What’s Coming

Harry sighed as he walked into the dining room. He stopped briefly, crouching in the corner where Fang lay flat on his stomach. A few charms later the dog perked up, rising to a sitting position, any damage from Pettigrew's attack now healed. Harry stood and faced the table.

One look at the two women sitting there, and he wanted to turn around and walk back out. To run away, in short. But that wasn't an option. As he approached, Fleur greeted him with a warm smile, while Susan's face was impassive.

Harry dropped into a chair opposite them. Without hesitation, he planted his hands on his knees, dropping his head.

"I'm sorry," he said.

When neither of them spoke, he went on, his face still lowered. 

"My precautions weren't enough. They failed. Completely. And the two of you paid the price."

"We are fine," Fleur insisted.

"I thought I was being reasonable or that I had done enough. That was wrong. In some ways, I trusted people too much. And in others, I trusted too little."

Harry's eyes drifted up, looking at the door leading to the living room and the fireplace that lay beyond it. That was the only entrance to the house last night, one only a department head could have accessed. He recalled Yaxley's promise to keep Pettigrew under control. 

He also saw the girls across from him, a bit bruised but otherwise healthy and alert, despite his failure.

Harry raised his head. "I'm a werewolf," he said. He lifted his arm, pulling back the sleeve to show the scar underneath. "Fenrir Greyback bit me when I was young. Voldemort used it as a lesson. Instead of telling you this, I tried to deal with it myself, away from you. That could have cost you your lives."

"I handled it," Fleur said. "And Susan already knew."

"I'd guessed," Susan said.

Her eyes were stormy, but when Harry looked at her, she averted them.

"I'm not good at this sort of thing," Harry admitted. "I was taught weaknesses were supposed to be guarded, not shared. But I tried that. It blew up in my face. So… would you mind starting over?"

Susan studied the backs of her fingers. But Fleur leaned forward and smiled.

"Fleur Delacour," she said. "And you would be?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Harry Potter."

She beamed.

"Well, Harry, I look forward to what the future will bring."

"Pettigrew won't come back will he?" Susan asked.

"No," Harry said. "Considering he's lying dead upstairs, he definitely will not. This is sure to cause a mess, but for now, that's nothing to worry about."

"They'll be angry that you defended your home?" Fleur asked.

"Probably," Harry said. "But that's not what I meant." He hesitated, remembering his decision to be more open, and added, "I'm quite angry right now, you see."

Fleur laughed. "What a coincidence!" she said. "So am I."

Susan stood up.

"I'm leaving," she said. "Make sure nothing like this happens again—" she hesitated for a second. "—Harry."

She left. Harry watched her go.

"That was nice of her," Fleur said.

Harry looked at Fleur.

"She usually calls you Monster," Fleur said. "But it seems she did not want to, after you admitted you were a werewolf . I've been wondering, you know. How did she come to stay here?"

"She didn't have anywhere else to go," he said.

"So you took her in."

"Well, it was a favor." 

Harry stood up. Emotional honesty was very tiring. Perhaps because he wasn't used to it. When was the last time he apologized to someone? It had been long enough that he couldn't remember it, whenever it was.

So he planned to make a tactical retreat, just to get his bearings.

"What are you doing now?" Fleur asked.

"My bedroom is currently destroyed," he said. "If I'd like to get any rest, I should repair it now, while I still have energy."

"That's not necessary," Fleur said.

Harry paused. "It's not?"

"No," Fleur said. "There are other bedrooms. You will use mine for now."

She didn't even phrase it as a question. For some reason, Harry couldn't bring himself to consider saying no. When he went upstairs, Fleur came too. 

Stepping inside that room elicited the strangest sensation ever. Harry had avoided it at all costs for as long as possible. He wanted to keep it the same as it had been, but he'd not been brave enough to actually look at it. Despite going along with Fleur, he fully expected his first step inside the room to make his heart ache.

Instead, he felt… nothing.

The book shelves were still there, but now, there were fresh paintings on the walls. New clothes were stuffed in the dresser. It no longer smelled like her. Instead, it held Fleur's sweet, vaguely floral scent.

"Sit," Fleur said impatiently.

Harry did so, trying to remember what he was supposed to be sitting for. 

She left the room for a moment, only to return with a basin of warm water and a delicate cloth. She sat down beside Harry, setting the basin on the ground, and dipped the cloth into it. Moments later, she was dabbing it on his forehead.

He must have looked confused. Fleur giggled.

"I am not sure you are aware, but you are a mess," she said. "Your hair… It is atrocious at the moment. You still have bits of blood mixed in."

Fleur didn't have a wand, but Harry did. He could've cleaned himself with a single charm. But he allowed it to be done this way. The cloth was warm, and so were her fingers.

"What will you do now?" she asked.

"I don't know," Harry admitted.

Someone would have to pay. The question was who, and how. Yaxley had failed him. Pettigrew was the man's pet, and he got off his leash. However, to take on Yaxley would make an enemy of the man's faction. It would pit Lucius against Harry, along with their many allies and minions, and no matter how angry he was, Harry wasn't willing to go to a psychopath like Crouch for help.

Bellatrix was also looking for an excuse. She wanted anything she could pin on Harry as a sign of disloyalty. And Harry couldn't tell, behind her, how much of her antics Voldemort supported versus what he tolerated. No matter what he did, Harry couldn't shake the feeling he would cause a chain reaction.

He felt the warm cloth poke his nose.

"Honesty. Remember?" Fleur said.

"I can think of things I'd like to do," Harry said. "I just don't know if I could handle what would come after."

"Because we are alone," Fleur agreed.

Harry stared at her, even as she focused on wiping down his cheeks. She didn't seem to notice anything special about what she just said, but he did. She grouped herself with him. Even if she didn't have a wand at the moment, even if there was only so much help that she could be, it still made the worst of his worries vanish. He believed her. It really wasn't only him anymore. When was the last time that he truly relied on someone? Had he ever?

"Arms up."

Harry blinked.

"Arms up," Fleur repeated. "How else am I supposed to clean your chest?"

Slowly, Harry raised his arms, and she did not hesitate to pull off his shirt. The washcloth slid across his muscles, wiping him down and causing old aches to fade.

Harry relaxed, his body un-tensing. He felt warm in a way that wasn't just because of the cloth rubbing his body. Usually, after a transformation, his joints and muscles would throb and sting. It was just one more challenge he'd grown used to. But right now, he couldn't feel any of it. Such aches had disappeared entirely, and he only knew of one thing capable of that.

"Your allure is active," Harry said.

"So it is." Fleur dragged the cloth across his abs. "I'm sorry. I've been having trouble keeping it down recently. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Harry said softly.

"You seem quite alert despite it. Pettigrew turned into a drooling fool."

"I think there are plenty of differences between me and Pettigrew. Enough that any comparison is a waste of time."

"Oh, I agree!" Fleur said. "But I disagree about comparing you two. Thinking of him only highlights my favorite traits in you."

She tilted her head up, looking away from the work her hands were doing. She was quite close. Harry should have backed up. The wise thing would be to create distance, possibly retreat for now…

"Honesty. Remember?" Fleur repeated, her voice a whisper this time.

Instead of backing away, Harry leaned forward.

Fleur Delacour's lips felt like perfection.

As far as descriptions go, that one barely made sense even to Harry, but it was all he could come up with. They were so plump, just the right level of soft, and perfectly warm. Her fingers dropped the cloth, which slid down his stomach and tumbled off his lap. Fleur's palms pressed on his chest, her fingers splayed, and pushed him back.

Harry lay down with his feet still on the bed. Fleur kicked her leg over his hips, straddling him and bending over. Unlike Pansy during their picnic, Fleur faced him. And Harry wouldn't have it any other way.

Her platinum blond hair hung around their head like a shimmering curtain, hiding the dirty business their tongues were getting up to. Fleur's hands were still on his chest. Harry wrapped his arms around her back, squeezing her slender frame.

They took turns entering each other's mouths. But they never broke the kiss. Their tongues clung to each other tighter than ever.

Harry could sense his body reacting. His pants tightened, and he could feel Fleur's body through her clothes, pressing down on him. When she sat up, finally ending their kiss, a string of saliva hung off her lips. Harry couldn't tell if it was hers or his.

Fleur collected the spit on one finger, bringing it to her mouth and sucking it clean. The finger popped from her lips with a smooching sound as she looked down at Harry.

Neither of them spoke, but it felt like they still communicated. They had no interest in stopping, no matter what came after.

Fleur removed the simple t-shirt she had thrown on in the morning, loaned to her by one of the Muggle women in Godric's Hollow. She wasn't wearing anything underneath. Immediately, Harry sat up, clutching her tight as he brought his mouth to her breasts.

They were big without being enormous, perfect in shape and remarkably heavy for Fleur's slender body. He bit the pink areolas that stood out on her pale skin. Harry sucked, pulling at her flesh, while Fleur's fingers ran along his back and hair. One of his hands slid lower, grabbing her below the waist.

Fleur's hips slid vertically. She rubbed against his crotch, her body swaying erotically. Harry could feel each bit of pressure through their clothes, causing his crotch to throb.

He stood, picking Fleur up as he did so. Then, turning, he crawled onto the bed, carrying her into the middle. She clung to him the entire time. When he laid her down, he bit her breasts a few more times before sliding lower.

He kissed her stomach, even planting a smooch on her small belly button. As he sank down, Fleur grabbed his hand, guiding them to her hips. His fingers hooked under her pants and panties. Looking up, he dragged them down. Fleur watched on with a smile.

Harry tossed the clothing away. He slid his head between her thighs, and he felt Fleur's legs lock around him, tight without being constricting.

Fleur's scent filled his nose— slightly sweet, aromatic, and feminine. Short, almost invisible blond hairs tickled his nose. The lips of her pussy were as plump as the ones on her face, and parted just as easily for Harry's tongue.

Harry went slow. There was no hurry. His tongue ran along Fleur's folds one at a time, teasing each while she laid back. Her back arched up, while her legs squeezed tighter.

This was different. It was new to Harry. It was similar to things he'd done with Narcissa, but it didn't feel the same at all. Harry's actions were driven by a completely different feeling.

He was attracted to Narcissa, and he appreciated all she did for him. He was attracted to Fleur, too, but it wasn't just that. He wanted her, not just her body. And somehow, she wanted him too.

Fleur smiled. As Harry's tongue worked inside of her, she reached down with one hand, grabbing his head. Her other hand cupped her breasts. She moaned, her voice sounding like music to his ears.

Harry grabbed her hips. He used his grip to hold her in place, but it didn't work. Fleur rolled them over.

She turned as she did it, twisting her body with Harry's tongue still inside of her. Soon her knees were nestled against Harry's shoulders, her pussy sitting directly on his face. He reaffirmed his grip and continued eating her out.

"A relationship like this one must be give and take!" Fleur said.

She dropped down, and Harry could feel her breasts on his abs. Soft hands deftly opened his pants. Harry's cock sprung out after being contained for so long. Harry heard Fleur giggle, followed by her moist lips parting and engulfing him.

Her hair brushed his hips as she bobbed her head for him. Harry's hands slid back, grabbing her bum while she worked. She was draped over him like a blanket, and Harry wouldn't have it any other way.

His tongue had never grown rough. There was no need to be violent about this. He wanted to embrace Fleur's body, not conquer it. The folds of her pussy grew wetter on top of him, filling his mouth with her taste. He felt her tongue sliding along his shaft each time she took him deep. It was warm underneath her, trapped between her soft body and the bed's sheets.

The feeling of her allure had never stopped, but it grew stronger now. Harry didn't think it was something Fleur was doing intentionally. Rather, an instinct that had always been buried inside of her was making an appearance. As soon as the allure bathed Harry's body, he felt Fleur tense.

She did not climax calmly. Instead, she took him deeper in her mouth, her tongue becoming even more active. Combined with the allure gripping him, Harry felt an orgasm rapidly come on. Fleur pushed her head as far down him as she could go.

Her orgasm tasted sweet as it dripped into his mouth. He didn't know what his tasted like, only that Fleur wailed with ecstasy when his seed was deposited in her throat. Fleur rolled off of him, and Harry rolled over too.

He dragged her so that her head was resting on the pillows, her body beneath his. Fleur stared up at him, her gaze impassioned and her face as perfect as ever. Harry thrust inside of her, and she dragged his head down.

Their foreheads rested against each other as his hips rose and fell. They could hear each other breathe. Harry could feel her breasts brush him when her chest rose and fell; Fleur could feel his muscles flex as he plowed into her. The soft legs that had ringed his head came up, squeezing his lower back.

"You're beautiful," Harry gasped.

It was true in every sense of the word. One of her sides was bruised from the chase the night before. She was starting to sweat. She'd just taken him as deep in her throat as Pansy ever did. But she looked unflustered, all of this only making her shine brighter.

"And you, 'arry Potter, are mine!" Fleur crooned.

Her accent thickened in the heat of the moment. She had put her hands around his neck the same way her legs were around his waist. Harry pulled up, rising onto his knees, taking Fleur with him. He gripped her bum with both hands, holding her still as he drove himself inside her.

Fleur's breasts bounced each time their bodies collided. His fingers sank into her behind, twisting her flesh as they held on. Fleur tucked her face against his neck, while Harry rested his chin on the top of her head. With a moan louder than the others, he felt her cum.

The orgasm cascaded through her pussy, followed by an intense tightening, as if Fleur's body was trying to wring his own orgasm out of him. He held out for now. Harry started to use his arms, rocking Fleur up and down to accentuate his thrusts. She whipped her head back, tearing her face away from his body and tilting it up with a long, grunting moan.

Harry bit her exposed neck. Her whole body was squeezing him, not just the folds inside of her. He could feel her legs and arms tightening. As soon as he quit his assault on her neck, Fleur lowered her head, meeting his eyes.

"This 'orld!" she said. "Eet eez wrong!"

Their foreheads reunited, faces hovering right in front of each other while their bodies clapped together.

Harry thought of the full moon, and every full moon for years before it. He remembered the feeling in the courtroom as Bellatrix sat giddily atop a podium while everyone aimed wands at him. He thought of Yaxley and Crouch, one playing as a king while the other played as a prophet. Psychopaths, both of them. And these were the men who got their way?

"This world's wrong," Harry grunted.

"Louder! Eet eez!"

"This world is wrong!" Harry said. "I'm sick of it! I hate it! But what can I do?"

Fleur grinned savagely. She grinded her forehead against Harry's, pressing into him as her allure ran wild.

"We fight," she declared.

Harry felt a million pounds of weight disappear off his shoulders. All at once, a burden he never noticed had disappeared. This world was wrong. He'd recognized that the day of the final battle— no, even earlier than that. But what could he do? One man against the world wasn't a righteous crusade, it was glorified suicide.

Did having one person at his side change that? Probably not. But at this point, one person was all he needed. It was enough for him to draw courage from, so that he could finally acknowledge what he'd known for so long.

He pushed Fleur against the headboard. He felt her climax, right at the moment he pulled out of her. Harry's cum sprayed across her stomach, running down her body, but they barely noticed. Harry held her there, and in the reflection in her eyes, he could see he was grinning just like she was.

No lies. No appearances for appearances' sake. It was honesty. And maybe, just maybe, Harry was starting to think it might be love.

Fleur pushed him, and Harry dropped back onto the bed. She flicked her hips, sliding onto his cock once more, beginning to ride him. Harry reached up, stroking her arms.

"They have no idea what's coming," he said.

Fleur laughed, flicking her hips in beautiful patterns.