[BONUS] The Stud & The Slut (Harry Potter) (Patreon)

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Life is good. That’s the singular thought running through Harry’s head as he walks down a secluded path alongside three lovely witches. Well, ‘alongside’ may not be entirely right. Hermione and Daphne are smashed up against either side of him, half-heartedly glaring at one another from around his body. He could imagine their thoughts so easily as well. How dare that ‘rich bitch/upstart commoner tart’ smush their stupid fat perfect tits against him.

Heh, they were laughably easy to read when they were with him, competing with each other over him. Of course, their half-hearted glares probably would have been full-hearted, but Harry had his arms wrapped around each of his lovely ladies, his hands gripping their beautiful, voluptuous behinds. Squeezing and kneading their ass-flesh was disarming them at least somewhat, and Harry was perfectly happy to do so, keeping the enmity nonverbal for the moment and reduced to nothing more than glares.

Meanwhile, Lavender was being her usual self. The girl was in full, sweet, ‘innocent’ blonde bimbo mode, skipping along as they walked towards the Shrieking Shack, bending over to look at the flowers and in the process ‘accidentally’ exposing her gorgeous, thick thighs and glorious backside, along with the meager, minor Gryffindor thong she was wearing under her far-too-short skirt.

Then, any moment, she’d turn back around and gasp and…

“A-Ah! Harry, did I do that? I wouldn’t… I’m a good girl, and good girls aren’t supposed to make good men like you feel uncomfortable! Mm, but if you want, I’d be happy to make you feel better.”

It said a lot about Hermione and Daphne that neither of them paid the blonde girl any mind. Harry just grinned and kept walking, his hungry eyes tracing up and down Lavender’s beautiful body as the young woman showed her true intelligence by easily keeping pace walking backwards. She was far from the blonde bimbo she pretended to be, especially since she was managing to do that while also wearing four-inch-high heels!

Regardless, Harry shakes his head slightly.

“Save it for the shack sweetheart.”

Lavender pouts, as she always does, and then turns back around, immediately going back to skipping along and humming, flaunting her absolutely gorgeous body, stuffed into a too-small Hogwarts school uniform, with every move she made. Meanwhile, his other two sluts hadn’t even noticed Lavender’s attempt at drawing his attention, just like they hadn’t noticed the last two attempts, so focused on countering each other as they were. It wasn’t surprising though, Hermione didn’t consider Lavender a threat, because Lavender was happily submissive to both her Master AND her Mistress. Daphne wasn’t content to playing second fiddle to a muggleborn, no sir.

That was fine with Harry though. He actually quite enjoyed their silly attempts to one up one another. But then, that was the point, wasn’t it? So far, no matter who won their little competitions, it was Harry who truly came out ahead. So long as that remained true, he would allow them their battles for supremacy. Even if, Hermione always did come out ahead as the first in his heart.

Ah, but they were almost there. Grinning, Harry gives his two sluts molded to his sides a bit harsher of a squeeze, and when they break away from glaring at each other to give him their undivided attention, he nods ahead and they both look to see what Lavender has already stopped dead upon seeing. Or perhaps the better word would be ‘who’.

Nymphadora Tonks stands there, a big wide grin on her face as her nostrils flare from his scent. Her eyes are filled with desire, and a moment after they lock with his own, she’s racing out to great the quartet. Mostly Harry though, as she skids to a halt before him, falling to her knees and practically diving down on his covered-cock. If it was out and exposed, Harry had no doubt that the beautiful older woman would have it already down her throat.

As it was, Nymphadora settled for moaning wantonly and nuzzling the front of his jeans as she greedily inhaled as much of his musk as she could. Harry watches on with some amusement, until Daphne’s voice pulled his attention away.

“Harry?”

Ah, of course. Daphne wouldn’t know about Tonks. Mm, neither did Lavender if he was remembering correctly, though of course, the blonde girl was far more excited about the ‘new’ addition to their group then Daphne initially seemed to be. Smirking, Harry looks over to the Greengrass girl.

“Daphne. Meet Nymphadora. You two have something in common, as it turns out. You’re the heiress to House Greengrass, and Nymphadora here is the heiress to House Black.”

That draws shocked reactions from more than just Daphne. Tonks pulled back away from his bulge completely to stare up at him in wide-eyed, mouth dropped surprise.

“W-What?”

Grinning, Harry looks down at his metamorphmagus pet.

“Sirius made me heir before he passed, Nymphadora, which in turn makes me head of the family now. So, as soon as I was able, I reinstated you and your mother back into the family, and then I made you my heir, just in case anything happens to me.”

“Oh Harry, that’s so wonderful.”

That’s from Hermione, who takes the opportunity to lean into his side all the harder, cuddling her sizable mammaries up against his body as she moans and wiggles happily at his generosity. It’s obvious the brunette is taking advantage of her rival’s temporary lapse, as Daphne stands there dazed, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Harry can read her like an open book of course. He knows exactly what’s going through her head. Her ‘barbarian conqueror’ had not only claimed lordship of an ancient and noble house, he’d also ‘claimed’ another heiress besides her. Ah, and there’s the nipples poking through her top and her inner thighs squirming together as she rubs them against one another to the thought of him forcing her to her knees to prepare Nymphadora for debauchery.

Daphne’s eyes suddenly meet with his and she blushes deeply as she averts her gaze and stills her body. Meanwhile, Nymphadora is just managing to recover her own senses.

“I… I love you so much Harry… mm, Master. Lord Black… I really, REALLY hope you’re planning on fucking me until I can’t walk anymore, Master. I’ve been such a naughty girl for you while you were away.”

Harry lifts an eyebrow at that and grins when Nymphadora keeps her mouth shut and smirks, miming throwing away a key. Chuckling darkly, the powerful, well-built young wizard nods his head to the shack.

“Come on now you four. Let’s get more… intimately acquainted.”

Sliding his way out of Hermione and Daphne’s grasp, Harry walks on ahead, all four of his lovely, conquered witches following behind him. Daphne and Hermione jostle for position of course, while Tonks and Lavender end up tonguing each other’s mouths out. Well, more like Lavender practically jumps the rainbow-haired witch and Tonks in turn enthusiastically reciprocates the blonde’s advances.

One way or the other, they’re all soon inside the Shrieking Shack, which looks absolutely nothing like it once did in their third year. There are gasps of amazement from all four girls as they look about. For starters, it’s now bigger on the inside than on the outside. And while it’s outside remains that of a crappy little hut, on the inside it’s warm, well-lit, and extremely well-furnished. There are cushioned couches galore, a large bed that will fit all of them, and then some, and a massive hot tub that’s design could have been pulled straight out of the Prefect’s Bathroom.

And of course…

“Harry Potter sir! Dobby is so glad to see you! And all your lovely witches too! Yes, yes! It is so good to see the great Harry Potter making merry and making babies! Babies Dobby will get to see grow up and more! Ah, to work for the great Harry Potter… it is a glorious thing indeed!”

The happy, eager House Elf is nearly bouncing around as he makes his declarations. Harry meets Hermione’s eyes for a moment and answers the question within them with a simple nod, causing the brunette to relax and smile at his generosity. After all, Dobby is a free House Elf. And free House Elves get paid. There’s no real difference in the end, besides a Galleon from Harry’s incredibly fortune going into the House Elf’s hands each week.

Besides that, Dobby would serve Harry and his likely-to-be large family for quite a few years to come, just as any House Elf would.

“Thank you, Dobby. Please prepare some refreshments for us, and bring them in a couple hours. We’ll more than likely need the reminder to eat and water ourselves, so we don’t end up passing out from exhaustion and dehydration.”

“Yes, Harry Potter sir! Dobby will make sure of it! Dobby knows how important it is to stay strong when in the process of making babies!”

And then the House Elf is gone, just like that. He leaves a smirking Harry in his wake, while the four witches are all blushing in some way, ranging from light embarrassment to slight mortification… all are also incredibly excited by the idea of Harry knocking them of course, but there’s something about having the House Elf gleefully cheering it on that makes it ever so slightly embarrassing.

“Right then. Introductions out of the way, this is the Shrieking Shack, new and improved. I own it of course, and the property that it’s sat upon. You four are going to help me break it in. I assume there’s no objections to that?”

His smile is placid, and his eyes filled with dark lust and hunger as he looks to each of his lovely, beautiful, conquered witches. None of them seems particularly inclined to object, but he likes to give the option anyways. Once each of them has had a chance to speak, and none have, he grins and claps his hands together.

“Wonderful! Lavender, Nymphadora? You two are in charge.”

All four girls freeze up at that. Then, both the blonde and the metamorphmagus get wicked smirks on their face as they turn to face Hermione and Daphne. Lavender quite suddenly doesn’t look much like a bimbo OR an innocent little girl, even as she walks up and grabs a fist full of Daphne’s hair. The Greengrass heiress gasps, even as Lavender forces her down to her knees. The blonde is practically one fur cloak and fur bikini ensemble away from being a barbarian babe herself after all. And she’s always wanted to try her hand at breaking down the soft snobby princess.

Meanwhile, Nymphadora is quick to go for Hermione. There’s no need for deliberation, no disappointment from neither Tonks nor Lavender… both girls know which they want, and in this moment, they aren’t at odds with one another. The cum-hogging, seed-guzzling bookworm gasps as she’s forced to her knees by the athletic, fit Auror.

Hermione and Daphne obey, because in the end it’s coming from Harry and they have no choice. The thick swallows both girls do as they look up at their temporary ‘mistresses’ are audible though, and Harry can’t help but grin wickedly as he moves over to the large hot tub, running the water to begin filling it up as he prepares the room, allowing his darling witches to get to work on breaking each other for his amusement.

And of course, there’s the fact that the last member of their little party has yet to arrive. One might think four lovely witches would be enough. After all, Harry had the know-it-all nerdy bookworm, he had the ever-changing slutty metamorphmagus… he even had the snobby, stuck up princess and the happy-go-lucky blonde bimbo to round out the group. Really, it seemed like a full roster… to anyone on the outside looking in.

Because as the women who’d given themselves to Harry had long since learned, he was never truly satisfied. The young man’s magic was wild and very nearly untamed. He kept it under control through sheer force of will… but it gave him a sexual appetite that could never truly be quenched. Needless to say, four wasn’t going to be the final tally before Harry was done. Neither was five. But he still had high hopes for the fifth witch who was due to arrive in the next hour or two.

High hopes indeed.

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Fleur Delacour slowly lets out a long, drawn out sigh as she clutches at the bottle of Butterbeer in her hands. She’d bought it to calm her nerves, not get her drunk. So far, it wasn’t managing either to be perfectly honest. It was just… Tonks of all people had invited her for a girl’s day out, and told her to meet at the Shrieking Shack at a very specific time.

The part veela really wasn’t sure what to think about that. Fleur was in no way stupid, nor was she naïve. She was grateful to Harry and to the Order for letting her stay at Grimmauld Place after hers and Bill’s relationship had fallen through, and the Gringotts job had fallen through with it. That didn’t mean she wasn’t a little upset with Tonks for what could only be called outright sexual harassment these last few months.

It’s been hard, keeping herself in check. Especially considering those damnable moving pictures! Her own mind taunts her with mental images of herself in those pictures, bred and satiated alongside the girls Harry was fucking silly. But no… no, Harry is her friend. He’s a hero to both her and her sister and she can’t just see him as some sort of hunk, a sex object to be lusted after.

No, for such a gallant act as saving her little sister, she should have led Harry away into a nice, private alcove back then and taken him to her bed and… f-fuck. Groaning, Fleur cradles her head in one hand, rubbing her skull with the pads of her fingers. Veela Elders liked to tell pretty, impressionable young Veela such as herself stories about how they’d once been the mates, concubines, wives, and lovers of mighty heroes and fearsome conquerors, but magical and not. Only the greatest human men had claimed beautiful veela females for their beds.

And Harry… Harry was the epitome of all those stories. Mister “I saved a little girl because it’s the right thing to do” was the absolute greatest wizard of his generation, and probably of her generation as well. The only men who could even think to stand up to the sheer, raw power that Harry exuded with every step were aging fuckers like Dumbledore and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. In the end, Harry was the one. A hero… and from the pictures she’d spent so many sleepless nights masturbating to, a conqueror as well.

Fleur was technically a part veela, through her mother’s side. She wasn’t even supposed to be half. Her mother was the half veela, and she and her sister were supposedly quarter veela. In truth, there was no such thing. It was a lie told to the magical world to keep the humans from freaking out. Veela were veela, no exceptions. Fleur merely kept herself under control, waiting for the right man to come along.

Pure Veela didn’t have that choice, but she and her sister did, just as her mother had once upon a time. It made family gatherings a little awkward. Her mother had basically stopped holding back when she’d met Fleur’s father, and the woman was as ‘full veela’ as one could get now, the man she’d married wrapped entirely around her finger.

Fleur though, Fleur wasn’t there yet. It made her relatives and especially her younger cousins, see her as a little prissy. Usually, a veela, no matter their heritage, would have settled down with a mate by now. There wasn’t really such a thing as ‘The One’, mostly because wizards like Harry happened once in a lifetime, and veela were perfectly capable of molding most men into as close a proximation to ‘The One’ as they could get anyways.

But Fleur hadn’t wanted to spend the rest of her life with Bill Weasley. And he hadn’t wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. It wasn’t necessarily anything to do with either of them, or so Fleur felt. In the end, more and more with every passing day, the beautiful French witch was beginning to realize that there was only one wizard for her… and it wasn’t Bill. He’d sensed it, obviously, which had ultimately led to their falling out.

Letting out a low sigh, Fleur downs the rest of her Butterbeer, the sweet, lukewarm beverage flowing down her throat. Placing the bottle back on the table, the blonde veela stands and heads for the door. It was just about time for her to go to this ‘Shrieking Shack’ to meet with Tonks. And she’d finally come to a decision. She was going to ask the other woman to introduce her to Harry. Whatever sort of harem he was building, Fleur didn’t care.

All she cared about was securing a place by the powerful young wizard’s side.

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Finally arriving at the Shrieking Shack, the blonde veela can’t help but be a little puzzled. Tonks isn’t there. No one is, as far as she can tell. Frowning slightly as she walks forward, Fleur doesn’t even feel the place’s numerous wards. Mostly because Tonks had already keyed her into them, meaning the magic that kept away any and all other tourists these days, was completely inert when it came to Fleur.

Regardless, the veela approaches the run down, rinky-dinky shack itself, eyeing it up and down and circling around it a couple times. She doesn’t think to look inside at first, the building seems as if it should be condemned, and she just can’t imagine Tonks is waiting for her INSIDE. But in the end, she can’t locate the other girl anywhere, and when there’s nowhere else to look, one finds themselves checking the most unlikely of places.

Fleur takes a peek into the window of the Shrieking Shack, and gets the biggest shock of her life, completely trumping the stack of magical photos that Tonks had slipped under her door that day. But then, of course it does. Seeing it in person, watching the debauchery happen live… it WOULD trump something as silly as moving pictures, wouldn’t it?

Tonks is the first one she sees. The metamorphmagus is in what could best be called an ‘athletic bimbo’ form. It almost doesn’t look like her, but Fleur sees the witch’s face and knows it’s her next-door neighbor back at Grimmauld Place, there in the flesh. A hell of a lot of flesh, mixed in with some short pink hair. The metamorphmagus has her jaw stretched obscenely wide around Harry’s huge cockhead and the first couple inches of his massive shaft as well.

And boy is Harry well-endowed. Fleur had already known his size and his naked form of course, but damn if it wasn’t so much juicier in person. He was the most muscular wizard she’d ever seen, broad-shouldered and fit in a way that made her mouth water right on the spot. And then there were the others. There was a voluptuous blonde witch that Fleur recognized from the photos, but didn’t know by name. That one was licking, kissing, and suckling the rest of Harry’s bludger-bat sized cock from the side, knelt right beside Tonks as they tag-teamed his dick.

Meanwhile, the other two, who Fleur couldn’t actively identify just based off their asses, were going to town on Harry’s balls. One had to be Hermione, right? While the other one… it could be any witch. After all, ANY witch would be honored to become the great Harry Potter’s ball-sucking slut. Fleur certainly would love it.

And then Harry begins to cum and Fleur’s pupils dilate as her tongue slides out of her wide-open mouth at the sight of Tonks chugging down the massive blasts of seed pulsating through his long shaft. At the end, the metamorphmagus pulls back with her cheeks bulging like a chipmunk, only to pull Hermione up from Harry’s balls so she can let the cum flow out of her mouth, down her chin, and onto Hermione’s outstretched tongue and her face, and even her boobs.

Tonks reaches down at the same time to give those tits a grope, and Harry chuckles at something the metamorphmagus says in that moment, his lips curled into a wicked smile that only makes Fleur more aroused. At the same time, the blonde one grabs at the other witch that had been sucking on Harry’s balls and forces her towards Hermione’s tits.

Fleur feels like she should recognize the dark-haired witch, now that she can see the young woman’s face. Perhaps… perhaps one of the Greengrass sisters? While her family WAS practically French nobility, she wasn’t entirely knowledgeable about all the noble houses in Britain. But the dark-haired beauty certainly had the looks for it, if she was remembering her teachings correctly.

Regardless, it was all the more arousing to see the glazed over look in the beautiful witch’s eye as her tongue slides over Hermione’s body, collecting the last bits of Harry’s seed. And all that time, Harry James Potter sits there with a faint smile on his face, as if he’s used to four beautiful women worshipping his cock. One hand is resting on the back of the couch he’s seated on, while the other is stroking through Tonks’ hot pink locks, like it’s all no big deal.

It’s the most beautiful thing Fleur has ever seen, and the veela truly loses control for the first time in her entire life, right then and there. The full force of a veela’s allure smacks all of them across their metaphorical faces as Fleur lunges for the door of the Shrieking Shack, tearing it open and bursting into the beautifully furnished room within.

Howling like a mad woman, Fleur rushes forward and pushes the dazed, confused, and whimpering witches out of her way as she falls to her knees before Harry’s cock, immediately attempting to cram as much of his sizable, girthy length down her throat as possible. She gets a fair few inches past her stretched out lips, but then Harry’s own magic responds, lashing out and wrapping her in it’s power.

It’s like a tornado and she’s in the center of it as the masculine magic, strong and wild, whirls around her, almost seeming to suck up the very air she needs to breath. Fleur nearly passes out from the utterly overwhelming sensation, but she manages to hold onto consciousness, even as her control belatedly reasserts itself, and she manages to once more grasp for rational, logical though.

It’s then, as sanity at least partially returns to her, that Fleur realizes something very important. While the four beautiful witches all around her are still very dazed from her sudden, full-powered allure, Harry Potter is not. In fact, he looks sharper than ever before as her eyes slowly trace up his musclebound torso, past his chiseled chin to meet his bright, green irises.

He's looking down at her quite sternly, like a god disappointed with his high priestess. Also, his yummy, yummy dick is still in her mouth and Fleur should probably really be pulling back off of his cock to explain himself now. Mortified, the veela slowly begins to do just that, but she got more than a few inches of his dick into her mouth and down her throat, and in the process of ever so slowly pulling her head back, she gets more taste of his delicious cock penetrating her taste buds than she’d originally anticipated.

Eventually though, his cockhead pops out of from betwixt her lips and quite suddenly, Fleur finds herself in Harry’s lap, pulled up from the floor as he lifts a brow at her and simply holds her in his arms.

“… You want to tell me what that was about, Fleur?”

Her blush is bright red, and she knows it. That’s about the only thing she knows though, because she certainly doesn’t know how to tell him that she’d suppressed her veela instincts for so long just waiting for him to take her, and then she’d been teased relentlessly by his big hard dick and what it could do to women, and damnit she’d just lost control and by Circe’s big fat tits his cock could keep a whole fucking FLOCK of veela tamed if he chose to use it that way!

No, she couldn’t find the words to articulate ANY of that. In the end, she just settled for stuttering unintelligibly, her eyes wide and her body squirming against the big, fat member that she could feel between her voluptuous ass cheeks, stretching all the way up to the small of her back and then some. Sitting on his lap, staring into his eyes… she just couldn’t get her equilibrium back.

Of course, Harry didn’t necessarily like this. Slowly, a frown spreads across his face as he stares at the bumbling, dumbfounded witch in his grasp. He’d liked her a lot more when she was a spicy, haughty Gallic babe with a wicked sense of humor. The bright woman he’d gotten to know both during the Triwizard Tournament, and in the years, that had followed. This, what he was seeing now… he found it to be quite out of character.

“What is this? Where’s the French witch who became Beauxbatons’ Triwizard Champion? When did you become a silly leetle girl, hm?”

The mispronunciation of little is on purpose, and his prodding of her pride has the exact intended effect as Fleur’s jaw drops in shock and the veela’s slight temper as well as her self-confidence comes back in full force.

“Hmph! Just because you ‘ave a big fat cock and just because you’ve tamed zhese leetle girls does not mean that you ‘ave earned me, ‘Arry Potter!”

She scrambles out of his arms and Harry lets her do so, grinning slightly as the beautiful blonde veela stands before him, proud and tall. Her blush is still there, but her chin is held high now as she glares at him.

“I-In fact, if you want to claim me, you will ‘ave to do so properly, and prove that you are worthy to take a veela into your bed!”

Harry’s grin only widens as he slowly stands up, loving the side of Fleur he’s seeing now, the proud lilt to her voice and the challenging look in her eyes. He prepares to take a step forward, only for Hermione to pipe up from the side as her and the others finally begin to recover and take stock of what’s going on in their midst.

“You know… I read about veela once in a book I checked out of the Restricted Section. I remember the book talking about how veela would goad men into chasing them through woods and over streams and moors, playing catch and release until the man was spent, or they were finally claimed…”

Fleur immediately latches onto Hermione’s words, her eyes lighting up and her lips curving into a pleased smile in a way that Harry finds absolutely delightful.

“And zhat is exactly what we shall do! So zhere!”

And just like that, the blonde veela spins around and exits the Shrieking Shack. She stops dead right outside the doorway, realizing exactly what she’s challenged the greatest wizard in Europe to the moment she steps foot outside. After a moment, she shakes herself out of it and continues on her way, her head still held high.

Meanwhile, back in the shack every girl is reacting to the news in a different way. Daphne’s is definitely the most boisterous though.

“Oh, FUCK YES Master! You HAVE to teach that veela slut her place! Make her your bitch, bend her to your will! By Merlin, I’m so fucking hot right now, please fuck me Harry, PLEASE!”

She ends up getting her wish, much to Hermione’s chagrin, but all four girls end up getting a ride on Harry’s dick one last time, as well as a nice, warm dinner fresh from Dobby before the time finally arrives. Night falls and Harry, accompanied by his girls, meets up with Fleur on the edge of the safer parts of the Forbidden Forest.

Fleur can’t help but be jealous. Harry is wearing nothing but a short robe, while all four witches are completely naked. She herself is dressed down to only her panties and her bra, all she’s technically allowed to wear. She could have gone naked… but she didn’t want to make things too easy for Harry. And yet, she’s half-tempted to just submit and call the whole thing off right then and there, as she watches the other girls slowly peel Harry’s tightly fitted robe off of his body, worshipping his muscular, naked form with their tongues and their hands.

The lightning bolt landing strip that Hermione has shaved her pubic hair into, sitting right above her otherwise smooth pussy, gets flaunted in Fleur’s direction more than once, leaving the veela’s blood boiling with both lust and anger. She should be the one peeling Harry’s robe off… and she should also be worshipped by these weak, human witches as well!

Gritting her teeth, the blonde veela waits with clenched fists until Harry finally steps away from his girls and towards her, stopping only a few feet away.

“Ready Fleur?”

“Run, little Veela! Run!”

That comes from behind him, and Harry’s lips turn up into a small smirk, even as Fleur bristles slightly and then turns to flee. She only gets a minute head start, but she uses it to the best of her ability, getting as far away from the group in a straight line as she can before finally turning to disappear into the trees.

And yet… and yet she feels his magical presence behind her within moments of the minute head start up. Then, a few seconds after that, she feels his fingers ghost across her arm. And all of the sudden, Fleur is pushed down onto the ground as Harry lands on top of her. The veela cries out in both shock, dismay, and pure wanton anticipation, even as Harry simply shoves her lacey panties to the side, his cock piercing to her core a moment later.

A loud cry leaves Fleur’s lips and she cums on the spot as he fucks her hard and fast, right there on the forest floor. It’s messy and it’s dirty and it’s exactly what the beautiful French witch has always wanted. Every last bit of it, even the rough and tumble bits. This is what it means to be a veela, this primal, savage sort of fucking.

Harry plows her senseless through three orgasms before he finally cums, but when he does he doesn’t cum inside of her, he paints her back and her panty-clad ass and her bra straps with his seed, before standing up and stepping back from her. This time, it’s him who says the words, his voice that intones the instruction.

“Run little veela. Run.”

And Fleur slowly stands up and begins to run, as best as she can anyways. Eventually, the blonde finds her stride again and manages a sprint as she flees from what she knows will be her eventual fate anyways. This is not going to go the way that most veela hunts went. In truth, the book that Hermione read had been a little off. Veela were almost always stronger than human men. They were DEFINITELY always stronger than human women.

Very rare was it that there was a veela hunt where the final outcome wasn’t decided by the veela herself. It wasn’t about whether the man or the veela got tired first… just like so many human women would fake orgasms to make their chosen mate happy, a veela would fake exhaustion at the end of a ‘successful’ veela hunt if they’d already decided that they wanted to spend the rest of their life with the man chasing them down.

And if they didn’t, then they exhausted the man and basically failed him out. It was as simple as that. This though? This was not as simple as that. Fleur runs, and then Harry is there again, his strong fingers closing through her hair and stopping her dead. The blonde veela is forced to her knees, and the cock she’d tried so desperately to suck back in the shack is forced into her willing, open mouth and right down her throat.

Just as before, Harry is not even close to gentle with her. His cock pistons in and out of her esophagus as he fucks her face just as hard as he fucked her cunt.

“Gagkh! Gagkh! Gagkh!”

Fleur chokes on his dick, her eyes watering involuntarily, but her arms simply hang limp at her sides as she just takes it, letting him fuck her throat as hard as he likes. He does so for a good ten minutes, to the point where the blonde thinks she might pass out from oxygen deprivation. Instead, he cums yet again before that can happen, and Fleur drinks about half his massive load down before he pulls out and leaves the rest painting her face and her tits.

And then he’s letting go of her and stepping back again, and she’s stumbling to her feet and running off once more. She runs, because that’s what’s expected of her. She runs because that’s what any veela would do in her place… right? Within two minutes, he’s on top of her, his massive frame pinning her to the forest floor.

This time, he twists her onto her back and slides down to between her legs. His cock doesn’t penetrate her. Instead, Harry grips Fleur’s thighs and lifts her lower body into the air as he brings her dripping wet pussy up to his mouth. The voluptuous blonde veela’s eyes go wide and her head pushes back against the dirt and leaves beneath her as she cums on the spot, squirting all over Harry’s face. Her pussy juices flow down his throat even as he eats her out to not one, not two, not three, but four orgasms brought about by nothing but his talented tongue.

After that, he pulls her onto his lap and Fleur happily impales herself on his cock, riding him to kingdom come. And then, after that, she’s running again. Over and over again, the process repeats. Over and over again, Harry catches her, fucks her silly, and releases her.

More and more, it becomes harder for Fleur to get to her feet and run away. What’s she even running for, in the end? To prove that she can do it? To prove that she’s not so weak as to be the first veela in hundreds of years to TRULY succumb to a veela hunt? But then, does she really think Harry is going to let her go at this point? No, the young wizard won’t get exhausted. He will not tire, he will not falter. Fleur’s fate is sealed and was sealed the moment she agreed to this. Now it’s simply time to pay the piper.

It doesn’t help that her allure is running wild. So is his magic, at least to her senses. In truth, Harry’s magic is quite stable and fully under his control. He can see her allure, can see her in his mind’s eye as he chases her through the Forbidden Forest. His strength and his force of will keep his immense power contained unless he needs to use it to persuade any of the forest’s denizens to stay away from him and his quarry.

In the end, he continues to hunt Fleur down, time and time again, fucking her silly, making her cum repeatedly… and yet, the beautiful blonde continues to resist him. He can see that resistance crumbling, slowly but surely… but as Harry pins the blonde veela down, her legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks her face to face, he finds himself reaching out to ‘grab’ at her with his magic.

There’s parts of her, of her very being, her essence and her magic… that are constrained. They look to be under a shit ton of artificial control, like she’s subconsciously blocking them off from the rest of her, like she’s holding them back. Frowning deeply, Harry continues to fuck the blissed-out blonde veela’s cunt, even as he cautiously presses in with his magic, gently entangling with her allure. Then, he slowly starts to undo them.

As the last ‘block’ dissipates under his careful direction, Fleur finally notices, her entire body going stiff beneath him. Harry blinks at this, pulling back from her utterly changed sense of self, and is just about to say something, when Fleur abruptly throws her head back and screams. It’s not just one of her normal pleasure-filled cries either. It’s something far deeper, far more PRIMAL.

Harry’s eyes go wide when massive wings sprout from Fleur’s back, causing her to come up off the ground as she ends up in his lap. They make eye contact with one another, and Harry stares into Fleur’s new eyes, gold and glowing, somewhat like the eyes of an eagle. Her hair has also changed, going from blonde mixed with slight silver highlights, to completely silver.

She’s a new woman… more than a woman in fact, as it seems he’s unlocked far more than he expected with his meddling. But Harry feels no regret over what he’s done. No, in fact he feels quite a lot more of just the opposite. Grinning, a single word slips from Harry’s lips in a reverent tone, expressing and summing up his feelings quite easily.

“Beautiful.”

Slowly, the gold in her eyes fades, but what’s left are a pair of startling, beautiful blue eyes with a permanent alluring glow to them, and her hair remains a waterfall of silver that seems to ripple with the slightest breeze, even as her massive, furiously beating wings vanish like they were never there. But they were, and an ecstatic Fleur happily thanks Harry in the one way she knows how, by kissing the ever-living hell out of him.

She’s a pure, true veela now, and Harry can sense that something has changed, even if he doesn’t know the details yet. But Fleur will have time to explain, eventually. After all, Harry isn’t just a potential lover, he’s her mate now. She’s a Goddess made flesh, and his girls will be her nymphs, while he will be her Champion.

Of course, her ‘Champion’ is far, far more powerful than she’ll ever be. As she begins to bounce up and down on his lap, Harry grunts and grips her by her big, fat bubble butt. He thrusts up into her cunt, even as he sits there on the forest floor. Fleur rides him hard, and while their fucking is as passionate and as primal as before, it’s also a lot sweeter now. Their lips meet and they wrestle with their tongues, but the kiss presents a turning point as their arms wrap around one another.

They remain in that embrace for quite some time, until eventually Harry feels Fleur’s tits lactating through her bra, and he finally removes the soaked through garment to get at her amazing, beautiful mammaries. Gripping and squeezing and drinking from her breasts only causes the gorgeous veela to express more joy, more pleasure over his actions.

They fuck until day break, until dawn comes and the sun begins to rise. They fuck until Fleur finally passes out, satiated and them some, happy with her previously flat belly now swollen with her wonderful mate’s seed. Harry can’t help but smile down at her as she curls into his broad, muscular chest. He watches her sleep for a long moment in simple silence, well-pleased with what had come of his long-term plan regarding the beautiful veela.

Hermione and Nymphadora had played their roles beautifully, and now Harry had a fifth witch conquered and his. Fleur Delacour… he would be lying if he said he hadn’t lusted after her more than once since they’d met in his Fourth Year. She was absolutely gorgeous after all, and even if he was resistant to her allure, he was still a hormonal teenage boy.

He’d been weak back then, a bit scrawny and a whole lot of ‘in over his head’. It hadn’t been the time to pursue Fleur, not then. But then everything with Hermione had happened, and Nymphadora had become his, and so had Lavender and Daphne. Now was the time. Now, with him so self-assured, so powerful, so utterly confident in his ability to protect what he loved… now he needed to make Fleur his.

And he had, hadn’t he? Grinning, Harry slowly stands up. He does so with Fleur still impaled on his cock, his massive member balls deep inside of her cunt. He’s halfway inside of her cream-filled cunt at this point, pushed past the tight ring of her battered-down cervix. With her held in his warm embrace, impaled on his thick shaft, Harry carries his newest conquest back to the Shrieking Shack where the girls are waiting for him.

Needless to say, an entire day of fucking all of his women, followed by conquering Fleur throughout the night, had finally taken its toll on the powerful, strong wizard. Setting down the sleepy veela in her bed, Harry watches her curl up with a smile on his face for all of a moment, and then he turns to the bubbling hot tub and moves to sink into it.

Doing so fills him with more satisfaction than anything non-sexual ever has, and Harry lets out a happy sigh as every inch of his slightly strained, slightly sore body is enveloped in warm, bubbly water. His eyes lull shut, even as his girls move into the water around him, moving in and helping their love and master enjoy his break and his rest.

Nothing overtly sexual happens in the tub, and when Harry does pop a hard-on from their massaging hands and their rubbing tits, one of them slips beneath the water and sucks him off with a bubblehead charm on, before going back to helping him relax. To say Harry is happy would be an understatement. Surrounded by beautiful, lovely witches that he adores with all his heart… Harry is thrilled. More than that, he’s feeling better than ever.

There will be more. But for now, he’s happy to simply lay his head back, close his eyes, and enjoy the moment. His triumph fresh on his mind, Harry smiles as his girls’ fingers press into his sore muscles from all sides.

-x-X-x-

By Christmas Day, things are back to normal… for a certain definition of the word. They’re all in the Shrieking Shack again, as it’s the place that Harry and all five of his lovely ladies ultimately decided they wanted to spend Christmas. Christmas Eve was fun… but Christmas Day promises to be even more so.

Hermione and Daphne are still struggling to contain themselves over Harry’s conquest of Fleur of course. Both girls know far more about what it means to make Fleur bend to his will than Lavender or Nymphadora, mostly because of Hermione’s reading and Daphne’s upbringing. Regardless, they’re both dazedly happy over the fact still, giggling every once in a while, and ruining at least one pair of expensive silk panties a day from creaming them at random intervals.

It was one of the only things the two could possibly agree on. Harry dominating and conquering Fleur was fucking HOT.

Of course, while Fleur did defer to Harry more than any veela had ever deferred to their mate in hundreds of years, she didn’t call Harry her Master, nor was she completely subservient like the four human witches were to him. She was still a hot little piece of ass that begged Harry to fuck her daily, like they all did, but she did it with just a tinge of authority.

Perhaps that was why she was dressed up as Santa on this fine Christmas Day, while Harry was in turn dressed up as Krampus. The pair were currently arguing over naughty and nice lists while Hermione, Daphne, Lavender, and Nymphadora all knelt before them, heads down and completely nude as they awaited their ‘fates’. Would they be naughty? Would they be nice?

“All of zhese girls have been VERY naughty zhis year! It only makes sense that I, Santa Claus, get to punish zhem!”

“Mm, but they’ve also all done some fairly nice things… I think each has earned a ride on ole’ Krampus’ lap.”

And that was the other odd thing. Harry and Fleur were half-in character, half-out as they argued with one another… but for some reason they’d decided that naughty girls went to Santa, and nice girls went to Krampus. It didn’t make sense to Hermione, but she wasn’t about to speak up and question it. She was still hoping to get on the nice list so she could ride ‘Krampus’.

“Hm, I suppose zhere is only one way to settle this! Zhe absolute naughtiest girls will go to me, Santa… and zhe nicest will go to you!”

Harry inclines his head in agreement, before turning to look at the four naked witches kneeling before them.

“Well, that makes it easy, doesn’t it? Hermione and Daphne have definitely been the naughtiest, so they’re all yours. I’ll take Nymphadora and Lavender for the day.”

“Zhat is zhe same conclusion I came to, yes. It is settled!”

Hermione and Daphne go rigid as they find themselves caught in the female French Santa Claus’ glowing blue eyes. Both of them want to protest, both of them want a turn with Harry’s dick… but as Fleur stares them each down, their words die in their throats, and as she beckons for them to join her on the bed, covered as it is with toys of delicious, sexual punishment, the Slytherin Princess and the Gryffindor Bookworm do exactly that, obeying ‘Santa Claus’ immediately.

Meanwhile, ‘Krampus’ takes Lavender and Nymphadora over to the hot tub, as his costume is basically a pair of horns and nothing else. In no time at all, the sounds of the blonde and the metamorphmagus enjoying their ‘rides’ fill the room. Soon enough though, Hermione and Daphne are giving those same sounds a run for their money as they fill the air with their own noises, mostly noises of pain and discomfort as Fleur plays with the whips and chains strewn across the massive ten-person bed that takes up an entire side of the room.

Needless to say, all six of them have a delightful Christmas Day, even Hermione and Daphne when ‘Krampus’ and ‘Santa Claus’ decide to switch halfway through, trading their naughty and nice girls for more fun and more toys to play with. Everyone gets a nice, long ride on Harry’s cock, and everyone learns just what sort of role Fleur is going to take in the harem Harry’s built. The veela still ends up on her knees, happily enduring a brutal face-fuck from her hung, handsome mate, but that doesn’t change anything.

Fleur Delacour has come in and usurped the position Hermione and Daphne have been fighting over for months. The silver-haired veela’s presence is mostly over-shadowed by Harry’s own power and strength, but she can still be domineering when she wants to be. Whether she’ll be able to maintain her position at the top of Harry’s sluts is another matter entirely. But at least for now, Hermione and Daphne are too awed by the fully awakened veela to plot against her.

Meanwhile, Harry is just happy to be surrounded by all his lovely ladies. Christmas Day ends with ‘Krampus’ laying back in bed, all four of his witches cuddling into his sides, while ‘Santa Claus’ herself lays between his legs, licking and lapping at his cock and nuzzling and suckling on his balls. Life is perfect. And it can only get better from here.