One Big Happy Weasley Family Ch. 3 (Patreon)

So, a funny thing happened. I started writing this chapter and was going to do a time-skip, but as I was summarizing some of the stuff I was skipping over, I was like:  man, that would make a decent scene. 

All this to say that I'm revising this fic from 3 to 5 chapters. The next-gen girls will finally get their day in the sun starting next chapter. For this one, we get some Granger and Delacour action. 

“This is your first one of these, isn't it?”

Emma Granger was startled out of her trance-like state as a woman pulled up a chair next to her.

She was a beautiful dark-skinned lady, right around her own age. Her tight yellow dress showed off her bombastic curves, with ripe, heaving breasts and an ass that seemed like it was threatening to spill out completely from its seat.

There was no doubt about who's mother she was, seeing as her daughter's equally impressive derriere was bouncing around as she waited for the ‘bouquet’.

“It is.”

The brown-haired woman giggled. “These Weasley weddings can be a bit overwhelming, but they have a way of hooking you in. I know I became a lot closer to the family after my Angie's wedding.”

The way the woman said that left no doubt in Emma's mind as to how close she'd gotten.

The woman stretched her hand out. “Abeli Johnson.”

Emma smiled politely. “Emma Granger.”

…

One hour earlier…

Emma had not been exactly happy about this entire thing. From the moment Hermione had come home to let her know the date of her wedding, Emma's motherly instincts screamed at her to sit her daughter down and talk some sense into her.

Hermione was such a smart, driven, beautiful girl. Ron Weasley looked like he might mistake paint thinner for apple juice.

It wasn't just her bitter, post-divorced worldview speaking. Even if she'd still been married to Daniel, she would have been absolutely appalled by her daughter's choice of husband.

Still, she knew there was nothing she could do. Hermione was a strong-headed girl, just like she was, and trying to pry her away from the boy would only push her towards him.

She put on her best smile, bought a nice dress and planned to leave the party blackout drunk and unable to stand. Perhaps she'd find a nice, mature wizard to take her home, but she wasn't holding her breath.

From the start, things had seemed off.

Well, from the start there was nothing she could see outside of Ron Weasley's horrendous, ridiculously loud maroon robe. It was an excessively frilly, almost swashbuckling outfit, and she legitimately considered whether they had magicked it so that it would physically burn her eyes just by looking at it.

She would have chalked it up to another weird wizard thing, but all the other men at the wedding were reasonably dressed, and Hermione's best friend Harry looked positively dashing in his midnight blue robe. It was the closest to a tailored suit out of any of the garbs at the wedding.

Then the strangeness began. The gaggle of redheads, Ron's brothers, all looked to be varying stages of sullen and defeated. They looked like broken men who were on year five of a life sentence with no parole.

Her daughter's soon-to-be husband, meanwhile, was squirming about like a toddler while his mother tried to wipe off a mustard stain on his robe. She only succeeded in making the stain grow from noticeable to egregious.

At that point, Emma had been ready to stomp her way over to her daughter and tell her there was no way she was marrying into this family. But she'd been sidetracked by other things.

Harry Potter, the famous boy his daughter had talked about for so many summers. The one Emma had always assumed Hermione would announce she'd started dating.

He was a dashingly handsome man. While Ron made mouth bubbles up on the altar, Harry looked every part the debonaire groom.

His looks weren't what got her sidetracked, at least not just his looks. No, what got her sidetracked was the looks many of the women attending the ceremony were sending him.

She recognized Ginny, the pretty redhead and only Weasley who seemed to actually be enjoying herself at the wedding. Ginny was beaming up at her fiancé. Next to her, a supernaturally gorgeous blonde, who must have been no older than thirteen, was also staring up at him hungrily, blatantly ogling the redhead's man right next to her.

The same held for the older, extremely beautiful blonde who was bouncing two toddlers on her lap, as well as the two dark-skinned beauties on the row behind them.

If their eye-fucking wasn't enough, Emma swore that some of them were actually touching themselves! There was definitely a lot of squirming going on among them.

Then, the band began to play and her daughter had begun her walk up to the altar.

She was alone, since Dan had stayed over in Australia. He'd refused to forgive his daughter for taking their memories, and chosen to continue his life there, with the memories of his past life forever gone.

It had been a very painful moment for both mother and daughter, who had needed quite a bit of time to heal from the ordeal themselves. But now, in this instant, when her daughter looked positively radiant in her white dress, Emma couldn't help but swell up with love and pride.

If only she wasn't marrying that buffoon.

When Hermione reached the altar, Emma was left baffled as she spared her groom only the most cursory of glances. No, while the officiant went into his spiel, her daughter was staring directly at the handsome, raven haired man. And that man was smiling back at her as well.

“Do either of you wish to say your vows?”

Ron perked up.”Ooh! Can I go first?!” He glanced at Hermione with pleading eyes.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Go ahead, Ronald.”

Ron grinned as he pulled a crumpled up piece of parchment out from his coat pocket, covered in mustard stains. “I wrote this all by myself!” He told the officiant, who gave him a strained smile.

Ron cleared his throat before his eyes narrowed as he struggled to read what he'd written.

“M-My name is R-Roonil Wazlib. I-” Ron's mouth strained as he tried his hardest to make sense of the next part.

“Need some help, mate?” Harry asked from his side.

“N-No! I got it.” Ron folded the parchment up under his armpit as he held up all the fingers in both hands. “I'm this many years old, plus some more! My favorite team is the Chudley Cannons!”

With that, Ron was done. He smiled placidly as he waited for Hermione to go into her vows.

The officiant was baffled by all of this, as was Emma, but everyone else took in in stride. Hermione didn't miss a beat, launching into a well-structured, highly poetic and clearly well-rehearsed speech. It would have brought tears to Emma's eyes at a normal wedding.

And it was all directed towards the best man.

“I think she likes you, mate.” Ron whispered to Harry as Hermione wrapped up her speech.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Emma felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Her daughter had done it, she'd actually married this buffoon.

Moments later, her jaw joined her stomach on the floor as her daughter leaned past her husband and kissed the best man.

…

That led to the present moment, where Emma was wondering whether she was just lucid dreaming, or if the drinks had some sort of weird effect on those that didn't have magic.

It was the only explanation for what she was seeing. Her daughter's wedding dress was hiked up, and up on the altar, Harry Potter was plowing into her from behind, grabbing onto Hermione's perky breasts as they spilled over the top of her dress.

This was insanity. The Weasley men and matriach were all sitting at a table, quietly drinking while pretending as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, the women were gathered up right in front of them, cheering wildly as the bride cheated on the groom within minutes of their marriage.

Emma felt a hand tug at her arm. Abeli was standing up, “come on, don't want to miss the bouquet.”

“Bouquet?” Emma asked.

Abeli winked. “You'll find out soon.”

Emma wasn't sure what possessed her to let the other woman drag her over to where these other women were gawking at her daughter getting railed by the handsome wizard. But there she was, with a front row seat to her daughter getting fucked.

“Mum!” Hermione gasped, her face flushing even deeper as Harry increased his pace. Her mouth hung open as she gasped and panted. “Oh god!”

Emma saw as her daughter clamped up, her legs shaking as she held onto the podium for dear life.

“Here it comes!” one of the girls squealed in excitement.

“Brace yourself,” Abeli warned her as she leaned forward, sticking her tongue out as she held her mouth wide open.

Brace myself for wha-

Emma turned again to look at the altar. Her daughter was laying on the floor, and she could see her raw-red cunt as it throbbed from the pounding it had taken.

Harry had stepped up to the waiting women, stroking his cock. In the few tugs it took for him to reach his orgasm, Emma was able to piece together the clues.

“Oh.” Her mouth opened in realization, right on time for a jet of hot, sticky cum to fly right into her mouth

“You got the first one, you lucky bint!” Angelina exclaimed. With her head turned sideways, the sexy chocolate witch was splashed by two thick ropes of semen.

Emma swallowed out of instinct, and before she could process what had just happened, she found herself being squeezed in. She was pressed up against breasts and asses as the women closed ranks, providing a smaller target as Harry continued to shower them in his jizz.

Emma got another line splashed across her nose. Next to her, Abeli had cum dribbling from her ear and running down her chin. She could feel just how matted her own hair was becoming.

And still, Harry Potter had more to give them. She saw the two blondes, who she was sure were sisters, begin kissing each other wildly as they seemed to vacillate between wanting to lick his cum off the other's face and  wanting to rub it on each other.

She looked over to Abeli and to her shock, the woman was doing the same with her own daughter, snogging her deeply as both their eyes were forced shut from the thick coating of cum covering them.

Finally, the spray hose ceased, but not because Harry was done cumming. No, his fiancee had wrapped her lips around his head and swallowed his final few loads down her throat.

Emma was sure that this was not how wizard weddings usually went.

…

None of the women cleaned Harry's cum off their bodies. For the rest of the wedding, they wore it as a badge of honor. And there seemed to be an unspoken competition to see who could end the night the most glazed over.

The wedding became more debauched by the moment, and Emma found herself just going with the flow.

“It’s time to play musical chairs!”

All the women scrambled over to the center of the room. Emma followed along, and she saw that a hesitant Mrs. Weasley was being pulled along by her daughter.

There were eight chairs for eight women, which wouldn’t have made sense in a conventional game of musical chairs. But this was anything but conventional.

On one of the chairs sat Harry, his robes long since having been discarded. He was in his long black socks and silk boxers, stroking his thick cockmeat as he watched them all with anticipation.

All of the women bent over to remove their knickers, and Emma suspected they had only put on knickers to be able to take them off for him at this moment. They hiked up their dresses, music began to play, and the game was on.

No one had explained the rules, but it didn’t take a genius to figure them out. They circled the chairs for about thirty seconds before the music stopped. Emma scrambled to her seat, and just as her bare bum touched the cold chair, she heard a shriek.

Abeli had impaled herself on Harry’s cock.

“Ooooh, guess you lost, mum.” Angelina teased.

“I guess I did.” The mature woman sighed as she began to slide up and down Harry’s shaft.

The rest of the participants were content to just sit there, letting the MILF fuck herself to an orgasm on Harry’s cock before she finally got up, rather gingerly, and left the circle with a satisfied smile.

A chair was removed, and the game went on.

Emma wasn’t sure how many rounds later it happened, she just knew that she didn’t even look behind her, she just held her dress up, slammed her rump down on the seat, and stars suddenly filled her vision as a thick, hot shaft invaded her dripping cunt.

“Fuck!” She screamed as she was filled more completely than she ever had in her life. Her ears were ringing as she rocked back and forth experimentally, feeling Harry’s cock worms its way around her insides, touching every single inch of her womanhood, stretching her in such a deliciously painful way.

She could get used to this.

…

“Mum, I'm so glad you've taken it all so well.” Hermione said with a relieved smile.

“O-Of course, honey!” Emma groaned. She was laid out on one of the tables, with Harry sawing into her pussy while Angelina and her mother knelt under him, sucking his balls into their mouths.

“I-I wanted to tell you beforehand, I swear! But Harry-”

She was cut off by her mother's loud moans.

“I thought it'd be better if you saw for yourself.” Harry finished for his best friend.

“Oh-Oh! I can definitely see the benefits.”

Emma shrieked as Harry sank into her, giving her another full load of cum deep in her pussy.

“Sorry mum, you look like me, so Harry's trying to take his desire to creampie me out on you.” Hermione explained as Emma felt her body being flooded by Harry's virile seed.

Emma didn't mind at all.

…

Several months later, the final Weasley wedding took place, the wedding between Harry, Ginny and Gabrielle.

It turned out, as the man-who-conquered, Harry could do whatever the fuck he wanted. That included amending the laws on polygamy, as well as making the public accept the fact that he was marrying a thirteen year old veela.

Rita had been livid when her juicy expose on Harry Potter, sex fiend, failed to land like she'd thought it would.

Now, the newly married trio were in France. Gabrielle's parents had been kind enough to lend them their summer villa down in Cannes.

They'd been a bit taken aback when Harry had insisted they come along, and even more surprised when Fleur was there as well.

“Angelina and ‘Ermione's mozzers are taking care of ze children.”

“We understand that, belle, but why are we here for zeir honeymoon?” Jean asked.

Fleur sent her father a pitying look. She looked over at her mother, who was blushing as she saw just how much Gabby was glowing, proudly sporting her six-month pregnant belly.

Jean had married a half-veela, so he'd learned that many of his wife's brethren had more… libertine outlooks towards sexuality. Seeing his underage daughter pregnant with Harry Potter's child? Not the craziest story he'd heard. He highly suspected Fleur was also involved in this whole operation, which again, not that shocking.

Over the years, though, Apolline and him had remained loyal to each other. His wife was not a creature, like many of his enemies liked to insinuate, she was a normal, sensible woman. Veela were as different from each other as any two humans, and his wife had always said she was content with their love life just the way it was.

And so, he and Apolline had taken up a suite on the opposite end of the villa to the recently wed. They also made sure to give them plenty of time during the morning and evening to themselves, to let them work out their youthful exertions.

Jean chuckled one evening as he read his book and Apolline read her magazine. Despite the great distance, they could hear moans emanating from somewhere in the house.

“Ah, to be young again.” He mused as he flipped the page on his book.

Apolline remained quiet. She was very engrossed in her magazine.

The next day, Jean went down to the beach. Jean liked to walk down the length of the beach, past their privately warded area, and pick up seashells. He wasn't a collector, he always threw the shells back out to sea at the end of his trips. It was just a relaxing activity that helped him clear his mind.

It was late afternoon when he returned from his walk. The sky was tinted a deep orange as the sun hung low in the horizon. Jean couldn't help but admire the natural beauty as he lazily skipped the seashells out onto the waiting sea.

With a tranquil smile on his lips, Jean turned around and slipped into the Villa's back patio. He was surprised that there was no one in the pool, as it had seen almost uninterrupted use since their arrival.

But there was no one on the patio at all. Jean flicked his sandals off his feet as he stepped in through the sliding glass door that led to the kitchen. He was hungry, and thought that perhaps he might make himself a small sandwich.

“Oooh Merlin!”

Or perhaps not.

He grimaced as he found himself in a supremely awkward position. Blocking his path to the fridge were Harry and Ginny Potter.

He could only thank magic itself that he hadn't bumped into one of his daughters, but still, it was only marginally less uncomfortable of a situation.

The redhead was sitting on the kitchen counter, her legs wide open as her husband rutted into her with wild abandon. The girl's lithe, athletic form glistened with sweat as Harry held her legs up with his arms.

Ginny wasn't just taking the reaming, she was rolling her hips expertly, furiously rubbing a finger on her clit as she ground herself into Harry's strokes.

Her taut stomach was flexed, a wall of corded muscles pushing out due to the strain of their activities.

The two of them fucked each other like rabid animals, each trying to make the other submit as their sweat dripped and splashed all over the countertop.

Jean found himself in a supremely awkward position. He'd missed the window of being able to gasp in surprise just as he'd come in.

He hadn't needed to. His new son-in-law glanced over at him, as if he'd known he was here the entire time.

“Hey, Jean, could you pass me that glass?”

Harry never once stopped his strokes as he pointed towards a glass full of ice.

Jean was taken aback by their blasé attitude. Ginny was still staring hard at her husband as she pushed her pussy back against his strokes.

“O-Oui, of course.” Jean pushed the glass towards Harry, who dipped his hand in and pulled out a cube.

“I-I'll be on my way.” The man said, taking this opportunity to try and slip by behind the sweaty couple.

The redhead suddenly shrieked, and his eyes were drawn over to see Harry had placed the ice cube against her clit, causing it to twitch involuntarily as her cunt spasmed around his thick shaft.

“C-Cheater!” Ginny gasped out.

Jean's face flushed as he snapped his head and sped off, trying to erase what he'd just seen from his mind.

…

Later that night, he and Apolline were once again in bed together. His wife was wearing a very racy silk nightgown, a garment he hadn't realized she still owned. It had been years since he'd seen her in it.

Perhaps, the honeymooner's friskiness had rubbed off on his wife. Jean was ready to turn over and begin kissing her shoulders, when they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Jean sighed, lightly cursing the person's timing.

He hopped off the bed and made his way over to the door, cracking it open to be met by his son-in-law, whom he had to look up to as he stood there, bare-chested in his pajama bottoms.

“Yes, Harry? Iz somezing ze matter?” He tried his best not to sound annoyed.

Harry looked slightly uncomfortable. “Could we, uh… have a talk, Jean?”

Jean blinked, wondering whether Harry wanted to discuss what had happened earlier in the day. It would make sense, except, the boy hadn't seemed one bit embarrassed in the moment. Perhaps it just hadn't registered with him until evening fell.

Jean put on a kind smile. “Of course. Amour, I am going to have a talk with ‘Arry.”

Jean slipped out of the door and the two of them began a walk. Harry was rubbing the back of his head nervously, clearly, he was hesitant to speak.

“Harry, my boy, you ‘ave impregnated my youngest daughter, whatever you want to discuss, surely it cannot be more delicate a topic than that.” Jean said finally.

Harry grimaced, before he finally stopped walking as they stood by a large window, the dim lights from the distant buildings filtering through.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Delacour, this is tough for me. I thought Gabby or Fleur would have talked to you already. I really like you as a person, so I want to let you know that there's no hard feelings.”

Jean chuckled as his brow furrowed in confusion. “No hard feelings? What, ‘Arry, are you going to push me out zis window or somezing?”

Harry shook his head fervently. “No, no, nothing like that. It's just, well, its sort of become my thing. I'm going to fuck your wife and take her from you.”

Surely, he must have misheard. Maybe Englishmen joked around like that, as crass as it was? There was no possible way that the boy was actually serious.

Jean laughed again, but Harry wasn't laughing. He was grimacing, and shooting him a pitying look, the same look he remembered seeing on his eldest daughter's face when they'd first arrived.

“You're serious?” Jean said, his face turning red with indignation. How dare this boy abuse his hospitality? Abuse his acceptance of his degenerate ways? This man had fucked his daughter as a pre-teen, he was the reason she'd chosen not to pursue her education for goodness sake! And Jean had taken it all in stride, been accepting of it because he knew veela were different.

“Listen, Jean, I know you must be feeling scared right now, and its understandable.” Harry dug into his pocket and pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment. “There's others like you, you know, people you can talk to.”

Jean's jaw clenched as this man, who he was two seconds away from punching in the face, pushed the parchment onto him. Jean opened it as if in a daze.

Cucked by Potter?

Feeling inadequate? Empty? Like your manhood was taken from you?

Join ‘Survivors of Potter’, where you can talk to like-minded individuals who have been forced to submit to the Man-Who-Cucked

“So this is a joke.” Jean said, his voice flushed with relief. It was not a particularly funny joke, but it was better than the alternative.

Harry shook his head. “No, its not, Jean. That's a portkey, by the way. Just say ‘Percy's a Git’ and you'll be taken to the group, they're meeting right now.”

Harry then turned around and began to leave.

“Where do you think you're going?”

Harry glanced over his shoulders. “I'm going to fuck your wife.”

Jean found himself rooted to the spot. When Harry stopped in front of his door and reached out to turn the knob, he sprung into action. He practically sprinted his way over to the door, making it just in time for Harry to push it open. He drove his shoulder into Harry's side, using all his force to try to bump the man away from his bedroom door.

It felt as if he'd crashed into a solid wall. Harry didn't budge, instead, Jean had to spin out and sprawl out onto the floor as he felt a throbbing pain begin to rise on his shoulder.

“Gah!” Jean hissed, grabbing at his injured shoulder.

He'd tumbled into the room, and as the immediacy of his pain began to recede, he became aware of certain smells and sounds coming from his bed.

No!

Jean looked up, even though he really didn't want to.

There was his wife of twenty-five years, on all fours, moaning like a cheap whore as sweet little Gabby had her fist halfway up her cunt.

“No!” He couldn't believe what he was watching. His pregnant little girl was sloshing her fist around the inside of her mother's gaping cunt. Apolline's face was completely flushed, her eyes glazed over in pleasure as Gabby fisted her without mercy.

Next to them, Fleur and Ginny were scissoring, rubbing their cunts together while they flicked each other's beans. Fleur was cupping her own breasts, sloshing with milk and squirting the liquid all over the sheets and her body.

“A-Apolline…” jean could only gawp at the scene. His beautiful, civilized wife had turned into just another veela sex-demon.

“I'm sorry, Jean. Like I said, I have nothing against you. I guess, I've become addicted to fucking the women of my extended family. Apolline gave me a blowjob during the wedding, and I knew I had to complete the set.”

A blow-job, during the wedding?

Apolline looked over her shoulder, her mouth hanging open as she panted. “P-Pardon, Jean. You were a good ‘usband. But ‘Arry is a man. I could not resist.”

She threw her head back as Gabby twisted her hand inside of her, and she didn't spare her husband a second glance.

Harry patted Jean on the shoulder. “Portkey, remember.”

Harry then stepped forward, dropping his pajama pants to leave himself completely naked, his thick cock bobbing up and down in the air, looking like it was zeroing in on mature veela pussy.

That was it, Jean couldn't handle any more of this.

“P-Percy's a Git.”

With those words, he was whisked away from this horrifying scene. Whisked away to his new brotherhood.

…

Jean stumbled as the portkey deposited him in a room. He got up to his feet to see dozens of candles burning away, which seemed like a bit of a hazard in what was an almost completely wooden structure.

He quickly recognized where he was, this was the place where Fleur's wedding had been held. He was in the living room of the Burrow.

All of the furniture had been pushed off to the walls. Six heads of ginger hair were kneeling on the floor, their hands clasped in front of them as five of them muttered in quiet prayer.

They were all facing the fireplace, above which hung a large picture of Harry Potter, one foot resting on a rock as he gazed off into the distance. His robes were fluttering in the wind and there was a large sword sheathed at his side.

“Ah, we've been expecting you.”

Jean spun around to see the balding form of Arthur Weasley, who had his hands clasped in front of him like a monk as he approached him. Jean blanched, noticing that the man only had three fingers left altogether.

“Arthur?”

“Earthly names have no meaning here. We are all children under Lord Potter, subject to his whims.”

“this is insane! He's starting a cult!”

Arthur shook his head as the kneeling Weasleys all turned to glare up at him.

“Our Lord, bless him and his infinite wisdom, did not start this group, we did. Our lord is embarrassed by this, but we do not care, we still worship.”

“Why?!”

Charlie stood up, staring directly at Jean, “In a life full of suffering, where every moment is compounded by pain and punishment for your past sins, one must search for meaning.”

Bill, and Jean struggled to think of the broken man as his son-in-law at this point, nodded in agreement with his brother. “Lord Potter is a vengeful god, we must seek his providence, and hope to quell his wrath. Perhaps not in this life, but hopefully, in the next.”

“His wrath? I've done nothing to earn zis wrath! He ‘as taken… stolen! Stolen my woman… my family from me!”

Molly Weasley tried to place a calming hand on his shoulder, but Jean shrugged it back.

“Lord Potter works in mysterious ways, Mr. Delacour.” Percy explained. “What might seem like a random act of petty cruelty is only a part of his grand design. Now, if you would please join us in our prayer,”

Jean did not want to, but he found himself forced to his knees, alongside the other two Weasley brothers.

George shot Jean a pitying look, he was getting quite tired of those. “Its better if you just accept it,”

Next to George, Ron was deep in prayer, urging Harry to make the Cannons come in sixth that year.

Jean stared up at the portrait of that blasted boy, boiling over with hatred. The Harry in the picture glanced down and winked at him.

The Weasleys began to pray in unison, and the sound became so loud, it drowned out Jean's thoughts.

…

Harry wasn't sure what the afterlife was like. He'd been in Limbo, or at least that's what he assumed that place had been. But he wasn't sure about heaven, he just knew that it existed.

But he was sure that right now, he was experiencing the closest thing to heaven on earth.

He had four gorgeous witches on the bed in front of him. Three veela and one spicy redhead. They were all naked, writhing, and begging to have his cock in them.

Gabrielle and Ginny were sideways, kissing each other while they ground their cunts against the other. Gabby's pregnant belly bumped up against Ginny's completely flat stomach, her swollen tits sometimes mashing against Ginny's perky little handfuls.

It was supremely tempting to slide his cock in between their slick little cunts, to let them massage his length between their hot little cock-traps before he closed his eyes and let fate decide which pussy he was going to violate first.

But then there was the other pair next to them. They were lying one on top of the other, with Fleur grinding herself against her mother, her sopping wet pussy lips mashing against Apolline's own juice-streaked petals. It was a mesmerizing sight to watch, almost like a dance, as two veela pussies slid against each other, dainty pink flesh rubbing against one another. Fleur would circle her clit around her mother's own, and both women would shudder in ecstasy.

And then, when one expanded outward, you were able to appreciate the full beauty of the scene.

Gabby was petite, and though she was obviously still young, Harry had no doubt that the little veela would remain fun-sized as she grew up.

Fleur and Apolline were nowhere near fun-sized. They were tall, mature women with thick, meaty thighs, fat asses and large breasts. They had bimbo-like bodies, full of soft flesh that kept spilling out as the two women ground themselves on each other.

Fleur's jugs kept leaking milk directly onto her mother's breasts as their globular tits mashed against each other. She had her tongue exploring every single inch of her mother's mouth, losing herself to her lust.

Apolline was already lost. She'd spent too much time pretending to be something she wasn't. She tried to raise her daughters to be normal, human girls, she tried to be a good wife, to suppress her carnal urges.

All those years, she'd wanted to clamp her mouth over Fleur and then Gabrielle’s young cunts, to teach them the pleasure of the flesh, as her own mother had for her.

But Apolline had refused. Her daughters would not turn into veela, creatures of pure lust. She'd thought she'd done an excellent job, especially once Fleur married William Weasley.

Then, Harry Potter had happened, and her entire façade had crumbled. Apolline had watched helplessly as her eldest and then her youngest both threw themselves at him, becoming nothing more than his veela love slaves.

Then, she'd seen him at Gabrielle's wedding, and she knew it was over for her as well.

She had repressed herself for too long. Now, she was unleashing the years of pent up lust, of instinct and desire that she'd bubbled inside of her. Apolline rubbed herself against her daughter's sexy body, rending as much pleasure as she could from every little movement of her body against Fleur's.

Harry was sure that Gabby and Ginny would forgive him. He'd been raring to fucking the elder Delacour, to complete his conquest of three generations of veela cunts.

Harry aimed his cock, which wasn't easy considering just how much Fleur and Apolline were writhing against each other. Finally, Harry timed it just right, aiming his cock at where Appoline's wriggling pussy was about to be, and he pushed forward.

“Fuuuuck!” Harry hissed as he sank into the MILF's vice-tight walls. They were indescribably soft. His cock slid in to a wet, hot and almost cloud-like vice that was swallowing him in, pulling him further and further into her depths.

“Merde!” Apolline shrieked. Fleur giggled atop her mother.

“Maman, thiz is what you've been keeping from us.” Fleur admonished as she spread her buttcheeks open, giving Harry a wonderful view of her rosebud.

“Oui,” Gabby quipped. She and Ginny had slowed down their own play, lightly stroking each other's lips as they watched Harry fuck Apolline. “Maman tried to make us into respectable women, when really we are nozzing but ‘Arry's veela broodmares.”

*Squelch*Squelch*Squelch*Squelch*

“Maman, your pussy makes ze lewdest sounds.” Fleur giggled as Apolline's hands went to her ass, spreading it even wider.

Harry couldn't say no to an invitation like that, and so he pulled out of Apolline and speared Fleur's anus, roughly plowing into her tightest of holes.

“Mon dieu!” It was Fleur's turn to shriek now as her bowels were being stretched out by a thick length of steel-hard meat.

“I ‘ave been a very bad mozzer, ‘avent I.” Apolline said with a cheeky grin as she saw her daughter's face deform in pleasure. “I ‘ave much to make up for.”

Apolline took one of Fleur's milk cannons into her mouth and began to such, glugging down the stream of fresh veela milk that they produced.

“Brings a tear to my eye.” Ginny quipped as she saw Apolline squeeze both of her daughter's breasts. One poured even more milk down her throat, while the other sprayed her face.

Harry pulled back painfully slow, letting Fleur's desperate anal grip pleasure his cock. He retreated until just the head was at her entrance, and then he punched back in.

Fleur screamed again, begging him for more. But next time Harry pulled back, he pulled out completely. Fleur groaned in disappointment while a second later, Apolline moaned into her tits as Harry re-entered her cunt.

Harry began to alternate strokes, pulling out of the mother's cunt in order to fuck the daughter's ass.

At some point, it became a competition between them, with both squeezing as hard as they could whenever he pushed in, desperate to be the one to receive his seed.

In the end, whether it was the novelty of fucking her for the first time, or the fact that veela cunts were special made to receive a powerful wizard's seed, Apolline won out. Harry bottomed out in her and groaned as he felt his balls empty into her pussy.

Apolline moaned triumphantly, letting her own orgasm wash over her. She wanted to send her daughter a smug look, but she couldn't open her eyes due to the milk that was covering them.

Harry sent spurt after spurt of cum into her womb, the final MILF and the final Delacour.

Ginny and Gabby approached, wanting their turns with the stud. Fleur wanted to redeem herself as well.

Harry felt a small surge of pride. From living in a cupboard, unloved, he was now the head of a happy, loving family. A family that would only continue to grow.

I actually like Ron as a character, so I've enjoyed making him exponentially dumber with each passing chapter. He's sort of become like a Billy from Billy and Mandy. though Billy was a bit more abrasive in parts.