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Introduction:

This is not my story. It was written by Werewolf Warrior. I'm just sharing it here
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

France, two weeks before Harry Potter met the giants

Gabrielle Delacour was immensely disappointed with herself. She prided herself on being the best daughter she could be, the best student she could be and the level of control she exerted over her demeanor at all times. Where her sister was fierce and passionate, she was calm and controlled. Where her sister was swept away by short-lived romantic affairs, she had never been distracted from her education.

That said, Gabrielle did think the world of her sister and she knew her sister loved her too. Gabrielle could not help but think, though, that her sister had spent most of her teenage years living a tumultuous life that went from high to low and relationship to relationship. That is, of course, until her sister left school and met a handsome older man – a curse breaker at Gringotts – and just decided to get hitched. Gabrielle thought herself above such whimsical desires.

Gabrielle knew control and discipline – she had always been a quiet, calm little child. She was prone to childish fancies, of course, but that did not mean she did not know how to hold herself back. The need for control had been drilled into her since childhood.

Then, Gabrielle thought, why am I so unable to master such simple magic?

“Maman,” she said crossly in French, “Why cannot I do this?”

Her grandmother tutted and her mother merely smiled at her. Gabrielle gritted her teeth at that.

“Try, again,” her grandmother commanded.

And Gabrielle tried. She closed her eyes, scrunched up her face and concentrated. She tried to focus like they wanted her to and tried to draw the warm feeling of the whizzing aura that whipped around her, drew it in and willed it to change shape.

After ten minutes of desperately trying to reel in her aura into the shape she wanted, Gabrielle just gave up and opened her eyes. Her grandmother sighed and the two women in front of her got up.

“Let us call it a day,” Apolline said mildly. “No,” Gabrielle said, “I shall keep trying until I get this.”

***

Somewhere in Germany, two weeks before Harry Potter met the giants

“Wait… what?” Harry asked Bill as they both took a rest from breaking down the ward on an erstwhile Death Eater safe-house in a ruined cottage.

“Veela basically clone themselves to breed pure,” Bill said patiently, “They are capable of just forcing their eggs to grow into a fetus.”

Harry scratched his head. “And you said half-veela retain this ability?”

Bill nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “Well, not quite. Only full veela are capable of giving birth to other full veela through cloning. But both full and half-veela are capable of giving birth to full veela through cross-fertilization with other full or half-veela.”

“What? Cross-fertilization?”

“Yeah,” Bill said, making a sour face, “Fleur told me about it. Apparently, veela can inject their genetic material into other veela and fertilize them.”

Harry was confused. “Inject?” Harry repeated, and then asked, “Like… with a syringe?”

Bill shrugged. “Fleur just said veela are capable of growing some kind of protuberance that can inject stuff into other veela. They’re not injecting sperm or anything – just some kind of genetic material that fuses with the veela they inject it into.”

“And what about half-veela?” Harry prompted.

“Half-veela, like Fleur’s mom, are strange. Fleur told me that half-veela are capable of accessing both their veela sides and their human sides – although, neither side comes instinctively to them. They can clone themselves just like true veela, but they can also use magic, like normal witches. And they can cross-fertilize too.

“And if they cross-breed with true veela, the offspring is again, a true veela. It’s all very strange.”

“So… Gabrielle?” Harry asked, “She’s… what, exactly?”

“Oh, Gabrielle is basically the result of Apolline cloning herself. From what Fleur tells me, Apolline and Jean had quite a few arguments about having a second child. Jean put his foot down though, so Apolline got mad and just willed one of her eggs to grow. So Gabrielle was born. When half-veela clone themselves, they give birth to half-veela too, since they’re basically just clones.”

“So Gabrielle is basically just Apolline’s clone?”

“Exactly.”

“But Fleur…”

“Is a true quarter-veela, which doesn’t really mean anything. Oh, Fleur does have a slight aura, but it’s nothing compared to Apolline or Gabrielle. And no weird protuberances or anything – perfectly feminine, Harry,” Bill said, waggling his eyebrows.

Harry just shook his head.

“So…” Bill said, but Harry stopped him. I do NOT want to go there, Harry thought, not the weird Weasley male thing again.

“So Gabrielle is… how old, exactly?” Harry asked.

“She was actually born only two years after you were,” Bill replied. “Veela go through puberty a lot slower than we do, but when they do hit it, boy do they hit it and hard.”

“Ten on ten, eh?” Harry asked with a grin.

“Eleven on ten,” Bill said with a mischievous smile, his scars growing prominent as his skin stretched around his face, “If she wasn’t my sister-in-law…”

Harry just grinned.

“Nah,” Bill said, “Who am I kidding? I can’t even handle Fleur, let alone a proper veela.”

“Half-veela,” Harry reminded him.

“No real difference,” Bill said, “Gabriella and Apolline are both veela and human at once. They have the best of both worlds – the ability to work a wand and the ability to blow your socks off with that aura.”

“Work your wand, eh?” Harry asked lasciviously.

“Oh, shut it,” Bill said, though his tone was mirthful.

“So does that mean your mother-in-law and your sister-in-law both turn into harpies whenever you annoy them?” Harry chided.

Bill shuddered. “Yeah, well,” Bill said, “That’s one of the abilities they have to learn. Apolline and Fleur’s Grand-Mere – a full veela – are teaching Gabrielle how to transform.”

“So Beauxbatons is closed now?”

“Nah, the school is open – Apolline is the Charms Mistress.”

“I bet she is.”

“You’re such a cad.”

Harry laughed.

“Anyway,” Bill continued, “Apolline and her mum are giving Gabrielle lessons on transformation after her classes every day. If you think Fleur turns people’s heads… wait till you see Gabrielle.”

Harry snickered. “Bet that doesn’t go over well with the wife,” Harry said.

“Which is why you’re tagging along next time,” Bill said.

Oh crap, we’re back to that topic again.

And as if on cue, Bill asked Harry that stupid question again. Harry just sighed. Stop asking me to bang your hot wife, you idiot. Because I totally will.

***

France, just as Harry encountered the giants

“Gabrielle!” her grandmother’s melodious voice screeched at her, “Do it! Now!”

And then her grandmother slapped her across the face. Gabrielle flushed and scrunched up her face in concentration.

“The predator within you begs to be unleashed!” her grandmother said, “But to be unleashed, it must first be unchained by emotion. The most powerful being anger. Let your anger flow!”

And then Grand Mere slapped her again. Gabrielle gritted her teeth and her muscles tensed in anger.

***

Somewhere in a meadow in France, Harry met the giants

Harry gritted his teeth and his muscles tensed in joy.

Oh yes, he gloated, exactly what I’ve been waiting for.

The Elder Wand was singing in his mind now, his heart pounding like a drum against his chest. Harry Potter was elated. The French Aurors threw out spells as they shrank against the wand, Bill tried to conjure a wall to halt the stampede of the giants, but Harry just grinned and got ready.

His magic hummed and sang and hungered.

***

Gabrielle’s aura sang a harmonious melody around her. She tried to unleash it, concentrating her anger upon her magic, but nothing happened. Her aura felt like it was blocked.

She felt her Grand Mere slap her again – and tears fell down Gabrielle’s cheeks.

She wasn’t even getting angry now – she was feeling intimidated.

***

Harry zoned in on the largest of the giants, who was conveniently at the forefront of the pack charging at them. The giant wore an enormous wooden laurel on his head and was obviously the leader of the tribe.

Good, Harry thought, you’re first.

The giant, who had to be at least twenty seven feet tall, raised the massive club he was clutching into the air just as he got within sixty feet of them.

And that was when Harry decided to throw caution to the wind and charged right back at the giants.

***

Apolline Delacour watched with immense worry from the corner as her own mother slapped her daughter and tried to induce her to transform. Apolline herself had learned through just such a technique, and her mother was right – emotion was the easiest way to try and unleash the aura, but something about this entire situation felt wrong.

This would have been so much easier if Fleur was a half-veela instead of Gabrielle, Apolline thought. Because Fleur had so much of the willful, stubborn, untamed stereotypical nature that Veela were usually painted with. Fleur was the apple of her husband’s eye – he bestowed every luxury upon her and had lavished her with attention ever since she was born.

Gabrielle, on the other hand, was something Jean had considered a mistake. He had been embarrassed when Gabrielle had been born; he had played no part in her conception, and while Jean had not been overly hostile to Gabrielle, he was always so dismissive when she was around. She was considered Apolline’s daughter rather than their daughter and Apolline knew Gabrielle had noticed such things.

As such, her youngest daughter had become meek, learning to draw in her presence and keep herself out of sight. Unfortunately for Gabrielle, she was a half-veela, and there was only so much control one could exert over one’s natural attractiveness – not to mention the veela aura. Gabrielle had been a very beautiful girl and was now maturing into a remarkably beautiful half-veela.

However, Gabrielle had noticed how her aura drew attention and had taught herself to exert tight control over what part of it she could harness. And now, when Gabrielle needed to let go, her daughter found herself completely unable, after having exerted such control over her every emotion for so many years.

For the transformation was all about finding utter freedom – of letting your spirit go and surrendering yourself to your emotions. Tapping into your bestial self. And Gabrielle, bless her soul, was an extraordinary child in many ways – but she always thought about what others would think if she did this, what her father would notice if she did that and so on and so forth. She was a tightly wound ball that simply would not relax and just let go. Even when Gabrielle had fun, like at Fleur’s wedding, it was with such impeccable calm that Apolline almost wished Gabrielle would throw a tantrum or two every once in a while.

At the end of the day, Gabrielle Delacour simply did not know how to let go.

***

Bill had barely finished conjuring his wall when the giants were almost upon it. Painstakingly, Bill had started conjuring bricks, lacing them with sticking charms and them placing them above each other. Eventually the French aurors had caught on and tried to help him by conjuring enormous slabs of stone and placing them atop his own meager wall. And Bill knew it was a stupid strategy, but his mind was just frozen now.

He was a cursebreaker, not an auror. He belonged in tombs and catacombs, methodically breaking down complex wards and curses, not in situations like these, facing an entire giant tribe at once. And with a sinking heart, Bill realized that he was going to die. He was actually going to die – he did not see any way out of this. He stopped conjuring and just cowered.

And that was when he felt the air churn around him, as if buffeted by an enormous force.

The wind whipped about in frenzy and one of the French aurors shrieked. Bill looked up and felt a blanket of power settle upon him. It rose and sang and hummed with magic. He followed the power to its source and saw that it was all concentrated on a single man.

Harry Potter stood alone, facing the giants, eyes blazing and back straight, with a grin on his face like he was dropping in on an amazing party. And then he charged.

“No!” Bill said, just as the French aurors screamed, “Non!”

Is he mad?

Harry charged straight at the pathetic wall they had conjured to protect themselves against the giants and just tore through it like paper. The wall crumpled as Harry charged straight through it. The giant at the forefront of the stampede – the biggest and meanest looking giant Bill had ever seen – was barely forty feet away.

And that was when Harry flew. At first, Bill thought he was leaping into the air, but Harry was actually flying into the air in a steep arc. Without a broom. In an incredible parabolic arc, Harry rose into the sky like an avenging angel, his green eyes raging with a bloodlust Bill had never seen before and his face contorted into a wild smile. The giant stopped in his tracks and brought his enormous club down onto Harry, as if to swat him like a gnat, but Harry whipped his wand around in mid-air and the club turned to dust.

Where did that wand even come from? It practically popped out of thin air!

And then he saw Harry clear the dust and reach the peak of his parabola, only to descend like stone, his feet pointing straight into the giant’s face. Bill heard a deafening crack, like a tree had snapped, and the giant howled as Harry smashed feet first into the giant’s nose.

Holy shit. Harry just broke a giant’s nose by kicking him in the face.

***

Gabrielle’s concentration was slipping. She felt absolutely wretched. Her grandmother had once called this “incredibly simple stuff”, but she simply couldn’t seem to learn this. Gabrielle would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t talented – she knew she was talented. She had perfect scores in her classes, had kept her aura under such tight control almost intuitively from an incredibly young age, had not had a bout of uncontrolled magic since she had been four (her last burst had broken her father’s favorite tea set with a burst of magic. Oh the scolding her father had given her, Gabrielle thought). She had never been mad when her father had doted on Fleur and had never been put off when he was completely cold to her, as he always was – she had taught herself not to be mad, for that way led despair.

And yet, she could not master this “incredibly simple stuff.” It was absolutely frustrating. And then she felt her Grand Mere slap her again, which caught her off guard and Gabrielle yelped as more tears fell down her cheeks.

***

Harry grinned as he anchored a blasting charm to his feet with his wand and smashed the giant’s nose just as he landed. I love anchoring charms, he thought happily as he pushed off the giant, somersaulting backward into the air off the giant and landed gracefully on the ground after dropping more than twenty feet by casting the self-levitation charm he had practiced with the help of the Elder Wand.

The leader of the giants fell backwards in a graceful curve and landed satisfyingly on his back with a massive thump, shaking the ground. He was still howling and clutching at his nose. Harry retreated away from the giant’s legs, which were kicking out in pain, with a smile on his face.

And then he stood tall, looking at the sheer number of other giants that were attempting to swarm him. He grinned. He knew just the right spell for this occasion.

***

Gabrielle wished she could do this with a simple twirl of her wand and a single spell. But there was no right spell for veela magic.

For veela magic was instinctive. In her grandmother’s scathing words, “Humans have to learn and then learn some more – from books and tomes and stupid little words – to be able to cast controlled magic. But we have it within our very bodies. We use it with each breath. Every male – be he giant or human turns to mush in its presence – our aura. And magic just comes to us. It’s not something we seize and control, Gabby. It’s something we learn to let go.”

Let go, Gabrielle thought with frustration. She hated that phrase. Her sister was more the “let go” sort of person. Letting go to Gabrielle meant being the subject of her father’s glare, or being gazed at by lecherous slack-jawed men. I will not let go, she thought sadly. I cannot.

***

Bill saw Harry just look at the mass of giants that were about to crush him in seconds, even as their leader writhed in pain in the middle of the battlefield. And yet, amidst his own terror at the situation, and concern for Harry, Bill truly recognized exactly why Harry Potter was so famous.

He just had a presence about him, even as he stood alone facing impossible odds with naught but a tiny wooden stick to defend himself. A presence that Bill knew he was enamored with – which was why he had asked Harry over and over again to stay at his place so that Harry could fulfill his strange request.

And then, Bill felt cold. It seemed like all of the warmth in the air was being sucked out – but it wasn’t like the chill brought on by a dementor. This reeked of a different sort of magic; Bill was proved right as the air shimmered around Harry and steam rose from the tip of his wand. Harry was actually drawing upon the warmth around him.

How does he even know this sort of magic?

And then, his wand blazed to life. A glowing, white-hot, spitting ball of fire and light sat in the palm of Harry’s hand, held in place by his wand. And it grew and grew spitting out sparks and pulsing in in the fierce blood-red light of early dawn.

Suddenly, Harry whipped his hands out to his sides, spreading them wide apart as if welcoming the oncoming party of giants and the ball exploded. It spread out in the shape of an enormous winged bird and the melted down into a long, thin strip of fire on the ground that extended on either side of Harry for what seemed to be acres.

And as the rest of the giants were twenty feet away – and Bill dimly registered that their fallen leader was crawling away from Harry, clutching at his nose and looking at the relatively tiny wizard with fearful eyes – Harry pushed his hands down and then threw them up again. The strip blazed into an enormous wall of fire, nearly one hundred feet tall and hundreds of feet wide, and Harry was its focal point – the source of its incredible power.

One of the French aurors had enough presence of mind to mount his broom and ascend to the sky. “The giants have stopped,” he told them happily, obviously looking over the wall, and then paused. “They’re just… waiting,” he then said, a tremor of fear shaking his voice.

“Brace yourself!” Bill heard Harry yell back at them. He obeyed – it never occurred to him to do anything else – and he noticed that the French did too. He hoped the man on the broom held on for dear life as well, because whatever was coming next would be big.

And he was right. There seemed to be a massive blast right behind them and a shockwave of compressed air seemed to press outward. Bill and the aurors on the ground were thrown forwards and the wave of air smashed into the wall of fire. The blazing flame fanned outwards, right at the giants.

Merlin! This was the sort of magic legends were written about. And here was a boy of barely legal age, performing such feats like they were nothing.

Then again, Bill thought wryly, he is the Slayer of Voldemort.

“They’re retreating!” a voice said from above. Bill looked up and noted with a relieved sigh that the man on the broom hadn’t been pushed off by the force of Harry’s magic. “The giants are retreating!” the man said as he floated down to the ground quite happily.

Bill looked back at Harry and noticed that the air around him was beginning to settle down. Harry lowered his arms slowly and seemed to breathe out. The wave of fire, still roaring outwards as it fanned over the meadow, seemed to just fall to the ground and vanish. As the flame died, Bill finally saw the giants retreating back into the forest.

He couldn’t help it – a smile just sprouted on his face. That had been certain death, Bill thought, and they had come out of it with nary a scratch. Merlin’s balls, am I glad I insisted that Harry be an intern under my watch.

***

“Maman,” Apolline said at last from the corner, obviously not able to take the sight of her own daughter suffering in such a manner, “Please, enough of this. Anger is obviously not an emotion that comes naturally to her. Not like it came for me.”

The venerable veela – still beautiful in her seventies – just sighed and stopped. She held Gabrielle’s face in her hands and tenderly rubbed at her granddaughter’s cheeks.

“It’s okay, Grand Mere,” Gabrielle said, looking up into her grandmother’s worried eyes, “I know you didn’t really mean it.”

And then her grandmother just hugged her.

***

Harry extinguished the fire with a breath. His magic sang, the Elder Wand was flashing bright happy colors across his field of vision and Harry felt a fierce joy he had never felt before.

This was where he belonged.

That had been an exhilarating experience. Letting out all that bottled frustration in a blaze of glorious, powerful magic – it had been incredible.

And now, he was horny as hell.

He turned around and walked briskly back to Bill. He willed the Elder Wand to disappear and surreptitiously took out his phoenix feather wand as he approached his dazed, but smiling team. The French Aurors were clutching at their hearts or just looking up at him in awe. And Bill was just smiling stupidly up at him.

Harry grinned right back and asked casually, “So, after we retrieve this chalice, we’re totally going back to your place, right?”

Bill opened and closed his mouth like a fish and Harry saw in his eyes that Bill knew what Harry was really asking.

“Hell yes,” Bill rasped out.

God bless these moronic Weasley males, Harry thought as he turned to the dome and smashed a crack right through it with his wand. No sense waiting around for a damn team of wizards to turn up. Let’s get this over with so I can go bang a quarter-veela.

***

It was the Easter vacations right before the final exams for her penultimate year at school. Gabrielle just wanted to relax and study away from her mother and grandmother for a while – though she loved them with all her heart, she just didn’t want to be reminded of her continuing failure to transform as a veela should be able to.

So, she had begged and pleaded with her father to let her go to Fleur’s and her father had assented, no doubt wanting to be rid of her. And so, she was at Shell Cottage, cooing over her niece, who was nearly a year old, and studying diligently. Bill was not around, and Gabrielle was thankful – she didn’t really like how Bill turned stupid around her and just gaped like a moron. It reminded her that she could not control parts of her own aura, and she hated that.

So it was just them girls for a week and it was heavenly. Truth be told, Gabrielle was really surprised at how much Fleur had changed – her willful sister had finally learned to settle down and was actually succeeding at both her home life and her work. Fleur was also a wonderful mother to little Victoire. Fleur was learning control and Gabrielle was very surprised at that. Maybe Fleur could give me some of that free-spirited nature so I can learn to “let go”, Gabrielle thought wryly.

Then she was told by Fleur that Bill was coming back and that soured her mood until Fleur told her that Bill was bringing Harry Potter along, which perked her right back up. Of course, Fleur told Gabrielle that Bill would be home at midnight and Harry Potter would be home for dinner the next day.

And so here Gabrielle was, the day before Harry arrived, looking at herself in the mirror anxiously. She knew veela never had blemishes or a bad hair day, but she couldn’t help it. Harry Potter was coming to Fleur’s house and he was staying. At least for two days, before he went back to the Burrow (and to that awfully pretty redhead, Gabrielle thought with a pang). She knew pining after him was absolutely stupid, but she couldn’t help her crush. And it was something she could control, so Gabrielle could live with it.

But she had noticed how Fleur had told her about Harry coming over to stay with a nervous, hesitant smile on her face. And that had intrigued Gabrielle. She had wanted to press her sister on the subject, but Bill was about to arrive at midnight and Gabrielle had no desire to stay around the redhead for long.

However, she did look forward to meeting Harry at dinner the next day. Nonetheless, Gabrielle thought it only polite to go wish Fleur’s husband as he arrived. She would bid him a good night and then retreat to her room as soon as she was able. So Gabrielle got up primly from her seat, smoothed the edge of her dress, and walked softly down to the sitting room to greet Fleur’s husband.

***

Bill and Harry emerged from the floo at roughly eleven o’clock, an hour before Bill had told Fleur he would be getting home by himself. Truth be told, Bill was a bit nervous.

Granted, he had been the one making the requests and asking Harry to do this all along, even writing to his sister in the process. Then, Harry had been nonchalant and Bill had wanted to persuade him. Bill knew his young wife craved adventure in bed. Yet Bill just could not match her appetite – Fleur had had many lovers over the years and Bill had but one before her. So Bill had thought Harry the perfect candidate to sate his wife’s appetite – Harry was too young for his wife to love and already had a vested interest in remaining discreet about the encounter. Harry was trustworthy and open to such dalliances. And truth be told, Bill was highly turned on at the thought of his smoking hot wife having a romp in bed with the handsome young man.

But now, Harry seemed eager. Bill had wanted him to come over to Shell Cottage the night after they captured the chalice and gave it back, but Harry insisted he accompany Bill home the same night. And Bill couldn’t help but give his assent – he did not know why this was the case… It just was. So they had a quick dinner at a restaurant in Paris, then took a series of portkeys all the way to London, and took the Floo back from the Ministry of Magic. Harry’s internship with Gringotts was officially over, but Bill knew he would have to go in the next day to file a report. Which was why he had wanted to wait a day before Harry could come over.

And yet, Bill knew he wanted this. He could not explain why, but he wanted to see this. His wife was angelic and beautiful and he wanted to see that beauty fulfill all of its needs. Bill was many things – brave, loyal, courageous, and adventurous – but he was sorely lacking in imagination. While it made him great as a methodical cursebreaker, it translated very poorly to their love-making sessions.

And he wanted to see just why Harry had caused such a stir in the Burrow. He wanted his wife spoiled rotten, and judging by what Ron had told them, and judging by the effort it took to convince Ginny to give her assent (he had written more letters to his sister in the past two months than in the past seven years), Harry was an incredibly talented lover. And he knew he wanted to give his wife some of that.

He also knew it turned him on incredibly to imagine his beautiful, angelic wife doing… that… with someone else.

And so they walked straight into Shell Cottage where Fleur was waiting in the corridor where the Floo was located.

Bill’s mouth just dropped open at the sight. God, Bill thought, she’s incredible.

Her thick, blonde hair flowed down her head in waves, her thick, rich mane almost reaching her hips. Her blue eyes peered at him with such warmth and fire. Her avian nose was perched perfectly in the center of her face anchoring her features along its delightful length. Her lips were pouty and yet so incredibly thin and Bill could never figure out how she did that. Her face was so fragile and beautiful.

And that wasn’t even the most incredible part. Below her slender neck hung a transparent netted nightgown, with an incredibly low cut neck and no sleeves, and it hugged every curve of her body down to her waist, ending just where her ass met her long legs. She was wearing an opaque, lacy black bra underneath the transparent top and a g-string right underneath, but that blocked little from the imagination. Her DD-sized cleavage seemed to go on forever outside the nightgown and Bill knew that if she turned around, her amazing ass would be perfectly visible, judging by the incredibly thin cut of her panties.

Fleur had wide hips – but they were nowhere near as wide as say, Hestia Jones in the Order. But her ass wasn’t amazing because of how wide it was; it was amazing because of how much it bulged out and still managed not to sag. And Bill had no idea what to do with that supple ass – he always came within seconds of grinding against her and her ass bulged outward so much, his prick could barely reach into her starfish the one time they tried anal sex. Bill wasn’t opposed to trying that again, but Fleur had said it felt uncomfortable for her and that had been that.

Bill swept her into a hug in joy at remaining alive long enough to see her again. It was a chaste hug that conveyed all of his love and affection. And then, they let go.

“Well,” said a deep voice from behind Bill, “Does the hostess of Shell Cottage always greet her guests with such enthusiasm?”

Fleur squeaked in surprise and let go of Bill as if burnt. Bill blushed as Fleur tried to cover herself with her hands.

“Oh, no need to be shy, Fleur,” Harry said, as he opened his arms to her, as if expecting a hug.

Fleur looked helplessly at Bill. “I was wearing this for you,” she said, defensively, “I did not expect ‘Arry to do this today.”

Bill looked back at her equally helplessly and shrugged.

“Today, tomorrow,” Harry said lazily, “What’s the difference?”

Fleur looked at Harry incredulously, then back at Bill, searching in his eyes for something. Bill had no idea what to make of the situation – but then again, he had assented to Harry accompanying him on his first night home after a long mission. Bill realized with a start that while Fleur had assented to allowing Harry into their bed for at least a night, she had wanted to greet him with full vigor, perhaps to reassure him that no matter how good Harry is in bed, their union shall last.

But Bill did not need reassurance. He knew Fleur had matured since her wild younger years. So he just nodded at her and gestured to Harry.

“I’m still waiting for that welcome hug,” Harry said, his arms still outstretched and a grin on his face.

Very, very hesitantly, Fleur stepped forward and tried to lean into Harry’s hug so that the rest of her body would be as far away as possible from this man who was not her husband. But Harry had other plans. Just as Fleur leaned in, Harry took a step forward and pulled the blonde woman into him.

Harry was wearing a tight cotton tee and a pair of nylon shorts that day. Bill had been surprised at the tourist-y outfit, but now, as he saw Harry hug his wife, he knew exactly why Harry had chosen that outfit.

One leg of his shorts was bulging outward and the enormous cylindrical shape of the bulge made it quite clear how massive he was. And as Fleur hugged him, Harry sidestepped just enough while still leaning in and his massive erection rubbed against the side of Fleur’s hips. Also, instead of hugging around her lower back, Harry just put his palms flat on her jutting ass and pinched and pulled at her cheeks.

Fleur pulled away in surprise, but Harry wouldn’t let her ass go. Bill felt himself harden as Harry just kept his wife in place, mauling her ass as she tried to pull away. Fleur withdrew her hands from Harry’s back, but as she discovered she couldn’t move because he wouldn’t stop groping, she dropped her hands helplessly to the side and tried to turn to Bill. Only, his massive erection was grinding against her side and her left hand dropped right on his shaft and she gasped in surprise.

“Mon Dieu!” she gasped as she stroked lightly down the enormous shaft she had landed on, bending sideways as she tried to find the end of that gargantuan thing. He kept palming her ass and her hands swept down over his shorts until she reached the down to his bulb somewhere in the vicinity of his knee. “You’re not… ‘ard,” she gasped, resting her palm on his dome with only his stretch shorts separating her skin from his shaft. He squeezed her ass cheeks particularly hard and she squealed.

“Oh, don’t worry, Fleur,” Harry said, “I assure you that’s something you can keep working on.”

“No,” Fleur said, gasping again as Harry went back to palming her ass, “Zat is not what I mean. I just…”

“You’re still holding onto it,” Harry said.

And Fleur’s palm rose off Harry’s head in an instant as if she had touched a burning hot dish she had been forbidden from tasting.

Harry laughed and let go off her ass; the cheeks jiggled right back out, flushing red from his vigorous mauling. Bill was incredibly hard right now. Fleur turned to face Bill, her face flushing in shame. She walked towards Bill and held his hand as if to reassure herself that he wasn’t mad as she drew beside him.

“I… did not mean to do zat,” Fleur said earnestly, looking up at him.

Bill just gaped, looked at his wife’s blushing face – Fleur was now looking straight down at the floor in shame - and then back at Harry who was staring shamelessly at Fleur’s ass. And then Harry swung his hand and his palm slammed onto Fleur’s arse with a loud thwack; both of her tightly packed cheeks jiggled amazingly with the force of his slap. Fleur squealed again and squeezed onto Bill’s hand.

“Show us to your sitting room, Bill,” Harry said.

Bill turned around and walked slowly towards the drawing room, not even daring to look behind him lest he ejaculate prematurely at the sight of Harry treating Bill’s wife as property. He was harder than he had ever been in his life. And with each step he and his wife took, he heard Harry slap his hands down on Fleur’s cushy cheeks and she kept squealing each time. Her hand was gripping onto his own almost painfully now.

By the time they finally reached his sitting room, Harry had laid at least a dozen smacks on Fleur’s ass. The nerve of the guy, Bill thought incredulously getting harder than he thought possible, just owning my wife’s arse right as she walks beside me!

***

The Shell Cottage sitting room was basically a small living room that didn’t quite compare to the sprawling hall that the Weasleys had. The hearth by the side of the entrance corridor was blazing with fire. The room was brightly lit and contained a lush sofa that seated five facing the hearth. Around it were two single seat couches sitting perpendicular to the sofa on either side. Behind the single seater on the opposite side of the entrance corridor was an open archway that led to the kitchen as well as a staircase to the upper floor, where the bedrooms were.

And as Harry laid yet another smack on his wife’s bountiful rump, Bill gulped and quickly swung his wand at the arch, casting a Silencing Charm over it. His wife had told him their sister-in-law was in the house; Bill did not know if he remembered to tell Harry about it. Bill had been hoping to keep this encounter discreet and confine it to their bedroom upstairs, safely ensconced in silencing charms and wards, but this situation was spiraling out of his control. And surprisingly, he found that it turned him on even more.

And Fleur had assured him her sister would be fast asleep. Surely, his wife would say something if she thought they would be discovered.

They had now reached the sitting room. Harry mercifully stopped spanking Fleur’s ass and skipped ahead to the largest couch in the room. Bill gulped as he saw that Harry had long since taken off his shirt. Harry’s torso gleamed in the light of the room and his muscles contracted powerfully as the black-haired man just stretched on the sofa comfortably.

Bill just sank down on the single-seater right next to the couch. His wife let go of his hand and tried to make her way across the couch to the single-seater on the opposite side. But just as she passed Harry to move across him, he just grabbed her ass again and pulled her ass cheeks down, her packed ass stretching as Fleur was made to sit down right next to Harry by his grip on her rump.

“Kneel in front of me,” Harry commanded.

Fleur just looked wide-eyed at Bill. Her husband gulped and nodded. And the blonde wife swiftly obeyed.

Harry’s shorts had bunched up when he sat down and his entire enormous shaft was poking out through the left leg of his shorts, fat purple cockhead peering in Bill’s direction as it protruded far past the crumpled material of Harry’s shorts. It was draped against his thigh. It was bigger and thicker than Bill’s entire fore-arm. It would look like a second thigh, Bill thought, if it wasn’t for the fact that Harry’s actual thigh was more muscled than a gnarled oak.

And his wife was now eye to eye with that enormous snake – she was staring at it, completely and entirely non-plussed with her mouth agape. She looked mesmerized.

“Like what you see?” Harry asked harshly, “Then why don’t you pull my shorts off so you can see it better?”

“I…” Fleur began, but Harry lifted his hips off the couch and Fleur obediently slid his boxers down.

Harry sank back down onto the couch with a sigh. “Now,” he said, “You can begin working on making it… ‘ard.” Harry said the last word with a mocking lilt, pronouncing it exactly the way Fleur had said it earlier.

Fleur tentatively reached a hand forward, still staring at his penis wide-eyed, as if she could not comprehend what was happening. And neither can I, Bill thought in a daze as he unzipped his jeans and started rubbing at his eager prick, which sprang out virtually begging for attention.

Fleur’s fingers hovered millimeters away from where Harry’s cockhead was resting on his thigh. Then she glanced at Bill again. Bill saw his wife’s eyes widen when she noticed that he was masturbating. Her eyes lowered very, very briefly, to Bill’s crotch and then went back to Harry’s and Bill knew his wife was comparing them (how is Harry such a friggin’ monster?).

Fleur looked straight back at Bill as if to make it absolutely sure that he was okay with this sequence of events. Bill couldn’t take it anymore – his wife just looked so sexy perched there in a transparent outfit, her breasts practically spilling out of her tiny bra underneath the netted gown and the curve of her ass mashed on her ankles as she knelt in supplication before Harry’s enormous cock.

Bill just gulped and nodded. He needed to see where this led, and he didn’t care about the consequences.

***

Fleur was utterly and dreadfully confused. And she was utterly and dreadfully turned on.

She had always been daddy’s little princess and she knew she had been spoilt rotten by both of her parents. She knew she let it go to her head sometimes, and had lived her life to the fullest. The brief affairs she had had, the lovers she had taken - they were just part and parcel of teenage experimentation and the desire to explore her sexuality.

Eventually, though, especially in the aftermath of the Triwizard tournament, Fleur had experienced an awakening of sorts. Being placed last in the tournament had really awoken her, in a manner of speaking. While Fleur did not regret the full life she had led – the adventures of the tournament, being subjected to a painful curse by Krum, experiencing the pain of not being able to even complete the second task, realizing how horrible she had been to the fourteen year old winner of the Triwizard tournament, the shunning she had experienced after she had returned from the Tournament… all of these events convinced her that she needed to find some stability in life. Some true romance, away from the brief, passionate dates of her teenage years. She needed to move away from her life of luxury, and gain a fresh outlook.

So she had migrated to England. And had met a handsome curse-breaker – now a war hero – who had charmed her with his impeccable manner and easy-going nature. And she was now married to the man – she was not an inexperienced woman in the art of love, but it had never perturbed Bill. In fact, he had even asked her to regale him with tales of her past.

Yet, it was when he started prodding her for more intimate details, even when they made love, that really startled her. Questions about how big her previous partners had been, if they satisfied her better than her husband did… and the weird part was how Bill seemed to enjoy her answers regardless of whether they were in his favor.

Fleur did not really think she was dissatisfied with her sex life. Bill did have a small penis (smaller than all of her past lovers, if she was being truthful), and was unimaginative in bed, but he made up for it with other qualities.

Nonetheless, when Bill told her about how he wanted her to make love to his sister’s boyfriend, it had really surprised her. However, in some ways, from the way it turned Bill on to hear her talk about her ex-boyfriends, she should really have suspected a request like that.

She had assented, making absolutely sure that Ginny Weasley was okay with it. Ginny and Fleur had never really been on friendly terms with each other – Fleur knew the redhead was always making faces behind her back – and Fleur had no reason to make her only sister-in-law even more biased than she already was. But Bill had told her his sister had given her assent.

And when Fleur had really thought about it, she wasn’t exactly opposed to some variety in bed. Of course, she hardly expected little Harry Potter – brave hero that he was – to blow her socks off. From what she had heard of him, he had only been with a single person – Ginny Weasley – and Fleur doubted the little redhead witch had taught her partner much.

So she said yes to Bill’s strange request. She would play nice with Harry in bed, and return to her stable life with her husband. So Bill had a cuckolding fetish, but who cares?

Her only worry was that she would blow Harry’s socks off, after having been with a girl for so long (although, Fleur did suppose she was being uncharitable to the little redhead), he would experience a woman, and Fleur had experience on her side. She had always been the dominant lover in all of her amorous relationships, and she would obviously be the dominant one in the encounter with the teenage boy. Then again, even if Harry did start pining after her and lacked the maturity to see the encounter for what it was – a brief, but welcome dalliance - she would tell him to bugger off, even if he was England’s savior.

At the very least, Fleur had thought, she would get to have her husband for a night before Harry. And Fleur was determined to make her husband feel secure so that he wouldn’t have second thoughts about the encounter with Harry (which Fleur was quite looking forward to, if only for the variety). So she had dressed in a transparent nightgown and worn her best lingerie to rock her husband’s world so that he would be assured of their bond.

Instead, Harry had happened.

He had used her, manhandled her, groped her and her husband seemed to enjoy it! And the worst part (or the best part, Fleur supposed) was that she enjoyed it too. Harry had crushed her tendency to be dominant in bed with nary an effort, spanking her ass all over the place and making her gush with mere words. No one had said such things to her before – no one had dared.

Fleur had thought him a boy and he had turned out to be a man. And now, as he sat there with his legs spread out and his shorts off, Fleur saw how much of a man he really was.

To put it bluntly, Harry was enormous – the largest cock she had ever seen, by far. His balls were the size of Fleur’s fist. How do they not chafe against his thighs when he walks? Fleur thought incredulously. And his cock – it was like something out of paintings of satyrs Fleur had seen in museums and palaces. It was so long it draped over his balls and extended off them onto the couch – he was obviously soft. Off to the side, she could hear her husband panting as he jerked off.

“Now, we can work on making me ‘ard,” Harry said.

Fleur reached out both hands towards his enormous meat and gathered it up in her fists. Morgana, Fleur thought, my forefinger and thumb barely even touch each other. And there’s space for two more hands on this impossible thing!

So Fleur tugged and pulled at it and his cock jangled this way and that, stretching and flopping, but not growing hard. Fleur was almost insulted – she knew she was sexy; the man should have gotten hard as soon as she touched him. She glared up into his eyes and only saw amusement sparkling in his eyes. The green-eyed bastard is holding back. He’s taunting me.

And this encounter was supposed to have been biased in her favor. She was a scorching blonde goddess compared to the little girl Harry lugged around. Her ire grew and her husband fell away into a dark corner of her mind as she focused solely on the limp cock before her. She would make it hard and she would show this arrogant little shit (not so little, and incredibly handsome for a little shit, a voice in her head whispered) what a real woman was like.

“What he really needs to wake up,” Harry taunted, “Is a little kiss, mon ami.”

Oh, Fleur thought angrily, I’ll show him a kiss.

She plunged her mouth down on his shaft, her tits bashing onto his knees. And then, just as she had managed to stuff his soft tip into her mouth, Harry stood up, moving off the couch and towering above her. Fleur rose up to keep his cockhead in her mouth and her tits squashed onto his thighs, still clad in a bra. Now Harry was right above her breasts, his cock spilling into her mouth and his balls inches from her chin. Fleur was still holding onto the upper half of his soft shaft by the base.

And she stuffed his cock further in and mashed her lips on his cock keeping her teeth well away as she licked and slobbered on his penis.

“That’s right,” Harry said, “Munch on my cock, you little slut.”

Fleur just glared at the man as she pushed her penis further and further down her mouth, stuffing it in with her hands. And it started hardening and rapidly at that. Fleur grew alarmed at how much it was growing inside her mouth. Her lips stretched and she tried to move off, but Harry’s hands snapped to her shoulders and just held her in place. His head poked into the back of her throat and her airway was blocked.

Harry’s hands moved to her head and his fingers dug into her hair, just holding her against his cock. She choked and gagged and spluttered and starting smacking her fists against his thighs – not even making a dent in those slabs of muscle, but the man allowed her no respite. And after fifteen solid seconds of just holding her on his hardening cock, Harry let her go and she snapped her head back in a daze, letting go of his shaft with a loud pop, her lips dragging against its immense girth as she slipped off.

“Batard,” she snarled, even as her cunt gushed at the said bastard’s humiliation. Fleur couldn’t believe she was getting off being humiliated like this. She turned around to look at her husband again, to see what he thought of this, but her eyes bulged as she saw that her husband had already spilled. He had cum from seeing his wife being used by another man? And Bill was rubbing again. Now, Fleur was doubly insulted – he had never gone for seconds with her, but seeing her used like this was turning him on so much he could get a second wind without so much as a reload time?

Fine, Fleur thought, if that’s how my husband wants me to play, I’ll play. And I’ll love it.

And she was loving it, Fleur thought guiltily. It was an entirely new experience to her – being dominated like this – and Fleur had thought she had left these “new experiences” behind a long time ago. But she had never really changed, Fleur thought, she had just been suppressing herself.

And it looked like Harry was here to bring old Fleur right back.

She looked up at Harry and smiled. “Fine,” she said, “Show me a good time, mon amour.”

Harry grinned right back, bent down, gathered her hair in his left hand and pulled her head back so she was facing straight up. With his right, Harry held the base of his meat and raised it like a club. And then smacked it down on her face, across her right cheek. Fleur squealed. His cock was now on the other side, and Fleur realized it was now completely hard – Harry was actually shifting his hips as he smacked her. And his cock was remarkably straight for such a grotesquely large penis – like a rod of unbending steel with nary a hair anywhere. And the musk – Fleur had smelt it as it passed her face oozing a trail of pre-cum – smelt amazing. Like nothing she had ever smelt on any of her lovers.

He isn’t human, Fleur thought, he can’t be. He was almost like an avatar of some long-lost deity, some forgotten god who was banned from this world for showing human women what they could never fully have or understand.

A god of love.

And then the god wielded his whip again, smacking her left cheek this time with his cock. But Fleur did not let it go out of reach this time. She clapped a hand to it, clutching it from one side so that it lay flush against her cheek on the other. She cuddled it and inhaled that amazing musk again. She slid her face back, never letting her cheek let go of that amazing pole, until she reached his fat, purple crown, at which point she turned her head and kissed it.

The kiss widened until her mouth was almost French-kissing his sensitive dome, slurping at it with her tongue. And then Harry pushed so that his entire head was buried in her mouth yet again. Fleur kept his enormous head in her mouth and swallowed. Merde, she thought, his pre-cum even tastes amazing.

And then she sank down on it until it was clogging up her airways again – Fleur wanted to feel that again. The helplessness she felt at being impaled on his cock and the bliss she felt as she escaped its imposing girth – she was getting off on it.

“Fuck,” Harry grunted, just as Bill choked out, “You slut!” and Fleur heard her husband’s fapping pace speed up. I really do have the best of both worlds, Fleur thought snidely, a husband that loves me so much he would invite a god into bed just to make me happy.

Fleur choked herself silly on Harry’s shaft and then drew up again, but she just did not want to let go of that tasty cockhead so she slid up until her lips met the ridge where his head met the main shaft, keeping his crown in her mouth, and then choked herself down again. She slapped her hands against his muscled ass and pulled so that he would go even further down her throat and gagged and spluttered.

The deep-throating continued for ten whole minutes until Harry’s shaft was glistening with what seemed to be gallons of Fleur’s spit. Harry eventually had to pull the blonde wife off his cock, strands of saliva linking her lips to his lower head.

“Looks like you’re addicted,” he said, observing her spit-glazed face casually.

Fleur just panted. Her lungs were on fire from choking herself repeatedly on his tasty cock-meat and her cheeks felt heavy from being expanded by Harry’s girth, but she couldn’t help herself. She just panted wheezed and nodded.

Harry laughed. “Get up,” he commanded.

And Fleur got onto her feet, realizing with a start that she actually the same height as Harry. But he looks huge, Fleur thought, and then realized that Harry was, in fact, significantly broader and muscled than she had realized.

Had he always been like this? How did the girls at Hogwarts even stop themselves from jumping this man at every turn?

Harry gripped her by her shoulders and turned her around so she was facing Bill with her back to Harry. She felt his cock push against her ass cheeks and then snuggle into her asscrack, its head pushing at her lower back. And then she felt the back of her transparent gown tear with a loud rip. The smooth skin of Harry’s palms made contact with her bare back and Fleur realized that Harry had torn the back of her night gown apart for better access to her body – her gown still hung along the front by her shoulder straps. After unclasping her bra, spilling her breasts and hardened, aroused nipples out for the world to see as her bra dropped down to the floor from under her gown, his hands travelled out towards both sides along her back and Fleur moaned as she realize what Harry was going for.

Her eyes drew level with her husband and she looked straight at Bill as Harry palmed the sides of her tits and then moved his hands around so that his palms lay right on her tits. Harry’s front was now flush against her back. His balls lay right underneath her jutting ass, which was smushed against Harry’s thighs and his cock was buried in her cheeks as it stood to attention against her lower back. And then Harry squeezed her breasts, let go almost immediately and pulled at her nipples and then massaged them, pushing them this way and Fleur moaned, still looking straight into Bill’s eyes whose fingers were a blur as he drooled at the sight of his wife’s breasts being kneaded like flour right in front of him.

Fleur’s eyes grew glazed as Harry’s ministrations grew even more pleasurable. He was licking and kissing the side of her neck and she bent her head to allow further access.

***

Harry was loving the scent of Fleur’s hair as he burrowed into it and nibbled at her neck, sucking and laying lustful kisses along its length. And her breasts felt wonderful in his palms as he kneaded them to his heart’s content. And he knew she was loving it too, from the moans and gasps she was emitting, not to mention the rock hard nipples on her amazing tits. Fleur ground her ass on his cock and his shaft felt as if it was surrounded by her heavenly globes as it snuggled into her crack.

“Enough,” Harry said eventually, “Now for the main event.”

He let go of her heavenly breasts and sank down on the couch right behind him. Fleur sighed at the loss of his hands and he grinned. His cock was rock hard and pointing straight at the ceiling. Fleur turned around, looked at him and gasped again.

“Sit on it, Fleur,” he said.

She stared at his shaft, her eyes moving up and down its length, as if deciding the best course to tackle her next task. Eventually, she stepped out of her thong, planted her legs on either side of him and stood up facing him with her feet on the couch, her twat gleaming over him with arousal and her amazing tits high up in the air. She was still wearing the transparent shirt, but she was wearing nothing under it now, and Harry had a tantalizing view of her breasts underneath the netted material that he had been palming but a few seconds ago.

While Fleur didn’t quite have the folds that the Weasley females possessed, her lower lips were amazingly plump and her clitoris was the largest Harry had ever seen. It must have been at least half an inch in diameter – he wondered if that was a veela thing. But Harry was in no mood to go down on her – no, he wanted her to serve him, like he deserved. His mind was choked with lust after the battle, short as it was, and he was going to fuck this woman like she deserved it.

Drops of arousal dripped down and landed with splats on his cockhead and he grinned up at Fleur’s face. She blushed and looked away from him. Slowly, teasingly, she bit her lower lip and sank down until her pussy was hovering millimeters above the tip of his penis. Harry had to admire her flexibility as she squatted down on her thighs. And then, with a gasp from both him and Fleur, her plump cuntlips parted as they met his crown with an open kiss.

“You’re flowing!” Harry crowed as Fleur gasped, “Merde” and her twat seemed to drool as it let go of streams of her arousal down his cock. And then Fleur sank a little more and his crown buried into her twat, parting her deliciously tight lips far apart.

“Merde”, Fleur gasped again, “This… is… biggest… mon dieu!”

Suddenly Bill seemed to groan quite loudly from the corner. Harry and Fleur both looked around in surprise. The redhead’s face seemed to go slack as he came for the second time that night. And then he promptly fainted as an airy presence floated into the room.

Harry and Fleur looked at the archway to the stairs that was the source of this new presence, Fleur’s twat still hugging his enormous head.



Standing at the foot of the stairs, looking extremely angry, was Gabrielle Delacour.
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