Paris at night.
Harry sipped on his beer, enjoying the sights and sounds.
Depending on where you were, it could be at times romantic, at times dangerous. Usually overcrowded, often smelly.
Tonight, it was worse than usual, crowds of teeming students loud and screeching as they tried to enter one of the many clubs in the Pigalle distract. He sipped easily, eyes coursing over the boozy women in slutty Halloween costumes.
It was a wonderful time of year. Schoolgirls mixed with zombies, superheroes with vampires. One eager girl dressed as a tomb raider caught his eye, but he had plans already.
And it was about time.
He stepped into a side-alley and popped to the Père-Lachaise, a district more famous for having the most visited cemetery in the world, rather than any nightlife. Oscar Wilde lay there, as did Edith Piaf. Perhaps the footsteps of countless tourists drowned out her crooning from beyond the grave, Harry mused.
Still, the district had one popular club, one more upmarket than those in Pigalle. La Bonne Nuit had a sizable queue already, with the women dressed in equally slutty costumes.
It was a converted warehouse, not much to look at from outside, but inside, Harry could already hear the thumping music. A stack of cash in his palm and the bouncers let him in immediately, a trick easier on the morals than the Imperius.
And inside, the hall was ablaze with lasers, casting purple and blue neon glow on the sweaty crowd of dancers, buzzing to the same fusion of pop and electronic dance that filled every nightclub.
Around the edges, tables, already shining with spilled booze. Instead, Harry turned his eyes up, searching the balcony, at the VIP booths on the second floor. Leaning on the railings, couples nodded their heads appreciatively, and behind them, the booths for the rich and famous. Each booth had a square of plush velvet couches and private table service.
Harry took a deep breath.
This was a world he didn't know, whether it was Harry or Tom. Tom hadn't spent much time in the nightlife. And the nightlife of Tom's youth was very different to…this.
He'd gone a bit overboard, because of it. Bought himself expensive Muggle clothes. A watch. A chain around his neck. For someone that had grown up Muggle, he still felt out of place.
"Drink." Harry decided, muttering to himself. The bartender was easily attracted to another stack of euros.
"Just a beer, any one." He had to yell to make himself heard. The bartender nodded.
As soon as the bartender met his gaze, Harry entered his mind, a voiceless Legilimens. He pushed through the notion that the bartender should ensure Harry was taken care of with the best service throughout the night, and left it at that.
He probably shouldn't have, but he was feeling on edge.
Sat on a stool adjacent, a pretty brunette peered at him with amusement, cocktail straw in her mouth. "Guys really gotta pay to get a drink quick, huh? Girls get it easy." She said in French, accent Parisian. The words came quickly to Harry, thanks to Tom.
"Beautiful girls get it easy." Harry corrected with a smile. He looked her over in an obvious way — a one piece black bodysuit, like a one-piece swimsuit, overlaid with a mesh over her chest and thighs, a spiderweb mesh. Spiderweb fishnets, spiderweb arm warmers, thigh-high boots. "And drinks come even easier to someone dressed like a slutty witch."
She retrieved her big witch's hat from behind and plopped it on her head. "Who says I'm slutty?" She teased.
"Oh, all witches are slutty. They spend so much time alone stirring their cauldrons, you see?"
"Is that right? Is this where you make a crack about your big wand?"
"Oh no," Harry grinned. "It's where I make a crack about my big broomstick."
She giggled even as she rolled her eyes. "Brigitte."
"Harry."
She wrinkled her nose. "What does the Englishman do that he speaks perfect French and wears a shirt that costs more than I earn in a month? You look like a student at university."
"This old thing?" Harry teased. "I'm a consultant."
"A consultant?" She raised her eyebrow. "Zat tells me nothing, non? You didn't even dress up!"
"Well, I can't give up all my secrets at once. Dance with me?"
Brigitte took his offered hand. "What about your beer?"
"You can make me some more with a magic spell, later."
He led her into the middle of the dancing crowd.
"I hope your dancing is better than your jokes, Harry."
"Me too." He admitted. But dancing came easy enough to him — there wasn't a single dueling tutor that Tom had who didn't first instruct him on the simple steps of dance, of movement. And little dancing was needed with this music — it was more about feeling the rhythm. All around them, nervous men did their best to entice the girls on the dance floor, but Harry had an advantage.
He wasn't nervous and he wasn't here to seduce this Muggle, no matter how pretty she was. He was just biding his time.
Soon enough, Brigitte was dancing into him, laughing when he tried to show off, more so when he failed at spins and splits.
"I can't tell if you're arrogant or confident." She yelled at him over the music.
"Bit of both?" He replied, and she giggled, turning and grinding back at him when the music turned sexier, her ass-cheeks spilling out where her one-piece bodysuit tapered in. It was a daring costume, yet nowhere near the sluttiest on display. Some girls were just in their bra and panties and a bucket of neon-finger paints, or schoolgirl miniskirts that didn't cover thong-covered asses.
Anything went on Halloween.
Harry enjoyed a few songs with Brigitte, daring a little more with each new song, hands coming up to cup her breast when she backed into him, or holding her hips in place to let her feel his cock. After a few songs, she was breathless, waving him off.
"I can't dance anymore, these boots are killing me!" She shouted into his ear — her thigh-highs did have a piercing heel on them. "Come meet my friends."
"Sure."
She led him to a side table of pretty girls — fairies and police women, angels and devils. "This is Harry." She announced, tugging him down to sit next to her, their knees knocking against each other.
"Harry doesn't dress up." The fairy complained.
"Simone, don't be a—"
"Excuse me, sir, did you want some drinks for you and your friends?" The bartender he'd used Legilimency on arrived as soon as he sat down, notepad in hand.
"It's all on me, ladies." Harry told the girls.
Once they'd all ordered, the bartender bowed. Harry almost winced. Perhaps he'd overdone it. "I'll be right back with your drinks." The man grunted.
"Did he just…bow?" Simone said, stunned.
"I've never seen a bartender come to the table before." The slutty policewoman muttered, wiping her hands on her stockings. "I guess that's what happens when a guy wears a watch like that." She raised her eyebrow at him.
"Maybe he wants to be more than friends." Harry quipped.
"Watch out, Brigitte." One of her other friends cracked.
Brigitte glared. "We're just dancing, guys."
"I saw." Simone chortled. "It didn't look like dancing, though."
Brigitte snapped up her purse. "If you're all going to be like that—"
"Easy, beautiful." Harry put his hand on her leg. "They're just teasing you. We were getting a little risqué out there."
"No more than anyone else here." She huffed. That was true — the club was full of grinding girls and eager boys.
"As long as Harry has the best intentions, you should dance as much as you like." The policewoman said, resting her plastic baton on the table.
"Don't mind her," Brigitte told him. "Camille has to interrogate every guy I talk to. Not that it's a lot—" She told him hurriedly.
"Relax," He laughed. "I'm just here to dance, really. I just want to decompress, I had a week you wouldn't believe—"
"Mon dieu! 'Arry?!" came the scream. Harry whipped his head round and did his best exclamation of surprise. It was Fleur, as he'd planned, as Apolline had told him, together with Marie. The two were dressed to kill. Fleur in a bunny costume, the classic satin black one-piece bodysuit, cut high across her hips and scissoring down to her femininity, like a pointed arrow. Black fishnets and matching heels made her look devastating. The white bow-tie collar and big floppy black ear hair-band completed the look.
He felt Brigitte flinch.
Marie was competing with her stunning Veela friend by dressing more slutty, in a mockery of the Beuxbatons costume, a light blue skirt become very mini, not even close to covering her ass or the Beauxbatons-blue thong that bisected her peachy ass. It felt like acres of skin before Harry's gaze reached the blue sheer thigh-high stockings. The usual matching blazer had disappeared for what was simply a shoulderless little white shirt, tied together under her breasts and pushing them up simultaneously.
"Fleur? What are you doing here?"
She tottered towards him and bent at the waist to embrace him tightly — his hand rested on her fluffy bunny-bob tail. Her creamy breasts threatened to spill from the top of her bodice. "Zat should be my question, non? You are 'ere with your friends?"
"Just letting off some steam with some new friends. Everyone, these are—"
"Old friends." Fleur cut in, showing off a dazzling smile, two rows of perfect teeth. Someone around the table took a sharp breath. "I am Fleur, zis is Marie."
"Mwah and mwah." Marie giggled as she wiped her lipstick off Harry's cheeks, almost toppling into his lap.
"This is Brigitte." Harry offered.
Brigitte's smile was icy. "Charmed to meet you." She doffed her witch hat.
"I love your costume." Fleur said honestly.
"I felt good in it, until I saw you. Well, both of you. You look like a supermodel." The Muggle girl told her.
"Oh, don't compare yourself to Fleur, sweetheart. Believe me, she's not human." Marie laughed. "You're too cute, though, I can see why Harry likes you."
"Marie! Stop, you're embarrassing her." Fleur admonished. "Sorry, she's drunk, she 'as been doing bodyshots from me." She grimaced, wiping the sticky glaze from her skin in the triangle cut-out in her bodysuit's top.
"I'm a mess." Fleur pouted. Harry thought he heard one of the girls laugh.
"But you all look so sexy." Fleur exclaimed, glancing around the group, though her hand rested possessively on Harry's shoulder. "Be careful with Britain's most 'andsome bachelor, girls — he's a real lion under zat boyish smile."
"Hey, I'm just dancing and drinking." He protested. "You make me sound like a predator."
"Non! Don't worry, he's a sweetheart." Fleur kissed him on the cheek and ruffled his hair. "Ah, désolée, we've interrupted you." She was looking at Brigitte.
"Not at all." She said quietly. "Like Harry said, we're just having a drink and a dance."
"Bonne." Fleur lit up. "Zen you must join us upstairs in the VIP. We have much more space and table service." Her nose wrinkled. "It's so cramped here." Innocent eyes turned to Harry, though he didn't need to be a girl to see her manipulations. "'Arry?"
"Oh, I wouldn't want to leave Brigitte, she was just introducing me to her friends—"
"No, that's okay." The girl's hand slipped into his and squeezed it. "I'd love to come see what life is like on the other side." She stared challengingly up at Fleur, but the Veela didn't blink. Her smile just widened.
"Brigitte…" Simone warned.
"What is that phrase you Brits use, 'Arry? More the merrier. So adorable, non?" Fleur bit her red lip, rolling it around cutely. "Merde, there is no space for everyone."
"It's okay. It'll just be me." Brigitte stood up, her gaze firm. "I'll be fine, girls. I'll catch up with you later, okay?"
"Text me if you need help." Camille muttered.
And then they were following Fleur and Marie through the club and up the stairs, Brigitte hanging onto his arm tightly.
"I'm sorry about my friends, I didn't know they'd be here." Harry said, doing his best not to stare at the swaying asses in front of him. Marie's tanned cheeks were practically in his face, her modesty covered only by a skimpy thong, the barely-there skirt flouncing with every step. Fleur's own peachy buttocks were firmly framed by her fishnets, her bodice narrowing down between them and being swallowed up by the sheer thickness of her asscheeks.
Brigitte squeezed his arm, though her own tightened eyes seemed to be locked on the Veela's long, glossy silvery-blonde mane, cascading in waves down her bare back and reaching her waist.
"Nothing to be sorry about." She assured him. "I just want to spend more time with you. I…" She blushed. "Kinda thought we had a spark out there."
"We did. We do." Harry corrected.
She took a deep breath. "It's not easy for a girl…well, I mean. I have a friend in Paris, she's a model. She's a ten. Your friends make my friend look ugly. And I'm not my friend."
"I think you're really sexy." Harry said honestly. He wasn't lying - Brigitte was a pretty girl. But she didn't have magic. Morgana's magic, that which made witches more beautiful, ironing out imperfections, giving them more to work with, an impossible to define spark. Marie wasn't a Veela, but she was still magical, more gorgeous than most Muggles could match. And Fleur being a Veela…it was no wonder she seemed other-worldly to Brigitte. "Don't worry about the girls. They're here for some fun, not for me."
The Muggle girl took another sharp breath when they reached the second floor. Up here, it was another level, red ropes blocking off booths, each booth having its own bottle girls, carrying sparklers, oversized champagne bottles and an unhealthy amount of confidence to pull off high-waisted black bottoms that covered half their ass cheeks.
Brigitte felt more than out of her depth. She squeezed Harry's hand as it dropped into hers, gave him a smile that she hoped was stronger than she felt. His was easy. Where did he get that confidence? Probably from having friends like that.
"Have you ever…had fun with them?" She winced as soon as she heard her own words.
Harry shrugged. "Messed around with Fleur once. Nothing serious, just some drunken fun. We didn't have sex."
Brigitte swallowed. Was that how casual things were, at this level, in the world of the rich and beautiful? Just casual fun between gorgeous people, because who would do commitment when you had anyone you could pick from.
She wanted to be that blasé about literally anything in her life. She wanted to fuck Harry without having to worry about what he'd think of her, about the judgment of her friends, about her flatmates realizing that she hadn't come home that night.
For once in her life, she wanted to be that free. Fleur laughed ahead of her, a rich and pretty laugh, her hand trailing down the shoulder of the bottle girl as the girl undid the red rope to their booth.
Brigitte wanted to hate her, her and Marie both. She knew her friends did. She knew the discussion that Simone and Camille and all the rest were having, downstairs.
Camille would sniff and say they were so gross and slutty.
Simeone would roll her eyes, sipping on her drink, about girls that have their asses and tits out have no self-respect.
Daddy issues, one of them would laugh.
But Brigitte knew better. Fleur was wearing the same black bodysuit and fishnets combo that she was — she was just wearing it better, her body squeezed into it, like it was painted on her. The satin gloves she wore made her look classy, like a burlesque star or a Playboy bunny in the classic era — Brigitte just looked like the sad truth — a lonely girl in a twenty five euro outfit from Amazon.
Fleur's bodice was satin, sparkling in the club lights and no doubt soft to the touch. Brigitte's was polyester.
"Come, sit." Fleur patted the bench-seats, one long leg thrown over the other. "Brigitte, what are you drinking? Have some sparkles with me." She snapped her fingers and the bottle girl was pouring champagne.
Her bow-tie was glistening — tiny little jewels, Brigitte realized.
"Bubbles, don't you mean?"
"Oh, they put some sparkling gold in the drink so they can charge a fortune for it." Fleur waved her hand dismissively.
Brigitte downed a glass, letting it burn down her. The gold was like confetti and she imagined it inside her, soldering over her cracks, making her newer, stronger. What did the Japanese call it? Kintsugi?
"Easy, beautiful." Harry's hand on her back, his eyebrows creased. He was worried about her.
Worried she couldn't manage, didn't fit in.
"Another glass." Brigitte ordered. The bottle girl just cheered, pouring from her gargantuan bottle of champagne.
"Whoa, girl's down to party." Marie chuckled. "Cheers to that and cheers to you."
"I can hold my own." Brigitte said challengingly.
"I am sure." Fleur clinked glasses with her. Her smile was innocent but in her eyes, Brigitte could tell she was being mocked. "So, what's your story, Brigitte?"
"I'm a dancer."
"Oh?" Her eyebrow was arched.
"N-not like that." She said hastily. "Like, professionally, I mean. Like, in shows. Theater."
"Oh! Zat is hard to do, you must be really good. Are you at the Théatre du Châtelet? I have a friend there."
"No-no." Brigitte shook her head. "I'm not, I mean. I'm an understudy at the moment. At my local theater in the 9th."
"Ah." Fleur took a sip of her glass. "Well, I'm sure it will come, oui? It is not an easy industry."
"But I've got some auditions coming up." She said quickly, glancing back at Harry, who was rubbing her back encouragingly.
"You'll do great." He told her. Fleur just nodded, but she'd already moved on.
"And you, 'arry? Why are you letting off steam in my country and not letting me know?" The beautiful blonde pouted, leaning across the table.
"Obviously, we were not good enough company last time." Marie said, from Harry's side.
"Nonsense." Harry chuckled. "You were both lovely company. But Paris is a long way from Provence. I was wrapping up business here, for my House, and needed a drink at the end of a very long day."
"Your house? Do you have a place in France?" Brigitte asked.
That question made Marie and Fleur laugh simultaneously, for some reason. Brigitte felt her blood pressure rising.
"No, no." Harry said gently. "For my family, I should have said. The family business."
"Oh." Brigitte said dumbly, taking another gulp of champagne. She didn't belong here. But she wanted to. She needed to think. "I'm…I'm going to freshen up a little. Harry, order me a cocktail?"
"I'll come with you." Fleur declared, flouncing up to her feet. Her tits jiggled in her top. "I need to redo my lipstick, I ate it, I theenk. I'm a mess."
Brigitte just stared at her — the blonde looked like she'd walked out of a naughty photoshoot, breasts spilling from her top, her silvery-blonde hair sparkling in the light, wild like she'd just had sex, her wine-red lipstick perfect on her bee-stung pouty lips. "Great." She muttered.
Brigitte eased herself out of the booth, while Fleur made a show of falling into Harry's lap and shimmying out of it. Marie's skirt was basically around her waist as she chatted easily with Harry, sitting on her legs.
"I'm so glad I met you — it's so nice to 'ave another girl with us." Fleur shouted over the music, her arm looped through Brigitte's as they strode towards the bathroom. "You're one of us, already!"
Brigitte couldn't even fake a smile.
In the bathroom, they ended up in front of the mirrors, the bright lights sobering them both up a little.
Brigitte casually tried to stop her bodysuit from cutting into her thighs. Her thighs had never felt so fat before.
Fleur posed in front of the mirrors, adjusting her top, pulling it down.
"They might spill out." She warned.
The blonde shrugged a bare shoulder, her smile beatific. "Nothing 'arry hasn't seen before."
Brigitte took a sharp breath. Fleur's smile vanished.
"Oh." The girl said quietly. "I'm sorry. That was…rude of me."
"It's fine."
"It is not." Fleur decided. "I am comfortable with sex and I forget zat others are not. Forgive me."
"You and Harry?"
"Just my mouth." The girl reassured, puckering it in the mirror as she judged her lipstick. "No big deal."
"I wish I could think like you." Brigitte admitted, staring at her own face in the mirror. She'd overdone her blush. "I can't do anything without being in a relationship."
"Hmm." Fleur hummed as she blinked her long eyes, judging her mascara. Brigitte wasn't even sure she was wearing mascara — maybe her eyelashes were just that long. "With men like 'Arry, well, per'aps I should not say."
"Tell me."
"Well…" The blonde shrugged, spinning to look at her bottom in the mirror. "Blowjobs are ze price of entry, non?"
"The price of entry?"
"You 'ave 'eard the phrase? What men want is a lady in the living room, a cook in the kitchen and a 'ore in the bedroom?"
"A whore?"
"Oui."
"I've heard it."
"Do you agree?"
"Well, I mean, I don't agree that's what they should get, but I mean, yeah, that's probably what they do want—"
"Do zey?" Fleur was suddenly close to her. "Zat is not what I see when I look around. Under zis roof or any ozzer. I theenk men want an 'ore in ze club, in ze bedroom, on ze beach, in ze changing room of the shop. As long as you are an 'ore just for them."
"I…I don't think Harry is like that."
Fleur sniffed. "'Arry held my head tight so he could come all over my face, like ze porn movies." She tore some paper towel from the dispenser and pushed it into Brigitte's hand, her smile turned into a smirk. "If you can't handle zat, you should go back downstairs. Pas de problème, I can take care of 'arry."
Brigitte was left, mouth agape, staring at herself in the mirror, alone and red-faced. She wondered if Marie was already sucking Harry off, back in the booth.
###
"So, what's the deal with the Muggle?" Marie scooted up to him as soon as Fleur and Brigitte were out of sight, her hand on his thigh.
"Just someone I met at the bar tonight. I needed a dance partner."
"Best be careful, Harry. From what Fleur tells me, what you have could kill her." Marie giggled.
Harry blushed. "Girls talk, huh?"
"Oh, she painted a picture — she made it sound like you almost drowned her." Marie was in a laughing fit, melting onto his chest.
"It's a medical issue, don't tease me." He quipped.
"Fleur's the tease." Marie whispered into his ear, her breath hot. "I'm the real deal."
"Is that right?"
And then she pulled away, sipping her cocktail straw suggestively. "Maybe. Play your cards right."
"I half-think Fleur might kill me if I messed around with her friend."
"Oh, pssh." Marie sniffed. "She's all bark. Besides, she'd like to watch. Little miss Veela can't lose her virginity. Those thighs aren't opening, no matter how charming you are, 'Arry." She mocked.
"But your thighs…" Harry reached out, his fingers stroking the skin above her stockings.
"For the right guy, maybe. I'm not a Veela and I'm not a pureblood. I don't have to play those games." Marie shot him a dark look. "But I'm also not a backup plan for guys that can't get Fleur."
"I never thought that. I thought you were gorgeous the moment I saw you in Fleur's villa. The longest legs I've ever seen." He said smoothly, leaning closer. "Imagined them wrapped around me."
"Liar." The tanned brunette giggled.
"It's true. Or either side of my head while you sit on my face—"
"Harry!" She threw a cocktail napkin at him. "I'm a lady, you know." But she was laughing. "I thought you were a flirtatious gentleman, not a fuckboy."
"Ah, bit of column A, bit of column B. I just wanted to make you laugh." He said truthfully. "Honestly, I'm looking for a girlfriend."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, okay. I'm not your Muggle girl who'll believe anything."
"Really!" He insisted. "The girls back home are talking marriage endlessly and won't even give me a kiss without a fifty-year plan including children and home decor." He grimaced. "And you know how things are with powerful wizards…we need a little action. So I'm looking for a girlfriend to take around the world on the weekends, get a little naughty with."
"A dirty bit on the side." Marie's eyes were laughing, but she was chewing on her lip.
"I have to marry well, but I'm not marrying for a few years yet." He shrugged. "I just want a girl I can drown in presents and trips, and in exchange…" He trailed off.
"Harry, really!" Marie said in mock-shock. "Lord Potter, looking for a sugar baby."
"Well, I don't want to say it like that…I think there's room for a bit of romance, too."
"You're not thinking of the Muggle, are you?" Marie's nose wrinkled.
Harry snorted. "Of course not."
Her hand found his knee, then his thigh, then his bulging groin. "Good. I'd hate to think the wizarding world had no temptations for Harry Potter." She started rubbing his cock through his jeans.
"Plenty of temptations, believe me." He said quietly, his arm coming up around her as she leaned into his chest.
"Ooh, are we teasing 'arry?" Fleur announced, falling into the booth. "Let me join." She crawled across the velvet bench on her hands and knees, over Marie, over his lap, her ass shaking from side to side.
"Fleur!" He laughed and soon he was sandwiched in between them. "Where's Brigitte?"
"Oh, I theenk she was missing her friends." Fleur shrugged.
"No, I'm still here." Brigitte declared. She was staring at them from the booth's opening, a hard look in her eyes. She was carrying her thigh-high boots in one hand. And in the other, she was carrying a velvet cushion from another booth. Her gaze was locked on Marie's hand, still draped on the bulge in Harry's jeans. She was swaying from side to side, a glaze in her eyes. Was it alcohol or the effect of Fleur's Allure?
She turned and with a sharp tug, closed the curtains of the booth.
"Brigitte—" Harry started. "Are you okay?"
"I'm going to suck your cock." She announced.
"Brigitte, what? Have you had too much to drink? Do you want me to get your friends to take you home?" Harry said.
"No." She said simply. "I want to suck your cock, because I'm a cool girl like that." She smiled at him. Then she tossed the pillow below the table, dropped her boots on Marie's lap, and then crawled beneath it.
As one, he, Marie and Fleur stared down at the girl as she nestled between his knees, taking deep breaths.
"Brigitte, you don't need to — did Fleur say something, I mean—"
"I want to." Brigitte repeated. She shot a smile up at him, a smirk to Fleur, and then her hands were reaching up to unzip him.
"Go, Muggle girl." Marie muttered.
"Stupid, but brave." Fleur said, twirling her locks between her fingers. "I like 'er."
"Girls, what—okay, okay." Harry curled his toes as his erect shaft was suddenly out in the open. Hard, angry, veiny, lit up for all to see. Marie gasped. Fleur bit her lip. Brigitte gulped.
And then she leaned forward to lick it. Slow, soft laps around his head, wettening it. Her lapping tongue descended to his shaft, making it glisten in the warm orange booth lights. Outside, the thumping music and loud voices reminded them that they were still in public.
And across his chest, Fleur's gaze met Marie's. They nodded at each other, an unspoken conversation.
"Does that feel good, 'Arry?" Fleur asked, her fingers slipping through the gaps in his buttoned shirt, onto his bare skin. "Does it feel as good as when I sucked your cock?"
At her words, Brigitte doubled her efforts, engulfing his mushroom head in her wet and warm mouth.
"You're so fucking big, what the fuck…" Marie murmured, her hand reaching out tentatively to grasp the base of his shaft. "My hand doesn't even…I mean, Fleur told me but I didn't…"
Harry found their asses, hands resting comfortably on the peachy behinds of the two French girls as Brigitte blew him. The mood turned intimate, tipsy teasing becoming sexual as Brigitte's blowjob became sloppier, desperate.
"Breath through your nose." Fleur advised as the Muggle girl tried to force herself down his shaft, slobbering and coughing.
"She can't do it." Marie sympathized. "You're too big."
"I can do it." Brigitte declared angrily. "Watch!"
But try as she might, she could barely get past Harry's head, her eyes bulging, her lips stretching obscenely on his girth.
Fleur hid her face in his chest to hide her laughter. "You're just not meant for Muggle girls." She whispered.
"I'll help." Marie decided.
Brigitte's makeup ran wetly as Marie pushed her head down, curling her hand through the girl's chestnut hair so she had a handle-hold. Brigitte teared up, face covered in mascara tear tracks, trying valiantly to stare up at Harry as Marie pushed her down and pulled her up, making her bob on his huge shaft.
Glurk-glurk-glurk was the noisy rhythm as Brigitte was forcibly-face fucked by Marie's unrelenting grasp and Harry's arching hips, desperate for the relief.
"I'll 'elp, 'Arry. She can't do it." Fleur smirked. And with a shrug of her shoulders, her bodysuit fell to her waist, her full perky tits revealed. She began touching herself, teasing her nipples and bringing each breast to her mouth, her long tongue stretching out to lap at her own nipples.
"I can help, too." Marie bit her lip. She found Harry's hand and navigated it under her own wet thong, where he found her soaking snatch. "I'm so fucking wet." She murmured.
Brigitte was picking up the pace now — or Marie was, he couldn't know, her face red, the noises filthy, just wet gurgles and chokes. The wetness and the warmth had him close, the smell of sex, the sights of the three girls in their sexy costumes. Marie's tight cunt, the schoolgirl jerking her hips in the rhythm of his fingers. Fleur's jealous touch, rubbing her bare breasts in his face, her thighs squirming around his own. And his naughty Muggle witch Brigitte, choking on his cock, desperate to impress, knowing she didn't fit in but not knowing why.
"Cum, 'Arry. Drown her in your cum, make her choke on your seed."
"Yes!" Marie moaned.
Harry came, hips jerking forward, his own hand snapping out to pull Brigitte's face — her wet mouth — as far down as he could, burying his cock as far as he could.
"Fuck!" He groaned, spilling his seed, hot thick ropes. But Brigitte couldn't swallow fast enough, coughing and choking as she tried to pull back, her airflow cut off by the forceful ropes and his giant cock. She pushed his thighs away. Harry growled as his cock was suddenly removed from the warmth, the sensation, firing wildly into the air. Fleur slid to the floor and smoothly took over, feeding his huge cock into her mouth — and then her throat.
As Brigitte choked, wiping her red eyes and her face, Fleur swallowed, her victorious smile stretched around his shaft, her tongue lapping at the underside of his cock, hands kneading his balls, teasing wide blue eyes staring up at him. Her hands found his hand, made him clutch her thick blonde mane, made him use her head to pull her forward until her lips were pressed to his groin.
Harry roared with pleasure as he came and came, filling the Veela's belly, enjoying the pure heat and the milking sensation of her throat as she swallowed and swallowed. He pulled out with his last few ropes, just to cover her face, just to teach the Veela her place.
If anything, that only aroused the girl more, her tongue darting out to swipe up his seed. Her triumphant smile pointed at Brigitte.
"Fuck…" Harry sat back heavily, speaking out into the chorus of hard breathing.
"Mmm." Fleur threw her hair back, licking her fingers. "My 'Arry always tastes so good."
Brigitte just stared up at him, crying.
"Are you okay, Brigitte?" Harry asked.
She stared blankly, her face a mess of smeared makeup, tears and glistening precum. "I just-I just wanted to show I could…"
"It's-it's okay." Harry scratched his head. "You can clean me up, if you want."
She blinked, like she was seeing him for the first time. And then, in a snap, she jolted out from under the table, snatching at her boots. "You know, Harry, you're a real asshole. Have a nice fucking life." She snapped, before storming out of the booth.
Harry gaped after her. And then he winced. Perhaps he'd become too accustomed to talking to women that loved him beyond measure.
"Smooth, 'Arry." Fleur teased. "It's okay. Muggles just don't understand how to treat a man."
"We'll clean you up." Marie promised, her hand finding his creamy, cum-covered cock, coating her fingers in his cum before bringing it to her mouth. She tasted him, savored him, eyes closing. "Well, that's just not fair."
"I told you!" Fleur crowed. "It is not human. Look, he's made me big." Her hand was against her own belly, which had filled up somewhat with all the cum she'd ingested. Not a full load, but not far off.
"Pure…magic." Marie shuddered. Her eyes snapped open. And opposite, Fleur had recovered to the booth-seat next to Harry — her face coated with a thick glaze of Harry's cum. Marie's eyes lit up and she crawled over Harry's lap to give Fleur a cummy kiss.
"Do you like watching me clean her up, Harry?" Marie teased absentmindedly, pushing some of his seed down Fleur's cheek to coat the Veela's lips, ready for another kiss.
The tanned brunette's ass swayed in his lap, her skirt over her waist, her thong darkened with a wide wet-patch.
Harry sat back and enjoyed the show, pulling Marie's thong to her knees, playing with her wet pussy lips. The girls moaned and giggled as Fleur was kissed clean, and when her face was clean, they turned their attention to his cock.
He was quickly hard again at the center of their joined tongues, their tongues lapping at his groin, clean-up job turning inevitably into a dual blowjob. Harry enjoyed the sight of their contrasting hair-color, brunette and silvery blonde, and their skin, tanned and bronzed next to creamy and pale.
When he was ready, he didn't say a word. He simply moved Marie onto the booth's bench and pushed her onto her back, pulling her thong down to her ankles. Her heels pointed up in the air.
Her schoolgirl blouse undone, sitting atop her skirt around her waist, her hands covering and then revealing a handful of bronzed perky tits.
Marie's mouth opened in a question she never voiced, because he hilted himself inside her, and soon she was screaming. Outside their private booth, the whole club was screaming, the music too loud, and it felt like they were in a different world.
Harry gripped her long legs, parted them with each hand, using them as leverage to thrust back and forward. Her pussy was a dream, wet like a heated swimming pool but tight, so tight he had to force his cock in. Marie was thin like a model, and it felt like her pussy was too tight for him, too narrow — it felt like he was reshaping her.
Fleur just watched at first, wide eyes, open mouth, groping her own tits, rocking back and forth on nothing at all. And then she was too horny, peeling down her bodysuit and ripping a hole in her fishnets. She swung her long leg over and settled her plump pussy lips down on her friend's mouth with ease, forcing Marie to eat her out. And then she was rocking, grinding, staring at Harry as he fucked her friend. Her bunny ears flopped back and forth, her bowtie glistening in the lights.
"Fuck the slut, 'Arry. Fuck 'er so good she can't walk." Fleur ordered, her hair falling in front of her eyes. Harry tilted Marie's legs up so he could drive into her cunt harder, so he could lean forward and kiss Fleur.
Wild with lust, Fleur whimpered into his mouth as the booth was filled with the noise of their fucking, his balls slapping against Marie's ass, and the schlap-schlap of her pussy being vacated and then suddenly filled, again and again.
He was close. Marie's pussy was too good, too tight — she felt like heaven. And Fleur's words were getting to him.
"Does my friend feel good, 'Arry?" Fleur gripped her own tits roughly, kneading them. "Do you theenk she feels as good as I?"
Marie moaned, but the sound was muffled from under Fleur's grinding pussy.
Fleur smirked at him as he pounded faster, hungrily, his gaze locked on hers. Her Allure filled the room as she nibbled at his lip.
"Fill 'er up, 'Arry. Imagine the tightness of my cunt and fill 'er up."
Harry came with a roar, sighing into Fleur's mouth, the Veela holding him up as he collapsed forward, shaking. She held him and murmured. "Imagine filling me up, morning and night. Imagine your own personal Veela 'ore, ready to use. So hot, oui?"
Harry groaned, holding the bodacious Veela tight around the waist as he came in her friend. He barely had enough sanity to mutter his bonding spell under his breath. Underneath him, Marie jerked as she came, her toes curling up, her pussy gushing over his cock, her gurgles vibrating through Fleur's body.
Harry smiled as he felt the bond cement. Fleur ran her hand through his sweaty hair. "Isn't 'e good? I told you." Fleur told Marie, almost comatose beneath her. The Veela cocktease wanted to be the victor in every situation. She hid her jealousy behind a veil of magnanimity, but Marie had the one thing she couldn't, yet. She had him.
Apolline had told him his cum, his magic, it was a drug to the Veela. It was going to become a drug that Harry would take her with. Soon, Marie was going to be the friend in life-altering love, getting all of the cock — and cum — that Fleur couldn't.
He'd drive Fleur mad with envy. With Marie and Apolline's help, he'd drive the teenage tease into a state where she'd be begging him to ruin her.
"Zat was hot but I wish I could show you what a Veela feels like, 'Arry." Fleur pouted.
As Harry withdrew from her friend, he just smiled. "Maybe one day."
One day soon.