Our First Dance (Patreon)

Notes: This is a Harry/Gabrielle Short Story. Gabrielle is the same age as Harry in this AU. I had a blast writing out her passionate and impulsive personality, I hope you enjoy!

Content Warnings: Teasing, Virgin! Gabrielle, Deflowering, Semi-Public, Exhibitionism.

“That look doesn’t suit you at all, Harry Potter.”

Harry turned around in panic, his racing heartbeat settling a bit at the sight of the short blonde in the shimmering blue dress behind his chair. In retrospect, the musical tilt of the voice and the heavy French accent should have been a clue. He had been introduced to most of the wedding guests as Bill’s distant cousin. Only three people who talked that way knew his real identity. One of them was currently pacing in front of the altar, trying not to panic at the last-minute changes to her wedding and the second was following the bride in a futile attempt to calm her daughter. The third, it seemed, had decided to ambush him and render useless any attempts to remain inconspicuous.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about madam. I am Bixlby. A distant cousin of the groom,” Harry replied. He had turned to her with a smile, glad that the freckles now dotting his face did a splendid job of disguising his blush. To say that he had a small crush on the woman standing in front of him would be akin to saying water was wet. He had always felt drawn to Gabrielle Delacour since the moment he had pulled her out of the frigid waters of the lake, and the tug had not lessened with the passage of time. They had trauma bonded after their experience in the lake, and had spent the entire year together. From attending the Yule Ball as friends to the tearful goodbye at the end of the year, he had loved every single moment with her. Her letters had been the only thing that had kept him sane during the madness of his fifth and sixth years. Every letter had been treasured and preserved, and he still had them, safely wrapped up in the rug sack he had packed for his secret trip. It had been almost a year since their last face to face meeting. 

Too long, Harry thought, his heart skipping a beat.

“Well, Bixlby,” she said, her arms clasped behind her back. She nudged his food with one of hers, “Despite the horrid state of your hair and your shabby clothes, would you care to dance? The man who was supposed to be my date for the wedding seems to have blown me off, despite the sweet sweet promises he made in his last letter. Maybe he forgot about me. It’s horribly depressing to be by yourself at a wedding.”

He had planned to keep his distance from her. The plan had always been to sit through the wedding, then slip out in the quiet of night with Ron and Hermione. No goodbyes, especially not with her. She was probably the only person who could have made him change his mind. Or worse yet, convince him to bring her along with him. It was part of the reason why he had agreed so readily to being disguised. Better for her to think he had skipped out on the wedding altogether.

He cleared his throat, but the denial died out before it ever made it past his lips. Instead, he stood, quietly placing his hand in hers. It wasn’t her allure. That just made him unreasonably randy. This was some deeper connection the two shared, that they had shared for nearly three years now. A connection that made it nigh impossible to deny her anything. He had broken up with Ginny to keep her safe from the dark roads he knew he had to travel when the time came, but that hadn’t been the entire truth. Every thought, every memory and experience he had shared through the innumerable letters he had exchanged with Gabrielle Delacour had convinced him that a part of him would never be Ginny’s, for it had already been given to someone else. He liked Ginny, but he could never be hers. At the end of the day, there was only one for him. Even if that affection was wholly one-sided and would probably remain that way forever.

He let her lead him to the dance floor, gently wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her as close to him as he dared. With both hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders they slowly swayed in tune to the romantic music, neither seemingly wishing to speak and break the tension in the air.

It was he who broke first, sighing softly as he asked, “How did you know it was me?”

“I may only be part-Veela Mister Potter, but that too comes with its advantages. You may look like a raggedy doll, but you smell like my Harry.”

My Harry.

Those two words were enough to make his heart skip a beat.

“Do I smell that bad?”

“On the contrary, you smell of wood polish, ash, and honey. It’s quite intoxicating.” She giggled. He sighed as she stepped closer, pressing her soft body against his. While no one would miss the fact that she and Fleur were sisters, the similarities ended with the blonde hair, blue eyes, and ethereal beauty. Gabrielle hadn’t grown an inch ever since they’d met, and even now, wearing what he assumed were rather uncomfortable heels, the top of her head barely reached his chin. What she lacked in height she made up for in other qualities, and the body-hugging blue ballgown she wore left him in no doubt that Gabrielle Delacour had turned out to be a curvaceous beauty.

“You know, I was supposed to fly under the radar during the wedding,” Harry whispered, closing his eyes as she rested her head on his chest. The song had slowed even further, and more and more couples were joining the dance floor, swaying slowly to the tune. “Now everyone is going to wonder what the shabby lad no one really knows is doing with the most beautiful girl at the wedding.”

“Don’t let my sister hear you say that. She has already set fire to three different floral decorations since morning and overhearing someone call a woman other than the bride the most beautiful in attendance might destroy what little sanity she has left.” The mirth in her voice was unmistakable. “Also, what’s radar?”

“Radar is-” He paused, trying to figure out how to explain a concept even he didn’t fully understand. “It’s a muggle thing. As for your sister, my lips are sealed if yours are.”

“I’ll keep your secret if you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me. The only thing we talked about all summer was spending time together at the wedding before you left to finish the big secret quest that you can’t tell me about.” He could feel her turn her head, and he looked down, following her gaze to the table with Ginny and Viktor Krum. “Something… Someone change your mind?”

“Ginny and I broke up.”

“So you told me. I’m glad. She was unkind to me and my sister, and not the right person for you.”

“I like her, but you’re right. We weren’t meant to be.” He looked over to his ex-girlfriend laughing at something Krum had said.

“So, if it wasn’t because of her, why were you avoiding me?”

“I plan to leave after the wedding,” Harry admitted softly.

“I thought between us, my English is weaker mon cherie. I did mention in my letters that I looked forward to dancing and spending time with you DURING the wedding, did I not?” She turned her head again, nuzzling back into his chest.

“I thought you’d ask me to stay.”

“Oh?” Her grip on his shoulder tightened. He could sense that she had reservations about his plan, but she didn’t voice them. She simply started to hum in tune with the ongoing song, her beautiful voice soothing the pain and weariness that had consumed his soul of late.

“And if you asked me to stay, I’d stay. Out of everyone in this tent, you’re the only one who could make me change my mind,” he admitted quietly.

“The monster you’re trying to stop considers me subhuman Harry. He wants to kill you. I have no future here as long as he has power. If you make me two promises, I won’t try to stop you.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, blue eyes blazing with emotion.

“I promise,” he answered promptly. She understood why he was doing what he planned to do. The least he could do in return was provide anything she needed to ease the sting of his departure. Even if it was something as simple as a promise.

“You haven’t even heard what my demands are.” Another musical laugh escaped her lips.

“I trust you.” And he did. Blindly. Just as much as he trusted Ron and Hermione, perhaps even more.

“I want the pleasure of one last dance. Then you can slip away during the vows, and I won’t ask you to say. I’ll even make sure no one notices you leaving.”

“How do you plan to manage that?” He chuckled. If her stories about her time in Beauxbatons were any indication, Gabrielle Delacour was a big fan of flashy, over-the-top, and slightly impractical plans. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. I’m going to be the first person your sister questions, and I want to be able to claim plausible deniability.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Nothing to endanger the wedding. Murdered by an angry sister isn’t the way I want to go.” She ran a nail over his chest, the pressure enough to leave a mark on his skin even through the ill-fitting white shirt. “I’ll just make sure every eyeball is fixed on the altar.”

“Gabrielle.” She was going to use her Allure. A sensible plan, and if he was being reasonable, something he’d have agreed to.

Jealousy was never reasonable, and he didn’t want anyone ogling his Gabrielle.

“What? I’ll be standing right next to her. Staring at me, staring at her. She won’t even know the difference.”

“What’s the other promise you want me to make?” He asked, deciding to shift the topic before he said something he’d regret. They had never cared to define their relationship, and she had been genuinely excited when he had gotten together with Ginny. They were very close friends, but he was pretty sure the magical connection he felt was one-sided. Telling her that he didn’t want anyone else ogling her would give away feelings best left unsaid.

She continued dancing until the song petered out, before taking a step back and looking up at him defiantly. She cupped his cheeks, pulling him down to her level. “You promise me that you come back to me alive, Harry Potter,” she whispered, her voice heavy with emotion. Veela were creatures of passion and emotion, and he could see the effort she needed to make sure she remained composed in the middle of the dance floor.

One-sided, huh? The annoying voice in his head spoke up.

Shut up.

A random Weasley cousin that nobody knew kissing the Maid of Honor would surely raise questions, but he was beyond caring. This was meant to be, he knew that now. He leaned forward to press his lips against hers, to finally break the weird tension both of them had been dancing around for years, only for a loud bang to echo around the tent, obliterating the romantic mood. He jumped away from her, before grabbing her hand in case they were under attack and needed to run to safety.

Every invited guest was making their way towards the sound of the explosion, and Harry was sure he recognized the booming voice from somewhere. He pushed through the crowd, pulling Gabrielle along with him. They reached the front of the crowd just as the patronus was dissipating, its last words still echoing around the tent.

‘...The ministry has fallen. They are coming.’

“Harry!”

Harry whipped his head around to look at Hermione, knowing there was no point in pretense anymore. He hadn’t heard the entire message Kingsley’s patronus had been sent to convey, but he had heard enough. They were no longer safe at the Burrow.

Hermione pushed her way through a shell-shocked couple, manners and decorum all forgotten in the interest of their safety and ensuring the success of the mission they had planned.

“We have to go! Now!”

Harry nodded numbly and followed his best friend out of the tent and into the gardens behind the Burrow. They kept walking until they reached the thicket of trees that marked the end of the property, the dense foliage protecting them from prying eyes. It was only when Gabrielle leaned into him to pull off her heels that he realized he had pulled her along with him to the rendezvous point he had set up with Ron and Hermione should things go south. And things had definitely gone south.

“My sister will not be happy about this,” Gabrielle said with a chuckle, tossing the heels she had pulled off into a bush. “What?” she asked at his inquisitive glance, “they’re really hard to run in.”

“You’re not-”

“Shite,” Ron wheezed as they ran into the clearing, immediately raising his hands up in surrender at the sight of Hermione pointing her wand at him. “All the Ministry protections placed around the house have been stripped.”

“As I said, we need to leave, now.”

“Hermione, we haven’t prepared. We’re not ready,” Harry hissed, subconsciously tightening his hold on Gabrielle’s hand. She had asked him to come back to her. Which meant they had to succeed in their mission.

Fat chance of that happening if we run off with no plan and no supplies.

“Way ahead of you. Figured something like this might happen. Now, say your goodbye, because we need to apparate away before they arrive,” Hermione answered, pulling out the enchanted pouch that hung around her necklace.

“Gabby…” Harry whispered, turning to the short blonde.

“Go,” Gabrielle answered with an easy smile, squeezing his hand. “I’ll tell them I snuck out here for a smoke. Mama knows about my habit, she can corroborate my story.”

“I-”

“I fell in love with the hero who pulled me out of that disgusting lake, Harry Potter. I knew what I signed up for. Go be the hero I dream about every night, but make sure you come back to me,” she whispered, leaning up on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his.

“I will.”

He would. No matter what it took, he’d come back to her.

He let Hermione pull him away even as he was deepening the kiss, knowing every second he stuck around was another dent in his determination to leave. He grasped the hands of his best friends, already missing the unique warmth and softness of Gabrielle Delacour’s palm.

“Let’s go,” he mumbled, nodding at Hermione to apparate them away. He braced himself for the now familiar tug in his navel, frowning at the hand grasping his shoulder at the very last minute.

“Stop…” But the words were lost to ether as they apparated away, emerging in a dirty, dark alley in what he presumed was Muggle London. It was raining heavily, and they were all soaked within minutes, including their uninvited traveler.

“Gabby, what the hell?” Harry growled, turning to look at her unrepentant face. She just gave him a small smile and shrug, pulling her blonde hair out of the elaborate hairdo it was secured in.

“Veela are impulsive creatures. I couldn’t help myself.”

“We have to send her back.”

“Harry.” Hermione’s rational, no-nonsense tone cut through the panic that was consuming him at the thought of Gabrielle getting hurt or killed because of him. “Emerging from the bushes outside the wedding tent and claiming she had ducked out for a smoke is one thing. Apparating back… puts her in danger. It puts them all in danger. For better or for worse, she is with us now.”

“Why?” Harry asked desperately, cupping her round cheeks. “You promised.”

“I promised not to stop you from leaving Harry Potter. I didn’t say anything about not following you,” she murmured, grabbing his collar and pulling him for the bruising kiss he had been yearning for all day. It was slow and passionate, their tongues dueling for dominance. They only pulled away after the discreet cough from Ron reminded them they weren’t alone, but Gabrielle stayed close to him, resting her forehead against his. They were standing in a dark and deserted alley somewhere in Muggle London, soaked to their bones, but it was the most romantic moment of his life. “Besides, you had promised me one last dance. You don’t get to leave me before you fulfill your end of the bargain.”

                                                                     -

“There’s a look that suits you, Harry Potter.”

Harry turned away from the mirror he had been using to tie his bowtie, his lips morphing into a grin at the sight of his girlfriend leaning against the door.

“I am getting a strange sense of deja vu.”

“Well, you’re not a raggedy cousin of the Weasleys anymore, and I’m… not wearing blue,” Gabrielle said as she walked into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her with a heeled foot.

Harry studied the forest green gown that loosely hung off her shoulders. “Not to mention the fact that your dress looks like it’ll fall off by the time you reach the altar.”

Gabrielle strutted towards him, her hips swaying mesmerizingly. He watched the show enraptured until she turned, her blonde hair smacking him gently in the face and shaking him free of his decidedly unholy thoughts. “You better zip me up then, Best Man. I hear it’s bad form for the Maid of Honor to upstage the bride.”

“I’m not the Best Man,” He said, his chuckle dying out as he felt her press back into him. Her perfectly shaped ass pushed into his crotch, and he had a feeling she knew exactly what sort of reaction her actions would elicit.

“You’re my Best Man,” she whispered, leaning back into his chest with a sigh. “Ginerva was searching for you.” She tried to keep her tone light, but it wasn’t difficult to detect the undercurrent of jealousy in her voice. Veela were passionate and territorial, especially about their mates. It was one of many things he had learned about her during the time they had spent together on the run and then living under the same roof while they dealt with the fallout of the final battle. He didn’t care. She was a creature of emotion, and loving her meant loving all aspects of her. Including the part that was currently coming up with a devious plan that probably involved his ex-girlfriend and pyrotechnics.

“Why?” he asked, circling his arms around her waist and pulling her back into his chest. He savored the newfound closeness. It had been days since he had held her like this. Even now, nearly two years into their relationship, the novelty of simply holding her hadn’t worn off. He suspected it never would.

“Well, it’s tradition to hook up at weddings. And since you don’t seem interested in your girlfriend sexually, perhaps she thought you had a different type you enjoyed? Someone taller? More petite?” she asked, her voice quivering.

“Gabby…”

“I know. We haven’t gone further than snogging because you don’t want us to be like your parents.” The tension and frustration in her voice were as clear as day.

“I want us to be better. They’d want us to be better,” he whispered, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He had never quite figured out what she smelled like, only that he wanted to spend the rest of his life surrounded by that intoxicating aroma. “They married right out of Hogwarts and had me within the year because there was a war going on. I didn’t want us to start the rest of our lives together with a foundation of fear like they did.”

“The war is over.”

“That it is.” Instead of zipping up her dress, his hands had traveled to her shoulders, pulling the thin straps down her milky arms. The loosely held-up dress dropped down her body and pooled around her ankles with little effort, and she took a step away from him, freeing herself of the unwanted garment.

She turned to him with a timid smile, and he was sure his heart had stopped. She was Aphrodite in a mortal vessel, with her deceptively innocent round face, heavy breasts, and sinful eyes.

“You know,” she whispered as she stepped closer to him, her slender fingers working on the button of his dress trousers. “When the knight rescues the princess from the evil creatures keeping her captive, he gets her as his prize. That’s how the stories go, don’t they?”

He sighed as the button was undone, his trousers sliding down his legs and pooling around his ankles.

“I have been waiting for a long time to give you this prize, Harry Potter,” she murmured, her fingers hooking into his boxers, pulling them down his legs. He groaned in relief as his massive erection was finally freed. It didn’t take too much for him to be hard around his girlfriend. Usually, her presence was more than enough. Now, with everything she was doing? He was rock hard and throbbing, and they hadn’t even kissed.

“And what is my prize?” he whispered teasingly. He buried his face in her neck, leaving a trail of hickeys on her alabaster skin as he traveled down to her shoulder.

“I am. The knight took the princess after defeating all evil, and they lived happily ever after,” Gabrielle murmured, her laughter turning into a breathy moan as his lips closed around the pulse point on her neck.

Her moan, Harry decided, was the most beautiful sound in the world. He’d spend the rest of his life trying to make sure he heard it as often as possible.

She turned his head at the sound of trumpets from the ground below, and he paused, knowing it was the signal for guests to take their seats.

“We’re missing the ceremony.”

“I don’t care.”

“The ring? You’re the Maid of Honor.”

“She wears his ring on a necklace. Bill gave it to her before he left to join the battle. She’s going to take it off and slip it on his finger during the ceremony to signify the end of their old life and the start of a new one,” Gabrielle explained, clutching his shirt.

“Are you-”

“Harry Potter.” She pressed into him, her voice laced with frustration. “I have pined after you for three years, then waited patiently by your side for nearly two more for this exact moment. We do not leave this room until you take my flower.”

Harry nodded, but knew at the same time Fleur would never forgive him if they weren’t around to witness the ceremony.

He took her hand, pulling her to the window of his room that thankfully looked over the garden below. He thanked Merlin that Fleur and Bill had decided on an open-air ceremony this time around and that the entire thing could just as easily be watched from his bedroom window. It felt less like a coincidence, and more a sign from the universe.

Gabrielle looked back at him in confusion, but realization dawned on her face when he placed her hand on her back, pushing her down on the window ledge. This way, she wouldn’t have to miss the wedding, and they wouldn’t be leaving his room until he took her flower. They weren’t exactly hidden, however, and anyone who looked up in their direction would see them having sex. Not that he cared, and knowing his girlfriend, she’d probably prefer at least a certain redhead in attendance watching them. Watching her lay her claim on him.

He licked his fingers, pushing two of them inside her tight, virgin cunt to warm her up. Her giggling turned into yet another musical moan as her walls were stretched by the intruding digits. She was tight, barely able to handle even two of his fingers. He looked down at the massive girth of his throbbing shaft.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?” He glanced up to see her looking back at him, realizing he had stopped pushing his fingers deeper.

“I’m a big girl. Stop worrying, and give me what I want.”

“Yes ma’am,” Harry teased back with a mock salute, before reaching out with his hand and grabbing a fistful of hair. She groaned when he pulled, the groan turning into a desperate whimper as he mixed the sting of his gentle tugs with pleasure as his thumb moved to her clit and began massaging the sensitive bundle of nerves.

She was already dripping wet for him, trickles of her gleaming arousal making their way down her thighs. He pulled his eyes away from her cunt at the sound of trumpets, looking down at the ceremony below.

He watched as Fleur made her way down the aisle, and he pulled his fingers out. He grabbed his cock, guiding its tip inside Gabrielle’s tight, wet cunt. She groaned as her walls were stretched, trying their best to accommodate the massive girth now pushing deep inside her.

He paused when his tip ran into resistance, deciding to let her get used to his presence. Her face was a dark red, and she was panting, but her eyes were fixed on her sister’s journey below. At a quiet nod, he thrust deeper. Gabrielle cried out, a single tear escaping her eye as he took her virginity. He paused, knowing from past experience that the sharp sting would soon lapse into a dull ache. He was more than happy to give her the time she needed to get used to him.

“More,” she rasped after a minute, and he used his hand in her hair to pull her up against his chest. His chin rested on her shoulder, both of them watching the ceremony unfold below even as he pushed deeper inside her.

He watched as Fleur climbed onto the slightly raised platform, turning to face a waiting Bill. Her pregnancy bump was clearly visible through the specially tailored wedding dress, and Harry ghosted his hand over the gentle curve of Gabrielle’s stomach. His eyes fluttered shut for a second, imagining the life the future had in store for them. All of this, and so much more.

“Do you ever think about children?” Harry whispered as he bottomed out inside her.

“I want six of them. With your beautiful eyes and my hair,” Gabrielle whispered. A hand turned and twisted to hold on to the back of his head, and he watched the other disappear between her spread legs, lazily fondling her clit.

“Six?” he asked, amused. He tried not to move, to savor the tightness and the feel of her velvet walls around his shaft. But instinct took over and he began to rock his hips, slowly pumping his length in and out of her pussy.

“Mhm,” she whispered, moaning softly. He moved his hand to one of her breasts, fingers digging into the large mound.

They were both watching the ceremony below, and as the priest invited the couple to say their vows, he had an idea.

“I have dreamt of you, my angel,” Harry whispered, drowning out Bill’s words with his own. “You occupy my thoughts every second I am awake. Even in dreams, I return to the warm embrace of your arms.” He was speeding up, pulling out only to ram back into her tight snatch as he spoke. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he whispered. As far as vows went, his could have been far better and much more romantic. But the haze of arousal clouding his mind was making it impossible to think or talk anymore, and he decided to leave a proper vow for their wedding.

“My savior.” Gabrielle moaned, desperately rubbing her clit. “My knight in shining armor. Our paths may have meandered, but I was yours since the day you pulled me free from the lake, and I will be yours till the end of our days.”

She groaned loudly when he twisted her nipple. Her moans were growing louder with every passing second, and the walls clamping down around his shaft let him know she was already close.

Which is just as well, Harry thought with a quiet groan. He was pumping desperately in and out of her tight cunt, all sense of rhythm lost as he chased the high he knew was just around the corner. I can’t hold on for much longer.

“Should anyone have an objection to this union, speak now, or forever hold your silence,” the priest intoned. Harry held his breath, half expecting someone to look up and notice Gabrielle pressed against the window in all her naked glory, and scream an objection to their union. However, no objection came, either to them or against the wedding below and he sped up, desperately trying to push them both over the edge.

“Very well. I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He pushed deep inside her one last time, her loud moan intermingling with his roar as they came.

“You may kiss the bride.”

He kissed her.