closing the locks after donning the cuffs and collar, proceeding to open her trunk and begin to place each article of clothing neatly on the bed.

With a smirk, Fleur turned the page to see more models, although these ones were not in a professional studio that hid their fetish to the world. Oh no, these women were out in the open! She saw one smiling while walking in the park, a few blurred faces looking with interest while another sat nonchalantly in an outdoors café similar to the ones in Marseille. All this time, Fleur had worn it in private or underneath her normal clothes. Never had it occurred to her to wear them in public… and now she thought of it; walking through her hometown, showing her kinkiness to any onlooker. She pinched her stiff nipple even harder. Athena’s grace! She was actually thinking of doing it!

People already stared. Might as well give them a good reason to.

The French witch stopped her fantasies. Something was wrong. It wasn’t that she felt something, more like she didn’t feel anything, specifically, she didn’t Luna’s hands massaging her feet or a small mouth sucking her toes. Fleur mostly had not worn the many pairs of rubber stockings she’d bought for Luna’s sake. Tearing her eyes from the magazine, she soon found out that the odd blonde had taken to sucking something else entirely.

It was always strange just how Luna demonstrated that she truly belonged in the House of Rowena Ravenclaw. One moment she could be saying the most bizarre theories imaginable, and yet at the same time, she could transfigure a perfect replica of a cock, as she had done so now.

“What are you doing?” asked Fleur with genuine curiosity as she studied the creation. It was incredibly detailed, with ridges and veins making it almost indistinguishable from the real thing at a distance.

Luna made a dreamy smile. “After careful study of Master’s cock, I believe I have recreated it as best I could.” She quickly downed around a fourth of its length with a scholarly expression, studying the invention with her mouth, and then released it with a slurp. “Not quite perfect, but close.”

It did look quite a bit like Harry’s manhood, down to the length and thickness. “Why did you make eet? Maître will gladly let you suck ze real zing.”

“Training!” Luna answered with fire in her eyes. “It is quite unfortunate, yet I have been unable to take Master’s entire length inside my mouth. Therefore, I must train to earn an Outstanding in fellatio.”

It made sense to Fleur. Luna had a smaller head, a smaller mouth, and a smaller throat than most, including those her age. Despite Harry being gifted, Fleur had little trouble in doing a proper full deepthroat after just a few tries; the Ravenclaw would have more of a challenge due to her size.

Opening her mouth again, Luna began to insert the cock in her mouth with determination, stopping only when she had more than half inside; the head of the fake dick visible against her throat. The blonde then coughed with watery eyes but held her head in place nonetheless for as long as she could, finally letting go with a deep breath once a redness had spread across her face.

“This is my progress,” she stated while tapping the cock with her wand, forming a black line on the high-water mark. “I calculate that if I practice one hour every day, then I should be able to satisfactorily fit Master’s penis all the way within the next two years.”

Fleur smirked at the blonde’s determination. “You know zat Maître’s cock will get bigger, non?”

“Of course. I will need to calculate the steady growth of the organ every month as well as the size increase of my mouth and throat to make a more thorough analysis.”

Fleur watched as Luna once again took the rubber manhood inside her mouth. “You need to learn to breathe through your nose. Relax your throat, petite lune.” Her hands grasped the wispy blonde tresses and pushed Luna’s head slow and steady. “Eet is not a race. Take your time and concentrate on your gag reflex.”

The French Veela guided the younger Ravenclaw through the practice, always keeping a considerate eye to see if Luna was breathing alright and no harm was being done. “Use your tongue – Maître loves zat. Careful wiz your teeth.” By the time Luna was gagging again, she had already advanced by almost half an inch.

“Zat is good for today, petite lune. Now eet is time to see your wardrobe.” Fleur only had to take one glance to subtly shake her head. ‘This will not do at all.’ It was what she expected of Magical Britain; fifty years behind the current trends.

“When ze year finishes, you will be shopping wiz me,” declared Fleur to a still kneeling and nodding Luna.

“You don’t like them?”

The French witch pursed her lips. What was the best way to say it to Luna without hurting her feelings? “Eet’s not zat zey are bad… but I zink I can do much better. Remember your promise? Remember zat you said I could control what you wear?”

Luna nodded robotically.

“Believe me when I say zat you will like eet. Maître will like it too. Just trust me, petit lune.”

“Alright. I guess I can do that.”

“Tres bien!” Fleur reached for the chest and grabbed an enclosed packaged. “We can start wiz zis.”

The blonde curiously took the cardboard box, opened it, and took out the contents. “You want me to wear the same thing as you?” she questioned while holding the lingerie; Ravenclaw blue in color and adorned with small black frills and similarly dark little bows at the front of the bra and panties.

“Oui! You may find eet difficult at first – I did – but you eet becomes irresistibly addicting after ze initial discomfort. Zat is not all.” Fleur handed Luna another package. “You told me zat you ‘ad no socks, so I bought you some new ones.”

The socks were latex, of course, and unbelievably cute to boot. There were seven pairs overall, of different colors, and with cute ruffles around the ankle. Luna held the two blue ones that matched the lingerie with apprehension written all over her face.

“I’ve actually taken a liking to being without socks,” replied the Ravenclaw, twirling her toes.

“Zis is a whole new experience. Believe me, zey will feel like heaven on your feet. Yours are vairy sensitive, non?”

Luna wordlessly began to put on the items, starting with the lingerie that ended up being a good fit for her petite body. As the younger witch shook her body and tried to get comfortable, Fleur remembered her first time with a grin.

“Do you want me to wear this to classes?” questioned Luna while trying to fit a rubbery sock with the help of a little lubricant.

“I personally love to wear zis lingerie under my uniform. Eet’s ‘ard first, but zey become irresistible after ze first tries. You don’t ‘ave to do eet… but I would be vairy ‘appy eef you did,” grinned Fleur, giving tips here and there so that the socks could slide in easier. “Ze socks… non. Zose would be quite visible, I zink.”

The blonde witch wriggled her toes; rubber groaning and squeaking in the silence. “What’s wrong with them being visible? I think I quite like them – they feel nice against my soles.”

It was impossible for Fleur to not feel giddy. “I told you zey are good!” she beamed. “But you cannot wear zem in class. A lot of people might stare and zink you are weird.”

Luna shrugged, still twirling her feet. “They already think I’m weird. I think I would also like to wear my collar in public.”

“Non!” commanded Fleur. Had she just created a monster? “Look. Zere may be a time when ze zings we like are not viewed as badly as zey might be now, but not while we are at school. Zey ask too many questions if we wear rubber in public, but perhaps zings will change eef zere is… oh, I don’t know – a worldwide pandemic or somezing.”

“So, you want me to wear the socks only in the room?” questioned Luna with none of the usual cheerfulness in her voice.

“Oui. For ze time being. Once you enter zis room, zough, I want you to strip and wear what I choose. Speaking of which – did you practice like I told you to?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Fleur grabbed a basic make-up kit and placed it next to the floor where Luna was sitting. “Show me what you can do.” Orders given, she went back to the couch and to her magazine; the page showing the women wearing fetish clothes in public, and with what Luna had said, she now imagined both herself and the younger witch going out like the pictured women to grab some coffee.

Did she dare? Could she do it like the daring models in the magazine had done? After a few more pages she saw that it was not just daring models, but subscribers of the magazine as well, as shown in the letters sent in response to the “wear only latex for a whole week” challenge.

Her heart was being pulled in two different sides. On one hand she was quite curious to expand the ways in which she handled her fetish and wanted to be able to do what she wanted freely. On the other hand, she was dating the most important wizard in Britain, and if she did these things then the ugly stereotype of the Veela would follow her around. Harry was already dealing with a lot of bad press due to their relationship and no matter how many times he tried to say that it was nothing to him, guilt still seeped into her being every time she saw another Rita Skeeter article. How bad it would get if she sported her fetish on her sleeve?

“I’m ready, Mistress!” chirped Luna, dispelling Fleur’s fantasies.

The blonde Ravenclaw had definitely done her practice. The black eyeshadow that contrasted her ivory skin had been done masterfully, same with the plucked eyebrows. The cheeks could use some more blush and the lipstick was a bit wonky, but nothing too bad.

“Tres bien! You still need more work, but practice makes perfect. Take zat makeup kit wiz you and continue for one hour every day.”

Luna nodded with a smile. “Yes, Mistress.” She was already crawling towards the sofa and Fleur felt familiar lips laying kisses all over her feet.

“Tongue,” ordered Fleur and the kisses turned to a slow and steady worship; Luna’s pink muscle trailing over each and every one of her toes. Then, she took out her wand and waved, casting a charm that made the blonde’s hands wrench behind her back and a small lock fasten them together. “No ‘ands. Maitre likes to tie me up when I suck ‘is cock.” Luna nodded and promptly continued her licks and kisses.

The young French Veela returned to her magazine, putting the issue aside for now as she returned to the catalogue, using a pen to place a cross on the ones she liked the best both for herself and for Luna. After several minutes of feeling her frustrations going away thanks to the Ravenclaw’s worship, she commanded Luna to stop, setting the magazine away. “Stop, let me prepare better.”

Fleur stood and walked to the chest, retrieving a leather blindfold. “I don’t want to spoil ze surprise,” she whispered after fastening the piece of gear around Luna’s silver eyes.

With a smirk plastered over her face, Fleur went back to the chest and grabbed two pairs of latex items that until now she had not worn – gloves and stockings. The gloves were hard to put on, and she had to try several times by rolling the entire length before slowly gliding it on and then struggling to make her fingers find their own individual pockets.

The stockings were a little less intimidating and little harder to put on than normal stockings - without the use of lubricant, it would have been completely impossible. Both felt heavenly on her skin, and she had to take a moment to admire her reflection on the mirror, fixing any creases or lumps that were formed during the struggle to put them on.

“Alright! You can continue,” she ordered with an evil grin that widened once Luna dragged her tongue across the rubber, probably expecting the taste and scent she had grown used to.

“Mistress?” asked the young blonde with a pout.

“Remember zat time when you Maître tied me to the bed? Remember zat you wanted to play wiz me? Remember when you denied me my pleasure?” drawled Fleur, putting on as haughty a voice as she could conjure up.

Luna nodded with a, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Bien! Now you know ‘ow eet feels when you try to deny your Maîtresse ‘er pleasure, oui?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“That’s good. I assume you will not do eet ever again. Am I correct, petite lune?”

Luna nodded one last time. “Yes, Mistress.”

Fleur smirked even though the blonde would not be able to see it. Normally, she would not be attracted to the idea of dominating as much as submitting, but the silver-haired witch had to admit that it felt nice to have somebody like Luna following her commands. Relaxing back on the couch, she grabbed the magazine again and wiggled her foot. “I did not say you could stop.”

As she lost herself into the pages again, Fleur felt the tongue and fingers on her feet. Even if the latex meant the sensations were dulled, the power more than made up for it.

“Good girl.”

Susan Bones looked up at the top shelf of the bookcase where a dusty old tome rested, thankfully not gathering dust thanks to Madam Pince’s unrelenting immaculateness. She raised her hand to see if she could reach it – she could not. Struggling on the tips of her toes, she tried again and again, no success. Finally letting go of all dignity she gave a small hop, fingers grazing against the leather cover as her reward, her breasts hitting against one of the shelves.

Huffing indignantly, she nursed her chest with a glare. ‘Why couldn’t some of this mass go to my legs instead of my boobs?’ With a barely audible whine, Susan raised her hand to try again, eyes tricking her into believing that her fingers could reach if she tried hard enough.

Then a paler, slender hand grabbed the tome easily. “Couldn’t you use a spell?” asked Daphne as she handed over the book.

Susan shrugged her shoulders. “Last time I tried to do it, Madam Pince put a jinx on it that made me smell like rotten garlics for a week. You know how she is.”

Daphne huffed. “Are you done perusing books or are you going to get another one?”

The redhead walked to the table where the assembled tomes she had collected lay. There were eight now, and she probably wouldn’t be able to finish them all before the school year ended. “That’s fine, I think. Just need one more book on the list.”

The Slytherin spied the book titles. “No Herbology, no Charms, and no Ancient Runes. Why the sudden interest in offensive spells? I was under the impression that you disliked that sort of thing.”

Susan picked up the books with a soft grunt. “I can’t be useless anymore.” The image of Harry defending her floated into her mind. “I can’t just rely on others forever.”

“Who do you intend to practice with?”

Biting her lip, Susan looked back at her lover’s violet eyes. “I thought you could help me with that.”

Daphne let out another huff. “You and I in a lonely room? Darling, you already know what’s going to happen and it’s more than likely not going to involve wands,” she whispered with a graze of her fingers across the Hufflepuff’s thigh.

“Daphne!” hushed Susan with a crimson face. “Not here!”

The Slytherin let out a breath with a roll of her eyes. “Then let’s get it over with. The library makes for an excellent repellent against Malfoy but I’d rather not stand another second under Pince’s eyes.”

With a giggle, the busty redhead strode to where the last book was supposed to be placed, only to be rewarded with an empty space. “It’s been taken,” she lamented in a quiet pitch. “Who still takes out books near the end of the year.”

“Only one person,” responded Daphne, glancing straight at a lonely table occupied by a brown-haired witch surrounded by two small towers made of books and reading a tome the size of an atlas. On one of the twin columns, Susan made out the title of the book she’d been searching for.

Given a closer look, Hermione Granger looked tired, even more than Susan had seen her before. Dark circles surrounded her eyes and her hair was bushier and more disheveled than usual. It used to be that the brilliant Gryffindor would talk extensively to Harry and Ron or the teachers, now it seemed as though her mouth had been shut for the entire year.

“Hermione?” Susan’s question drew a sharp motion from the Gryffindor, as if unused to having her name being called.

“Susan?” whispered Hermione with both surprise and yet a gentle smile that disappeared the moment she looked at the other witch. “Greengrass.”

Daphne sent a cold stare. “Granger.”

“How are you?” asked Susan before Daphne could say anything hostile.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just doing some light reading for next year. It’s a shame that Madam Pince won’t let us borrow these for summer.”

Nervously, the Hufflepuff pointed at the book she’d been searching for. “Are you finished with ‘Defensive Charms for the Apprentice Dueler’?”

The chestnut-haired Muggle-born shot a confused look, then her eyes followed Susan’s gaze. “Oh! Yes. I am finished with that one. Very basic.” She handed the book to Susan.

“You are very good at Charms,” commented Susan, ignoring Daphne’s groan as she sat down opposite of Hermione. “How is it that you master them so quickly?”

Hermione gave a shrug. “Charms are easy, all you need to do is follow the instructions in the book and push your intent into the spell. Visualize what is going to happen before it actually happens. Ancient Runes, Potions, and Herbology are harder, in my experience.”

“Of course they are harder – those require patience,” drawled Daphne, sitting next to Susan with her ever-present glare.

Hermione returned the gesture with her brown eyes. “Is there something inside of you that makes it impossible to not insult someone at any moment in time?”

“I am just pointing out the requirements if you want to get better at Potions, Granger. I should know – I am the top student in Snape’s class and unlike Malfoy, I don’t get that grade due to blatant nepotism, That you took it as insult... well, that says a lot more about you than it does about me, doesn't it?”

The Gryffindor took a deep breath. “Even if you want to help, it doesn’t help when you say it in that tone. Most people will just assume you’re insulting them.”

“People can assume what they want. I do not care for what they think – it's not like most of their opinions are worth anything,” responded Daphne.

Hermione shook her head. “You’re right, you don’t care about what other people think, only about yourself, and the only way you can make yourself feel better is by putting other people down. Quite pathetic, really.”

“I don't need to put other people down to know I'm superior to them, Granger. But maybe you're projecting? Have we uncovered the reason for your constant attempts at over-achievement? Or is it something even more pathetic – burying yourself into books and work to forget how lonely you are?” Daphne shot back.

That had hurt. Susan could see it in Hermione’s face. That had hurt really bad. Daphne had an uncanny ability to find the most hurtful words and use them to stab at a person’s heart with no mercy. She had to intervene before it got too bad.

“Please, stop! Both of you! Please!” begged Susan just as Madam Pince ordered them to stay silent. Tears were threatening to spill out of her eyes again. She loved Daphne, but why was it so hard to be with her at the same time?

The table was silent for an insufferable half hour. Susan read the book, yet the words just flew by her eyes without even trying to comprehend the meaning. Daphne kept her “I ate something foul” look all throughout and Hermione did not once look away from her notes.

“Hermione?” asked Susan nervously after sending a pleading look at Daphne. “Could you… erm… I was hoping that you could perhaps help me mastering some Charms.”

Hermione narrowed her tired eyes. “Me? Why would you ask me?”

The busty Hufflepuff gazed at her thumbs. “Well… you and Harry are the best at Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts and… well… I really want to get better at them. I just think you could really help me with them.” She gave a quick glance to the pile of books. “I can help you with Herbology… and Daphne can help both of us with Potions!”

“What?!” squawked Daphne in the most undignified voice Susan had yet heard from her lover. “What makes you think that she can teach me anything that I don’t already know?”

 Hermione, for once, agreed with Daphne. “And what makes you think I can learn more from her about Potions than I can read for myself in a book?”

“Granger, no book has the knowledge that will turn you into a master potion-maker. I told you once before that the art depends on the climate, the time of day, and the quality of ingredients, and that is on top of the countless other factors. Sticking your head in every book ever written on the subject will get you nowhere. Patience and perseverance are key”

“And how do you expect to be better at Charms, Greengrass? It’s not as if perseverance is the only thing required. If you are doing things wrong, making the same mistake again and again is not going to make it better, patience be damned.”

“You are not an authority on the subject, Granger,” sneered Daphne.

Hermione put on a smug look. “Good enough to be able to make my own spell, Greengrass.”

At this, Susan jumped with interest. “You made your own spell?” Only Harry had actually created spells in their year, yet she quickly remembered that this was Hermione Granger.

“I did,” Hermione replied triumphantly, looking back at Madam Pince just in case the stern librarian had taken notice. “I finished only a few days ago but it works quite well – I’ve been using it since yesterday.”

“What does it do?”

The Gryffindor’s smile became strained, as if she hadn’t smiled in a while. “Do you know that eye that Professor Moody has?”

Susan barely suppressed a shiver. That fake eye had been in one or two of her nightmares this year. “Yeah, the one that allows him to see everything.”

“Correct. The charm I created is not as good as having eyes behind your back, but I can see through wood, through doors, through walls, and even through clothes. That way I know if somebody is carrying anything that might hurt me.”

Susan turned at the snort that emerged from her girlfriend. Daphne Greengrass’s smile was something rare and usually when it appeared, Susan could see both sadism and mirth combined into one.

“See through clothes, you say? Are you sure you are only interested in seeing weapons? I must admit, I never expected this from you of all people,” said Daphne, voice dripping with twisted mirth. “I guess what they say the quiet ones is true.”

“That’s not what this is about!” screeched Hermione, the redness characteristic of her House covering the witch’s cheeks. “My interests are purely academic – it’s your mind that’s dirty, not mine. What does that say about you?”

“I’m not the one that made a spell to see under people’s clothes.”

“That’s just a side effect!” denied Hermione. The blush had not lessened, in fact, it was doing a quick job in spreading through the entire face.

Susan thought it best to interject before things got bad again. “That’s a brilliant spell! Do you think you could teach it to us?” Her hand moved under the table to squeeze Daphne’s thigh.

Hermione furrowed her brows. “You want to see through clothes?”

The redhead’s face flushed crimson, a mirror image to Hermione. “N-No! Nothing like that! I just thought it might be useful is all.”

“Ha! I see you admit it yourself, Granger,” cackled Daphne. Susan squeezed her girlfriend’s thigh harder.

“Come on, Hermione… please?” begged Susan.

Hermione went silent again, darting her eyes between the both of them. “I guess I can make time in my schedule. Classes are almost over anyways,” she sighed. “Do you have a place to practice?”

“I know of an abandoned classroom.” Now it was Daphne that kicked her shin under the table but Susan paid her no mind. They could always find another place for their… assignations, but the classroom was perfect for practice.

Hermione nodded. “Very well then, we will start tomorrow. Now, if you excuse me, I need to do a more practical study.” She stretched her legs and pointed her wand towards her eyes. They slowly dilated, the black overtaking almost the entire pupil, and then she walked out of the library as if she had indulged a little too much in a bottle of Ogden’s.

“Are you sure this was wise?” asked Daphne once the Gryffindor was nowhere in sight. “Bringing her into our little love nest?”

“It’ll be worth it,” assured Susan.

Daphne huffed and grabbed the redhead by the shoulder. “Very well. I will accept for your sake… now, how about you and I get one last go at it before Granger prods at our place with her meddling fingers?”

For the first time in a while, Susan felt her smile reach her heart.

Harry glanced at the floating manual again. Thankfully, it had pictures so that even an amateur like him could follow through. With his hands, he held a dozen feet of pure-white rope. The rope was soft. Harry had made sure that it was soft. Yet it was still rope, and rope had only one use – to restrain.

“Zis is strange, usually you tie my ‘ands and feet, non?”

“This is shibari, beautiful.” He fastened the rope below and above her black rubber brassiere, so shiny that it flickered a bright orange with the reflection of the fireplace. “It’s supposed to be artistic, but some of these knots are complicated. This harness is made for beginners.”

“Maybe a little boring, non?”

Harry continued his work. The design was the opposite of utilitarian. Certainly, no person would do this to any traditional prisoner. Fleur’s wrists and ankles were indeed unbound, but her body was not. The rope was tied in a harness, crossing its threads above and below her breasts, making them bulge even more than their original size. Three more lines adorned her abdomen, stomach, and waist. Where the ropes met at the center of her body, they formed intricate diamonds of unblemished white.

There was still one more bind that Harry needed to tie… between Fleur’s legs. He formed a knot with the rope, then used it to cleave straight into his girlfriend’s sex. The only protection that Fleur had was the already stimulating rubber panties.

Harry looked up to see the French witch grip her bottom lip with her teeth. “Still a little boring?” he taunted, fastening the end of the rope to the small of her back.

Fleur walked with shaky legs to the mirror, spending several minutes inspecting every bit of her bondage. “Eet’s nozzing I can’t ‘andle,” she replied firmly.

The dark-haired Gryffindor walked behind her, his hands felt the soft rope at her waist and gave it a sharp tug. Fleur breathed out sharply, eyes widening. “Oh?” responded Harry. “Something tells me that you’re underestimating my rope skills.”

“You are good, Maître. Ze question is eef you are good enough,” challenged Fleur.

Harry thought about it for a moment. “A bet, then. Let’s see how well you can handle it after we climb all the way to the seventh floor?”

The French witch answered his question with a wave of her wand. Her clothes floated to her, the Beauxbatons uniform. Harry opted for his Gryffindor robes.

“Eet’s still too cold,” complained Fleur as she took her first steps outside the room. “Ze sun would be wonderful back ‘ome.”

“It’s still Scotland, beautiful. It’s as cold all the year round as the French Riviera is warm.”

Fleur grimaced. “Please tell me zat your home is a leetle kinder.”

Harry looked around, still no students but the echoes of voices were louder with each step. “It’s better in Berkshire. That’s where I live with Sirius. Potter Manor is in Somerset, though. I have never seen it with my own eyes, but my godfather says it’s about as warm as it gets in Britain.”

“Which is to say, still dreadful,” snarked Fleur. “I can’t wait to take you to Marseille.”

Harry smirked, his hand finding the crotch-rope under her robes, giving it a tug. “Can you wear a bikini?”

Fleur exhaled sharply, but quickly hid it with a smile of her own. “You’ve already seen me in ze nude, mon chéri.”

“You can make it exciting.”

“Ah, maybe I can make add my own twist to eet? You would like zat, non?”

“Of course.” Around a corner was the school’s population, fresh from vacation. Most still bleary-eyed and dragging their feet from class to class. Fleur got less looks than usual. A blessing, given that she was already biting her lips and her elegant stride was marred with small stumbles that would have been normal in any other woman.

After they ascended to the fifth floor, Fleur was lagging behind noticeably, and her breaths were shaky. “Just two more to go… and then we have to go down. Still too boring?”

Fleur responded with determined eyes. “Eet’s nozzing,” she declared, yet her hand still sought Harry’s for support to take the steps to the sixth floor.

Up close, Harry could see what his girlfriend’s pride tried to hide. Her breath was mixed with moans and gasps and her forehead sported a small shine of sweat, reflecting the light of nearby candles. When he held Fleur’s waist, Harry felt the trembling; barely noticeable, but trembling nonetheless. The most important thing, however, was that her control of the Veela allure was slipping. Many pairs of eyes, once drooping, now fixed their gazes on the struggling French witch.

Harry circled his arm around Fleur’s waist. “Just a bit more, beautiful,” he whispered.

Each step was harder for Fleur than the last if the increasing volumes of the moans were any indication. She held onto Harry’s shoulder as if it were a lifeline, and by the time they had ascended all the steps to the uppermost floor of the castle, the platinum-haired witch was breathing like she had just finished a sprint around the school grounds.

Harry looked around to see no other students around and, with a mischievous smirk, found the crotch-rope and tugged again, the knot stabbing further directly at Fleur’s core. “I read this was challenging for most women,” he said with a humorous tone, “and you just had to put latex panties on top of that, didn’t you?”

Fleur let out a breath that could have been either a haughty laugh or a quick moan, or both at the same time. “F-Fine… you ‘ave w-won zis time, Maître… s’il vous plait… stop!”

He gave one last, harsh tug and then let go. Fleur’s mouth opened and he captured her lips. Harry’s arms trapped Fleur, exploring ever inch; the soft flesh under the clothes and the tight rope binding it. A palm found her enlarged breast and he squeezed…

The sound of footsteps made Harry pull himself away from the kiss. The noise was… odd, like the intruder was stumbling rather than walking. He snatched Fleur’s hand with his own and strolled towards the hallway’s corner to sate his curiosity, ignoring her pout. What he found surprised him.

“’Mione?” he asked, more to call her attention to him than anything; that hair was unmistakable. When the brilliant witch turned around, his suspicion was confirmed. It was Harry’s friend alright, looking like she always did: busy. The only thing that made him furrow his brows were her eyes. The brown color was still there, but the blacks of the pupils were wide like he’d never seen before. ‘Drugs?’ No. It was impossible. Not Hermione Granger. Who would even smuggle drugs into Hogwarts anyway?

It almost looked as if his words had no meaning to Hermione, she continued to stumble around the hallway until she almost literally slammed into them. “H-Harry?” she gasped… then looked towards his companion and immediately turned red. “Fleur!? W-Wha –“ Hermione stumbled on her own words nearly as bad as she stumbled on her footing.

‘Fleur’s allure is going haywire.’ “Mione? Are you alright?” asked Harry.

 Hermione shook her head, pointed her wand towards her eyes, and changed them back to normal. “Yes!” she shouted, her voice echoing throughout the entire floor. “I’m… I’m just tired is all!” Her face was still as red as the Hogwarts Express.

Harry nodded. “You should probably go and get some rest, ‘Mione. Been burning those eyes in the library again? Your eyes looked kind of weird there.”

The brilliant witch’s face reddened even more. “I-It was just a spell I was working with!”

“Really? What does it do?” asked Fleur.

“I… erm… I-It doesn’t really do anything!” stuttered Hermione. “It’s… err… I made that spell, but it doesn’t really work.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Your own spell? That’s great! Spells take a lot of time and effort but it’s worth it when you make your own. What was it meant for?”

By now, Hermione looked more like a tomato than a person. Even Susan had never taken this shade before. “L-Like I said, it doesn’t work… I… I need to go now!” she yelled and sprinted out of the hallway. Both Harry and Fleur’s gaze followed the frazzled brown hair until it disappeared.

“She’s probably pulling all-nighters – ‘Mione usually does that near the end of the year,” sighed Harry. “Someone needs to get her to calm down.”

“Zat’s all well and good, Maitre, but right now your Fleur is about to lose ‘erself,” gasped Fleur. Harry snapped back to reality and looked at his girlfriend. Her shirt was fast clinging to her skin due to sweat, and the outline of the ropes was slowly becoming more obvious.

He offered his arm once again. Thankfully, the stairs were mostly empty now, with the exception of a group of First Years too pre-pubescent to do anything but smile innocently at Fleur. Even Harry felt his manhood straining against his pants as Fleur’s control over her allure was almost completely gone. When they finally returned to their floor, she hurried ahead, heels clacking desperately against the floor until she collapsed on the couch.

Harry followed soon after. Fleur’s hands were clawing all over her body, searching for the knots. “Take zem off, Maitre!” she begged. “Eet’s too much!”

He smirked at her. “Oh? You want to stop the sensations? Are you sure about that?”

“Oui!” cried Fleur. “Make eet stop, mon chéri. Hera’s mercy!”

“You asked for it,” whistled Harry, going to their equipment trunk. When he found what he was looking for, he made a spell to float it over to the bed. “Hey, beautiful? Remember when you said you were interested in trying out the way Luna likes to sleep?”

Fleur stopped moaning and opened her eyes. The sleepsack was not the leather one that Harry used on Luna, this one was made of rubber, yet despite its look was just as durable as the former one. She widened her eyes and breathed in while Harry untied the rope harness, taking every liberty to squeeze, fondle and pinch her body, with particular attention paid to her breasts. Not once did she complain, and she even melted into his arms once he finished unbinding her. He almost had to carry her to the sleepsack.

The French witch was shaking as she lay down on the bed, yet that was not a problem to Harry. He had already done this to Luna multiple times, the only difference was that Fleur was taller. “How is it?” he asked once he had tightened the straps.

“Tight.”

Harry grabbed a black ballgag. “Time to finish complete the look.” Fleur opened her mouth, enough to jam the ball in. He soon added a pair of earplugs and a blindfold. “I’ll let you out in an hour,” he whispered and stepped over to his desk.

Luna was able to spend untold hours in the sack without even making a sound except the occasional giggle and struggle. Fleur, on the other hand, could barely handle fifteen minutes. Harry hadn’t even picked out a book to read by the time his girlfriend broke into a pitiful struggle against the hard rubber, groaning and moaning and thrashing around against the chains that fastened the sack to the divan. But the stone on Harry’s desk remained silent in stark contrast. No safeword yet.

Harry grabbed his hourglass and turned it to begin the countdown. The sound of creaking rubber was soon accompanied by the turning of pages, and the inked words on the textbook made it easier for him to be distracted from the aching stiffness between his legs.

The calendar marked a week until the Third Task, yet the problem was not that Harry hadn’t been preparing; the problem was that he didn’t know what to prepare for. For previous tasks, the Gryffindor had known what to expect. First a dragon, then a lake. Now, before Harry’s eyes, laid a maze of thick plants, hiding its secrets within its thorns. There could be anything there: beasts, traps, other wizards, or even just some scatter-brained riddle that Bagman thought would be funny.

Harry’s eyes dragged through the text, but the trickling grains of sand in the glass captured his true interest. Once the last grain rested on top of the rest, he rose from his seat and patrolled around his struggling girlfriend, and calmly took off the earplugs and the ballgag.

“Hello again, beautiful. You look a little needy right now. What are you thinking?” He ran his palms over where her breasts would be.

“I am zinking ‘ow Luna can spend so many ‘ours locked in zese zings. I’m bored!”

Harry smirked, patting her head. “Maybe if I left you here for another hour you can find out.”

“Non! You ‘ave to let me out!” protested Fleur. “Besides, I need to finish my application for zat bank you Eenglish ‘ave.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “Gringotts? You’re making a job application for Gringotts?”

“O-Oui. Eet’s ze biggest employer aside from ze Ministry, non? I figured zat eet would be ze best place to find a job ‘ere.”

“You’re staying here? I thought you would be taking a broom back to France the moment the Tournament was over.”

Fleur let out a breath. “I am going to France… for a while, but you are ‘ere, non? I don’t intend to stay away from you for long. Why? Are you that eager to get away from me?”

“I just didn’t think you were the kind that wanted to go to Gringotts for work?”

Now it was Fleur’s turn to smirk. “What else do you suggest, Maitre? I want to do zings on my own, not be some bitter pureblood wife.”

“But is Gringotts what you truly want? Counting coins with obsessive goblins?”

“Zere are… ozzer zings I want to do but… non.”

Harry kissed her forehead and stared into her blindfolded eyes. “What is it?”

“Eet’s silly.”

“Tell me.”

“I… I always dreamed of being a designer,” admitted Fleur, her face turning a rare shade of red. “Ever since I was a leetle girl. Eet’s stupid.”

Harry chuckled. “It’s not.”

“I am ze top of my class and a daughter of Delacour. Zings are expected of me.”

“Who cares? It’s not what you want, is it? Why should you care about it? Isn’t it what you want to do? Besides, being a designer is a prestigious career, isn’t it?”

Fleur blushed even redder. “Well… I was not zinking to be a traditional designer, mon chéri. You... ehm… already know ze zings I would like to design? Wouldn’t it shame you?”

Harry pressed his lips against her ear. “I. Don’t. Care,” he whispered. “Does it make you happy? That’s all I care about. It would only disappoint me if I had to see you go to a job you don’t want just to prove something to anyone that isn’t yourself.” He reached behind her head to undo the blindfold. Fleur blinked her eyes at the light and then settled them on him.

“Do you really not care about what zey would zink? About what zey might say of ‘Arry Potter’s perverted girlfriend?”

He gave her a brief kiss. “They’ll say what they’ll say… and then they’ll go home and think: ‘I wish my wife did those things for me. That Potter bloke is the luckiest man in the world.’ And you know what? They’ll be right.”

Fleur blurted out a giggle. “I… I will zink about eet,” she said. “For now, can you take me out of zese? I need to stretch.”

He grinned. “Alright, I wanted to keep on practicing with ropes anyway.”

Her eyes widened. “On second zought… I’ll stay ‘ere for a few hours.”

Harry gave her a last kiss then pressed the gag back against her lips. “Your choice, beautiful.”

“Really, Maître?”

“You know I had to do it, beautiful.”

“This is such a bad stereotype, Maître.”

“I have a sexually submissive French girlfriend. I’m pretty sure there’s a worldwide contract that this must be done at least once.”

Fleur looked at the outfit laid atop the bed. Its colors were black and white, glimmering in the light. It was a parody of a traditional maid’s dress, with a shortened skirt and plunging neckline, not to mention the fact that it was made from rubber. The tag said it was a “French maid” dress, but Harry imagined its name held the same meaning as Americans calling chips “French fries.”

His girlfriend held the suit between her fingers. “Vairy funny, Maître.”

“Come on, put it on while I go get Luna.” Fleur rolled her eyes and muttered something in French yet took off her clothes nonetheless.

Harry’s attention shifted towards Luna in her sleepsack. Rather than going for the blindfold and gag combination, this time Harry had opted to try out one of their hoods. Every single inch of the Ravenclaw was smothered by black leather. With a wave of his wand, the straps undid themselves and the hood was unlaced. Luna stretched herself after spending the entire night in her bondage and smiled at Harry.

“Good morning, Master!”

“Good morning to you as well,” replied Harry, helping Luna get back on her feet. “Go and help Fleur while I go for my morning run, hmm?”

It had rained the last couple of days. Harry almost slipped several times on the mud and the cold humidity seeped into his bones. He should have listened to Fleur and stayed back in the room, yet if he had done that, he would not have seen the fully grown maze that he and Fleur would have to enter tomorrow.

“Are you ready?” asked a voice coming from behind him. Harry turned to look at Cedric tip-toeing around the slippery ground.

Harry nodded forwards. “Do you know what’s in there?”

Cedric shook his head. “The same as you. If I knew something, I would tell you. I still owe you for telling me about the dragons. They’re really keeping their cards close to their chest on this one. Have you asked Krum?”

“No,” replied Harry. “Krum would have heard it from Karkaroff. So that means even the Headmasters are being kept off the loop.”

“Probably.” Cedric breathed in and looked at the sky. “Listen, Harry… I know it’s a competition and all, but if things get rough in there –”

“Our lives come first,” agreed Harry. That was already something he had told himself many times. Glory was good, but being alive was better, and he had two more reasons to live waiting for him back in the castle. “Somebody wants me killed, and the first two times didn’t work out. Whoever it is that put my name in the Goblet has one last chance. If they’re serious, then I will need to keep my guard up.”

“I’ll have your back if things get that badly. Krum will be the same, most likely, and I’m going to guess that Fleur will most certainly be there for you.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you, Cedric. Best of luck.” He shook the Hufflepuff’s hand and walked away, back to the castle. Familiar faces passed him. Hermione, Neville, Hannah, Susan, Daphne, Tracey, Blaise, even Ron, but there were only two people that he wanted to spend this day with.

Fleur was already dressed when he stepped back in the room. She had complained before, but now posed in front of her reflection and turned around with a smile. “Bon retour, Maître.” She continued to talk fast in French.

“That’s your rebellion? Talk in French so I can’t understand?”

Fleur smirked. “You wanted a French maid, non?” She waved a feather duster at him and fixed her white bonnet. “Eet only makes sense I speak in French, oui?”

“The accent is sexy enough.” His eyes wandered across the room. “Where’s Luna?”

Fleur’s smirk shifted into a large grin as she stepped to the table that was covered with a large metal cloche. She slashed her wave once and the cover lifted. Luna laid on her back, still nude, but not uncovered. Breakfast had been served on her body. On each of her breasts lay a pancake topped with white whipped cream and a strawberry. Her stomach was arrayed with a variety of breads while both legs held sliced apples, oranges, peaches, grapes, and several types of berries going all the way down to her toes. On her womanhood lay a cherry on a bed of cream.

Harry could only watch as Fleur bent on the table, her latex skirt crawling upwards. She wasn’t wearing underwear. The French witch grabbed a grape and fed it to Luna. “Breakfast is served, Maître.”

It took him a bit to snap back to reality. He stepped behind Fleur and smacked his palm against her exposed derriere. “I’m starving.” His mouth aimed for the pancake, and bit down until he felt Luna’s hardened nipple. Fleur climbed on the table and picked up piece of bread. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“As ready as I can be, Maître.” She drizzled some honey on Luna’s stomach and dipped the bread. “Just one more day, non? One more day and eet’s all over.”

Harry nodded. “When will you be coming back?”

“Ze early days of summer – I want to be ‘ere for your birthday.” She had placed four berries between her toes and presented them to Luna’s mouth. “I just ‘ope ze south of Eengland is warmer.”

“It is,” assured Harry, eyeing Luna’s body. She was way too still. Biting into a peach, his fingers tickled at her side and the blonde exploded into a fit of giggles, her body fidgeting like a leaf but not spilling a single morsel. “Tomorrow,” his voice turned serious, “we try to stay together. We try to stay safe. We’ve come too far for something bad to happen.”

Fleur’s playful smirk flattened. “I know.” Luna lay completely still, her dreamy smile missing. “Eet will be over soon, and then we won’t ‘ave to worry anymore.”

Harry felt a ghost of a grin tug at his face. “I want to see Potter Manor with you. With both of you, if we can. I’ve heard Sirius talk about it, and dreamt about it, it but never seen it.”

“I’m sure eet will live up to your dreams. Me? I’m worried zat your closets will be too small.”

The Gryffindor dispelled his worries with a snort. “I’m sure you’ll find them to your satisfaction, future miss designer.”

“I ‘ave not decided yet!”

Harry kissed her. “Then tell me some other day. Right now, I want to relax.” Both turned their attention back to their “plate” and finished their breakfast.

The rest of the day was spent playing games, telling stories and laughing. Kinky games could wait for another day. A day when the unknown task was not looming above his head. Harry slept that night with both of them, one on each arm, as he hoped it would be for many nights to come.

Hope you all liked the chapter. This was probably kinkier than you’re used to by now, but it will hopefully will make up for the following two, which will be plot-driven and the kink factor will be set aside until the end of Fourth Year.

If you liked this chapter then you can leave a review on what you liked and what can be improved. If you want to join my Discord server, you’re more than welcome to.

Link: FEKnu79

Until next time!

The Metal Sage

Chapter 19: The Third Task

“Harry Potter” belongs to J.K. Rowling

AN: I want to extend my thanks to the great members of my Discord server, who have helped me with the writing of the chapter itself, but also re-igniting my passion for this.

Special thanks go to Meneldur, who has not only aided me with the crafting and editing of this chapter, but also the story as a whole.

With that out of the way, please enjoy the chapter!

“Dialogue”

‘Thoughts’

“Foreign Language”

A Godfather’s Promise

Chapter XVIII: The Third Task

“How should I call your father?” asked Harry in the direction of the bathroom. “Should I call him Monsieur Delacour? Monsieur Dominique?”

The response back was muffled. “Your pronunciation is terrible! Just call ‘im Mr. Delacour! ‘E won’t mind eizzer way!”

“What about your mother? Madame?”

“For Hera’s sake, mon cheri, just call ‘er Mrs. Delacour. She’ll mind even less! You’ll be calling ‘er Apolline before ze day is done.”

“I want to give a good first impression!” Harry gazed at the imperfections in the mirror. His hair was still a mess regardless of his efforts. He smelled his clothes - they smelled too much like Fleur, her parents might get the wrong impression. Harry sprayed cologne over his champion’s attire. “I don’t want to make your parents think their daughter is dating a slob.”

Fleur stepped out of the bathroom at that moment, her outfit colored in sky blue. “Maman and Papa know I wouldn’t date a slob, Eenglish though ‘e may be. Don’t worry, eet will be fine.” She shook in her clothes. “Zis underwear is so uncomfortable.”

Harry sent her a serious look. “Don’t tell me you’re wearing latex lingerie for the Third Task.”

“Non! Eet is normal lingerie… well, not really ‘normal’ for me anymore. I ‘ave not worn zese zings in months!” Fleur grabbed at her breasts. “Latex supports my chest better, and ze panties are not tight enough.”

He laughed. “You’ll get to wear whatever you want, whenever you want, as soon as we finish this task, beautiful.” His hand grabbed her shoulder. “Come now, we’ll need our breakfast.”

The hall went silent as soon as Harry entered with Fleur in tow, just as it did for Cedric and Krum when they showed up minutes after them. There was an empty space next to Hermione and Neville, inviting enough for both.

“Harry! Fleur!” stuttered Hermione, dark bags under her eyes, even worse than previous years. That, and she was incapable of looking at either of them in the eye. “B-Be careful today.”

Neville smiled at him. “Good luck, Harry. You too, Fleur.”

“Thanks,” replied Harry. Fleur also thanked him in French.

Hannah Abbot sat down besides Neville. “Hey, Harry. Hope you don’t take it too hard when I say that I have to support Cedric, ‘Puff loyalty and all. I still wish you the best.”

Harry nodded. “I understand.” He hadn’t talked to the pigtailed blonde in months. “So… is it forgiven… that thing about Susan? Whatever it was?” Fleur stiffened.

The Hufflepuff sighed. “Yeah, I guess it’s forgiven. She’s back to smiling at least. Been hanging out a lot with Greengrass, but I can’t blame her. I’ve been busy with Neville.” She kissed Neville’s cheek and his skin turned red.

Luna came skipping to sit at his other side. She was holding two banners. One was painted red and black with the Potter symbol on it. The other was blue with a golden fleur-de-lis and the words “FD” also painted in gold. “Just to be prepared for either result,” chirped Luna as she grabbed some vanilla pudding.

Harry mirrored Fleur’s choices for the meal. It was mostly chicken breast and bread, anything heavier would take a toll during the task. He ate in silence, sharing looks with the others surrounding him… except Hermione. She alone refused to meet his gaze.

“H-Harry?” said a timid voice behind him. It was Susan, giving him a sweet smile. “Please be careful. I… I don’t want any of you to get hurt.” Daphne Greengrass stood behind her, lips pursed and eyes cold in contrast with her companion.

He returned the smile. “Thank you. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Potter,” said Daphne.

He smirked. “Hey Daph. Going to wish me luck as well? Always knew you cared.”

Daphne crossed her arms and huffed. “As if. Even so… do not die, Potter. If you do, then please take Malfoy with you and I will be at peace.” Susan squeezed her leg and sent her a pleading look.

“Honestly!” yelled Hermione, suddenly breaking her silence. She was holding a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of her. “Will she never stop?”

Harry gave her a look. “What is it?”

Hermione sent him an incredulous look. “Really? Do you never read this? She hasn’t stopped writing about you all year!”

“Skeeter is like a scab, Granger,” drawled Daphne. “The more you pick at it, the more it will bother you. If you leave it alone, it will eventually fade. No person above the intellectual level of a second year believes her.” She sighed. “Which explains her popularity.”

Hermione sent them all a shocked look “Does nobody care about slander?! Is there no concept of privacy in the Wizarding World?!”

Daphne smirked haughtily. “That’s quite hypocritical coming from you, Granger.”

“Th-That’s beside the point!” sputtered Hermione, pointing at the article. “She’s coming after you as well, Greengrass!”

The Slytherin narrowed her eyes. “What?”

Hermione started to read the article. “It is no surprise that the presence of Veela has had a corrupting influence in our prestigious school. Truly, the French have no concept of morality. Already this decadence has affected Mr. Harry Potter directly, yet it spreads far beyond that. Every witch and wizard that the scandalous Ms. Delacour has begun to act most inappropriately.”

“For one, there is the case of Ms. Granger, who has jumped from what I can only suspect was a three-way relationship with Mr. Viktor Krum and Ms. Lena Romanova, to making advances at Ms. Daphne Greengrass, daughter of our dearly esteemed Lord Cygnus Greengrass, and Susan Bones, only relative of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“As for Ms. Greengrass and Ms. Bones themselves, these reclusive and formerly proper young witches that are connected to Mr. Potter and by extension, to Ms. Delacour, have now taken to entering lonely classrooms with one another and staying there for hours. Most recently, Ms. Granger has joined them. Merlin only knows what sort of depravities they have been influenced to commit.”

Everybody stayed silent as Hermione finished reading. Everybody except Luna.

“Depravities are fun!”

Susan shook her head, blushing furiously. “We-We’re only training!”

Daphne’s face was ice. “I… see.” She stood up and grabbed the newspaper. “Granger… come with me. I believe we can at least share one goal, if nothing else.”

Fleur grabbed his hand and whispered into his ear. “I’m sorry for zis, ‘Arry.”

Harry watched as Hermione and Daphne left the Hall, Susan trailing behind them. “Don’t be. Feel sorry for Skeeter. I certainly do.”

When the meal was done, the students and professors walked out of the Hall, all of them heading to the Quidditch field. The sun was still shining at the moment, but it was slowly making its descent to the horizon. Luna ran to the stands with her banners after kissing both of them.

Fleur caught her friends setting up the banner with her name on it. “I ‘ave to talk to zem before we start, mon chéri. I will try to find Maman and Papa as well.”

Harry nodded and watched her run to Amelie, Clemence, and Monique. ‘One more task… just one more task.’

He heard a voice calling his name. “Harry!” It was Sirius, alongside Remus, but they were not alone. Behind them he saw a familiar witch. She was wearing a Weird Sisters shirt, a denim skirt, torn leggings, and flat-soled boots. Her hair was pink this day, but Harry knew that she liked to change it.

“Dora?”

“Wotcher, Harry!” greeted Nymphadora Tonks. She hadn’t changed much in a year. Or it could be that she had and chose not to show him? Harry’s thoughts left the tournament and went back in time to his earliest memories. Memories where Dora would stay with him on the weekends. When they rode bikes across town and watched TV together. A mental picture returned of the time when she had gone for her first year and Harry waved her goodbye. Then another of him alongside her in the train four years later, waving at Sirius and Aunt Andromeda.

His body moved without his knowledge to embrace her. “Doing alright?” Harry pulled away with a smirk. “I heard that you went to get an interview with Amelia Bones. So? Did you get accepted into the program?”

Dora coughed. “W-Well… the thing about that is…”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you about that, did I?” interrupted Sirius with one of the biggest grins Harry had ever seen. “You see, Nymmie here actually went to the Auror department herself, fully intent on getting interviewed by Amelia –”

“Sirius!” growled Dora.

“– and when she was finally let inside Amelia’s office, Nymmie marched in, carrying her papers, put on her toughest look… and fell face-first to the ground!” Sirius laughed until he turned red in the face. Dora’s face had by now gone the same shade, except she wasn’t laughing.

Harry found himself struggling to keep a straight face. “So? Did you get accepted?”

“I –” stuttered Dora but Sirius interrupted again.

“She didn’t even talk to her! Nymmie just got up and ran out of the office… tripped a couple of times as she left.” Sirius couldn’t keep his footing and sat down between guffaws.

“It’s not funny!” Dora’s hair had changed color to match her face.

Harry bit back a grin. “It’s a little funny.”

“It’s not!”

Steps on the grass made Harry turn around to see Fleur. “Mon chéri! I still ‘ave not seen my parents.” He looked at his company. “‘Ello, Meester Black, Meester Lupin, and…” She let the sentence hang, looking straight at Dora.

Harry put his arm around Fleur’s waist. “Dora, this is Fleur Delacour,” he introduced. “Fleur, this is Nympha –“

“Tonks!” finished Dora. “Just call me Tonks. You must be little Harry’s girlfriend. Don’t worry, I’m just his nanny.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to feel hot across his cheeks. “Come on, I nannied you just as much as you nannied me.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” Dora stepped forward to shake Fleur’s hand. “Anyway, nice to meet youuaaahh!” It happened like it had so many times before. Dora took a couple of good steps but stumbled on the third. She fell towards Fleur, arms stretched in front to protect from the impact, yet they pushed Fleur instead towards the grass. Both witches tumbled to the ground, Dora on top of Fleur… with her hands firmly planted around each of Fleur’s breasts. They both stared at each other for an unending moment.

“Um… can you get off me, s’il vous plait?” If Dora’s face had been red before, now it was on fire. Sirius, who had previously recovered from his earlier laughing attack, now howled harder than when he was a dog, acting like it when he rolled on the ground, looking like he was about to pass out. Dora’s eyes looked downward to what she was holding and immediately pulled back.

“I-I’m sorry! Just a bit clumsy is all!” she stammered, standing up on unsteady feet.

Harry grinned. “I’m not sure how I should feel about you copping a feel on my girlfriend, Dora.”

He offered Fleur his hand. She stood with a quick smile and used a spell to clean herself. “Eet ‘appens. Do not worry. Eet’s good to meet more of ‘Arry’s family.”

Dora’s lips twitched into a grin. “Well, distant family, but we grew up close. Sirius is my mother’s cousin.”

“Ah, zen you are of ze Black family?”

The grin left Dora. “Not Black, not since my mother was banished for marrying a Muggle-born. I’m a Tonks, proud and true.”

“Vairy well, Mademoiselle Tonks. I ‘ope to see you more but I need to locate my family. Au revoir!” Fleur waved them goodbye and kissed Harry on the cheek, then walked back to where the Beauxbatons banner flapped against the wind.

Dora turned to Harry. “Mademoiselle?” She butchered the French accent with a laugh. “Merlin’s beard, Harry, could you have picked a Frenchier witch? I always thought you’d go with someone like Hermione – you never cared too much for the snooty girls.”

“I have a newfound appreciation for snooty girls.” Harry grinned. “They’re a lot of fun in private.”

“Enough about that. What about the tournament, eh? You’re going to win, right?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Best of luck!” Dora looked at the maze. “I wish I had been one year younger. I could have been in the tournament and seen that Weird Sisters concert.”

Harry curled his lip. “Jealous? Don’t be. Pretty sure you would have tripped even below the lake. Besides, the ball was obligatory and I’d feel sorry for the bloke that would have gotten his feet murdered by you.”

Dora ribbed his elbow. “Look at you, dancing. What happened to the old Harry? I swear, you’ve changed so much in the last time I saw you.” Her eyes were distant and she pursed her lips.

He sent her an odd look. “What are you talking about, Dora? I haven’t changed at all.”

“You have. Maybe you don’t notice it yourself, but you look more… in control.” She strained a grin. “Maybe you’re finally growing up? Thank Merlin. That means I no longer have to hear you boast for hours about House Potter.”

Harry smirked and showed off his signet ring. “Did you know that King Tarquin’s son, Sextus, was actually slain by my ancestor, Gaiu–“

“Nope! Not hearing it this time! Morgana’s tits, Harry! You’ve told that story hundreds of times!” snapped Dora. They both laughed for a minute and then Tonks resumed her faraway look. “But really, you’re different now… is it because of her?”

He knew who he was talking about. “Maybe… she’s made me realize a lot of things about myself.”

Dora looked at the ground. “So you really are serious about her. Are… are you sure about it?”

Harry furrowed his brow. “Nobody can say that they’re completely sure about something.” He looked at where Fleur had gone and his eyes managed to spot a trail of silvery hair. “But if I’m not sure about her, then I don’t think I can be sure of anything. We… err… we have something that has connected us. More than one thing, in fact.”

“Aren’t you worried that she might be like the other girls? Like Ginny?”

Harry shook his head. “No. I… she’s special. If anything, I’ve taken more advantage of her than she has of me. Her family’s loaded – money would not be a factor. Like I said, we have something that connects us.”

Dora gave a slow nod. “Alright. I’m still not sure about it, but if you’re happy…”

“I am,” responded Harry. “I am very happy.” They stood for a few uneasy moments until Dora stepped forward – miraculously not tripping – and gave him a firm hug.

“Be careful in there. There’s no shame in giving up if it all goes bad.” She grinned. “I’ll tease you about it, but I’d rather you lose your pride than lose your head.”

“Don’t worry,” Harry responded, his gaze returning to where the Beauxbatons students were. Now he could see Fleur, and she was not alone. A little girl jumped at her side; her platinum hair was the exact same color as Fleur’s. The woman trailing behind them was also identical, and looked only a few years older than Fleur. The last in the group was a man. Black of hair and of average height, he was plain compared to his companions, but Veela did not focus entirely on looks. The way he carried himself exuded confidence, and he was unaffected by the suppressed allure of the woman beside him. That, Harry knew, was far more important to Veela than anything else.

Fleur’s lips broke into a smile when she saw him again. “’Arry!” she sang, placing her arms on the little girl’s shoulders and muttering something to her in French. The girl squealed, a stream of rapid French flowing from her lips. Harry sent Fleur an awkward look.

“Err… hello. Gabrielle, is it? Fleur has told me a lot about you.” Fleur’s sister didn’t seem to understand much of what he said aside from her name. She squealed again and sent another wave of French at him.

Fleur giggled and knelt to whisper something into her sister’s ear. Gabrielle made a cute pout and crossed her arms, protesting in her native language. Fleur and the couple burst into laughter. The man had a deep baritone; the woman’s was like a song… similar to Fleur’s laugh.

“I told ‘er zat you were mine,'' whispered Fleur. Harry gave a brief chuckle but regained his posture in front of the couple. “ ‘Arry… zese are my parents. Dominique and Apolline Delacour. Maman, Papa – zis is ‘Arry Potter… my beau.”

Harry ignored the chill traveling through his spine. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. and Mrs. Delacour.” He shook Mr. Delacour’s hand and kissed the back of Mrs. Delacour’s.

“It’s good to finally meet you.” Dominique Delacour’s voice was firm and deep, and only a faint trace of an accent could be heard. Harry hadn’t been told much about Fleur’s family, but her father’s eyes were sharp and every movement was carefully practiced.

Mrs. Delacour spoke next. “Fleur ‘as told us many good zings about you, Monsieur Potter. I am grateful for you looking after ‘er.” If Harry had been questioned, he would have assumed this was Fleur’s older sister, for she didn’t appear to be a day above twenty years old. Wizards and witches stared at her like Harry had seen people stare at Fleur, all except Mr. Delacour.

Fleur grabbed Harry’s arm. “‘Arry is ze top of ‘is year and ‘as been very kind to me. ‘E ‘elped and protected me more zan once. Also ‘e keeps ‘is mind under control and ‘is mouth closed in my presence.” She said the last part as if it were some great accomplishment.

“I can see zat,” remarked Mrs. Delacour with a soft smile. She gave a look to her husband and tapped his leg. “Fleur. Can you take me back to ze carriage? I need anozzer coat for ze cold.” Fleur nodded and left with both her mother and Gabrielle. Mr. Delacour stayed behind. Harry knew where this was going. The dreaded interrogation that he’d heard so much about.

“It’s an impressive castle,” commented Mr. Delacour. “My wife said it was ugly, and so has Fleur in several of her letters. Women of Marseille have a higher standard than the rest of France, and Fleur is one of the most demanding even among them. Quality has always been a focus for her in everything. Colors, clothes, paintings, food… boys.”

Harry smiled. “She’s… a remarkable witch, Mr. Delacour.”

“Please, call me Dominique.” He allowed himself a small smile in return. “You’re a smart young man. You already know what this is. Don’t hold it against me. When you have your own daughter, you will understand.”

“I will trust you on that. I ask that you trust me when I say that I have no bad intentions for your daughter. I… it may sound foolish to you coming from someone my age, but I love Fleur.”

Dominique took a deep breath. “I do not doubt that, Harry. Fleur is a smart woman, and just like her mother and the rest of her kind, they always know who to choose. I may not know you enough to trust you, but I know Fleur enough to trust that she knows what she is doing. I just wish to tell you… Fleur and Apolline… they may be snobbish to many, yet when they love, they do so truly, fully and deeply, and they will be hurt similarly if that love is broken. My heart would have been more at ease if she had fallen in love with someone not of a noble house… I know that many in this country would not consider her an equal, and have already seen what your ‘press’ – if it can be called that – thinks on the matter..”

“Not me,” Harry responded sharply. “I don’t care what anyone says. My mother was Muggle-born, my best friend is a Muggle-born, I grew up with a werewolf close to me. I don’t love Fleur for what she is. I’m just fortunate that she’s as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside.” 

Dominique nodded. “Then I approve. Fleur is happy with you, happier than I’ve ever seen her. Just know that the claims regarding the weakness of the French is unfounded, and if you take the smile from her, then I will do anything in my power to take your smile as well.” He smirked after the threat and Harry breathed easier. He turned to look at Fleur coming back to them, just in time for Dumbledore to make his announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you will have five minutes to make your way to the Quidditch field for the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. To the Champions, please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium.”

Harry saw Fleur give a kiss to her parents and sister. He saw Cedric hug his father and kiss Cho. Krum shook his father’s hand and embraced his mother and girlfriend. Spring’s leftover leaves crunched on the ground. Harry turned to see his godfather and Remus.

Sirius placed a hand on Harry’s hair and made it messier than usual. “One last task, Harry.” His face lost its ever-present grin. “If anything goes wrong in there, you quit. Don’t sacrifice yourself for that Potter pride.”

Harry nodded. “I know.” He bit his lip and embraced his godfather. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“We’ll be here,” assured Remus, giving him a hug as well.  Harry gave a final nod to both and followed to where the other Champions were being led.

He stepped beside Fleur and held her hand. “Remember our promise.” Fleur squeezed in return.

The Gryffindor had lost count of how many times he had been at the Quidditch field in previous years. Harry was sure that after so many rigorous training sessions that he knew every blade of grass. Without that knowledge, he wouldn’t have been able to tell now that the maze had been erected in its place.

Massive hedges covered the field. The roots, branches, and thorns were dark even in the setting sun, and thick as a wall. Only a gap at the center gave access to the maze, but little could be seen thanks to wave after wave of thick fog spewing from its maw. 

The stands began to fill quickly. Students, family, and the press were all talking excitedly. A warm red sky heralded the night. Already there were several stars shining along the moon. The more the sun sank, the more the maze blackened until Harry couldn’t distinguish between trees and walls. Hagrid, Professor Moody, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick walked into the stadium to stand beside Bagman.

“We will be patrolling the outside of the maze,” announced Professor McGonagall. “If it is your wish to quit from the competition, send red sparks into the air and one of us will come to get you. Know that it will mean your disqualification from the Tournament. Do you all understand?”

The champions nodded.

“Off you go, then!” exclaimed Bagman and the patrollers dispersed.

“Good luck, Harry,” whispered Hagrid. He took to the right with Flitwick while McGonagall and Moody went to the left.

Bagman’s wand pointed at his throat and he bared his white teeth to the crowd. “Welcome to this very special evening, ladies and gentlemen! The final task for the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! To remind you all where the points stand.” He extended his arm towards Harry and Cedric. “Tied for first place with eighty-six points – both from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry – Mr. Potter and Mr. Diggory!”  The Hogwarts students stood up and cheered with the exception of Slytherin. Only Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise gave gentle claps.

Bagman waited for the noise to calm down. “In second place – with eighty-four points – the lovely Ms. Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic!” The students from Beauxbatons stood up and cheered, shouting encouragement in French. Loudest of all was Gabrielle, who jumped and screamed Fleur’s name.

“In third place, Mr. Viktor Krum from Durmstrang Institute!” Slytherin cheered this time along with Durmstrang. It seemed that they were not deterred even when Krum had mentioned that his girlfriend was Muggle-born. Nevertheless, the Bulgarian seeker waved back stoically at his school, but mainly at Lena Romanova.

“The champions will go inside in the order of their score. The Triwizard Cup has been placed at the center of the maze. The task is simple, ladies and gentlemen. Whoever reaches the Cup first, wins the Triwizard Tournament!” The audience clapped again, gently this time. “Mr. Potter… Mr. Diggory, you go first. On my whistle.”

Silence fell on the field. The three seconds felt like an eternity and Harry’s heart started to hammer against his chest. He gave one last glance to Fleur and then looked back to the foggy entrance. The whistle screeched and the roaring of the crowd came back to life.

Harry took a deep breath and marched to the entrance, wand held in front of him. “Lumos!” The fog dispersed but it was still dark. The maze suffocated the cheers. He briefly remembered a story Sirius told him as a child of a boy entering a giant wolf’s mouth. Harry walked alongside Cedric for fifty yards until they came to a fork in the road.

“I’ll go this way,” said Cedric, picking the path on the right. Harry nodded and watched him disappear into the dark.

He stepped to the path on the left and he heard the screaming of the whistle. ‘Fleur is coming.’ He stood still, waiting for her… until the hedges closed too quickly for him to react. “Incendio! Diffindo!” Spells flashed from his wand to cut the obstacles but every part he damaged was magically restored just as the next spell hit.

Harry grit his teeth and turned his wand to illuminate his chosen path. It looked mostly deserted.  ‘There is only one way this will end.’ He gave one last look behind. ‘I’ll get it as quickly as I can, Fleur.’

The whistle was capped with a final cheer from her school. Fleur took a deep breath and stepped inside. “’Arry!?” she called out. No response. Light shimmered from the tip of her wand as she quickly walked to the first fork in the road. Still no sign of Harry. When the hedges shifted to reveal new passages, she understood why. There was little chance of being able to follow him. Fleur willed herself into running towards the path to her right.

The maze got darker with each passing second. Dew fell from the leaves’ edges. Fleur felt the cold humidity hit her flesh and cold sweat made her clothes cling to her skin. The French witch shot a ball of light in front of her and saw another fork in the road ahead. She filled her lungs with the smell of decayed soil and ran forward. “’Arry!?” she called but the air was dead. Not even echoes gave her the courtesy of an answer.

‘Left,’ Fleur decided. She had gone to the right before and it seemed logical to keep going towards the center… unless the path to the left took her to a dead end. A loud huff left her lungs as she tried to remember the Muggle games on the back of her father’s newspaper. ‘Don’t think about it too much!’ She stepped to the left.

Suddenly, the pregnant silence was shattered with shrill giggles that made Fleur reflexively cringe. She looked behind her but saw nothing different. Back to the front… nothing. She then looked above and saw small, human-like beings, their skin was an atrocious shade of blue, and had long ears almost too big for their heads. Cornish Pixies.

Fleur smiled even as the small group of them dove towards her. Just as they were about to reach for her hair, she stunned them with a full blast of their allure. ‘Silly little creatures. Just go annoy someone else.’ She flicked one of them with her finger and ran towards a crossroads, this time keeping to a straight path, picking up her pace until something coiled tightly around her ankle.

She looked down to see dark vines and tendrils. Fleur aimed her wand at it but didn’t have a chance to cast a spell. Another tentacle-like tendril gripped her hand with enough force to make her wand fall to the ground. Heart racing, Fleur tugged her arm back, yet it served only to make more vines come to life. Her limbs were restrained soon after, roots and plants holding her limbs roughly. A particularly thick one wrapped around her throat. ‘Devil’s Snare!’ She’d read about it in classes. The more she struggled, the harder it would hold her. ‘I don’t have time for this!’ Fire sprang from her palm and kissed the plant. The vines screeched and receded as quickly as they had come.

Once the vines were gone, Fleur picked up her wand and huffed at the hedge where the Devil’s Snare had disappeared into. “I appreciate ze effort, but ladies like me prefer a gentler approach!”

Down the path she went again. Right, left, and right again until she hit a dead end. Fleur put her wand on her palm and did a Four-Point Spell only to realize that she’d gone too far to the west. The witch walked back to the previous crossroads and took a left instead… another dead end.

“’Arry!?” she called once again. His name made her body regain some warmth. Back at the crossroads, Fleur looked at where she should go this time. Should she go forward… or should she go back to the crossroads before this one?

The silence was broken by the hedges cutting off all the other paths except for the one forward. The choice was made for her. She walked with reluctant steps; lazy winds were the exception to the world once again falling mute. The path led to a misty clearing where Fleur could see the blackened sky clearer than before. The stars were beautiful… the moon was full. Her mind drifted to nights like these. Her first night at the Veela enclave, the day of her puberty… dancing with Harry at the Yule ball. Her mind snapped back to reality when she heard the crunching of grass. “Arry?” she questioned before she even turned around.

It was not Harry… but it was also not Cedric, nor was it Krum. The figure was covered in heavy black robes. Tall and with broad shoulders, his face was covered with a skeletal mask that revealed only sunken, heartless eyes. In his right hand, he held a wand, as dark as his robes.

Fleur gripped her wand tightly. “Who are you?”

The figure stood still. “Name’s Macnair if you need to know.” He dug into his robes and pulled a long chain. “You’re coming with me, Veela.”

She grit her teeth at the way he said that word, like she was some creature beneath him. Fleur had heard the sentiment several times before, but never with such malice. “What do you want wiz me?” She squared her shoulders and aimed her wand with the full intention to use it.

“It’s not you we want. It’s your boyfriend. Come along and this will all be quick.”

A chill went down Fleur’s spine. She remembered who Harry Potter was... a wizard with many enemies. “What do you want wiz ‘Arry?!” she demanded. Her attention was focused on the wand for any movement.

Macnair grunted. “What does it matter to you? All you Veela are harlots, right? You’ll find some other wizard to lay with for money all the same.” He had finished pulling the chain. At the end there was a circular piece of steel, slightly open… a collar.

It was not like the one Harry put around her neck and made her burst into a smile every time. This one was cold… cold and cruel. The very sight made shudder. She tore her eyes away from it and aimed her wand at the man. “You are not getting to ‘im!” A stunner flew from the tip, the man its target.

Macnair didn’t bother to move. His wand moved easily to wordlessly summon a shield. “Figures. Creatures always fight… even when it’s hopeless.” His wand aimed at Fleur to send a dark purple curse. She stepped aside just in time. “Make this easy for yourself. Our Lord may show you mercy if you cooperate.”

“Non! Reducto!” The curse met the same fate as the stunner. Macnair wasn’t even trying. Fleur knew that he must be older and more experienced than her. If it came to a battle of endurance, she would not win. She needed to be smart. Fleur let go of her allure; the dark wizard simply stepped forward.

“That won’t work on me, Veela. I’ve dealt with many creatures before. Trolls, erklings, kelpies, even got me an unruly young dragon once. I like to keep the heads – they make pretty decorations, you see. Shame about that hippogriff, would’ve made it the centerpiece. Yours would be the prettiest though.”

Fleur felt like her heart was going to burst. She breathed the thick, rotten air and tried to calm herself. ‘Smart… you have to be smart. Don’t let him get to you.’ The French witch waved her wand and shouted, “Altufumos!” Thick smoke was summoned around her. She may not be able to see him now, but neither could he. Fleur pointed her wand on the ground and filled it with charms, jinxes, curses. They could be stronger if she said the words but then the man would be able to hear her.

The smoke dispersed quicker than she expected. Macnair waved his hand once and the rest of her cover was snuffed out. Fleur retreated carefully; eyes set on that ebony wand. He followed with a relaxed stroll, like an arrogant predator knowing his prey had no way of escaping. The chain made a chilling clatter with every step. A step, a clatter. A step, a clatter… until his foot landed right into her trap.

A length of fiery rope wrapped around his leg, smoke rising along with a grunt. Macnair pointed down but Fleur was quicker. Her wand danced and the fire obeyed, coiling around the other leg and up the torso. Once it reached around his neck, he let out a roar and shook until the mask fell off, revealing that Macnair had black hair and a moustache, and he was gritting his yellowed teeth.

Fleur held her control of the fire as hard as she could, almost binding him completely and setting his clothes ablaze. The stench of burning cheap leather filled the air and the smoke eventually made her eyes water. As she turned around to cough for fresh air, her focus broke, allowing Macnair to wave his wand, snuffing out the fire. He turned to her with murderous eyes.

“You damn wench. How dare you attack your betters, creature!?” Whatever restraint that he had before was gone. Curses were spat at Fleur, faster than she could block. She managed to dance around them, mostly easily, but never able to move far. When she tried to do the smoke spell again, Macnair sent a gust of wind to snuff it out.

Fleur kept retreating, but her eyes never once strayed from her opponent and his wand. Macnair was furious; that was good. Anger made people do stupid things, she just had to wait for a chance.  Maybe lose him in the hedges? Or perhaps make an illusion? It could work.

Then, Fleur felt a tug on her ankle. She tried to pull away but it was stuck. Tearing her eyes from her opponent confirmed her fears – it was stuck with some spell!

“Didn’t think you were the only one with tricks, did you?” Macnair laughed. “Capturing creatures is my job, Veela.” Panicked, the French witch sent red sparks to the air.

“That ain’t going to work. We made sure of that!” growled Macnair and spat more curses at her. She successfully blocked three of them but the fourth sent her wand flying behind her. Macnair’s eyes were ablaze as he pointed the tip at her. “Crucio!”

Fleur’s world exploded with agony. It felt as if hot knives were flaying every inch of her skin, digging into her bones. If not for the brief sight of the black sky, she wouldn’t have realized that she had fallen on her back. It felt like an eternity.

When the curse was lifted, Fleur could barely open her eyes, but any other muscle refused to move. Footsteps got closer to her form and saw the tip of Macnair’s wand blocking the stars.

“Told you to not resist, Veela.” His voice was brimming with sadistic glee. “But to be honest, I like it when they fight back. Ain’t no fun when they don’t struggle… Crucio!”

It hurt even worse the second time. Fleur thought of endless prayers, even if just for oblivion. ‘Harry… Harry… where are you?!’ His green eyes brought her some comfort amidst the sea of agony. When it finally ended, she could barely just twitch on the ground. When her silver tresses were pulled, there was no pain, only a pressure on her scalp. Something heavy was placed around her neck and despite her addled mind, Fleur already knew what it was.

A boot smashed against her ribs. “Get up, Veela. You don’t want to be late for the party. The boys will want something to celebrate the return of our Lord.”  He forced her to her knees with the chain, cutting off her air. Fleur opened her eyes and looked at the wizard with rage. “Still got some spirit, do you? Well, if I didn’t break you, then I reckon Crabbe will. He likes ‘em younger, though. Now that I remember, you do have a little sister, right? Barty told me you do.”

Fleur gnashed her teeth. Despite the pain in her nerves, she held her hand for a fireball, but a shock of pain from the collar ended her transformation, leaving her panting on her knees.

“Like it? Made for Veela. Promised the guy who lent it that I’d give him what was left of you when we’re done.” He pulled on the chain again. “Let’s go!”

The chain was forcing her to move but Fleur stayed put. She had to resist. She had to. The witch pulled the other way, back to where her wand laid, ignoring how she was cutting off her own air supply. Macnair chuckled, pulling back on the chain,  prodding her with stinging hexes, but they were tickles compared to the Cruciatus Curse.

“Stop struggling, Veela!” he growled. Fleur felt the tugging grow limp as he approached her again. “Guess you won’t learn your lesson… Cruci –“

Fleur saw her opportunity and took it. She jumped at him, sending him tumbling to the ground, her on top of him, hands clawing at his face and drawing blood. Something Harry told her once had jumped to her mind ‘Most wizards expect you to use magic all the time. Especially the pure-blood types. They never imagine you’ll get physical.’ She grabbed the tip of his wand and ignored her screaming muscles as she broke it. His hand grabbed at Fleur’s face. She bit the little and ring fingers until she felt the bone crack. He tasted like rotted flesh. “’Arry! ‘Arry!” she screamed her war-cry as her knuckles pummeled his face. She felt them break but the pain was easily ignored. Her onslaught carried on even when he stopped twitching.

Finally, when she could barely recognize the face, Fleur stopped. She looked at her trembling fists and breathed out a sob that was also a laugh. Her battered hands tugged at the cold steel around her neck until her wand caught her eye. Fleur stumbled over to it, her body protesting every movement. As soon as her fingers curled around the wood, she pointed it at the collar, unlocked it, and launched it as far away as she could.

Her entire body surrendered at last, unable to remain standing from pain and exhaustion. Fleur landed on her back to see the sky once again. One by one the stars were consumed, from the corners of her eyes to the center, until only blackness remained.

Harry looked at the Blast-Ended Skrewt. It was on its back, soft belly exposed. “Reducto!” It let out a creaking squeal and twitched furiously for several seconds. The twitching got slower and weaker… then it went limp. Harry walked along the path that the creature had guarded until he hit a dead end. “Merlin’s shriveled cock!” he grunted through his teeth. This bloody maze just never ended!

He turned back to the crossroads and did the Four-Point Spell to get his bearing. If he went to the right then he could go too far to the west, but he might also find another crossroad that got him back on track. If he went forward then it would be closer to the center, yet he’d been fooled long enough now

Then he heard it – a scream… Fleur’s scream. It barely reached his ears through the hedges but he heard it. “‘Arry!” it called. He’d only heard her scream this way once. Harry let go of any doubt. Fleur’s voice would be his guide for now. He went right, and then left, then forgot all about his bearings. It mattered little, for the screams were louder with every step he took.

“Fleur?! Where are you?!” he called. His heart threatened to escape through his mouth, yet it did not deter him. The screams got weaker but he was getting closer. When he turned left on a crossroad his eyes were met with a gust of wind and when it was gone, he saw a familiar figure.

“Krum?!” he asked. It was indeed the Bulgarian champion, his wand pointing straight at him. “Krum, have you seen Fleur?! Did you hear her scream?!”

Viktor Krum said nothing. When he walked forward, Harry saw a stony face and cloudy eyes. His wand was pointed at Harry, but there was no intent, like a puppet held by unseen strings that commanded him.

Harry stood still and raised his wand at the Bulgarian champion. “Krum… step aside. Don’t make me hurt you.” As Krum got closer, Harry realized that he wasn’t looking at him, but behind him.

“Get down, Harry!”

He knelt down just as a stunner grazed his hair. Krum summoned a shield against it. Harry turned to see Cedric, clothes bloodied and singed but with determined eyes. The Gryffindor dove to where Cedric stood and covered himself behind a hedge. “What’s happened to him?!”

Cedric grit his teeth. “Gone mental! He tried to use the Cruciatus Curse against me!”

Harry frowned. That was not like Krum, knowing what he knew of the Bulgarian. Realization dawned on him. “Did you see his eyes? He’s bewitched!” But bewitched by whom? Karkaroff? Was the Durmstrang Headmaster the one that was orchestrating his death all this time?

The Hufflepuff gave him an incredulous look. “Why would anyone possess him?” He peeked through the corner but backed off quickly, a curse flying where his head had been.

“I don’t know.” Harry peeked out of the hedge. Krum saw him, but didn’t attack. Why was he not attacking him? He looked at Cedric. “Look. We can take him two-on-one. Just keep pressuring until he falls. Got it?”

Cedric frowned but gave a careful nod. “On three… one… two… three!”

Both Harry and Cedric sprang from their side of the hedge. Krum sent a couple of spells at Cedric that were blocked. He was so focused on Cedric that he didn’t pay attention as Harry aimed his wand and cried, “Expelliarmus!” Krum’s wand flew behind him and both Harry and Cedric forced him to the ground.

“Krum?! What has gotten into you?!” questioned Harry. Krum’s responses were only a few grunts when he struggled to get both of them off. The muscles were not just for show. Harry pointed his wand. “Sorry about this, mate. Stupefy!” Krum went limp.

Cedric let out a breath and stood up. “He was possessed. Merlin’s beard, what’s going on?”