Harry woke, his head pounding. Fuck, his throat was sore. Where was he? His bed was soft, and his cock was sticky. He looked down. Dried cum crusted over on his cock. He frowned - Narcissa usually cleaned him before they went to sleep. It was their ritual, and he kind of loved it.
He blinked again.
Ah.
Fleur's room, sun streaming through the window.
There was a note on the pillow beside him. Flowery writing above a lipstick kiss.
Harry,
Sorry, ch érie. Fun night but I had to go to work. Hope to see you soon.
Love,
Fleur
Cheeky minx, Harry thought, nursing his head. He doubted very much that he'd drank so much he'd conked out - he was definitely ready to add her to his harem. She must have put something in the wine. He'd have to get her back for that.
"My daughter did the wine trick, did she?" Came a voice, and Harry snapped his head up, his headache pounding. Apolline. She was wearing an amused smile, holding a glass of water, wearing a satin champagne negligee with ornate lace at its hem and top. She looked stunning, her hair middle-parted and tied behind in a loose ponytail, but she'd put her ponytail on her chest, almost like an arrow pointing his eyes towards her busty bosom — and what a bosom it was, mammoth and pillowy, creamy cleavage bursting out of her negligee. Some of her hair had escaped her ponytail, framing her face, and it was in her easy, confident beauty, that he found her most striking. She wasn't even trying.
Distantly, Harry was aware he was completely naked, lying in her daughter's bed, his cock lying against his bare thigh.
"She's done it before?" Harry coughed out, fighting the urge to reach out for a sheet as she sidled forward and passed him the water.
"No," Apolline laughed. "She's not quite as experienced as she makes it out."
"That's difficult to believe." Harry gasped out after he downed the whole glass.
She smirked down at him, that same amused teasing smirk that Fleur did before she drained his cock with contemptuous ease. "Veela have our tricks. Even without experience, we don't have the awkward fumbles of your typical teenagers. It's part of our history."
"Well, she's experienced enough to have a wine trick."
Apolline laughed, rich and full. It made her bosom bounce delightfully. "In truth, I told her to have a plan if she was going to take you to bed. You're far too dangerous a man to trust my daughter's virginity with, I'm afraid. I suspect you will be or have already parted many a young women from their maidenhoods."
Harry smiled up innocently, thinking of Hannah. "Am I really that dangerous?"
Apolline sat on the bed, next to him, her hand tracing over his bare thigh. Harry's eyes went wide.
"Veela virginities have a bargaining price, Harry, and not a low one."
"I would have thought the Delacour name was large enough not to play those games."
"And the Potter name?" She squeezed his thigh. "We all have to play the game, Harry." She said his voice in a low, sultry tone, leaning forward, her cleavage easily visible down the top of her negligee. Harry took a deep breath. His cock was beginning to harden. "And it's such an important game we are playing. The future of France herself. My husband's political power. Gifting Fleur to the right man could make or break my husband's slow ascent towards becoming France's President."
She descended slowly, pressing her face against his bare leg, just inches away from his cock that he currently ignored. She pressed a feather light kiss to his thigh and laughed richly as he flinched a little. "And you, Harry, are clearly not looking to marry my daughter."
Harry wished he had another pint of water to down, his throat was so dry. "I could be persuaded." He said dryly.
Apolline shook her head, the strands of her dancing across his leg. She smiled at him with perfect teeth as she straddled his leg. Harry felt her wetness on his knee as she slowly slid up and down, inch by inch. What was happening here, he wondered in the back of his mind. Was he still dreaming?
"Not for a Veela. In Britain, Veela are all seen as whores, horny women without minds. We have no rights at all."
Harry felt it was time he made his move. He took her arm and tugged her forward, so she fell onto him, her curtain of blonde hair shutting around him, face to face.
"And in France, you aren't just mindless horny women?" He teased. He ran a finger down her spine.
She shook her head, smiling like she knew something he didn't. Harry smiled back at her, knowing he knew something she didn't.
Apolline pressed a kiss to his jaw and spoke in a low, amused tone. "We keep our minds - that's how we are so good at sex. I shall show you, poor ignorant Englishman, just how good a mindful horny woman can be." With a dip of her shoulder, her negligee slipped to her arms, revealing her incredible chest. Harry had never considered himself to have a type, as such, he enjoyed big breasts and long legs as much as the next man, but he liked a handful of pert breasts on a petite body too. Or at least, he thought he did, but his soon-to-be harem of Cissy, Hannah and Apolline would challenge that assumption - all three of them had tits that would take your eyes out with a sudden movement. They were gravity-defying, drool-inducing, poetry-inspiring titties.
Apolline shook her chest a little, and Harry's eyes moved with the jiggle of the pillows, soft creamy breasts with pert pink nipples, as hard as he was all of a sudden.
Her eyes were on his cock as it reached its full length and girth, and she swallowed, hard. It was quite something to see it, last night, covering her daughter in glorious powerful wizard cum, but it was quite another to see up close, she thought. It would be so good to be mindless for this cock, but she was Veela, and though Harry didn't realize it, this was a test for him. She had to stay focused.
She shifted back and grabbed it with both hands, making sure her body was sidled against him, her warm on his.
Apolline pouted, feeling the dry crusted cum on his cock. She tutted. "My daughter never cleans up after herself." She sighed, tossed her head back, and gave Harry her most beatific smile. "Still, a mother's work never stops." With that, she took him in her mouth, beginning her most thorough and energetic tongue bath, using every Veela trick in the book. Her tongue rimmed his cockhead, his mushroom, tracing down along the vein. She spat saliva and then deep-throated him with consummate ease, deliberately making his cock as sloppy as she could. Then, she withdrew, leaving teasing strands of saliva stuck to his cock.
She smacked her lips in delight, purring as his hand slid through her hair as she descended once more. She gagged, making her throat milk his cock, fucking her face down, gurgling for his enjoyment. Then, she was gone, face reddening.
"Déjà vu?" She laughed. "You taste delicious, Harry. Or would you prefer my accent a little thicker? 'Arry, perhaps?"
"I like you as you ah-" Harry gasped as she took him in again, tongue swirling around his cock, lapping against his sensitive head. Fuck, he loved the French.
"You're sweet. But let's do something you can't compare with my daughter." She was gone, moving so fast he could barely keep up, and she sat on his crotch, pressing her wet, gorgeous netherlips against the base of his cock. Her legs, long, bare and beautiful, stretched either side of him, and for a moment, Harry felt like he was being consumed, like he was a small ship being sucked into the dock of a space-destroyer, like one of those Star-something films he'd half-seen at the Dursleys.
"Such power." Apolline marvelled as she pressed his cock against her skin, and even though she was tall and thick, with hips that made him want to hold onto them and breed her, his cock still looked gargantuan against her, nestling against her belly button. "I almost can't believe it will fit inside me." She thwacked it against her skin a few times, giggling at the precum trail it left on her belly. She looked at him innocently. "Do you think it will hurt?"
His cock jumped in her hand and she gasped in mock-horror. "Oh, he likes it. The big bad wizard wants to make the Veela slut squeal in pain with his big wand."
Harry rocked his hips, sending her falling forward, trapping his cock between them, and making her lips meet his. He kissed her passionately, roughly, wanting them to swell. He wanted her husband to notice. His hand reached behind her, finally getting to palm that beautiful big bottom, that perfectly formed heart-shaped ass. He squeezed, thrilled at how he was able to sink his fingers into her supple soft asscheeks.
She moaned at his touch, content to allow him to play with her for the moment. But Harry wasn't content at all. His hands on her hips, pushing up her forgotten negligee sat around her waist, he picked her up, his cock rebounding to point towards paradise. He held her up as her legs scrambled to help, and suddenly she was kneeling aside his legs, her fingers around his cock as she guided him into her.
He couldn't wait any longer. And she didn't want to make him wait. He entered her pussy slowly, enjoying her face contorting in pleasure, her soft gasps. "Slow, slow," She murmured. "You're so big."
His cock flexed, his hips rising up, ignoring her warning. She was a Veela. She was made to get fucked. He wasn't going to be gentle. He stabbed upwards, making her scream as she suddenly found herself impaled, full of foot-long thick cock. "'Arry!" She squealed, her accent coming out in full force.
"Oh, fuck." Harry groaned. She felt incredible, warm, wet and squirming around his cock, searching for some kind of control. He grabbed her hips and fucked into her. His balls slapped against her, and Harry felt so much pleasure he was tempted to close his eyes. But he couldn't, because he'd miss the heavy jiggle of those big tits, he'd miss her full lips biting each other, he'd miss the sight of his cock spearing that pink wet pussy, he'd miss the little rotation of her hips as she tried to gain a little power herself. But, as he fucked up into her, it was the sounds that did the most for him, the soft squelches of her pussy being pounded, her heavy breaths and gasps and little squeals, the slap of his flesh on hers.
"So deep." She gasped. "I can't-"
"Just settle down. This is going to change your life." Harry said arrogantly, but he had the knowledge of the ritual.
"Fils de pute." Apolline muttered. She couldn't let his boy rule over her, not in the sexual arts. She circled her hips, grinding down him, triumphant with every grimace of his eyes, every gasp from his lips. His cock felt divine within her, each rotation of her hips sending a frisson of pure pleasure up for her toes, like an electric spark.
When she was ready, when she'd gained enough energy to try and move herself, she began in earnest, settling her hands on his chest and bouncing herself down on his cock. And Harry met her equally.
Fuck, he thought — she was tight, her vice-like pussy squeezing his cock, milking him. He'd never felt anything like it. It felt like she had complete control of her pussy muscles and was using them to jack him off into her hot wet furnace.
"Yes, you want to cum inside me, don't you?" Apolline taunted. "Do you like the way I'm milking you? You're just a teenager desperate to unload that heavy load, aren't you?"
"Fuck," Harry gasped out. He was a virgin once more, devoid of sexual experience, overwhelmed by her and everything she brought; the scent of her, not cinnamon or roses but sex, dirty and lurid and obscene — her sopping pussy. The feel of her, not just pussy which devoured his cock, milking and tightening and jerking, expert and natural, but her smooth skin all over him, her breasts swinging in his face, their sweaty bodies pressed together.
And she read his mind.
He opened his mouth and he was sucking on her nipples, her hand in his hair. He bucked his hips and she was pushing down. He bent his knees and she leaned forward, over him, so he could hold that ass, hammer into her, desperate for prove he was more than just a participant.
But she felt too good. She was too good.
When it came, it came too soon.
He clutched her ass tightly, bucked up into her and spurted.
"I—fuck—damn—" He said incoherently, his brain function leaving him with every rope of cum.
"Fill me, 'Arry." Apolline smiled down at him, eyes lit up, her body glowing as she worked those magic muscles within her, steadily grinding on him.
And as his load finished, he remembered himself to mutter a spell, because he couldn't do without her, do without this.
She went still, collapsed into his arms, but it was all he could do to hold her, his cock embedded with in, wet and warm.
"Oh," Apolline trembled in his arms and Harry was alarmed to realize she was crying, her body wracked with sobs.
"Apolline?" He ventured tentatively.
"I could have gone my whole life without knowing." She mumbled. She rose her head, revealing a face, shining with tears. Harry's breath hitched. She looked stunning, a glow on her face, spreading as she smiled. "Merci, 'Arry."
"For what?" Harry said, in mock innocence.
She kissed him, a shy chaste kiss that quickly grew passionate until Apolline was arching her back, her inflated stomach showing as she tried to pour herself, her every feeling, into him. She broke off with a gasp.
"For your love." She took a deep breath. "Our love. I can feel it, deep inside me. I thought I had it all. A husband who respected me, even if we didn't love one another. Two beautiful, special daughters. Wealth and power." Her mouth opened and closed a few times, gaze becoming long. "I didn't know how...ah, vide de sens."
"Empty." Harry translated.
"Oui. Empty." She pronounced it with an extra strong evidence on the p, which Harry thought was adorable. "I could have died without ever having felt this." She pressed a kiss to his lips, just because she could, looking pleased with herself. Then, she gasped, feeling her stomach with her hands.
"Oh," She sat up, cradling it in fascination. "I haven't been this big since Gabrielle. Such virilité. So much giclée."
"Giclée?" Harry hadn't come across that word. Rather, Tom hadn't, and Tom had been fluent in French.
Apolline blushed furiously. "Slang."
"Ah."
Apolline burst into giggles suddenly, turning from a mature sexy filthy fuckable mother into her daughter for a moment. "I feel like I've been sprayed down, like a plant given too much water. I guess I should have expected it from a male Veela."
Harry coughed suddenly, laughter bubbling out of him. "Male Veela? What?!"
Apolline frowned at him. "Male Veela. You...didn't know?"
"I'm not a male Veela!"
She stroked his chin lovingly. "Mon cheri, you are the first male Veela in a thousand years. Bonding women to him, bringing them love and fortune, making them whole, making them his, that is exactly the power of the male Veela." She said seriously. She sat up, making him slip out of her, and slipped into his offered embrace, by his side, pressing her body as close as possible.
Harry was flabbergasted. "It's just a ritual. It's just magic." Had his bonding spell made her mad?
Apolline shook her head wildly. "That's silly, 'Arry. The ritual might be part of it, but I can tell these things. You have an Allure. Your magic, it attracts me. I saw you last night and I suspected then, when I felt you, what is the word in your language? Release? When I felt that, I thought you could be. I had to have to you. And," She ran a hand through his chest hair, purring happily. "I was right!" She sniffed, clearly pleased with herself.
"Sweetheart-"
"Sweetheart?" Apolline hugged his arm tighter, entwining her bare leg with his, hair tickling his arm. "I love it."
"Yes, well," Harry said, flustered. Would this woman always have the power to make his heart skip a beat? He couldn't forget that when he bonded women, made them love him, he also opened his heart in return. The love went both ways, in time. "I'm pretty sure I'm not a male Veela. I've never had any power over women, any kind of Allure." Her love must have made her believe him a myth, a legend, instead of just an opportunistic pervert trying to stay alive.
"Haven't you?" Apolline smirked at him knowingly. "And the others, the ones I can feel that have already bonded to you, did they not part their legs with as much ease as I did? Haven't you been getting away with a lot? Some of that is your looks," She sighed. "So handsome. Some of it is your money, your power, your presence. Witches are only so strong. But I am Veela and I can feel another Veela."
Harry twisted his lips, dubious. He was pretty sure she was love drunk, or failing that, cock drunk. "What do you know about the old male Veelas? I still don't believe you." He, or rather Tom, had heard of male Veeelas before, in myth and legend. He'd never come across any evidence for one.
"Elutheratan." Apolline said instantly. "He brought together the current Veela Council, and, from the sounds of it, fathered half of Europe. France sang his name. He cut through royalty and nobility alike, leaving them pregnant and adoring."
Harry frowned. "Is there any record left of him?"
She pursed her lips. "If there is, it'll be in the Veela conclave."
"I have an invitation…" Harry trailed off.
Apolline giggled again, burying her head in his chest. "The sheep invited the wolf in. Are you going to be like Elutheratan, 'Arry?" Was she calling him 'Arry deliberately, Harry wondered, or was the bond subconsciously making her accent stronger, because it knew he liked it? What was its power? Could it change more than their minds? He swore Cissy's breasts were bigger.
"Would that bother you?" Harry said tentatively.
Apolline laughed, her hand reaching down to tease his limp cock. "Mmm," She murmured as her fingers dipped through the pool of cum around his crotch. "I forgot to clean up." She nestled her head in his crotch, pressing kisses to his groin, collecting the globules of seed. Looking up as she worked, her smile spread. "I'm - mmm - Veela, mon cheri. We live our lives in hope of a male Veela emerging, of meeting someone we can bond with, love, serve and fight for. There is no greater honor. All witches should have the honor of serving you."
Harry smirked, feeling his ego balloon at her words. He couldn't help himself. "And how do you address one you serve?"
She dipped her head immediately. "Forgive me, Master. Or, if you would prefer, your Majesty. Or My King, or your Excellence, or your-"
"Master will do just fine."
She purred as his hand stroked through her hair, while she diligently cleaned his cock.
Harry thought as she lapped. "Will you be mine, when I wish, as I wish, given you have a husband?"
Apolline's head snapped up, a little fear growing in her eyes. "He is inconsequential, mon amour, my Master. It was a political marriage, anyway. A gift, from the Veela, to gain his support. And Jean took it in order to gain the backing of the Veela Enclave in his career. I will not fuck him again, I could not bear it, but he will not cause any trouble." She sniffed. "We have more tricks than just sleeping potions in the wine."
She smiled up at him, entwining her hands with his, so he held her hand as she lapped at his balls. "Mmm," She rolled one ball in her mouth languidly, somehow gaining enough pleasure from the act of submission, the act of love, that her eyes were lidded. "I am yours now."
"You are. What can you offer me?" Harry tested her.
Apolline pressed a kiss to his cock and gave him her naughtiest smile. "The Veela. Every single last one of them."
Harry smiled.