Amour Et Officium Chapter 9 (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Nipple Play, Shower Scene, Spanking.

Harry acted on pure instinct, slamming the door shut in the bemused Frenchwoman’s face. He leaned against the aged oak, his heart thudding in his chest. Sue, oblivious to the encounter, had shifted to her side with her back to him and the door. Her face was buried in her pillow as she desperately fingered herself, trying to fill the void left by his retreat.

Fluer gently rapped her knuckles against the oak once more, trying her best to maintain a neutral expression. Her potential mate seemed sweet.

Not the worst person in the world to have to pay the bride price to, she mused.

Harry opened the door a crack, just enough for them to look at each other while still shielding his naked body. “I… I must apologize,” he rasped, his throat hoarse. His lust-addled brain could barely comprehend everything going on around him. Every instinct in him screamed to pull the woman inside, to ravish her angelic body until the end of time. His hand subconsciously tried to open the door further, only to be stopped by Fleur gripping the handle outside firmly.

“That is the allure, monsieur. It is not fair to abandon your lover,” Fleur murmured, her English heavily accented. She just hoped he could understand her. He seemed remarkably resistant to her allure, even in his current state of heightened lust. It just added to the rapidly growing list of reasons why she was pleased with her maman and papa’s choice for her mate. “We shall have our moment.” Her lips quivered at the sound of Sue’s shrill shriek. “For now, you must attend to Daphne. I will tell everyone that you have just woken up and need some time to get ready.”

“That’s not-” Harry started, but the statuesque blonde had already left, leaving him more confused than ever before.

Their moment? What is she talking about?

“Daddy?” Sue called out, breaking him free of his ruminations. He shut the door and turned to face his betrothed, finding her sitting up in bed with a confused expression on her face. She yawned cutely, pushing her sleek black hair out of her face and slowly rubbing her eyes. “Where’s Daphne?”

“I think she’s waiting for us in the pub, sweetling,” Harry murmured, his still-hard shaft twitching gently at her vulnerability. She was a beautiful woman, but it was her quiet innocence and complete trust in him that somehow turned him on far more than any particular physical attribute. He moved to sit next to her, gently pulling the sleepy girl onto his lap. “Why’d you stop?”

Her cheeks flushed. “I-I came,” she mumbled, hiding her face in his bare chest. “I’ve never touched myself before.”

“Why not?” Harry asked, the back of his hand caressing her tiny breast before his fingers moved to pinch the stiff peak that adorned it. He gently twisted the nipple, causing her breath to hitch.

“I… ahh, please, sir,” she mumbled, squirming on his lap. She arched her back, pushing the soft flesh up against the rough skin of his palm. “Too scared,” she mumbled, breathing heavily.

“Not anymore?”

“A-a lot of things changed last night,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

“As far as birthdays go, it was truly one of the strangest ones. And this is coming from a person who accidentally set a snake on his cousin on my twelfth birthday. They never forced me to go on trips with the Dursleys after that,” he chuckled, slowly getting up, the tiny Ravenclaw clutching onto him like a koala. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she hissed, the action causing her sore pussy to brush against his manhood.

“W-where are we going?”

“We need to shower and get ready. Everyone’s waiting for us downstairs,” Harry answered, carrying her to the bathroom. He had never met the woman who had come to summon them to the party, but she had left an indelible mark on him after just a single minute of quiet conversation.

“You’re still hard,” Sue murmured, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He smelled of leather jackets and pine needles, and of something earthy she couldn’t quite identify. It was intoxicating, and she almost told him not to shower, irrationally afraid that the water would wash the scent away.

“Nothing a cold shower won’t solve, my little raven.”

“Not fair. I came. You should get to cum too.”

Harry chuckled. “You’re bloody adorable, you know that?” he asked fondly, gently setting her down on the large marble countertop of the sink.

“It’s only logical,” Sue mumbled, the blush on her face deepening at the tender way with which he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. He was treating her like a princess, which both endeared and confused her. She wasn’t princess material. Daphne was worthy of being treated like one. She was, at best, their frumpy librarian. The prince showed her kindness and affection on occasion because it was the right thing to do.

“Well, when you put it that way, we must do something about it. Who am I to argue with such sound logic?” Harry laughed, walking to the shower cubicle to test the water. “Do you think you can handle another round?”

Sue gave him a shy nod.

He extended his hand in her direction, a silent invitation for her to join him. She reached out and grasped it, hissing when her hop to the floor brought her feet in contact with the cold black marble tiles.

“What’s on your mind?” Harry asked, turning the knob before pulling it. Sue sighed as a jet of warm water hammered against her skin, driving away the early morning chill permeating the air.

“N-nothing,” Sue lied.

SMACK.

The spank was as hard as it was unexpected. “I-AAH!” Sue stumbled forward, her fall interrupted by Harry’s waiting arm.

He let her lean against his arm, his hand moving to her other cheek.

SMACK.

“Sir, please!” she squealed, her legs trembling violently.

“Do not lie to me, Miss Li. It’ll be ten with a wooden spoon next time,” he warned coldly, his voice shifting to that authoritative tone that made her knees weak and made her want to obey every single command that passed her lover’s lips.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Sue sobbed, groaning in relief at the gentle massage of her stinging cheeks. “I was just wondering if I’m satisfactory for you, sir,” she rasped, her eyes taking in her tiny, petite body. It wasn’t just her body that couldn’t compare to Daphne’s.

“Wasn’t last night ample proof of the fact, sweetling?” Harry asked, confused by her confession.

“It was… it was with Daphne. You could have a troll in the room and it would not matter as long as Daphne is present,” she whispered with no small amount of admiration. The suave blonde was all she ever hoped to be.

“And this morning?” Harry asked, gently caressing her wet slit with his finger. Her legs had given out, her body exhausted and overstimulated. The only thing keeping her upright was the support of his arm.

“You were dreaming about Daphne,” Sue murmured. The problem with a mind as intelligent as hers was that there was no dearth to her imagination, and sometimes the simplest (and often, the correct) explanation was overlooked in favor of more fantastical ideas.

“And now?” Harry whispered, gently flipping the girl around. He pushed her up against the blue tiles under the showerhead, kicking her weak legs apart. “Is this another sign of my… displeasure with your body?” Harry asked, as he gently rubbed his glistening tip against her aching pussy.

She groaned quietly, instinctively leaning against the pressure of the hand that kept her pinned to the wall, still eager to have him fill her despite her soreness. “M-my breasts… ah! Merlin, daddy, please!” she moaned, her eyes squeezing shut as the now familiar burn began to spread through her core. His massive girth split her lips apart, slowly pushing inside her tightness. Her walls stretched to their limits, her lover’s gentle patience the only thing ensuring that it was pleasurable pain instead of pure discomfort. “My breasts are too small,” she rasped, struggling for breath.

“I like breasts that fill my hands and are small enough to be slapped with ease,” Harry whispered, pulling her flush against his chest. His arms dug under her shoulders, wrapping around them to keep her pinned against him as he slowly pushed deeper inside the warmth between her legs.

“I’m…” Her words were interrupted by a desperate groan, her eyes fluttering shut as his shaft brushed against a particularly sensitive spot. “Not witty. Not like Daphne,” she mumbled, her voice and arguments growing feebler by the second.

It was difficult for even her legendarily low self-esteem to convince her brain he did not desire her when he was sheathed deep in her belly, eager to fill her up with his seed.

“There is value in silence,” Harry whispered, his hands turning and cupping her breasts, gently kneading the pert mounds. His own breathing was growing more ragged by the second, her incredible tightness having no difficulty in bringing him to the edge within minutes. Her walls fluttered and clamped down on his shaft, milking it for its treasure without pause or mercy. “There will be days when I wish to come home to a wife who will simply hold me.”

He slowly pulled out of her before pistoning back inside, establishing a lazy rhythm. He waddled back as best he could, letting the warm water stream over their enjoined bodies once more.

“I never… had… lessons,” Sue mumbled, resting her head back on his shoulder. She peppered his neck with loving kisses. Her hand instinctively traveled to massage her clit, the other resting on and caressing the gentle bulge that formed in her belly every time he pushed inside her. “C-couldn’t a-afford a t-tutor,” she whispered, quiet whimpers and moans escaping her parted lips.

“Good,” Harry grunted, pushing her face inside her silky hair. He could feel his primal side take over. His thrusts were getting harder, her tiny body practically bouncing up into the air with every push inside her weeping loins. He was unable to finish his thought, his orgasm crashing into him unexpectedly with the force of a tidal wave. His hold on her tightened and he continued to thrust even as his throbbing cock filled her up with his cum.

The sticky seed clung to his shaft, leaking out of her in great dribbles only to be washed away by the water before it could run down her thighs.

“Cum. For. Me.” Harry groaned, punctuating each word with a thrust deep inside her.

Sue keened, her knees buckling as Harry’s rough, calloused finger joined her frenzied assault on her clit. “THANK YOU, SIR!” she screamed, her limp body collapsing against Harry’s firm chest as she came.

The Private Lounge, Leaky Cauldron:

“I wondered why the sneaky bastard was traipsing off to France,” Sirius muttered, turning when the door opened. Harry slipped inside the smoke-filled lounge, slamming the door shut in the faces of the multitude of reporters bombarding him with questions.

He walked over to Daphne, slipping into the empty space next to hers on the purple velvet-lined couch.

“Where’s Sue?” Daphne whispered, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

“Resting. She was exhausted so I told her to sleep in,” Harry murmured, studying the occupants of the room with growing confusion. Sirius and Amelia made sense, but he had never laid eyes on the portly man smoking a cigar and the regal blonde woman sitting next to him in his life.

The ethereal blonde sitting on the couch opposite them, eyeing him with an expression of amused mirth he was familiar with. She had been sent to fetch him, the only question that now remained… Why?

“Good. The hounds are at the door,” Daphne muttered, giving a disgusted nod in the direction of the shut door. “Best she stays away for a bit.”

“Do you think he’s escaped to France?” Sirius asked, turning to Amelia.

“Doubtful. Current intelligence, scant as it is, suggests he’s making his way to Durmstrang. Which makes much more sense as a destination than France. Even if he was, I do not see the connection. Forcing the issue of the bride price with the Delacours is only bound to hurt the chances of the French government cooperating with us.”

“Fudge was never one to understand nuance. Maybe he thinks by having Apolline’s daughter marry someone from the island he’s giving them skin in the game?”

“It’s not about Lupin,” Daphne said, rolling her eyes. Four adults were in the room, and it was down to her to state the obvious.

“Why else would he spout all that nonsense about closer cooperation between our governments and the restoration of ancient rights?”

“Because it’s what he does. All of you, even my father, treat him like he’s the world’s biggest idiot. He’s not. He hides his true intentions behind bluster and meaningless platitudes, all while broadcasting his true intentions. Which, to a fault, people are too blind to see,” Daphne said, her voice frosty. She could see where things were going, and she was not happy about it.

“You admire him?” Fleur asked, raising an eyebrow. “That horrid man who won’t even let me finish my education in the school of my choice?”

“I never let anything as stupid as morals get in the way of learning something useful. And there’s much to learn from Fudge, however distasteful we may personally find the man,” Daphne said briskly, ignoring the unspoken jab about Hogwarts. They had bigger fish to fry.

“Pray, enlighten us, Miss Greengrass,” Amelia said, massaging her temples, clearly irritated at being pulled away from the far more important task of hunting down a murderer.

“Mrs. Black,” Daphne said coldly, her eyes fluttering over to Fleur. If she was going to worm her way into their house, it was best to establish her position as early as possible. “He’s angling up a Veela bride for his closest ally.”

“Malfoy?” Harry asked, his nose crinkling.

“I’d sooner die,” Fleur declared, crossing her arms over her chest. “Maman, I will not be a bride of that family!”

“You know who they are?” Harry asked, turning to look at Fleur. He winced as Daphne grabbed his hand, her nails digging into his skin.

“Everyone in France knows who they are, Harry Potter,” Apolline Delacour said quietly, studying the son of her old friend with undisguised curiosity. “They are infamous. They were once French nobles. Driven out of their home for their-”

“Less than savory practices,” Sirius finished.

“I will not-”

“Don’t worry, Fleur,” Daphne said, her voice dripping with venomous honey, “none of us are hard of hearing. We heard you the first time. You don’t want to be that bloviating asshat’s slave. Unfortunately, it looks like you don’t have much choice in the matter. By continuing to delay, your parents have taken your agency from you.”

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, utterly confused.

“Every half-century, the French Veela Clans have to pay a bride price to maintain peace between our people,” Apolline said, still unabashedly staring at Harry. “Has anyone told you that you look exactly like your father, my dear boy?”

“I hear it once a day. More, if I’m lucky,” Harry muttered.

“You are very lucky. Your father was a handsome man.”

“How-” Harry started, only to be interrupted by Amelia.

“It’s your family’s turn this time, yes?”

“Oui.”

“Why does he press the issue now, when he was more than happy to keep extending the deadline so Fleur could finish her schooling and you had time to find a suitable husband for her?”

“Again. It’s right in front of you,” Daphne muttered, her good mood from that morning all but evaporated. “Potter. Black. Bones. Greengrass. In a single day, the marriage alliances secured by Harry’s parents' will shatter the balance of power in Wizengamot. Lucius Malfoy will neither be the richest man on the island nor will he control the most powerful faction in Wizengamot. Now, he must tip the scales to balance them. How does he do it?” She groaned at the sight of the blank faces staring at her. “I swear, sometimes I feel like I’m surrounded by goldfish. When Malfoy was banished, his estate was parceled up. Who did the biggest portion go to?”

“Us,” the man chomping on the cigar finally spoke up.

“Now do you get why he kept rattling on about the restoration of ancient rights? He doesn’t want to restore Veela rights in Britain. He wants to restore his benefactor’s ancient rights to his lands in France, thereby ensuring Malfoy’s wealth, power, and influence remains unmatched.” She sighed as things finally clicked in place for all those in attendance. Sometimes she felt like she was spoon-feeding babies. “And you, Madame Delacour, with your sentimentality, have handed it all to him on a silver platter.”

There was no room for feelings in politics. Feelings engendered empathy, and empathy simply made one weak. If it had been his father and their estate was the one at risk, she’d have been married off to an amenable partner long before the deadline had passed.

“All is not lost. The treaty allows us to find a suitable match before the documents are drawn up.”

All eyes turned to look at Harry.

“Me?” Harry asked, his throat suddenly dry. His first instinct was to say no. There was already far too much going on in his life without the added complication of another partner. “What happens if I say no?”

Fleur’s face fell.

“Then my daughter shall be subjected to every whim and perverse pleasure of that man and his son. The nature of the bond gives her husband immense power over her. She shall be a powerless toy in his games,” Apolline said, gripping the edge of the chair, her knuckles white.

“Why me? There have to be others,” Harry murmured, turning to Daphne for suggestions.

“Longbottom? His family is old and noble, and Augusta Longbottom holds considerable sway in Wizengamot,” Daphne pointed out, even though she knew the real reason the Delacours had chosen Harry. He was the only one with enough clout to prevent his marriage from being challenged in court. Which was something Malfoy would certainly do if the snobby French girl was to marry anyone else.

“I do not know Augusta Longbottom. I knew James Potter. I trust his son to treat my flower well,” Apolline answered.

“You keep mentioning my father. How did you know him?”

“Not relevant,” Sirius cut in quickly, his eyes flitting over to look at Amelia nervously.

Apolline chuckled. “It was so long ago, Sirius. I have a wonderful husband and two daughters now. There is no shame in talking about our summer of love.”

Harry choked, coughing out the water as Daphne thumped his back. “Summer of love?” He rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Your father and godfather were touring Europe before the start of their final year, Harry. Sowing their oats before the dreary onset of adult responsibilities. They spent a summer with me. Your father, mon cherie, oh, he was such a tender and generous lover,” Apolline said with a wistful smile. “I wish the same for my daughter. The documents shall be drawn up by noon today, Fudge is not leaving anything to chance. We are out of time.”

“I need a memory-wiping potion,” Harry mumbled, turning to Daphne. He had no desire to know about his father’s… or his godfather’s sex lives in any amount of detail. He looked at his wife, the first love of his life, the two having a silent conversation, utterly oblivious to everyone else in the room.

Daphne groaned. “Fine. Fine. Growing up with my husband has given me a sense of bloody empathy. We can’t leave you to Malfoy’s tender care. We agree on ONE condition,” she growled, turning to look at the other blonde, “Never, ever, insult my choice of clothing again.”

Notes:

Since I am a big fan of trope subversion, I didn't go with Harry saving Fleur at the World Cup or in the Lake. This way, an important character is introduced early and in a unique way! Also, Fleur and Daphne don't hate each other before anyone asks. They're both just too alike for their own good, which means a lot of sass, sarcasm and snark in every conversation. Also, I've never seen anyone play with Malfoy's French connection. So I thought, why not tie it all together?