Chapter 7 (~10000 words)
– Harry –
I stumbled slightly as my feet slammed into the ground, momentum from the portkey nearly sending me sprawling face-first into the grass. Just as I braced myself to hit the ground, a hand grasped my arm, steadying me firmly.
"Whoa there, careful," a deep, friendly voice chuckled warmly.
I blinked and straightened myself, turning to see the amused, smiling face of Cedric Diggory, a bloke I'd literally met just moments ago before the portkey had whisked us away. Tall, broad-shouldered, and annoyingly good-looking—not unlike myself. Cedric had an easy-going charm that made him immediately likable nonetheless. He was in the same year as Fred and George at Hogwarts.
"Thanks," I muttered, giving him a small nod. "Haven't quite gotten the hang of magical transportation yet."
Cedric grinned sympathetically, releasing my arm. "You'll get used to it eventually. Portkeys aren't the most pleasant form of travel. The first time I took one, I ended up flat on my face and broke my nose."
Behind him, Cedric's father—an enthusiastic man named Amos Diggory—gave me a hearty smile. "It's been an honor meeting you, Harry Potter! I can't wait to tell everyone we've met!"
Cedric rolled his eyes, giving me a subtle, apologetic smile. "Dad's a big fan," he whispered discreetly.
"Yeah, I picked up on that," I whispered back with a soft laugh. Raising my voice, I addressed Amos politely, "Pleasure meeting you as well, Mr. Diggory."
As Cedric and his father turned away, disappearing into the bustling crowd, Hermione stepped up beside me, brushing stray grass off her clothes and looking thoroughly irritated. "I swear," she complained, glaring down at the grass stains on her trousers, "portkeys are even worse than apparition."
I grimaced, vividly recalling the unpleasant sensation of being squeezed through that magical tube earlier. "Sorry, Hermione, but I'll have to disagree there. At least this time I'm not gagging and feeling like I've left my stomach behind."
She gave a slight huff, though amusement flickered in her eyes as she looked me over, clearly pleased I was still in one piece.
Before she could respond, Arthur Weasley—who had cheerfully introduced himself just before we'd left—called out loudly. "Fred, George, Ginny, Ron!" Arthur waved his arm enthusiastically, beckoning them closer. "We've got our tent all sorted! Come along now!"
The twins whooped loudly, immediately breaking into an exaggerated race toward their father, knocking shoulders and playfully wrestling as they went. Ginny lingered briefly, giving me a soft, inviting smile before following after her brothers, her vibrant hair swaying behind her as she moved.
Ron didn't spare me another glance. He'd been moodily quiet since our earlier confrontation. I didn't miss the glares he shot me though. I swear, it was like he wanted to be Saji 2.0 or something…
At least Saji didn't keep a gross looking live rat in his pocket. I think…?
Arthur turned his attention to Hermione and me, a genuinely kind smile spreading across his weathered face. "Harry, Hermione—you're more than welcome to stay with us tonight! We've got plenty of room in our tent, no trouble at all. We'd love to host you longer!"
"I already have plans after I finish escorting Harry," Hermione replied. Hermione casually slid her warm hand into mine, fingers curling possessively around my palm. It was an innocent gesture, yet something in Hermione's eyes as they flicked briefly toward Ginny suggested the move was quite deliberate. Ginny certainly noticed. Her eyes narrowed sharply at our joined hands, lips pressing together in a thin line before she hurriedly turned away towards her brothers.
"That's very generous, Mr. Weasley," I replied sincerely, giving his family an appreciative glance. "Thanks for having us these last few hours—I've really enjoyed myself. You've got a fine family. I'd love to spend more time getting to know them all better once Hogwarts starts."
Well, except Ron. But that was definitely better left unsaid.
"You're always welcome, Harry! Truly, it's been our pleasure."
Hermione and I took our leave, stepping away from the Weasleys and heading across the expansive, lively field. Hundreds of brightly colored tents stretched out before us.
Hermione and I wandered through the grounds, weaving our way between tents and clusters of excited witches and wizards. My eyes widened at the sheer scale of it all. It wasn't just big—it was utterly massive. Thousands upon thousands of tents stretched out as far as the eye could see, each packed full of wizarding families cheerfully preparing for the match. With this many people per tent, there had to be easily over a hundred thousand witches and wizards present.
I glanced sideways at Hermione, curiosity bubbling up. "Hey, Hermione, just how big is the wizarding world exactly?"
She furrowed her brows thoughtfully. "You know, I've never really thought about it," she admitted with a slight shrug. "Though if I had to guess, I'd say tens of millions at the very least."
Tens of millions. I let out a low whistle. It was genuinely impressive that such a massive community could stay so hidden from the mundane world. Then again, considering the extensive lengths the devils like Mum, angels, and other supernatural beings went through to conceal their existences, perhaps I shouldn't have been so surprised.
Wizards likely had their own equally effective countermeasures.
No one wants to get nuked by crazy muggles…
We continued our stroll, gradually noticing that the tents began to grow larger and increasingly luxurious, the occupants adorned in lavish, richly embroidered robes. Clearly, we'd entered the wizarding equivalent of high society. I could practically feel the wealth radiating off this part of the camp.
It was still weird for me to admit I was part of this class of "people" as a devil of clan Sitri as well. In fact, I probably made them all look "poor" in comparison.
She had finished escorting me. Despite the Weasley twins' teasing earlier, Hermione did indeed have a few close female friends from other houses, and she'd promised to spend some time with them while I met up with Gabrielle and Fleur.
I noticed a faint, almost wistful sadness flicker briefly in her eyes as she realized we'd soon part ways for the evening. Hermione leaned in close, standing on her toes, and gently pressed her soft lips against my cheek. A pleasant warmth bloomed across my skin where her lips had touched.
"Try not to get into too much trouble without me, Harry," she teased softly.
"No promises," I chuckled quietly, giving her a playful grin in return.
Her expression turned impish as she pulled away, deliberately swaying her hips as she walked off. My eyes traced the mesmerizing swing of her curves, and she threw a knowing smirk over her shoulder before disappearing into the bustling crowd.
Shaking my head in amusement, I continued weaving through the dense sea of tents, each more extravagant and opulent than the last. Occasionally, I caught sight of some older witches lounging about, their gazes lingering appreciatively on my face and form. A few of them boldly smirked, playfully waving fingers at me in invitation.
Feeling pleasantly confident, I returned their flirtatious waves with a casual grin, though I kept moving, enjoying the slight pout of disappointment that briefly crossed their faces as I passed by. After all, I had plans tonight, and distractions, no matter how alluring, could wait.
…I eventually spotted them—two stunning figures standing out even amidst the extravagance around us.
Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour, both easily recognizable by their long platinum-blonde hair and impeccable, striking beauty. They were dressed in tight-fitting robes of deep, vivid blue that clung seductively to every graceful curve of their bodies, highlighting figures that seemed to vividly display their sex appeal.
My gaze lingered appreciatively, tracing the elegant swell of their hips, the sensual curve of their waists, and the perfect fullness of their breasts.
I called out their names, and both women turned instantly toward me, their eyes lighting up with excitement as wide smiles blossomed across their beautiful faces.
Gabrielle immediately rushed toward me, her long blonde hair streaming behind her. Without hesitation, she leapt into my arms, wrapping her lithe, tantalizing body tightly against mine. The sensation of her soft curves pressing fully into me sent an exhilarating jolt through my system. Her generous breasts pressed firmly against my chest, and I instinctively tightened my hold around her slender waist, feeling my pulse quicken at the intimate contact.
"Oh, Harry! Tu es enfin là! Je suis tellement heureuse de te voir!" Gabrielle began gushing rapidly in French, her voice filled with delight and relief, lips brushing tantalizingly close to my ear as she spoke.
To my surprise, I found myself perfectly comprehending every word—realizing suddenly that, thanks to unlocking my devil heritage, languages no longer posed any barrier to me. Understanding Gabrielle's excited chatter perfectly sent another small thrill of satisfaction rippling through my chest.
I chuckled warmly, responding in fluent French without a second thought. "It's wonderful seeing you again too, Gabrielle. I've really missed you too."
She clung tighter, clearly reluctant to release her hold. As I gently attempted to set her down, Gabrielle playfully pouted, tightening her embrace stubbornly and pressing herself even closer, as if determined to imprint herself permanently against me. Feeling her warm breath caress my neck, I laughed softly, relenting happily and allowing myself to savor the pleasurable closeness a little longer.
Over her shoulder, Fleur approached gracefully, amusement and fondness in her blue eyes as she watched her sister's affectionate display. "Gabrielle," Fleur teased lightly, her melodic voice washing over me like silk, "Give the poor Englishman room to breathe, non?"
Gabrielle laughed softly, finally loosening her embrace enough for me to gently set her down, though her hands lingered possessively on my chest, fingertips tracing delicate patterns that sent tiny sparks dancing beneath my skin.
"Not too much room," Gabrielle whispered mischievously as she leaned closer against me. "I plan on enjoying Harry's company fully tonight."
"I believe we both intend to thoroughly enjoy your company tonight, Harry," Fleur murmured enticingly, stepping closer and letting her fingertips softly brush along my arm.
The provocative promise behind her words sent heat rushing through me.
Clearing my throat lightly, I forced a casual smile, determined not to become completely unraveled so soon after our reunion. "It's wonderful seeing you both again," I said warmly in perfect French, enjoying the startled yet delighted expressions blossoming simultaneously on both women's faces. They finally noticed I was speaking in their native language.
"Harry!" Fleur exclaimed softly, her eyes widening appreciatively. "When did your French become so… perfect?"
Gabrielle's lips parted slightly in surprise, her gaze turning inquisitive and curious as she tilted her head. "Yes, Harry, how on earth did you get so fluent?"
I couldn't help myself—I flashed them both a mischievous wink. "Magic," I answered cryptically.
Twin expressions of playful indignation appeared instantly on the sisters' lovely faces. Both Fleur and Gabrielle pouted prettily, their plush lips pursed temptingly as they regarded me with mock exasperation.
"Tu es impossible, Harry," Gabrielle muttered with an exaggerated huff, though amusement danced in her sparkling eyes. She decisively took hold of my right arm, pressing herself against my side firmly enough for me to feel the enticing softness of her curves. Fleur mirrored her sister's movement on my left side, her slender fingers delicately gripping my forearm. Her tantalizing closeness made my heartbeat quicken noticeably.
"We've been waiting eagerly for you to arrive," Fleur explained, her voice low and alluring. "There's a small festival nearby, something special before the Quidditch match begins. We thought it would be a perfect way to enjoy our reunion."
I smiled broadly, glancing appreciatively between my beautiful companions. "I couldn't ask for more delightful escorts. Lead the way, ladies."
My compliment visibly pleased them, a mixture of pride and playful triumph crossing their expressions.
French women truly were something else—beautiful, captivating, and delightfully proud in their femininity. Feeling both Fleur and Gabrielle cling possessively to me, I allowed them to guide me confidently through the bustling festival crowds.
As we strolled leisurely among the brightly colored tents and stalls, I couldn't help but notice the numerous appreciative glances—and more than a few envious stares—we were drawing from passersby. Fleur and Gabrielle were clearly aware of it too, taking obvious delight in the jealous attention we received. Their satisfied smiles spoke volumes as they pressed themselves even closer to me, reveling in the envy we stirred.
Gabrielle pointed enthusiastically toward a food stall. "Oh, Harry, you simply must try these pastries—they're utterly delicious."
Laughing lightly, I allowed her to lead me toward the booth, watching with mild amusement as Gabrielle insisted on feeding me small bites herself. Her fingers brushed my lips teasingly with each piece. Not to be outdone, Fleur offered me tastes of exotic chocolates from another vendor.
They knew precisely what they were doing, and I was more than happy to play along.
We continued exploring the festival grounds, sampling exotic dishes from various regions and partaking in small, playful games set up to entertain visitors. Each activity provided ample opportunities for the sisters to lean into me, their warm bodies pressing enticingly against mine, their breath ghosting against my neck as they laughed softly, whispering sweet provocations into my ears.
At a ring toss booth, Fleur pressed herself provocatively against my side, guiding my hand with a gentle touch, her whisper seductive. "Aim carefully, Harry. You wouldn't want to disappoint me."
I shivered slightly at the implication, focusing intently on the task. Gabrielle laughed playfully, her hand trailing suggestively along my lower back, encouraging my concentration to waver delightfully. It was as if the sisters had silently coordinated their efforts to tease and distract me.
At one point, Fleur subtly brushed her fingertips against mine before intertwining our fingers, her elegant hand warm and inviting. Gabrielle immediately countered by drawing my attention toward her, gently caressing my arm and shoulder in slow, lingering movements. They were competing sweetly and mischievously for my attention, each trying to outdo the other in subtle sensuality.
It was thrilling to experience the push-and-pull dynamic unfolding between the two beautiful sisters.
Eventually, we paused by a small fountain. Why was there a random fountain out here between all these tents? Who knows, wizards were weird. Either way, it was a nice place to take a break.
Fleur leaned comfortably against my shoulder, her soft, silky hair brushing lightly against my cheek. Gabrielle moved closer, threading her fingers possessively through mine as she smiled contentedly.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Harry?" Gabrielle asked softly, eyes alight with genuine warmth.
I squeezed her hand gently. "Immensely. I couldn't imagine a better way to spend the afternoon."
Fleur hummed approvingly, tilting her head upward to look at me from beneath her eyelashes. Her voice was a silken murmur, filled with quiet promise. "Then the evening ahead shall be even better."
Her words sent pleasant shivers down my spine.
…Eventually, the lively festival began to wind down, the excited crowds streaming toward the enormous wooden stadium in the distance.
"We have a private top box reserved with our maman and papa," Fleur informed me softly, her bright blue eyes watching me closely.
I felt my heartbeat quicken slightly at the mention of their parents, a flicker of anxiety tightening in my chest. "Do they, uh, know about me?" I asked hesitantly, glancing between the two beautiful sisters nestled comfortably at my sides.
Gabrielle giggled softly, brushing her fingertips teasingly across my chest. "They know we're bringing a man along, oui—but they don't exactly know the man we're bringing is the famous Boy-Who-Lived."
I fucking hated that title…
Fleur nodded as she clarified, "We simply told them your name was Harry Sitri. But Papa is head of the French DMLE. He'll surely recognize you from your photograph the moment he sees you."
Yeah, both sisters knew that my last name wasn't Potter. But they didn't yet know just what me having the last name Sitri meant. That I was a devil. It wasn't really something to bring up in letters.
I let out a quiet breath, nodding slowly. "That's fine, I suppose." My voice was casual, though inwardly nerves continued to stir. Meeting their parents was intimidating enough without my complicated reputation being involved.
Unable to resist, I added quietly, "And how exactly do your parents feel about you two being so… close… to the man you brought along?" Even as I spoke, my senses heightened to the alluring warmth of both sisters pressing intimately against me, their soft, perfectly shaped breasts gently molding into my sides.
Fleur and Gabrielle exchanged amused glances before Gabrielle broke into playful laughter. "Our maman is Veela too, Harry," Gabrielle explained mischievously, her eyes sparkling with playful mischief. "Trust me—she won't mind our closeness one bit."
"Papa, however, might not be quite so enthusiastic about it at first." Fleur paused, an impish smirk crossing her beautiful lips. "But I'm sure he'll warm up to you…"
Gabrielle giggled wickedly, leaning closer and whispering teasingly into my ear. "Besides, Harry—it's not as though we've fucked, yet."
The deliberate addition of 'yet' sent a thrilling heat through my veins, igniting a pleasant tension deep in my core. Ever since unlocking my devil heritage, I knew instinctively that my hesitation around sex wasn't necessary. It's not like I'd ever had it before after all…
The sheer number of alluring witches and devil women openly vying for my attention had made my restraint increasingly difficult, yet I'd held back—but I didn't know how much longer that was going to last. Probably not very long.
Though at that moment, with both Fleur and Gabrielle's tantalizing curves pressed firmly against me, I certainly wouldn't have minded indulging in such temptations.
Before my thoughts could stray further, Fleur gently tugged my arm, guiding me toward the towering wooden stadium. We ascended toward the luxurious private boxes lining the top levels, the two gorgeous sisters confidently leading the way.
Finally, Fleur and Gabrielle drew me into an extravagantly decorated private box. Immediately, my gaze settled on the alluring figure of a breathtakingly attractive woman lounging elegantly in a chair, her platinum-blonde hair cascading around her shoulders. Her striking beauty and sensual charm unmistakably marked her as Fleur and Gabrielle's mother.
Beside her stood a tall, stern-looking man with sharp, intelligent eyes and a dignified bearing that radiated authority—clearly their father, Monsieur Delacour, the renowned French DMLE director.
He observed me with careful scrutiny, his expression composed but unreadable.
My attention was momentarily distracted, however, by two stunningly attractive black-haired women standing nearby. Both were dressed in scandalously revealing maid uniforms—tight corsets accentuating their impressive bustlines, short frilly skirts showing off long, toned legs clad in sheer stockings.
What were they doing here…?
It was Lyra and Lyna Sitri, my personal maids from the Underworld—who I distinctly remembered leaving behind. Both women regarded me with eager, mischievous smiles.
"Hello, Young Master," Lyra purred softly, offering a playful wink.
"We've missed you terribly," Lyna added sweetly, her voice dripping with flirtatious promise.
Momentarily stunned, I blinked at them both, mouth opening slightly.
Fleur and Gabrielle's friendly, seductive smiles vanished in an instant, replaced by identical expressions of icy suspicion as they glared at the devil maid twins. Their grips tightened possessively on my arms, the warmth of their touch abruptly shifting into something defensive, almost territorial.
"And who exactly are these two women, Harry?" Fleur demanded, her silken voice dripping with thinly veiled hostility as her sharp blue eyes scrutinized Lyra and Lyna.
Gabrielle pursed her lush lips into an unhappy pout, glaring daggers at the two maids who continued to smile provocatively at me, clearly enjoying the sudden tension they'd created. "Oui, Harry. Care to explain?" Gabrielle echoed, her tone deceptively sweet yet laced with clear annoyance.
Feeling the awkward weight of expectation pressing down upon me, I cleared my throat, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly. "These, um, are my personal maids from back home," I explained awkwardly. "Lyra and Lyna Sitri. But I honestly don't know why they're here—they were specifically instructed to remain at my mansion."
Lyra stepped closer, her hips swaying with calculated allure, her sapphire eyes shimmering with playful defiance as she fixed them squarely upon Fleur. "Our apologies, Master Harry," she purred teasingly, smirking at Fleur and Gabrielle in clear amusement. "But we simply couldn't bear the thought of you traveling without proper assistance."
"Indeed," Lyna added mischievously, her seductive voice matching her sister's as she tilted her head slightly, drawing attention to her ample cleavage. "We wouldn't dream of leaving our beloved Young Master unattended and unsatisfied."
The blatant innuendo hung heavily in the air, intensifying Fleur and Gabrielle's already growing irritation.
I watched as Fleur's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Gabrielle's grip on my arm became positively vice-like, nails digging gently yet insistently into my skin.
A fierce rivalry was brewing right before my eyes, an intense competition clearly establishing itself between the Sitri twins and the beautiful Delacour sisters.
"Harry is perfectly well cared for here," Fleur insisted frostily, raising a graceful eyebrow at Lyra. "We have our own servants to call upon, should we require any assistance."
Gabrielle nodded vigorously, glaring challengingly at Lyna. "Oui, so you two can run along back to wherever you came from. Harry clearly doesn't need or want you here."
Instead of backing down, the devil maids exchanged amused, sultry smiles, clearly enjoying the spirited opposition they faced. Their gazes drifted playfully to me, gauging my reaction with visible delight, deliberately stepping closer to fan the flames of rivalry.
"Is that so?" Lyra purred teasingly, locking eyes with Fleur, her voice dripping with playful insolence. "Yet here we are—sent explicitly by Lady Sitri herself to ensure our Young Master's every… desire is fully satisfied."
"Indeed," Lyna continued sweetly, her gaze dancing mischievously over Gabrielle's figure before returning pointedly to me. "It's our sworn duty—and greatest pleasure—to make certain Master Harry thoroughly enjoys his trip in every possible manner."
I inwardly groaned, sensing the escalating tension rapidly becoming a powder keg ready to explode at any moment.
Fleur's expression turned glacially cold, her voice sharp as she retorted swiftly, "Well, we can assure you both—Harry already has all the attention and enjoyment he could possibly require. Your services are quite unnecessary." The dangerous glint in Fleur's eyes clearly conveyed the veiled threat behind her words.
Gabrielle quickly nodded, her demeanor matching her sister's intensity as she added, "Exactly—why don't you two return to scrubbing floors or whatever it is you lowly maids usually do. We have tonight under control, merci beaucoup."
From her chair, Madame Delacour suddenly let out a lilting, amused giggle. She said nothing outright, but she clearly found her daughter's situation to be funny.
I might have found it funny too, if this catfight wasn't happening because of me.
Fleur shot her mother a brief, exasperated glare, clearly unappreciative of her amusement.
Seriously mum… Did you have to send these twins after me…? I groaned in my head.
At that moment, Monsieur Delacour stepped forward, clearing his throat pointedly. "Allow me to introduce myself," he spoke formally, his deep voice slightly strained as though forcing politeness. "I am Jean Delacour. It is… nice to meet you, young man." His tone indicated that he didn't fully mean it, clearly annoyed at seeing the rapidly escalating tension between his daughters and my devil maids.
"A pleasure, Monsieur Delacour. Thank you for allowing me to join you… Sorry about… all this…" I trailed off.
He took a moment before responding. "See that my daughters continue to be treated with the utmost respect," he added gruffly, subtle warning threaded into his words.
"Of course, sir," I responded earnestly.
I could see that he genuinely cared deeply for his daughters' happiness.
Jean Delacour's sharp gaze locked onto mine, assessing me carefully as his brows drew together thoughtfully. "Harry Sitri, is it?" he finally inquired, tone cautious and probing. "Yet you bear a striking resemblance to Harry Potter. In fact, I'd wager you are Harry Potter."
"Ah, yes," I said, meeting Jean's piercing stare head-on. "My given name truly is Harry Sitri. It's… complicated. The world knows me as Harry Potter, but that's merely because the public remains unaware of certain truths regarding my mother's past." I hesitated briefly, glancing downward, my voice lowering even further. "Infidelity, to be precise…"
The more and more I had to tell everyone this, at least the less awkward it was becoming for me. And of course, I could never be ashamed of Serafall being my real sire!
Jean's stern expression softened a bit, replaced momentarily by surprise, and perhaps a glimmer of understanding.
Apolline Delacour suddenly laughed as she gracefully rose from her seat and approached us. Her every movement exuded a captivating sensuality, making it abundantly clear where Fleur and Gabrielle had inherited their enticing charms. "Now, now—such a delicious scandal," Apolline teased lightly, the playful smile never wavering from her beautiful face. Her eyes danced mischievously as they lingered appreciatively upon my form. "You needn't worry, Harry. Your little secret shall remain safe with us. We Delacours are quite adept at discretion. We all have our unpleasant and our pleasant secrets, don't we?" The delicate, flirtatious undertone woven subtly into her words was unmistakable.
I couldn't suppress the small, appreciative grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Thank you, Madame Delacour. Your understanding means a lot." My voice was quietly sincere.
Her eyes glinted mischievously. "Do call me Apolline, Harry—I insist."
Both Fleur and Gabrielle rolled their eyes simultaneously at their mother's obvious teasing, though neither appeared particularly surprised.
"Truthfully, I don't believe this secret will need to remain hidden for much longer. Once I officially begin attending Hogwarts this year, the full truth is bound to come out eventually. Until then, I greatly appreciate your discretion," I told both parents.
Jean crossed his arms, nodding solemnly as he absorbed my words. "If I may inquire, Harry—why exactly have you remained hidden from our world for all these years? The public has searched fervently for any sign of you since that dreadful night so long ago. Why only now did you appear?"
I hesitated slightly beneath his penetrating stare. This guy really had the "bad cop" look down. As expected of the head of his country's magical law enforcement.
Revealing my true identity as a devil wasn't exactly the easiest conversation starter. How was I supposed to explain that my supernatural heritage had prevented my Hogwarts letter from ever reaching me?
Fortunately, the decision was abruptly taken from my hands. Before I could offer any uncomfortable explanations, a magically amplified voice suddenly boomed throughout the immense stadium, reverberating powerfully through the crowded stands.
"Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards—welcome to the highly anticipated 422nd Quidditch World Cup!"
The immense audience roared deafeningly in response, an electric wave of excitement sweeping palpably through the air around us. Relieved, I exchanged quick, knowing glances with Lyra and Lyna. For now, at least, my secret remained safely intact.
…
As the match officially began, everyone in the luxurious private booth settled comfortably into their seats. I couldn't help but notice exactly where Fleur and Gabrielle had inherited their tantalizingly bold sensuality from—their mother, Apolline.
She had practically draped herself across her husband's side, fingers slowly tracing patterns over his chest as she leaned in close and whispered intimately into his ear. Jean Delacour maintained his dignified composure, though the slight flush creeping up his neck revealed that even he wasn't immune to his wife's provocative teasing.
Seated on either side of me, Fleur and Gabrielle seemed eager to imitate their mother's behavior. Fleur pressed her body enticingly against mine, her soft curves molding comfortably to my side. Her delicate fingertips idly traced along my forearm, sending pleasant tingles racing beneath my skin. Not to be outdone, Gabrielle leaned even closer, her thigh brushing teasingly against mine as her fingers trailed languidly across my chest.
Their touch was possessive, yet oddly affectionate—like they wanted to make it explicitly clear whom I belonged to at that moment.
Lyra and Lyna had, thankfully, ceased their earlier teasing of the Delacour sisters. While they were undoubtedly mischievous devils who delighted in stirring up trouble, they were also still dutiful maids at their core. Evidently deciding it was time to behave more professionally, Lyra stepped forward with a polite smile. "Would anyone care for some refreshments?" she asked with practiced charm.
Fleur's eyes lit up mischievously, and she exchanged a glance filled with wicked amusement with Gabrielle. "Actually, yes—I'd like something rather special. Could you perhaps prepare a cocktail for me? Let's see… I'll take a French 75, freshly mixed. Extra cold, please."
Gabrielle giggled softly, clearly enjoying herself. "And I'd like a Blue Lagoon, perfectly chilled, garnished generously with fresh pineapple slices and cherries—oh, and precisely three mint leaves. Merci."
"Um… what?" Lyra asked in surprise.
Lyna nodded with her sister. "We were asking if anyone maybe wanted a cola or some chips—"
I couldn't suppress my amused grin and cut Lyna off. "Better get to it, ladies," I told them calmly, unable to hide the laughter in my voice. "You wouldn't want to disappoint your young master by not getting his friends their drinks, would you?"
Finally I was able to get one back after all their teasing…
The twins pouted in tandem, expressions filled with mock-betrayal, before turning and heading reluctantly to the well-stocked bar at the back of the private box. I overheard Lyra whisper grumpily to her sister, "We were never trained as bartenders, dammit… I have no idea what they asked for."
Lyna huffed quietly in response. "Quiet. We'll figure it out somehow—can't lose face in front of these Veela sluts."
My attention returned to the field below as the booming voice of the announcer reverberated throughout the massive stadium once more. "Ladies and Gentlemen—please warmly welcome tonight's team mascots!"
Cheerful applause erupted as a shimmering golden cloud of glittering Leprechauns darted playfully across the stadium, delighting the audience with their festive antics. Gold literally rained from the sky causing a small frenzy but I knew from legends it was obviously fake gold.
Moments later, however, the atmosphere abruptly shifted as another group emerged onto the field—Veela. Immediately, a powerful wave of supernatural allure cascaded outward from the graceful, ethereal dancers. Their shimmering gowns clung enticingly to their forms, movements hypnotically seductive as they began a tantalizing dance. I glanced around, noticing the captivated expressions of nearly every man present in the stadium, each staring entranced by the mesmerizing performance below. Surprisingly, however, I felt nothing but mild curiosity and admiration at their elegance—not even the slightest trace of unnatural attraction or compulsion.
Beside me, I sensed Fleur and Gabrielle grow noticeably tense. Fleur's elegant features twisted into a faintly disapproving frown, eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance. Gabrielle pursed her lush lips, looking displeased as she leaned further into my side.
"Is something wrong?" I whispered gently, genuinely puzzled by their reactions. "You two seem upset."
Gabrielle sighed softly, glancing toward the field below with irritation. "They're debasing themselves—reducing our kind to mere cheerleaders for entertainment. It is undignified."
Fleur nodded solemnly in agreement. "Veela allure is something special and sacred—not some cheap spectacle meant to entrance an entire stadium."
My gaze shifted to the other men in the stands once more. Suddenly, a curious thought crossed my mind, and I turned toward the sisters. "Wait—are you two wearing your allure-blocking jewelry right now?" I asked curiously. "Now that I think about it, I haven't felt anything unusual around you all day."
Slowly, pleased smiles spread across their beautiful faces. "No, Harry—we haven't worn them at all today," Fleur admitted.
Gabrielle leaned even closer, her voice dropping seductively as she added proudly, "You're completely immune to our allure. You are truly a man amongst men."
"Immune?" I repeated, intrigued by their delighted expressions. "Does that make a difference?"
Fleur smiled knowingly, "It's a very important trait for any male who intends to take a female Veela as a… mate."
Gabrielle's smile deepened, her slender fingers tracing intricate patterns on my chest once more. "Indeed, Harry," she murmured sweetly.
I could hear Lyra and Lyna quietly growling in frustration from behind the bar area. They were clearly eavesdropping while struggling to mix the elaborate drinks Fleur and Gabrielle had requested. Their whispered complaints and occasional curses brought an amused smile to my lips, though I didn't let it distract me too much from the spectacle unfolding below.
Settling comfortably between Fleur and Gabrielle, I turned my full attention toward my very first Quidditch game. The entire event was, to put it bluntly, chaotic.
The players zipped rapidly around the stadium, soaring dangerously close to each other at dizzying speeds, diving and maneuvering with reckless abandon. Trying to follow the action was a daunting task, and it didn't help that the rules themselves seemed completely nonsensical to me. Seriously—whose bright idea was it that the Seeker could single-handedly win the game in under a minute?
Still, it was undeniably entertaining, if only for Gabrielle's exuberant reaction beside me. She sat perched right on the edge of her seat, hands gripping my arm so tightly it bordered on painful, but I wasn't complaining. Seeing her so passionately engrossed in the match was genuinely adorable, and every excited gasp or delighted cheer brought a fond smile to my face.
Fleur, on the other hand, was decidedly less interested. From our frequent letters over the past months, I'd learned that she far preferred football to Quidditch, finding the wizarding sport overly chaotic and unstructured. I tended to agree, though I certainly wasn't going to voice such blasphemy aloud within earshot of Gabrielle.
As the match continued, I found myself gravitating more towards conversation with Fleur. The game provided a comfortable backdrop for our increasingly flirtatious dialogue. We chatted lightly about everything and nothing—favorite places in France, amusing stories from her school, subtle jokes and teases that only deepened the warm tension between us.
Of course, I enjoyed Gabrielle's lively company just as much. Despite her fierce focus on the match, she occasionally turned toward me, eyes alight with excitement and cheeks flushed attractively. Between particularly exciting plays, she'd lean close, pressing her soft curves firmly into my side as she breathlessly explained the strategies behind certain maneuvers. Her enthusiasm was captivating.
After what felt like an eternity of fast-paced madness, the match finally ended in a genuinely baffling conclusion. Some bloke named Krum—apparently quite famous, judging from the deafening cheers—managed to catch the tiny golden Snitch, and yet somehow his team still lost the game. Honestly, the Seeker position felt like a rigged joke.
Still, the stadium erupted in wild applause, witches and wizards alike cheering with unbridled enthusiasm. Fleur chuckled softly beside me, shaking her head in amusement. "They'll be celebrating this madness all night long," she murmured with a playful smile. "Though perhaps that's not such a terrible idea after all. I could be persuaded to enjoy a bit of partying myself, provided the right company...non?"
At that exact moment, Lyra finally arrived, her expression irritated yet resigned as she begrudgingly set the drinks on a small table in front of us. "Here are your drinks, Mesdemoiselles," she said tersely, narrowing her eyes slightly at the two French witches.
Fleur and Gabrielle stared blankly at the devil maid, clearly unimpressed by her timing.
Fleur arched an eyebrow, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "It took you over an hour to make these simple cocktails? Truly impressive efficiency."
"I'd strongly suggest improving your bartending skills," Gabrielle added teasingly, sipping delicately from her perfectly garnished Blue Lagoon, her eyes dancing mischievously over the rim of the glass. "After all, Harry deserves the very best service, and clearly you and your sister aren't it..."
Lyra growled softly under her breath.
"Thank you, Lyra," I interjected calmly, giving her a teasing smile of my own. "I appreciate your efforts."
The devil maid huffed softly, spinning abruptly to return to her sister so they could clean up.
Fleur's parents both rose gracefully from their seats, signaling their intention to leave. Jean stretched slightly. "It was an enjoyable match," Jean said politely, his voice gruff but amicable. He cast a discreet glance toward the exit. "Unfortunately, work beckons early tomorrow morning back in France. Will you two be returning with us?"
Fleur exchanged a quick, meaningful glance with Gabrielle before turning her attention back to her father.
"Not quite yet, Papa," Fleur said with calm confidence. She reached out to gently link her fingers through mine, giving my hand a possessive squeeze. "Gabrielle and I intend to stay longer, perhaps enjoy a few more festivities with Harry."
Jean paused, clearly processing this new information. His sharp gaze shifted towards me, brows creasing faintly as he studied me in a silent moment of fatherly contemplation.
I gave him a small, wry smile, doing my utmost to project sincerity and confidence without appearing cocky or dismissive. He seemed to silently assess the depth of my intentions, likely weighing his paternal protectiveness against the reality that both his daughters were now grown women, entirely capable of making their own decisions.
Or maybe he was trying to convince himself they weren't both obviously going to be having sex with me later…
"Do be certain to have a delightful evening with my lovely daughters, Harry," Apolline whispered as she gave me a discreet, sultry wink.
Jean immediately cleared his throat sharply, shooting his wife an incredulous, vaguely exasperated look. Apolline merely laughed softly in response, stepping gracefully toward her husband and sliding her arm provocatively around his waist. "Come, my husband. We have our own lovely evening to ourselves."
Her husband perked up at those words. "We'll trust you girls to behave yourselves then…" he trailed off and quickly moved his wife to leave.
"Of course, Papa," Gabrielle replied sweetly. With an innocent expression in place that entirely was the opposite of her actions throughout the evening thus far.
Once the Delacours had vanished through the private box's door, I turned toward my devil maids. "And what exactly are you two planning to do now?"
Lyra smirked slightly, opening her mouth, but Lyna answered shamelessly before her sister had the chance. "Why, we'll follow you, of course, Young Master. Our place is by your side, after all."
I let out a resigned sigh, shaking my head slightly at the stubborn twins. "Fine, you can follow—but from a distance, understood? Tonight is still my time with Fleur and Gabrielle."
The maids exchanged petulant, disappointed glances, their lips pursed into matching, exaggerated pouts.
I gave them a firm stare, unyielding in my resolve.
After a moment's hesitation, both finally sighed dramatically in begrudging acceptance.
"As you wish, Young Master," Lyra muttered.
I turned my attention fully back to Fleur and Gabrielle.
"Shall we continue our evening then, Harry?" Fleur purred softly, leaning in just enough that I felt the gentle warmth of her breath caress my neck
Gabrielle matched her sister's sensuality. "Yes, Harry—there's still plenty more fun to be had. The night is young, after all."
I chuckled softly, allowing myself to be led out of the box, the twins trailing reluctantly behind at a discreet yet watchful distance.
The night ahead promised to be memorable indeed…
…
Maybe not memorable in the way I'd been expecting.
"What the hell...?" I muttered, staring in disbelief at the crazy scene unfolding before me.
All around, witches and wizards scrambled in blind panic, their screams and shouts piercing through the smoky air. The encampment, previously alive with celebration and festivities, had devolved into utter pandemonium. Flames rose fiercely, swallowing dozens—no, hundreds—of tents, and spreading rapidly. Thick plumes of dark smoke billowed upward, obscuring the once-clear night sky, the acrid scent of burning fabric filling my lungs.
Instinctively, I expanded my senses, feeling a surge of powerful magic—violent magic—clashing nearby. Someone was fighting, casting dangerous spells indiscriminately. But as concerning as that was, the raging inferno consuming the camp clearly took precedence.
"Run for your lives!"
"Death Eaters are attacking!"
"We can't stop them!"
"Why isn't anyone doing anything?" I demanded incredulously, watching as wizards sprinted past the blazing tents without so much as attempting to douse the flames. "They literally have magic wands—how is fire even a problem?"
Maybe Dumbledore had been right, maybe magical people really were far more idiotic than I'd thought possible?
I drew the fake wand Hermione had provided me from my pocket, gripping it tightly. It was just a prop, but necessary to disguise the true source of my magic. I subtly channeled my innate demonic energy instead, casting a large amount of water, extinguishing the roaring flames burning the Delacours' luxurious tent.
Beside me, Fleur and Gabrielle stared in shock, their eyes wide with alarm as they took in the sight. Fleur grabbed my arm urgently, her voice strained and desperate. "Harry, we have important items still inside!"
"Quickly!" Gabrielle urged anxiously, already rushing toward the now-safe entrance. "We must get them before it catches fire again."
"Be careful," I warned sharply, feeling a tightening in my chest as they hurried inside. I resisted the urge to follow immediately, forcing myself to remain vigilant outside.
Before I could take another breath, Lyra and Lyna appeared swiftly at my side, their expressions uncharacteristically serious. To my astonishment, they brandished fake wands as well, discreetly mimicking my method by channeling controlled bursts of devil magic into powerful jets of water.
Together, we swiftly extinguished the closest fires, halting their relentless advance.
"Master," Lyra murmured urgently, eyes flickering anxiously toward me as she effortlessly quelled another blazing tent, "we could extinguish this whole area instantly if you command it. A display of high-class devil magic—"
"No," I interrupted firmly, my voice stern as my gaze fixed determinedly upon them. "Your safety comes first. We can't risk exposure—I won't risk exposing either of you. Just keep assisting discreetly, understood?" I told them.
Both women paused abruptly at my words, their eyes widening with astonishment before their cheeks flushed crimson simultaneously. They exchanged quick glances, soft, joyful smiles blossoming across their beautiful faces despite the chaos surrounding us.
"Aww, Master truly loves us!" they chorused delightedly, their earlier urgency momentarily forgotten as their eyes sparkled mischievously.
I groaned, cheeks heating despite myself. "I didn't say anything of the sort," I grumbled defensively, returning my attention to the chaotic scene before me.
Lyra giggled softly, clearly unconvinced. "Master is adorable when shy."
"Agreed," Lyna purred teasingly. "We'll celebrate your declaration of love later, Young Master—after we deal with this mess!"
I sighed heavily in defeat, deciding that ignoring their antics was likely the safest response.
As Fleur and Gabrielle finally emerged from their tent, clutching several elegant-looking bags and heirlooms protectively against their chests.
"Are you alright?" I asked urgently, quickly stepping toward them.
"Oui, Harry," Fleur replied breathlessly, her gaze filled with admiration as she looked me over. "Thanks to you."
Gabrielle offered me a radiant, grateful smile. "Our hero!"
I smiled at them before deciding on what we should do. "We need to leave now," I said. "This looks like some kind of magical terrorist attack—and it's definitely not our fight. Let the magical police handle it."
But then I glanced anxiously around the burning campsite, my chest tightening as I thought of Hermione and the Weasleys. I could only hope they'd managed to escape the madness safely. As we hurried past the tent I'd seen Hermione enter earlier with her other friends, my heart skipped a beat when I found it empty. I took it as a hopeful sign—Hermione was smart, after all. She'd have gotten away.
I asked Fleur and Gabrielle if they could apparate us.
"We can't apparate yet, Harry," Fleur said, her eyes darkening with worry. "The wards—"
Gabrielle grimaced, finishing her sister's thought. "They were set up originally to keep drunk wizards from accidentally splinching themselves. Now they're keeping us trapped in here."
The wards could only reach so far.
"Then we should head for the woods," I told the girls firmly, gesturing toward the distant treeline. "We can teleport away from there."
We pressed onward through the panicked crowds, dodging frantic witches and wizards fleeing the destruction. Eventually, we reached the outskirts of the encampment, the treeline finally coming into view.
I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking we'd made it clear—until an abrupt, malevolent pulse of magic prickled at the edge of my senses, jolting me into action.
"Crucio!" a vicious, hate-filled voice roared from behind us.
Instinct surged through me. I grabbed Fleur and Gabrielle around their waists and threw us sideways, tumbling roughly into the dirt as a beam of sickly yellow energy blazed through the spot we'd occupied just seconds ago. The spell struck a nearby tree with a deafening blast, obliterating the thick trunk into a hail of flaming splinters.
"Harry!" Fleur gasped, clutching me tightly, her blue eyes wide with alarm. "That was an unforgivable! Did it hit you?"
"I'm fine," I assured her quickly, rising to a defensive crouch and immediately positioning myself protectively between the sisters and the threat.
Lyra and Lyna stepped forward, hissing in fury as several shadowy figures emerged from the smoke and flames, each face obscured beneath a grotesque, bone-white mask—these were Death Eaters.
My heart slammed hard against my ribs as rage sparked hot in my veins. While I didn't know all the details about the last magical war, these bastards had followed Voldemort. The dark wizard responsible for murdering Lily Evans, my human mother!
One of the masked men stepped forward with a cruel, delighted laugh, his voice dripping with twisted excitement. "Well, well—my eyes didn't deceive me after all, boys! I saw him running and thought it was him. It's Harry fucking Potter! We've actually found him!"
"Holy shit, it is him! I recognize him from the prophet!"
"Look at those sexy bitches with him! Let's kill him and take them for ourselves! It's been decades since we could let loose!"
Fleur pulled out her wand immediately, her eyes blazing with fury as she stepped protectively in front of Gabrielle. From our letters, I recalled she'd won numerous dueling tournaments already, clearly prepared to unleash her formidable magical skills on these bastards.
My devil maids, Lyra and Lyna, stood on either side of me, their usual playful demeanor completely replaced by cold, murderous anger. I could sense the raw power radiating from them, the restrained devil magic brimming dangerously beneath their tightly controlled expressions.
"Just give the word, Young Master," Lyra growled softly, her normally teasing voice dripping with lethal intent. "We'll torture and kill these worthless insects slowly and painfully for daring to threaten you."
Lyna nodded grimly beside her sister. "They'll pay dearly for disrespecting our beloved master."
I clenched the fake wand Hermione had given me, before calmly slipping it back into my pocket. It was useless to me now.
"No," I said firmly, my voice quiet but clear, echoing with barely contained rage.
The Death Eaters burst into mocking laughter, jeering openly at what they mistook for cowardice.
"Did he just say no?"
"Ha! Would you look at that! Harry fucking Potter turns out to be nothing but a scared little pussy!" one shouted gleefully.
Another laughed cruelly. "That's right, Potter—accept your pathetic death. And don't you worry, we'll take extra special care of your little sluts here. They'll be begging for mercy by the time we're done with them!"
My blood boiled violently at their disgusting threats, fury igniting white-hot within my chest. I turned slowly to Fleur and Gabrielle. Both sisters looked frightened yet determined, Fleur gripping her wand with practiced strength, ready to fight and protect her sister to the last breath. Gabrielle stood bravely, though I could see her hands trembling.
"Please don't think less of me," I murmured softly, regret tinging my words as I looked sincerely into their stunned, questioning eyes. "I'm sorry for keeping this from you both… I was going to tell you both tonight. "
Before they could question me further, a sharp, euphoric rush surged through my veins as two devil wings burst forth from my back, unfurling with a sharp snap.
I heard Fleur and Gabrielle gasp sharply, their expressions a mixture of shock, confusion, and awe.
I allowed my rage to flow freely, letting it radiate off me in waves. The normally invisible blue magic circle tattoos on the backs of my hands ignited brilliantly, casting an eerie glow around us.
The Death Eaters recoiled instinctively, their bravado faltering momentarily as they stared dumbfounded at my demonic wings.
"What the fuck are those?!" one cried out in alarm.
"Is he even fucking human?" another shouted, voice shaking slightly.
"Some kind of filthy half-breed freak! Kill him now!" a third barked frantically, trying desperately to mask his fear with aggression.
I took a slow, deliberate step forward. "The reason I said no to Lyra and Lyna," I stated, "is because you worthless bastards are mine to kill!"
Raising my right hand, I summoned a large, blue magic circle—the proud emblem of my Sitri Clan heritage—manifesting it directly before me. A torrent of pressurized water shot forth instantly, erupting violently from the center of the circle. The powerful jet swept brutally threw the lead Death Eater, cutting cleanly and mercilessly through his neck. His severed head was sent spinning grotesquely through the air, his lifeless body collapsing like a discarded puppet onto the ground.
The remaining four Death Eaters quickly overcame their initial shock, unleashing a frenzied barrage of lethal curses my way. Their screams of rage and desperation filled the air as beams of vibrant, deadly light streaked toward me.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Reducto!"
"Sectumsempra!"
Instinct took over as my enhanced devil reflexes allowed me to perceive each spell clearly, moving as if they were suspended mid-flight.
I ducked sharply under a sickly-green Killing Curse, feeling its dark magic ripple dangerously close over my head. Another lethal spell exploded into the ground where I'd stood only moments ago, throwing a shower of dirt into the air.
As a third dark curse flew directly at my chest, I swiftly summoned a spinning shield of water, infused with dense demonic energy. The razor-like spell slammed into the liquid barrier, sizzling violently as my shield effortlessly dispersed its destructive power.
"Is that all you've got?" I taunted coldly, rage simmering beneath my fake calm exterior. These monsters had intended to violate my cousins, along with Fleur and Gabrielle, to harm and degrade them. My blood boiled furiously at that thought alone, the fire of my wrath blazing brighter.
With ruthless intent, I surged forward, channeling powerful streams of pressurized water from multiple magical circles, slicing mercilessly through the air with surgical precision. One Death Eater desperately attempted to block the deadly jets, but the razor-thin liquid blades effortlessly cut through his protective spell, slicing into his arms and legs. Blood sprayed gruesomely as he collapsed screaming to the ground, writhing in agony.
He'd bleed out in seconds.
A second death eater lunged recklessly toward me, wand raised, madness and terror mingling in his eyes behind his mask.
Reacting swiftly, I swept my hand upward, conjuring a violent geyser directly beneath him. His terrified shriek echoed through the air as he was propelled skyward by the roaring column of water. At its peak, the geyser vanished abruptly, and I watched impassively as his body plunged screaming back to the earth, smashing brutally against the unforgiving ground with a sickening crack.
The two remaining Death Eaters retreated frantically, exchanging panicked glances beneath their twisted masks. Their bravado had evaporated completely, replaced now by pure, unadulterated fear.
But I would grant them no mercy.
"No escape," I growled darkly, unleashing another torrential wave of water, snaring one fleeing Death Eater and hurling him violently against a nearby tree. The impact was savage, splintering bark as his spine shattered audibly, his lifeless body crumpling grotesquely onto the dirt.
The final masked figure dropped his wand in abject terror, falling to his knees as he raised trembling hands in surrender. "P-please—" he stammered pitifully, voice shaking uncontrollably. "Mercy! Mercy, Harry Potter!"
I paused briefly, approaching him slowly, fury burning coldly in my chest. "Mercy?" I echoed dangerously, crouching low to stare into his terrified eyes. "Did you plan to show mercy to these women after you killed me?"
He quivered violently, eyes darting frantically between Fleur, Gabrielle, and me. "I-I—I—"
"Exactly," I interrupted mercilessly, straightening to my full height.
With cold finality, I summoned a pressurized sword of demonic water, stabbing it toward his chest. It pierced him cleanly through the heart, pinning his body gruesomely to the earth below him. His dying scream faded quickly into a pathetic gurgle, blood dribbling from his mouth as his life drained rapidly away.
Silence descended heavily around us, punctuated only by the distant crackling of burning tents and muffled, panicked cries in the distance.
I turned slowly back toward Fleur and Gabrielle, both sisters staring wide-eyed and breathless at the brutal carnage I'd just inflicted.
Their expressions were unreadable—shock, fear, awe, and even perhaps desire, all blended together. Neither woman moved, their eyes locked firmly upon me.
Lyra and Lyna quickly moved beside me, their expressions radiating deep pride and admiration.
"Beautifully done, Master," Lyra purred approvingly, eyes gleaming with reverence.
"Indeed," Lyna agreed softly, her voice filled with heartfelt devotion. "They deserved nothing less."
My devil wings retracted slowly into my back as I regained control of my surging emotions, allowing my breathing to gradually steady. My gaze returned gently to Fleur and Gabrielle, silently pleading for their understanding and acceptance of this darker, hidden side of myself.
Fleur and Gabrielle snapped out of their shock after a lingering, tense silence.
I stepped cautiously toward them, nerves twisting uncomfortably in my gut.
I opened my mouth to say something—perhaps an apology or an explanation—but before I could utter a single word, Fleur closed the distance with surprising speed. Her soft hands captured my face, and without hesitation, she slammed her lips forcefully against mine!
Oh!
Her kiss was fiery, possessive, and intoxicating. My mind spun dizzily as Fleur pressed her lush curves against me, her body molding to mine as her tongue plunged deeply into my mouth, passionately exploring and claiming every inch. She tasted sweet and sinful all at once, her velvety lips soft yet demanding.
I instinctively wrapped my arms tightly around her slender waist, pulling her even closer.
When Fleur finally pulled away, breaking the heated, breathless kiss, I barely had a moment to catch my breath before Gabrielle stepped closer, her lips instantly capturing mine next. Her kiss was no less fierce—perhaps even more eager—as her tongue boldly invaded my mouth, tasting, teasing, and entwining sensually with mine. Her delicate fingers traced urgently across my back, nails gently scraping and sending sharp jolts of pleasure cascading down my spine. I groaned softly into her mouth, my hands instinctively gripping her hips, pulling her body flush against my already aroused form.
I felt like I was losing myself.
The rush from my first-ever life-or-death battle still surged hotly through my veins, heightening my senses, amplifying my desires to almost unbearable levels. My heart pounded wildly, every inch of my body humming with energy and lust.
Gabrielle broke our messy, passionate kiss with a satisfied gasp, her brilliant blue eyes sparkling as she gazed up at me. Her flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips were utterly irresistible, and my cock strained desperately against the tight fabric of my trousers, aching to be freed.
I swallowed thickly, as I looked between the two breathtakingly beautiful sisters, their sultry gazes locked heatedly onto mine.
Any lingering hesitation vanished in that moment. Desire burned fiercely within me, and I finally gave voice to my raw, unfiltered thoughts. "Right now," I growled hungrily as I stared deeply into Fleur and Gabrielle's eager, expectant faces. "I want nothing more than to fuck you both."
A visible shiver of excitement raced through both women, their eyes darkening with matching lust as they exchanged delighted, knowing smiles. Fleur stepped closer once more, pressing her generous chest enticingly against my own.
"I can apparate us somewhere private. A luxurious hotel. Originally, Gabrielle and I had planned to invite you back into our tent, but considering everything that's happened, this will be even better, non?"
"Take me there now," I commanded heatedly, allowing my devilish instincts to fully surface. "Tonight, you two beautiful witches belong entirely to me!"
Fleur and Gabrielle both shivered visibly, exchanging thrilled, satisfied glances before eagerly grasping my arms. Without another word, Fleur twisted gracefully, her magic wrapping firmly around us. An instant later, we vanished from the campgrounds in a sharp crack.
– Lyra –
Lyra sighed dramatically, staring at the spot where her beloved young master had vanished with those annoyingly attractive Veela sisters. The exhilarating aftermath of watching Harry fight and utterly annihilate those Death Eaters still sent pleasant shivers down her spine. Her skin tingled, her pulse raced, and warmth blossomed deep in her core.
But at the same time…
"Did our precious young master seriously just forget about us!?" Lyra complained, pouting prettily as she crossed her arms beneath her ample bust. "After that incredible display, I wanted nothing more than to let him ravish me right here and now!"
Lyna nodded in fervent agreement, her eyes glazed slightly with lingering arousal as she stared wistfully at the spot Harry had been moments earlier. "He was so determined, so commanding… I've never felt so turned on in my life. Did you see the way his muscles flexed when he sliced those bastards apart?"
Lyra bit her bottom lip, eyes fluttering closed briefly as she allowed herself to revel again in the delicious memory. "Oh, yes. And when his devil wings manifested… Maou below, it was like witnessing peak male perfection itself!"
Lyna whimpered softly, rubbing her thighs together subtly in an attempt to alleviate some of the burning ache between her legs. "I hate to admit it, but those Delacour sluts got the better of us tonight. Now they're probably taking turns riding him into oblivion—ugh! Why couldn't he have taken us with him too? We're his devoted, loyal maids! We should be the first ones to share his bed!"
Lyra scowled briefly in irritation, jealousy pricking sharply within her chest as she pictured those annoyingly gorgeous Veela monopolizing Harry's attentions. She shook her head quickly, forcing a determined smile back onto her face. "Enough whining, sister. We'll have plenty of time to seduce our handsome young master soon enough. He'll realize eventually that no one can satisfy him quite like we can! That's what we trained for."
Although they'd never actually trained with a man… They had practised with each other.
Lyna sighed, pouting dramatically but nodding in reluctant agreement. "You're right, Lyra. Those witches may be pretty, but they're no match for two eager devil sisters like us."
Lyra glanced around. "I suppose we should clean up this mess and erase the lingering traces of demonic magic our young master left behind," Lyra murmured, reluctantly slipping back into her professional role.
Lyna groaned audibly, shoulders slumping in exaggerated disappointment. "Ugh, really? That's going to take forever!"
Yeah, removing demonic magical taint from an area was a pain in the butt. It tended to want to linger and corrupt anything it touched. But it had to be done. No need for any fallen angels or members of the church to stumble around here and discover the Sitri clan now has an active presence in England.
XXX