Phoenix

Seeing Harry again, after so long, it should have been a balm to her soul. It should have been the relief and release that Ginny, Hermione, and the rest had clearly felt.

But for Fleur, it wasn't. As much as she had missed him and had wanted to see him again, touch him again, be with him again… there was something still unresolved, something that wouldn't let her accept that he was back and it was over. It wasn't real to her, not yet.

When she touched down, one hour in the past, just Harry was waiting for her. "Err, Katie and Susan decided to leave us alone." He explained "Give us some private time."

Fleur nodded wordlessly, unsure of how to proceed. "Are you alright?" He asked.

His compassion made something snap in her "Alright? Alright? Of course I'm not alright!" She snapped, and Harry flinched back instinctively. She pressed on regardless "I thought… I thought I might never see you again. I thought our daughter would never know her father! I thought…"

"Daughter?" Harry croaked, completely ignoring her anger in favor of that particular revelation. "You're… sure?"

Much like contraception, pregnancy tests tended to go a little haywire when mixed with Veela magic. Missing her cycle certainly pointed in a certain direction, but she hadn't known exactly how to bring it up with Harry. Despite his and the others' assurances, he was still so young, and had so much on his shoulders. Only a few day later, however, she would be bitterly wishing that she had told him, that he would have known for certain, that he would be a father, before he… he…

The day after Harry had been taken, Fleur was confining herself to her room when Hermione interrupted her self-imposed isolation. She was aware that Hermione was rallying the troops, Ginny had been her first convert- and had gotten Bill and Ron on board without a second thought. Hermione has all these plans and ideas and Fleur, perhaps unfairly, bitterly resented her optimism. She wanted to be left alone, just her and her grief.

Hermione wasn't having it. When she barged through the door, she looked down at Fleur, a sympathetic look on her face. Fleur could only imagine what the brunette was seeing- the flawlessly beautiful part-Veela turned into a tear-streaked wreck, a confident woman rendered helpless by grief. Her words, however, had been completely disarming "I can see, her, you know."

"What?"

"Your child." Hermione explained "I can see the magic- yours and Harry's- coming together, synthesizing, making something new."

Fleur blinked helplessly as she looked back up at her. She knew, roughly what Hermione was planning on saying, the pitch she was selling her. How it wasn't just for her, but for their child. She knew, and despite that, there wasn't at thing she could say to counter it.

And so, she shoved everything down, deep down- locked it up tight where nothing could touch it. She would do what she needed to do, for Harry and for her daughter. When they had won, or lost, she could cry.

But now it was over, or at least part of it was. Harry was back, standing right before her, and she tried desperately to keep those locked up emotions under control. She just couldn't let go. Yet… "I knew. Before you were taken. I didn't know how to tell you." She said, the suppressed emotion coming through thickly in her voice "I should have told you. You should have known. I'm sorry." As she said those words, she bowed her head, squeezing her eyes shut as tears trickled down.

"Fleur." Harry's arms were at her shoulders "It's okay. We made it through." Still, she was holding back, fighting to keep her composure. "Hey." He said, cupping her chin and directing her to look into his eyes "We're a lot alike, y'know."

Fleur looked down and away, but Harry persisted. "I'm going to tell you something Katie told me once. Its okay to not be okay. Its okay to cry. You've been holding yourself back all your life, but you don't need to around me. Trust me, I've been there."

The floodgates opened as her body was wracked by a sob and then another, and then Harry was cradling her head against his chest as she began to cry in earnest. It was… a relief, she realized, and as her sobs subsided, she found that grief wasn't the only thing she'd let loose. She giggled as an almost delirious sense of relief came over her. Alongside that, her allure burst forth. It too had been chained down since Harry had been captured, and it yearned to be unleashed.

Harry's breath hitched as it washed over him, and Fleur could feel him hardening against her thigh. She giggled again "Did you miss me, Harry?" She chimed, smiling through the tears that still clung to her face.

"God yes." Harry said "I can't believe, we're gonna be- Oh!" He moaned as she shifted her body and ground against him provocatively, looking down at him with a smirk. She'd dressed in a form fitting, athletic wear- meant for battle, not seduction, but it would certainly do.

"What was that, mon tresor?" She asked, looking him in the eye as she deliberately grinding her core against his erection. He tried to hold her gaze, but when she pulsed her allure his eyelids fluttered shut as he gasped softly. God, she'd missed him, and she wanted to drink him in, all of him.

She caught his open mouth with hers, swallowing his gasp while her tongue explored the familiar territory. Something rumbled in her chest- mine- as she tasted him. Her tongue picked up everything, not just him, but the distinct tang of sex, of Katie's- and more distantly Susan's- arousal. She growled, plunging her tongue deeper. It was a reminder of his prowess as a lover, that he was virile enough to please so many women. But it also prompted her competitive nature- it was a challenge to outdo those who had come before her. She felt the heady urge to smother him with her cunt, to have him drink of her until she'd wiped all traces of them from his mouth.

But of course, on that count she had conflicted priorities. Her pussy was perfectly happy grinding against the cock tenting Harry's trousers, and then as she began to kiss down his jaw and neck, she rediscovered the pleasure of hearing him gasp and moan. Harry too, had his priorities. His hands gripped her arse tightly, pressing her against him as he rolled his hips in time with hers. Eventually he was in position to grind against her clit with just the right angle and pressure, and Fleur too has forced to tilt her head back in a whimper. He quickly replicated the motion, drawing moans from her until her patience broke.

She was done with the games. She wanted him and she was going to take him.

With a growl, Fleur tackled him, sending them both to the carpet. She renewed her assault on his mouth while her hands clutched at his shirt, tearing viciously until it began to rip apart. She grinned with satisfaction as the fabric gave way. It allowed her mouth free reign over his upper body. She found that he already had hickeys on his neck, which only spurred her to leave even more prominent marks.

Harry hands weren't idle, but he hadn't had nearly the success in undressing her as she had him. The most his hands had done was slip under the fabric of her shirt, stroking her sides and back. She knew he could simply vanish or dispel her clothes if he wanted to, but he seemed happy for her to take the lead, and she wasn't one to decline that offer. She hummed as she made her way down his chest, circling her tongue around and then nipping his nipples, delighting in making his gasp.

She hadn't lost sight of her ultimate goal, however, and soon she was giving Harry's trousers the same treatment she'd given his shirt. That just left his boxers, and the pitiful scrap of fabric could barely contain his manhood as it was. His erection strained at the material, and his tip was just barely peaking out from beneath the waistband. It was an unexpected tease that drove her wild. She was salivating, literally salivating at his musky, masculine scent and the prospect of having his throbbing meat in her mouth again. Those boxers didn't stand a chance.

For a moment she was struck by the tableau. His cock, now free from its confines, pulsed and twitched as it engorged fully, his cockhead flaring with pumping blood and glistening from his arousal. For so long, she'd had to deal with drooling boys, but now she was the one drooling. Almost of its own accord, her tongue lapped around his cockhead, and from there she just couldn't resist taking him deeper. She slid her lips down and slithered her tongue around his shaft. It had been far too long, and she savored the taste of him, and the feel of him pulsing in her mouth.

His cock was undeniably impressive. Proud as she was, she knew that his organ had an undeniable power over her, an ability to captivate her unlike anything else, have her screaming in ecstasy, not to mention, pump her womb full of his seed and leave her bearing his child. Yet she also know just how exquisitely sensitive and vulnerable he was. By letting her place her mouth on him, he had ceded all ability to direct or control this situation, he was hers.

He yelped as her lips closed around his cockhead, his shaking hands gripping the carpet and giving her complete free reign to control the pace. With just gentle sucking and the swiping of her tongue, she wrenched cry after cry from his mouth, making him babble and beg for her.

It was a true testament to his resolve that he hadn't cum yet. It was part of what made him so attractive- not just his stamina- but his determination to hold on in the face of the inevitable. It made him, unlike anyone else she'd met, a challenge. Like a nut to crack… or perhaps in this case, milk.

It made it all the more satisfying when he did give in. When he finally moaned "Gonna cum! Fuck! Gonna… FUCK!" His warning served as Fleur's cue to take him to the hilt. Her lips formed a seal around the base of his cock, and even the frantic thrusting of his hips couldn't dislodge her position. His cock was hers, even if it was attached to him, she owned it, at least for the moment. She took everything he had to offer, every pulse of his orgasm, every drop of his essence, swallowing him, letting it subsume her consciousness. When he was done, panting and wrecked and looking blearily at her, she her mouth wrapped around the tip of him, and met his gaze, her darkened eyes staring him down. Her message was simple and clear- you're mine.

When she pulled back, her black eyes continued to stare down at him like a hawk would a rabbit. Her breathing was labored, her chest heaving not from physical exertion, but from the sheer, uncontainable force of her desire. Harry, her favored prey, felt his heart rate redouble. He couldn't bear to meet her stare, but he was unable to look away- her primal, predatory intensity had him arrested. His fight or flight instinct was triggering, yet he could only freeze.

There were no words, Fleur was beyond that. She surged forward with one forceful motion, crushing her clothed crotch against his shaft. Her hips jerked and ground against him rapidly, each aggressive movement accompanied by a short grunt. This state of affairs didn't last half a minute before she came- her body tensing, her head thrown back as she let out a soft "Ahn!"

While it was clearly a smaller orgasm, a mere prelude to what was to come, it was more than enough to trigger the ritual. And whatever either of them had intended for the night was immediately subsumed.

Harry, who had gotten used to having more of a handle on the bonding process than his partners and being able to guide them through it, was dropped into an experience he could barely even comprehend let alone control. He knew lust and desire, in the process of bonding and boosting his magic he'd become far more libidinous than most blokes. He knew it from the women in his life too, he knew it from Ginny's long suppressed lust for him breaking free, from Hermione's sexual awakening, from Luna's shamelessness, from Demelza's intoxicating desire to submit to him, and now, if briefly, from Katie and Susan. None of it could hold a candle to what Fleur was feeling, how she desired him.

In a future, more lucid state, he'd compare it to Hermione's intelligence. Her mind worked differently from his, she could make connections, recall facts, and create hypotheses faster than Harry could hope to follow even though he could see right into her mind. He could study and practice critical thinking all he wanted, and it would likely do him good, but it didn't change the fact that Hermione was brilliant.

That was Fleur. She just had the capacity for more, and no amount of sex rituals or aphrodisiac potion could bridge that gap. He'd feel her surface level desires and find something familiar, something that Ginny or Katie or Hermione might think, such as an appreciation for his chest. But then he'd get sucked in, and just beneath the surface were depths that he found himself drowning in.

And that was before Fleur had gotten her own bearings and began to explore the bond for herself. While Harry had been careful and had tried to avoid falling too deep into her mind, Fleur had no such reservations. She invaded his mind with the same ferocity that she'd used to ravish him, pressing herself as deep into his psyche as she could manage. This general invasion quickly transformed into a targeted thrust as her mind latched onto a specific piece of his anatomy.

His cock, of course.

Her awareness surged into his manhood, filling him but not replacing his own. She simply far outstripped him; for every ounce of attention he could give to his cock, Fleur gave 10 time that. She paid exquisite attention to every detail, every pulse of blood sent by his hammering heart, every tingle along his shaft, every twitch and throb, and each observation was accompanies by a lust so intense Harry could scarcely stand it. It was a far more intoxicating than her allure, this was straight from the source. Her consciousness flowed further, subsuming his testicles, seeping through the root of his cock, filling his perineum and prostate, and finally encompassing his core musculature.

Her claws grazed his chest, trailing lightly down his body, but Harry barely registered the foreign sensation… wait claws? Belatedly, Harry realized that Fleur… for lack of any better word, had transformed. He'd seen it once before, with the Veela at the Quidditch World Cup, but he'd figured that Fleur, being part Veela, didn't have that ability. She'd certainly never showed any signs of it before, and he'd seen her in some incredibly emotional, traumatic situations. But then again soul bonding was the most intense experience Harry had ever experienced.

She was seamless combination of human and avian features. Her general form was that of a human, but her features had been distorted. Silvery white feathers covered her body, avian claws now protruded from her hand. The attractive features that so enamored men with the Veela were nowhere to be found- her breasts had receded and were hidden by feathers and muscle, her hips were pragmatically thin, her shapely legs, while not particularly bird-like were now clearly built more for goring enemies than attracting men. Her mouth, still quite human, hung open, her tongue lapping at her lips and dripping copiously with saliva.

She was certainly terrifyingly beautiful, but not exactly sexually appealing. But this was irrelevant, Harry realized. It didn't matter what made his cock tingle. This wasn't about his lust or desire, this was about hers, and his arousal only mattered insofar she ravenously craved it. For once, she wasn't the object of desire. That role belonged exclusively and entirely to him. This was her exulting in his masculinity, devouring and worshipping every bit of him.

It was with this realization that Harry knew what he needed to do. He submitted. He completely gave himself over to her desire, opening his mind to her, letting her link and enmesh with him. The full force of her lust and desire was beamed straight into his mind, and Harry instead of fighting, trying to reciprocate, or struggle to understand, just let it wash over him like a stream flowing over a pebble.

That permission was the missing piece Fleur was waiting for. She lunged forward, her body making incidental contact with his- lean muscles beneath feathers. She was hot… feverish, like a fire had been lit inside her that was radiating out through her skin. Her lips locked against his with enough force to bruise. Her tongue had grown both in length, strength, and dexterity, and it easily suppressed his own tongue, before she shoved it down his throat, quite literally. She penetrated him until she reached his gag reflex, and he choked on her hot tongue and saliva. She got pleasure out of this, not unlike what Harry felt from penetrating a woman, and she moaned low and deep, the sound reverberating through his mouth and jaw. Her body pressed against his, rubbing rhythmically against him in a way that was also quite pleasurable for her.

His cock was swollen beyond belief, leaking precum and throbbing intensely. Yet as heated it was, he was blown out when Fleur pressed her cunt against his cockhead. Her heat spread through where her lower lips made contact with him, but also through the cascade of hot arousal the flowed in rivulets down his shaft. Then, with a sharp thrust, she sheathed him in her.

She screamed into his mouth, the vibrations rattling his skull. Her tongue stiffened and shot forward, once against stopping at his gag reflex. He knew he was coming too, mostly because Fleur was obsessed with the feel of his cum shooting in her 'her mate, his throbbing cock, his virile seed', but he could barely feel it through the heat of her core. His cock was trapped in the heat, and the juices that collected and dripped from his scrotum ensured that it permeated his testicles as well. Her pussy didn't actually have that miraculous suction ability that had blown his mind in the past. This form, inherently, was selfish in nature, meant for her own pleasure and not that of her partner. It was driven by either a dire need to defend herself or… another dire need.

He could only lay there passively as fucked him. She was in a constant state of intense pleasure, one long orgasm that didn't stop, but varied in its level of (extreme) intensity. Her hips were a blur of motion, slapping wetly against his skin and sending shockwaves through his body. Her tongue had persistently probed his throat, sliding in and out, occasionally toying with his own tongue like a cat would a mouse. Her tongue pressed and wriggled carefully yet insistently until he was able to accommodate her, and then, when that barrier was breached, she thrust forward sharply, past his gag reflex and bulging out his throat, lodging her tongue fully within his mouth.

This triggered something in her. She howled into his mouth. Her body went rigid as her hips slammed down on his and locked into place. Her claws, which up to this point had been quite careful with his bare skin, dug sharply into his shoulder and cheek. She was coming, what she'd been feeling before hadn't been her orgasm, it had been the prelude to her orgasm. This is what she'd been seeking.

This lasted an interminable amount of time. Harry really only came back to himself when he felt Fleur shift back. Her feathered form transforming back into the more familiar, more appealing, yet still quite dangerous body.

And then she began to cry. First, she sniffled, and then sobbed into his chest.

Harry hadn't actually been using his voice, or any of his muscles during their encounter. While certain parts of him were indeed incredibly sore, and his joints felt like jelly, he could move his arms around her just fine. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Me?" She said, her voice scratchy and strained "Am I okay?"

Her implication was clear, and through their new bond he could feel her guilt, the confusion, and revulsion she felt at herself. She felt twisted, violent, dangerous- all things that she'd spent her entire life being labelled as simply because of her heritage, but now they'd never rung more true. "I'm sorry." She told him "I hurt you. I raped you."

"Bullshit!" He shouted, suddenly furious with her for even saying that. "You can see into my mind. You know that's not true." He hadn't asked for her to transform, but he'd been willing the entire time. Point of fact, Katie and Susan had been outside the door the entire time. Katie in particular had been itching to intervene, but Harry rebuffed her at every turn. He had wanted to do this for her, to give her that pleasure.

In fact, he suspected if he'd become genuinely scared or traumatized, she'd have snapped out of the state almost instantly. Even after she transformed, she hadn't acted in any way, simply hovering over him expectantly until he'd given his implicit permission. It was only then that she'd sated herself on him, and even then she hadn't completely neglected his comfort or safety, her claws had dug into him at the end, but had otherwise handled his skin delicately. Her tongue had probed uncomfortably into his mouth, but she'd been cognizant of his gag reflex and his need to breathe.

Yet she shied away from the bond, refused to see the truth in his mind. She was terrified that if she looked within him, she'd lose control again and once again be consumed by lust. So Harry brought the truth to her.

Fleur Isabelle Delecour. Don't fucking dare. Now, his experience navigating the bond was an asset, and allowed him to show her, to get her to understand his point of view, how he'd felt through the entire experience and how he felt now.

That was part of why the bond was just so damn useful. Without it, a situation like this could have went on suppressed and unaddressed, potentially sabotaging the relationship. The bond forced them to confront every issue head on and allowed for unparalleled communication and understanding in resolving whatever came up. Without that ability, this seven-way relationship never would have made it off the ground.

Fleur slumped back into his chest, continuing to sniffle, but accepting that she hadn't done anything he hadn't been okay with. Susan, Katie, are you girls alright? Harry asked.

You idiot! Katie reprimanded How can you just ask us that?

Harry had been concerned that his experience with Fleur would have been so intense as to bleed over to them. Thankfully most of the mind-shattering pleasure had occurred on Fleur's side of the bond, meaning Harry was the primary recipient of it.

Well, I'm sorry Fleur was able to come up with something even kinkier than you. Time travel, cock-rings, and strap-ons? Time to step it up, Bell.

He could feel Katie roll her eyes. Please. What I did took planning and creativity. If you think having a girl fuck you for five minutes and then cum her brains out is the kinkiest sex you've ever had, I feel sorry for you.

At this, Harry chuckled. Sure enough, only fifteen minutes had passed since Fleur had arrived, and much of that was simply basking in the afterglow. It certainly explained why he didn't feel nearly as wrung out as he thought he might. Harry decided to share tidbit with Fleur "Hey babe, your Avian form might want to work on the stamina. Seemed a little hair trigger."

Harry detected a prickle of genuine consternation from Fleur, before it was superseded by playful indignation. Katie, meanwhile, was sniggering. "He's got you there, Delacour!" She called through the door.

"You should be honored. Very few men ever get to make love to a Veela in that form." Fleur defended herself "And I certainly never done it before!"

Harry quickly placated her by running a hand through her tangled mess of hair, and pressing a kiss to her tear-streaked cheek. "Don't worry, everyone's a little hair trigger on their first time." His assurance set off more sniggering from Katie.

"Jerk." Fleur said, without force.

"Made you feel better though, didn't it."

Fleur rolled her eyes "What would I ever do without you?" She said sarcastically.

"Die of sexual frustration!" Katie shouted. This time, Susan too couldn't resist giggling.

Fleur, bless her, was actually blushing at the teasing. "Come on." Harry said, "Let's get a shower."

They ended up spending more time in the shower than they had spent fucking. Fleur used this opportunity to explore the bond and Harry's mind at her leisure. Harry, for his part, mostly sat back and let her familiarize herself. About halfway through, however, she burst into tears, and Harry was back on her in a flash. Quickly realizing that these weren't bad tears.

Thank you, thank you. She told him unable to speak. I never felt pleasure like that before, you let me… you gave it to me. You… you…

I love you. Harry returned, and really, that explained it all.

Fleur sobbed again. I want to give you everything, but I'll never be able to repay you for what you've done for me. I can never give you what you've given me, but I'll try. This time she wasn't just talking about the incredible orgasms. You've given me…

Fleur. You have. His hand trailed to her stomach. You've given me the one thing I've always wanted.

The next word was thought by them together. Family.

-----

Harry, Susan, Katie, and Fleur slipped out the back as their earlier counterparts walked in the front. From there, they rejoined the assembly outside the Greengrass estate.

Ginny and Hermione jumped as they apparated in. "Wow." Ginny uttered. "Its weird."

"Seeing you and not being able to feel you." Hermione finished. "To me, you're still at the manor, about to go back in time."

Harry nodded, even as he shared their unease. The other four bonds hadn't yet reasserted themselves. Frankly, he hoped this was the last time he'd ever have to time travel, because he didn't like the thought of these supposedly unbreakable bonds being able to be subverted by anything even if the one thing that seemed to do it was time itself.

"What's the situation." Harry asked, trying to push past the weirdness. "The wards?"

"Falling." Bill confirmed. "We are outside the Greengrass estate. Something I would not have been able to say a few minutes ago. We need to strike now."

"Harry, you're about to go back in three, two, one… Oh!" Harry was grateful for the warning, because the instant his past self left, the other four bonds reasserted themselves. Ginny, Hermione, Luna, and Demelza staggered, disoriented by the sudden change, but Harry was driven to his knees.

This was it. He could feel it, the seven bonds pulsing in a sort of feedback loop. Like a murky potion achieving clarity because of the addition of a single ingredient, his soul suddenly clarified. He could see now, that shriveled, pathetic fragment of a soul, clinging to him like a leach.

Harry grinned.

Fuck him up, luv!