Lightning Strikes Twice Ch. 41 (Harry Potter) (Patreon)

A/N: A look into the mind of Fleur Delacour~

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Vexed. That was the word for it. As the four Triwizard Champions and their dates for the evening dance across the ballroom under the eyes of everyone else, Fleur Delacour finds herself most vexed.

It wasn’t a state of being that the part veela was particularly used to, to tell the truth. Even though she was only a quarter-blooded veela on her mother’s side, Fleur Delacour was very much used to getting her way. Between her gorgeous looks, her domineering personality, and her magical skill, there weren’t many doors that had ever been closed to her. The amount of times she’d found herself stymied or denied what she wanted before coming to this blasted English School could be counted on one hand.

Now though, ever since arriving here, she’d found those moments of being denied quickly racking up until she was in danger of having to use her other hand as well to count them! And seemingly all of it could be laid at the feet of one young man… the Boy-Who-Lived.

Not that he was a boy at all, Fleur had come to learn. In spite of her initial skepticism regarding Harry Potter’s capabilities, she was forced to acknowledge that he was in no way the ‘little boy’ that she’d first labeled him. Nor was he truly their inferior in any way. Despite entering the Triwizard Tournament on a technicality, despite being the fourth champion in a lineup that was only supposed to be three (it was even in the name, damn it!), he had more than proven his worthiness of standing alongside all of them.

In fact, he had ultimately proven himself MORE worthy than any of them, despite the extra years and additional experience they all should have had over him. Oh sure, he’d tied with Viktor Krum on the First Task, but only because of blatant favoritism from Krum’s Headmaster. If it wasn’t for Karkaroff’s unwillingness to let Harry score higher than his own Champion, the younger wizard would have blown them all out of the water.

No, rather, he HAD blown them all out of the water, regardless of what the point tallies said. His magical prowess against the Hungarian Horntail, arguably the most dangerous dragon they’d fielded in the First Task, had been second to none. Certainly not second to her own. He’d defeated her fair and square, easily winning their wager. It hadn’t even been close and Fleur… Fleur had been thoroughly put in her place by the young man.

Not wanting to give him an opportunity to think too hard about what he might demand from her, Fleur dragging Harry off immediately after the First Task to fulfill her side of the bet was more a matter of self-preservation than anything else.

Given time to mull over what he might want from her, the young man could have come up with any number of humiliating, scandalous desires. Or, he might have even gone the smarter route and demanded she handicap herself in some way in future tasks, so he would have a better chance of winning the entire tournament.

Fleur hadn’t known when she’d dragged him off what the Second Task would entail but having no figured out the secret of the Golden Egg, she was well and truly glad that she hadn’t given Harry any time to contemplate what sort of favor he could demand of her. She was going to be handicapped enough as is, given that her veela heritage made water the exact opposite of her favored element and ultimately her natural enemy.

That said, of all the things Harry Potter could have asked for… his request of a simple kiss had taken her aback. Perhaps it shouldn’t have. It was a rather basic answer from an inexperienced young wizard to a very beautiful older witch, wasn’t it? If one assumed Harry to be virginal and innocent, then he probably wouldn’t even think of anything crasser than a chaste kiss.

Except Fleur knew better now, of course. There was nothing virginal, innocent, or naïve about the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry fucking Potter was a wolf in sheep’s clothing and Fleur had walked right into his trap. Not only had he resisted her Veela Allure without so much as missing a beat or even showing that he felt it, but his kiss… his kiss had been positively intoxicating.

Fleur was no innocent maiden herself. She remained virginal of course, untouched when it came to true intercourse… but she had experimented here and there all the same. Fingers, tongues, touching this and that. Her veela heritage demanded no less of her. She was well-versed in kissing in particular, and had been eager to leave Harry wanting more after her ignoble defeat at his hands. This, she’d believed, was an arena in which she could effortlessly dominate and overtake him.

She’d been wrong. She’d been so, so wrong. Not only did her allure have absolutely no effect, but Harry had been the one to leave HER wanting more, as much as she would never admit it. It had taken her weeks afterwards to dissect exactly what he’d done, late nights spent researching the magical phenomenon and even sending carefully vague letters to her grandmother and her Veela Coven seeking answers.

In the end though, the answer had turned out to be just as simple as Harry’s request for a single kiss. He hadn’t performed any particular spell or done some ritual that made him irresistible to veela and immune to their allures. All he’d done… was offer up his magic for her to devour.

It was a simple move that nevertheless spoke to a level of skill, fine control, and power that had Fleur absolutely salivating at the thought of it. He had offered up his own magic through their kiss, and Fleur’s heritage as a partial magical creature meant that she’d gobbled it up like some ravenous piggy. Humiliating? Yes. Intriguing? Also yes.

How had someone as young as Harry Potter learned to do something like that? How did he know exactly how to tease her and toy with her to prompt the reaction she’d had to him? And… how could she get him to do it again?

It was unfortunate that her initial reaction to supping from Harry’s magic had been fear and alarm. On the one hand, Fleur knew she’d made the right call, taking a step back and figuring out what the fuck had happened rather than diving in with both eyes closed. However, at the same time that meant by the time she’d figured out what she wanted… Harry was already spoken for.

While it would have had the gossip hounds salivating if Fleur were to be the one to ask Harry to the Yule Ball, she still probably would have done it all the same if he hadn’t already asked one of his year mates to go with him instead. Admittedly, this ‘Hermione Granger’ cleaned up rather well for a muggleborn. Her usage of both magical and muggle beauty techniques had left her positively glowing and downright gorgeous. Not as gorgeous as Fleur of course, but that was to be expected.

Still, look! Look at what the brunette had to do to mimic even a fraction of Fleur’s beauty?! Side by side, comparing the two of them, Fleur still should have come out on top by a wide margin! So then why was Harry ignoring her? Why was he barely paying her even the slightest of mind?

The first song comes to an end, and so does the first dance. As this happens, Fleur notices how each other Champion Pair reacts. Viktor Krum takes his date by the hand and firmly pulls her from the dance floor, over to the refreshments. No doubt the Bulgarian Seeker has noticed how aggressive she was being towards Harry and his date and is none-too-pleased about it. Fleur had heard through the rumor mill that Viktor’s first choice for the Yule Ball had been this muggleborn Granger as well, so she’d not surprised that the Durmstrang Witch he ended up taking instead was feeling insecure.

Meanwhile, Cedric Diggory slumps the moment that the song is over and other pairings begin moving out onto the dance floor. His date for the evening, an Asian Witch from Ravenclaw, has to support him as they make their way off of the dance floor as well. Unlike Krum and his date, who Fleur assumes will be dancing again before the night is over, she suspects Diggory and his will not.

It was ironic in a way. The Hufflepuff Wizard was the legitimate Hogwarts Champion, and yet in Fleur’s mind, his and Harry’s positions had been completely flipped. Now it was Cedric Diggory who she didn’t think should still be in the tournament. He’d seemed like quite the capable man at first, between his dashing looks and easy confidence.

But both of those things were gone now. The looks had been replaced by immense scarring that was mostly covered up by bandages even now. And his confidence… that was very clearly shot too. Not that Fleur could truly blame him. Dragon Fire wasn’t something anyone was said to be able to recover from easily, either physically or mentally.

Unfortunately for Diggory, the Triwizard Tournament didn’t allow for quitters. So long as the contestants still drew breath, they were bound by the magic of the Goblet of Fire. Bound by magical contract to compete or die trying, all the way until a winner had been declared. Technically, she supposed if the people in charge really wanted to spare Diggory, they could have rushed to the end of the Tournament. But there had been zero talk of that. Everything was continuing exactly as intended.

It left Fleur wondering how Diggory would be expected to tackle the Second Task, given what she knew about it. Would they cart him out, have him dip his toes in the water, and hope that was considered ‘participation’? Or did they actually intend to force him to give it an actual attempt and risk his already failing health even further as a result?

… In the end, it wasn’t Fleur’s problem. While she of course had a certain level of sympathy for the Hufflepuff Wizard, they’d all known what they were getting into when they submitted their names to the Goblet of Fire. Well, all of them except for Harry Potter if he was to be believed about someone else submitting his name for him.

Attention turning back to Harry with that thought, Fleur’s lips purse when she sees that he and Granger are not leaving the dance floor like the other Champions. Without hesitation, Fleur gives her own date for the evening, a decent enough Hogwarts wizard named Roger Davies, a tug to keep him from leaving.

“I am not done dancing yet.”

Very much enamored with her, both due to her allure and her natural good looks and exotic accent, Davies blinks before smiling.

“Oh! Of course!”

He certainly shows no issue with them continuing to dance… though unlike Krum, he obviously hadn’t noticed Fleur’s attention drifting from him either. That said, with so many more people on the dance floor now, Fleur no longer pushes for them to be quite so close to Harry and his date… though she also doesn’t let the other pair ever fully out of her sight.

Harry Potter might be intent on ignoring her, but Fleur Delacour was equally intent on not being ignored. He knew what he’d done to her, damn it. He knew precisely how he’d given her a taste of utter divinity, only to then pull away and leave her wanting more. It was most vexing, to use that word again, but Fleur refused to be vexed forever. She refused to let Harry win. One way or another, she was going to get what she wanted out of him!

Eventually, the night dragging on, Potter and Granger do leave the dance floor. Fleur does as well, because even her stamina has its limits. However, after only a few moments of taking in the refreshments, Hermione Granger suddenly takes Harry by the hand and draws him out of the Great Hall, exiting towards the gardens.

Eyes narrowing, Fleur doesn’t hesitate to send her own date on a wild goose chase, telling him with a coy smile and a touch of his chest that she wants a very specific drink that she knows he’s not ever going to be able to find. Not because it’s foreign, though he’ll likely assume as such when he finally gives up. But rather, because it doesn’t even exist to begin with.

With Davies subsequently occupied, Fleur takes her time in making her way to the gardens as well. She’s very aware of everyone’s eyes still on her, and well used to being the center of attention. It’s frustrating at times, but if there’s one thing that Fleur has learned over the years, it’s how to use moments to slip away despite how many people she draws with her mere presence.

Waiting for just one such moment, Fleur finally takes her chance and disappears out into the gardens in an instant in time when she’s sure nobody is looking her way. Moving swiftly, she avoids the eyes of those already in the gardens as well, even as her own eyes scope out possible routes that Harry and his date could have taken after leaving the Yule Ball.

Finally, after a worrying moment where it seems like she might have actually lost them, Fleur hears soft noises that draw her attention to an otherwise empty corner of the gardens. Creeping closer, the noises gain volume and distinction, until her eyes widen as she realizes exactly what she’s listening to.

Put simply, she’s hearing the tell-tale sounds of a woman going down on a man, fellating his cock with her mouth. But there’s no way this could be the pair she’s looking for, right?

“Fuck Hermione…”

Fleur’s eyes widen as she hears Harry’s voice calling out to his date from the same direction as the judicious sucking noises. It would seem she was incorrect… it’s definitely the pair she’s looking for.

Creeping ever closer, Fleur finally finds a vantage point to spy on the two from. Indeed, there’s Hermione Granger, the muggleborn kneeling before Harry and… and sucking his cock. From what little Fleur can see with the brunette’s head in the way, he’s quite well-endowed. Meanwhile, Hermione seems to be very enthusiastic about this, much to Fleur’s surprise. She’d taken the Hogwarts Witch to be somewhat shy.

Still… what was she going to do here, now that she’d stumbled upon this debauched sight? All she’d wanted was to extract some more of Harry’s magic from him, presumably through another kiss. But this… this opened up an entire realm of possibility…