Chapter 17. Second Hogsmeade Date
Gabrielle Delacour
The sky is grey—not the ominous grey of an impending storm, but a dull, muted grey that ruins any hope for a sunny day. The sun is obscured behind a veil of clouds that are not thick enough to threaten rain, yet dense enough to dim its light and keep it hidden. It's not a pleasant day. And the sharp chilling winds cutting into her only makes it worse.
If Gabrielle had her way, she would have stayed in her room in the Beauxbatons Carriage, savouring a mug of hot chocolate. But it's Hogsmeade weekend, and her sister has other plans.
So, clad in a long-sleeved jumper and warm woollen leggings, she walks through the quaint village. Normally, she would put more effort into her appearance, but this isn't France, where she can wear light, colourful clothes. The cold here makes her sluggish, forcing her to put on more layers than she usually would. Even her hair is pulled back in a lazy ponytail instead of an intricate hairdo.
Fleur, on the other hand, has gone all out, wearing a shimmering blue dress with noodle-thin straps. Her arms and shoulders are bare, and just the sight makes Gabrielle shiver. Not to mention the neckline, which, while not truly obscene, still reveals more than enough cleavage. To top it all off, her long silver-blonde hair is styled into an elaborate braid that falls to her butt and sways with every step.
Gabrielle thinks it's dumb to dress up that much, but she won't say that out loud—she never does.
Fleur was once kind, sweet, and determined to be more than just a pretty face. But life has hardened her, and to Gabrielle, it's a great tragedy. She longs for the old Fleur, not this arrogant, sultry woman who has replaced her. Yet, Fleur is her older sister, and Gabrielle has followed her since they were children. Even now, when Fleur has forced her into a tournament she doesn't want to be part of, with everyone except Beauxbatons turning against them, she remains a loyal follower.
She fears she would follow Fleur even to the depths of hell.
"What do you think of them, Gabby?" Fleur asks as they walk, revelling in the power of her allure as every boy turns to ogle them. "Your enemies."
She frowns at the word 'enemies', but chooses not to comment. "They all are powerful. Durmstrang is probably the most formidable, but Hogwarts isn't weak either. Harry Evans doesn't seem affected by our allure."
"Interesting. But are they strong enough to contend with Teresa?" Fleur's voice carries a hint of grudging respect. Teresa earned that respect after defeating Fleur without sword or magic—so effortlessly that the mental scars of being bested will never truly fade for her sister.
Gabrielle shrugs. "I'm not sure. But I think Thyra Helvig will be Teresa's biggest challenge."
"True. Have you had any chances to become friendly with Teresa yet?"
"No." Gabrielle shakes her head. "I can never find her. She always disappears and only shows up for meals."
"So, the usual?"
"Yes."
"You need to change that. Teamwork is mandatory, even if distasteful. You will show everyone that we Veelas are strong and powerful, that we are better than these filthy weak-willed magicals."
Gabrielle gives a reluctant nod.
Once, Fleur just wanted to be an equal; now, she wants to stand above everyone. And it is Gabrielle's job to let her sister live through her, to be a proxy for her ambitions.
"Is that the boy you can't affect with your allure?" Fleur discreetly points at a couple strolling hand-in-hand towards them.
Harry Evans, dressed in jeans and a jacket, has his dark hair tousled by the wind. He's quite easy on the eyes, and his immunity to her allure only makes him more intriguing. If he weren't her competition, she wonders if Fleur would have let her ask him out on a date.
"Gabby?" Fleur's voice holds a contemptuous edge, as if she's aware of Gabrielle's internal thoughts.
Gabrielle blushes and suppresses her hope. "Yes."
"I'll show you why he's unworthy of your interest." Fleur smirks suddenly, causing Gabrielle to flinch. "That boy is nothing more than an ordinary weak-willed wizard. Let me show you how to make him drool and embarrass himself."
Gabrielle starts to respond, but falls silent under Fleur's withering glare. She lowers her eyes and follows her timidly.
The two stop before the couple. Gabrielle realises it's not just Harry who is striking; the girl is also very attractive. She is garbed in a fitted red blouse that accentuates her impressively large chest, and her long black pleated skirt falls all the way to her ankles, making her stand out. She even has a beautiful face to go with the eye-catching body, framed by a curly blonde mane that cascades around her shoulders.
Harry raises his eyebrows at the interruption, but offers them a polite nod and smile. "Are you two lost? As a prefect, I'm asked to help any foreign guests who need help. Too bad I'm on a date with this lovely lady," he squeezes the blonde girl's hand, causing her to giggle, "but I can direct you to other prefects if you need assistance."
Gabrielle winces as she catches Fleur's widening eyes. The allure isn't working, but that won't deter her sister; it will only drive her to be more demanding.
"Excusez-moi, my name eez Fleur Delacour, ze elder seester of Gabrielle Delacour, ze Beauxbatons champion." Fleur smiles demurely, offering her hand with a graceful tilt of her head, her French accent deliberately thick and alluring. "Could you not postpone your date and show us around instead? I am sure you would enjoy eet more."
Fleur's allure is so overpowering now that even Gabrielle feels it, casting a lustful glance at her own sister. The blonde beside Harry has gone rigid, staring at Fleur with blatant, almost ravenous desire. Not to mention the boys near them, they all look like beasts in heat, panting and growling, with noticeable bulges forming in their trousers.
Yet, Harry remains unfazed, observing the scene with amused eyes, taking Fleur's hand in his and placing a kiss on her knuckles. "You might want to reel it in, Fleur, unless you want a gang of boys to jump you."
"I am sure you will protect me, non?" Fleur smirks, her eyes glacial, burning with anger as she leans forward, offering him a provocative view down her dress.
Gabrielle wets her lips, her gaze lingering on her sister's enticingly covered chest. She is overwhelmed by the urge to tear open the pale blue dress and claim those perfect tits for herself.
Harry takes in the view, glancing down at Fleur's cleavage, still holding her hand. "Obviously. These boys are not fit to even breathe the same air as you."
"And you are?" Fleur steps in close, their chests almost touching. Almost.
"You tell me." Harry's smile widens as he moves closer as well, so close that they seem to be sharing the same breath, inhaling each other's exhales.
For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, Fleur chuckles and steps back, her posture relaxing into a more playful demeanour. She pulls her allure back in, restoring normalcy. "You are quite interesting, Harry Evans. Try not to settle for zees dime-a-dozen buxom blondes. You deserve someone much better."
"Now that's just rude." Harry scowls, pulling the blonde beside him closer. She glares at them now that the allure isn't messing with her head. "Lavender is quite unique, you know. Anyways, nice to meet you. But I already have a lovely lady on my arm. Perhaps I'll allow you that privilege someday, but no promises."
With that, Harry leaves them, and Gabrielle takes her sister's hand, tugging her away in a different direction before the increasingly irritated crowd turns on them. Not only is she angry with Fleur for making everyone hate them even more, but she also feels guilty for having been swayed by Fleur's allure and for having inappropriate thoughts about her.
"Gabby," Fleur says gently as they get inside the carriage and sit together. "Did you have those thoughts again?"
Gabrielle nods jerkily, her face flushed with shame as the carriage starts moving, cutting their outing short.
"You should not feel bad, ma chérie," Fleur slips down the straps of her dress, making her perfectly proportioned breasts pop out. They are pale round wonders, their shape and perkiness too good to be true. "We are not human. You should not let their morals make you think less of you. Come here and touch me as much as you want."
Raising her trembling hands, she cups her sister's soft, round breasts before enveloping one rosy nipple in her mouth, sucking on it like a greedy child. Her fingers sink into the yielding flesh and she squeezes them with her eyes closed.
Her sister's pleasured sigh is music to her ears, and the way she pets her hair fills her with warmth and love. Their distinct allures merge and form a cocoon around them, enveloping them within, and their every touch becomes a jolt of pleasure.
If she could have Fleur like this, she would happily follow her into hell.
~xXxXx~
Nathan Miller (Or Stalker)
Unnoticed by either Fleur or Harry, Nathan slinks away once the allure holding his mind withdraws. He was in the crowd that had been enthralled by the seductress. And while the allure is gone, his boner still throbs in his pants.
As promised to the psychopath (Harry), Nathan has stopped using his genius to harass girls. He has stopped using his mechanical spider for his voyeuristic tendencies. He does not send his semen-filled, camera-attached robot to sleeping girls anymore so he can jerk off and shoot his love fluids on their vulnerable nubile bodies. He wants to, but cannot. Whenever his lust tries to override his fear, these words from that nightmare repeat:
"Promise me you won't tell anyone my secret. Promise me you won't cast that dirty gaze at my sister again. Promise me you won't stalk her or use any accessories to harass her. Promise me you won't do that to anyone. You promise to do all that? If you don't, will you find the nearest knife and shove it in your throat?"
And these are not just empty words. He's pretty sure his body will actually find the nearest knife to kill him if he ever tries to cross the boundary.
So while his heart yearns to stare at the strutting Veela's magnificent rump, and while his cock urges him to use his spider to infiltrate the Beauxbatons Carriage and spray his jizz on the sleeping succubus, his head knows better. The psychopath's terrifying words echo ominously in his head whenever he starts to give in to his base desires, snapping him out of it.
He lumbers away to Tomes and Scrolls, discarding the tempting images of flawless silver-haired beauty stained with his seeds.
At least this forced restraint has given him more time to devote to his research. With his libido no longer a distraction, he's confident he will develop the revolutionary magical cell that will transform the wizarding world and secure his place in history.
~xXxXx~
That was a weird interaction.
For a moment, I almost thought the two hot Veelas were hitting on me. But then I heard the thick artificial accent and saw the barely held contempt in her eyes, and I realised she just wanted to make a fool of me. Shame it went that way. I might've actually ditched Lavender to take my chances with the obviously S-tier Veelas. At least it ended on a better note, so that's that, I guess. Maybe I'll really get the chance to replace the massive stick up Fleur Delacour's arse with something… more appropriate.
"Parvati was right." Lavender harrumphs, coiling her arms around mine and mashing her pillowy breasts against it. "That Fleur is really vain and arrogant. Trying to steal you right in front of me! And calling me a common beauty? The vile bird looks almost identical to her sister, and I'm pretty sure all the Veelas look the same. If that bitch didn't have allure, she wouldn't even be as pretty as me."
Not really, even without allure, Fleur is perfect, leagues above her. But I don't say that.
"Yeah. As if I would leave my lovely date just to go get humiliated by a stuck-up cow." I smile down at her. "As I said, you are unique. Not only are you exceptionally pretty, but you are so easy to smile. You're so easy to talk to. You are… warm."
If it were someone else, they might have blushed, but the experienced blonde simply giggles and hugs my arm tighter. And I'm not even lying; Lavender is beautiful and easy to get along with. While my date with Katie had its small moments of awkward silence here and there, today is different. Lavender is so naturally peppy that we haven't faced any such pauses.
"You sure we don't need to worry about the stalkers?" Lavender asks, throwing an unsubtle glance behind us, where Rose, Leanne, and Katie panic and dive behind a wall.
I chuckle, leading her to the Three Broomsticks. "The clowns are just perverts. And unless you feel uncomfortable, I don't mind giving them a show."
"Me neither. In fact, it sounds exciting." After we weave through the bustling pub, she slides into the booth beside me, still holding my hand and pressing into my side.
I wish I had [See] right now. I'm pretty sure I've crossed way past 30% on her seduction requirement, which could've helped me understand her kinks better.
We place our orders, and chat for a while—mostly her talking and me reacting.
As Madam Rosmerta delivers our butterbeers, we take a break and drink silently. I won't lie—the intense look in her eyes as she watches me while gulping her drink is both hot and unnerving.
She sets her empty glass down with a little thump, her eyes still locked on me. As I do the same, she grabs my collar and pulls me into a fierce kiss, the taste of butterbeer still strong on her tongue.
I'm surprised by her boldness. Usually, people start with gentle, closed-mouthed kisses, but she's already plunging her tongue down my throat, making me lick and suck the remnants of her sweetness.
I shudder as she slips over my lap, her voluminous bottom crushing my crotch, burying my growing member beneath soft flesh. Used to people staring at me, I simply ignore the whistles and catcalls and hold her close, clutching her body and letting her heat seep into me.
As she pulls back, I put up a wandless and wordless silencing ward. "Maybe we should take this somewhere more private?" I smirk, slipping my hands under her blouse, caressing the hot skin near her bra straps.
"Mmm." She shivers at my touch, her fingers on my collar. "Tell me, Harry, what does love mean to you?"
I blink, taken aback by the sudden question. "What?"
"Tell me." She leans closer and brushes her lips against mine, making them tingle. "What is love to you?"
Her tone makes it clear that this is an important question. As I caress her, I consider how to respond. After a moment, I decide to be honest.
"For me, love is a choice," I say softly, running my palm up and down the ridge of her spine. "Some people are easy to fall in love with, and some are not. But in the end, it's just a choice. I can love the unlovable if I want to, and I can hate the unhateable if I need to. Love is, ultimately, a choice."
Her eyes sparkle, and a smile tugs at her lips. "Interesting. Practical, but not soulless."
"Thanks, I guess." I smile bashfully, feeling embarrassed. This is the first time I've articulated my belief about the 'mysterious' phenomenon called love. It's more mortifying than I had expected. "What about you? What is your view on it?"
Her smile turns mischievous. "It's a secret. But maybe you'll get it out of me today. Come on, I've booked a room on the upper floor."
"What?" I'm speechless as she slides off my lap and drops on her feet. "Are we even allowed to do that?"
I thought I would drag her off to the Shrieking Shack for a quick shag, but it turns out she's actually booked a room in the Three Broomsticks.
"Rosmerta is a family friend," Lavender says slyly. "And it has its benefits. Now, come, unless you don't want to."
I'm on my feet in an instant, playfully pushing her forward and making her giggle as we hurry, ignoring the gossip and stares.
We exit the inn and then subtly walk around it to find the back door. Lavender seems quite familiar with the route. Once we slip in like thieves, we make our way up the stairs. Then, Lavender twists the knob of one room and slinks inside. I follow her and close the door behind me, casting a silencing ward in case the room doesn't have a built-in one.
I think she hasn't really booked it, more like borrowed it without consent.
When I turn around, Lavender flops on the bed face-first, her butt jiggling like a jello.
"The bedsheets and pillows smell nice. Rosmerta must've cleaned them recently." Lavender rolls on her back, her long skirt riding up her calves, her blouse stretching to show more of her chest.
Her mouth twitches when she catches my appreciative gaze, and her fingers nimbly undo the buttons. The blouse falls open, revealing her yellow bra, tight and straining to contain her voluptuous curves. But she doesn't stop there. She unclasps the single latch holding the bra cups together, and they fall to either side, fully exposing her fabled breasts.
They are white hills of mouth-watering flesh, crowned with light-pink areolas, and darker pink nipples stand proud at the centre of these coin-sized patches. Her breasts are gigantic—easily d-cup, the largest pair in my year. With even the slightest movement, they sway in a way that could hypnotise anyone.
I've seen plenty of breasts, but they never get old. Lavender's might not be the best I've seen, but they're definitely up there. And just one look has me as hard as a rock.
"Bloody hell," I mutter.
She grins smugly, crossing her arms and pressing her breasts together. "You know, you can touch them. Don't just stand there."
"Gladly." I climb onto the bed, lying on my side, and scoot closer, placing my open palm on one of her breasts.
It's soft and squishy. I fondle it and give it a firm squeeze.
Lavender bites her bottom lip, watching me with curiosity. "Underwhelming? I've heard that every boy wants to squeeze them."
"Not at all underwhelming." I squeeze it again with a lopsided grin, brushing my thumb across her stiff nipple. "They're perfect."
She moans and rubs her legs together. "Want to fuck them?"
"Later. Come here first." I grab her shoulders, lie on my back, and pull her on top of me. "Kiss me some more."
A giggle escapes her at the sudden shift in position. She props her elbows on my chest and smiles down at me, her blouse and bra still draped around her arms, her breasts swaying like ripe fruits on a branch. "So, you're into vanilla stuff, huh?"
"I'm into all sorts of things, but I like to get to know my partner's lips before thinking about the other kind." I grasp her breasts, brushing her erect nipples once more.
She smirks and removes her blouse and bra entirely, and quickly gathers her hair into a ponytail. "I won't say no to that."
Then she leans down and kisses me, her pouty lips fitting perfectly against mine. The taste of her saliva and butterbeer mingles on my tongue, while her spicy perfume tickles my nostrils.
I release her breasts and wrap my arms around her back, embracing her as our kiss deepens.
There's a rhythm to our kiss that we quickly discover. The way our lips move, how we tangle our tongues, and the way we suck on each other and swallow the excess saliva—all these come together in perfect sync. Soon, her elbows give out, and she lays down flush against me, her breasts squashed against my chest.
My fingers trail to her backside, digging into the plumpness of her arse.
She moans into the kiss, breaking the rhythm, and pulls away briefly. Then, she starts removing my clothes. Within moments, I'm stark naked, my pulsing cock enveloped in her fingers.
We both kneel in the centre of the bed, my hands on her tits while hers stroking me, and our lips obviously locked tight.
I fondle and knead her pliant breasts, my [Touch] active, and if the way her knees are shaking is any indication, then she's feeling it. I play with her nipples, pinching and pulling them, making her tremble, and she returns the favour, not backing down, pressing her thumb on and around my sensitive glans, causing me to flinch and give an instinctive thrust.
It barely takes any time for me to burst. I suck on her bottom lip and snake my arms around her waist as I feel myself rushing to the edge. And she must've felt it too, because she directs it away from her. We break off the kiss, our wet lips parting with a pop sound, and we hold each other's gaze as she pumps me faster.
I scrunch my face and grunt, my balls tightening and relaxing as I spray my load on the bed. She coos and kisses my jaw as I give frantic thrusts into her fist and empty my balls.
"That's a lot." Lavender eyes the bedsheet, dropping my half-mast.
Being a gentleman I am, I push her down on her back and decide to finish her off. "Pull your knees in."
She puts a pillow under her head with an excited grin, bending her legs at the knees with the soles of her feet flat on the bed. "You want me to take off my skirt?"
"No. Keep it on. This is better." I feel my cock twitch at the new idea.
Instead of pushing her skirt all the way to her waist, I simply push my head between her knees—under her skirt.
She laughs as my head disappears, though it is cut short when I slide away her underwear with my teeth. When I come out with her knickers hanging from my mouth, she falls silent and her eyes darken with desire.
I let her underwear fall beside me and dove back in, pushing my arms under her skirt to hold her thighs in place.
If I wanted, I could've used my [Orgasm Control] to push her off the edge, but I actually want to finish her off myself. I want to earn her orgasm. She has been a good date and deserves my sincere effort rather than hax powers.
In the dark confines of her skirt, I press my mouth on her nether lips and begin the work, licking and sucking. I use my tongue for the most part but don't shy away from locking lips and kissing it as if it were her mouth.
Just like me, she too doesn't last long, and I earn the orgasm with my head hidden under her skirt, clutching her thighs and working away while she convulses and tries to crush my head with those said thighs.
When I pull away, her breasts are shaking with her panting breath.
"I think I've discovered a new kink," she giggles, shimmying out of her skirt and exposing herself.
"Same." I stand on my knees, rubbing my cock lazily.
Grinning without an ounce of nervousness, she lays back down and raises her legs in the air. "Come and take me, Harry. You've made me wait for too long."
Taking in the view of her hairless pussy, I grip her knees and press my cock against her warm labia, moaning along with her. Holding her thighs against my chest with one hand, I use the other to position myself at her entrance. Slowly, I push forward once the tip of my cock is aligned with her weeping core.
Lavender hisses as her pussy stretches around my girth while I gently slide in. The process isn't entirely smooth; I have to adjust slightly to penetrate further. But eventually, I'm fully sheathed, enveloped in her warm, wet heat. Holding her thighs to my chest, I begin to pull back, her inner muscles resisting. As a few inches of my shaft pull out, I thrust back in, my balls slapping against her arse.
I repeat it a few times, closing my eyes and kissing her shins, while my thrusts gradually increase in speed and intensity.
"Fuck… fuck… fuck… arghhhhh… there! Right there!"
I fuck her like she wants to be fucked. I dance to the tune of her body, driving my hips hard enough against her arse cheeks to fill the room with loud, slapping sounds sometimes, and then rutting into her with quick thrusts that barely make any noise. And throughout it all, I use my [Orgasm Control] to lock away our climaxes, waiting for her to get delirious with pleasure, waiting for her to beg for it. And beg she does.
"PLEASE… FUCK… FUCK… FUCK… I CAN'T… I C-CAN'T…"
Pushing her legs all the way back towards her head, so that her toes nearly touch her ears, I pound away with reckless abandon.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!
When I feel like I might burst from holding back any longer, I finally release control over our orgasms, unleashing a torrent of white heat into her. Her pussy clenches tightly around me as her entire body convulses in response.
After giving her a few more languid thrusts to release every last drop, I pull out and collapse beside her.
Our heavy breathing echoes in the room, the only sound breaking the silence. As our breaths gradually even out, I turn onto my side and rest my hand on her belly. A glance reveals my seed trickling from her crevice. With a wave of my hand, I clean us up, along with the bedsheets.
"That was hot," Lavender says, mirroring my position and lying on her side.
My hand shifts from her stomach to her arse. "Yeah," I sigh blissfully, my response lazy as I enjoy the afterglow.
"Mmm." She doesn't seem to mind, letting me grope her bubbly behind. But there is a frown on her face, and it only seems to be growing. A minute later, she rolls off the bed with an annoyed huff and starts putting on her clothes. "This is not it. You're not him."
…
…
"What?" I utter, flabbergasted at the sudden change in her mood.
"You're not who I'm looking for."
"Lavender." I sit up, my tone confused, hurt, and annoyed. "What do you mean by that? Was the sex not good? Was I too rough?"
"No, it was the best sex I ever had." She slips on her skirt and starts buttoning her blouse. "But it was not… spiritual. It wasn't deep. It wasn't profound. It wasn't life changing. It wasn't magical. I don't feel any different. I don't feel as if my soul is complete. This is not love."
It takes monumental effort not to explode at her rubbish. Love? She expects to find love after the first date? After a single session of sex? And her version of love seems like some fairytale crap.
"Then what is love?" I ask, my tone sarcastic. "Did you expect to be showered by flower petals? Did you think a divine voice will congratulate you after you fuck some bloke? Did you think a light would burst from within me and signal you that I'm your 'soulmate'? What are you, six?"
Lavender doesn't get angry; she simply looks regretful. Leaning down, she places a gentle kiss on my lips. "You're not him, Harry. I would know if I ever found the love of my life. I'd feel it, like a lock clicking open or a jigsaw puzzle falling into place. For me, love is something extraordinary, something magical. They say in the stories that once, a man and woman were the same being, with two heads, four arms, and four legs. The gods separated them out of jealousy. But your other half is still out there, searching for you, trying to complete itself."
"So does the supposed whole have a cock and a cunt or two cocks and two cunts?" I cannot help myself, her gentle voice only infuriating me more.
"Oh Harry. I'm sorry. I thought you might be him. But you're not. You're just another boy." she says apologetically, inflaming my fury. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. But we are not compatible. I'm sure you will find your real other half."
The only reason I'm silent as she leaves the room is because I'm at a loss for how to react. That girl is completely bonkers, but I enjoyed the date. I enjoyed our time together. Her sudden rejection stings.
I should be happy that I got my gacha points and won't have to make time to juggle one more girl in my busy schedule. But I'm not happy. I'm angry, bamboozled, and hurt.
What did she mean I am not him? Who the fuck is him? For a girl who fucks on the first date, she sure has a stupidly high standards.
Groaning, I slump back on the bed.
It's a bizarre day. I got dumped for the first time, and I do not like this feeling at all. If I didn't know better, I'd think Lavender has a gamer system too and was just after my points, making excuses now that she's already gotten them, after using me.
I wince, remembering my own modus operandi, recalling how I go on about collecting these points. Even still, I'm better than her. At least I don't throw away someone after I'm done with them. I'm still with Hermione and Katie even though they don't give me any points. I'm patient with Iris when I can simply coerce her into sex.
What about the others? A voice whispers in my head. Well, I'll still be with Leanne and Astoria when they stop giving me points. I'll still care for them. The only ones that I've thrown away are Sally and Millicent. But Millicent was an entitled brat and Sally is in another world. I can't do anything about them.
Fuck this, why am I trying to justify my MO? I'm in the right here. I'm not raping someone for points. I'm not pretending to become someone's boyfriend only to dump them once they're no use to me.
I am better than Lavender, who on her quest to get 'true love', has already broken so many hearts. This must be the reason why it's so easy to sleep with her but impossible to keep her.
I should've really ditched Lavender earlier to go make a fool of myself in front of Fleur.
It was the worst date ever.