Chapter 39. The Chase
By the morning, everyone knows what happened. The Daily Prophet confirms it, detailing the murder and the resurrection, recounting the Auction incident, speculating on why Draco Malfoy, a mere school boy, would commit such a heinous crime.
Revenge seems to be the unanimous conclusion.
It also mentions the wild hunt the DMLE has arranged, promising to do everything in their power to apprehend Malfoy and his group. Pansy Parkinson plus the other Slytherins who participated in the attack on Daphne are already locked in holding cells, being aggressively questioned in case they might reveal Draco's whereabouts.
The rest of the article devolves into arse-kissing, praising Rayhmir for his every notable deed, listing all his accomplishments, declaring him the strongest wizard ever. Not even Merlin could bring back the dead, they say. That's proof enough to crown a new legend in the making.
The castle is abuzz with hundred conversations, each revolving around the resurrection. Neville has gained more popularity than ever, though he doesn't seem to like it. Understandable. As a fellow man who has experienced death, I know how eerie the entire experience must be.
Students from all four tables are stealing glances at him, some even daring to approach him and question how death feels. When that happens, Ron and Seamus become his shield, cussing the nosy ones away.
Whereas everyone is busy obsessing over Neville, a few eye me discreetly, the people aware who Rayhmir really is. I can feel Daphne's gaze on the back of my head. Not to mention the hero worship in Tori's eyes as she presses close to my side, hanging onto my every word.
I don't mind it. The Greengrass sisters are more than wise enough to not give away my secret. However, I don't know how to deal with their speculative glances. Well, Astoria is easy enough. She wants to be in a relationship with me—she wants to date me. It's doable, of course. And I plan to take her on an outing sometime. It's Daphne who's confusing. I know she is attracted to me, to the power I represent, but I doubt she wants a normal relationship. She doesn't even return my smiles anymore, turning her face away whenever our eyes meet, running away whenever I try to approach her. I would assume she's shy, but that's too out of character for her.
Yes, she's a loner who mostly interacts with Tori and Davis, but she's never given the impression of being timid and unconfident. That's just not how she is. I can only hope she makes up her mind and comes to me herself.
Finishing breakfast, I leave the Great Hall and wait by the entrance chamber.
Fleur said we'll meet here.
This date will be an uphill battle, I reckon. Even though I fulfilled my end of the deal and convinced Teresa to step back and allow Gabrielle to take the second task, it didn't work out in their favour. Ironically, that ruined Gabrielle's reputation. So it's expected that Fleur will resent me for wasting her entire day on a date instead of just jumping into bed, which would be a lot quicker and more direct. I understand where she's coming from. It's better to be done with a bad deal than being kept shackled to it. Unfortunately for her, I want more than just sex. While the offer to just drag her to a room and fuck her brains out is tempting, earning her affection and turning this one-time romp into a relationship has far greater benefits. Beyond her sheer sex appeal, Fleur is not a doormat with no ambitions or agency. Far from it, she's too ambitious. And I want to know her, to understand what makes her tick.
Soft footsteps herald her coming.
Even though she might not be thrilled about the date, she's spared no effort in looking her best.
Her long, silver-blonde hair is braided over her shoulder, going all the way to her bare belly. A turquoise crop top hugs her sizable and shapely bust, exposing her slim midriff. And an ankle-length floral pattern skirt hides her sensuous legs, much to my disappointment. Oh well, I'm sure I'll see them sooner or later. All in all, she is mesmerising, walking a fine line between sexy and beautiful.
Fleur Delacour
Level: 29
Beauty Tier: S
Seduction: 37%
Points Available: 9
Kinks: Power Play, Pet Play, Incest
Interesting kinks. Though only incest managed to surprise me. Power Play and Pet Play fit her personality to a T.
"'Arry, you look charming." She smiles stiffly, kissing my cheeks audibly.
I smile back, giving her a slow once over. "And you look indescribable. I won't even try."
Her smile is a lot more genuine this time. "Not a poet? 'Ere I thought you could do everything."
"I don't know everything; I just know what I know." I link our arms and lead her from the castle, instantly fascinated by her scent, something sweet and citrusy.
The few students who are out spare us only a few awed glances before hurrying out of the way, intimidated. That tells me she's keeping her allure tightly controlled; otherwise, the boys would be gaping at her with conspicuous boners. Good.
I apply warming charms as a gentle yet cold wind washes over us, making her skirt flutter. The sky is scattered with vast patches of clouds, and the sunlight that filters through and around them is practically useless. At least some sunlight is there so it wouldn't be dark.
"What 'ave you planned?" Fleur asks, letting me steer her as she matches my pace towards the Forbidden Forest.
"I know a spot where we'll have some privacy." I point towards the treeline in the distance.
"Privacy? What do we need that for, 'Arry?" she drawls, her voice husky. "I thought this was a 'armless first date."
"It can be." I slide my fingers into her grasp, interlocking our digits, my knuckles brushing against the side of her skirt. "Or it can be more if we feel like it. Up to us. In any case, I'd rather have privacy than not. You have countless admirers with too much time on their hands. One of them might pop up to stutter and stare."
She squeezes my hand, a coy smile tilting her glossy pink lips. "Possessive already? It's only our first date, mon chou."
"Perhaps." I trace her thumb with mine, slow and teasing. "But this will be the first of many. Isn't it smart to stake a claim in advance when I know we'll have a great time?"
"Too confident, non?" She sighs, not deeming to hide her amused smile.
"We'll see." I squeeze her delicate hand again. No more words are spoken after that as we walk the rest of the way in silence, strolling hand in hand while the distant treeline draws closer.
Soon, we step into the woods, surrounded by silent trees and the chitter of birds and critters. Fleur doesn't ask any questions, relaxed and unconcerned as I lead her deeper in. The clearing that I used for my meeting with Isabella comes into view on our left, and I tug her in that direction.
A large rock lies at the edge of a brook, right in the middle of the clearing. And the sound of running water fills the glade, the weak sunlight pooling over the rock and the grass around it. Unlike with Isabella, I don't sit on the rock. Instead, I pull a blanket from my bottomless pouch and spread it over the grass before dropping onto it. Leaning back against the rock, I stretch my legs forward and settle in.
Fleur raises her eyebrow but sits beside me with her knees tucked in. She's close enough that I can smell her perfume and feel her heat. And if I lean a little to my right, our shoulders would touch.
"It is pretty and secluded," she hums, examining the surroundings. "I 'ave told Gabby that I am 'ere with you. So don't go getting any dangerous ideas."
I'd have found her accusation more offensive if it weren't so damn suggestive.
"I'm sure you can pummel me black and blue before I can think of something nefarious."
She leans against me, her shoulder flush against mine, her reply a tad arrogant. "I think so. You are strong, but you are also younger and only a wizard. Always remember, 'Arry, a Veela will always win in a direct fight."
"Too confident, non?" I mimic her slight accent.
Her eyes narrow as she moves away, disappointed. "You don't believe me."
I shrug. "I don't. I'm amazed you can say that after having seen me perform in the tournament."
Predictably, she rises to her feet and glares at me. "We 'ave to clear zis up. We 'ave to duel now."
Chuckling, I get up. "Fighting on our first date? Lovely. If that's what you want."
"I do." She cups my jaw, running her thumb over my lips, her eyes ablaze with competitiveness. "If you lose, you will get down on your knees and kiss my feet with this pretty mouth."
My hands rest on the curve of her hips. "Fine. But if I defeat you, you will kiss my feet with these pretty lips of yours."
She pats my cheek condescendingly and steps back. "Ok."
"Alright." I flick my wand and fold the blanket neatly, stuffing it back into the pouch. Then I remove [The Mirror] from my Vault, setting it down in front of the rock. It's the same mirror I used to take Teresa into the mirror world, where I defeated her and earned her trust and allegiance. Hopefully, I can replicate that with Fleur too.
"What is this?" Fleur questions, tapping the frame with the tip of her wand, muttering detection spells under her breath.
I push her wand away. "An enchanted mirror capable of creating a reflection of the world—a copy, of sorts. Once we step in, we can do anything there without affecting the real world. I don't want to ruin this beautiful spot. It's better to duel in the mirror world, where we won't have to hold back."
Her jaw drops. She stumbles back and mutters furiously in French, waving her wand at the mirror, trying to make sense of it. "C'est incroyable! 'Ow did you get eet?"
"You expect me to reveal all my secrets on the first date?"
She reins in her excitement, stilling. "'Ow can I be sure this is safe?"
"It's safe. You have to take my word for it. Or you can turn around and leave. Up to you." I present the options for her, pacifying her apprehension. Giving a way out should assuage her fears. If I wanted to kidnap her, I could do it effortlessly.
She stares at me, her face going through an array of emotions.
"I warn you again, 'Arry Evans, if something 'appens to me, my sister will know who's behind it."
"Only your arrogance will be harmed, I assure you."
That does it. She roughly pushes past me and steps onto the other side. "You will suck my toes and love it."
I laugh at her vanishing back. She's in for a rude awakening. Even with her hidden trump card, she has no way to beat me.
~xXxXx~
Fleur Delacour
Some people will think her a fool for jumping into a strange mirror at the invitation of a boy she's barely acquainted with.
Those people don't know her secret.
Fleur is confident she can overpower Harry Evans if the worst happens. The probability of that betrayal is non-existent though. That is the reason why she allowed him to provoke her into stepping in. She considers herself a good judge of character. And the boy has no intention of harming her. No, he wants her in a way very few boys ever will. He wants more than just her body for some odd reason. He wants her affection. He wants a relationship. She'd call him a romantic if he wasn't such a blatant philanderer. She has seen him with numerous girls. And that's something she can't understand; this dichotomy. Why didn't he just sleep with her like she offered? Why did he turn their impersonal agreement into something intimate? What is he after?
He would be massively disappointed if he really is hoping for her heart.
Fleur has no heart. Only the desire to dominate brings her pleasure. Love is a pile of garbage in beautiful pink gift wrappings. Once you peel the outer layer, all you'll find is disappointment. She has no time for such foolishness. She's not young and naive anymore.
"It looks the same." She observes the mirror world.
They're still in the glade with the large rock. She'd doubt they are in the copy of the world if not for the eerie silence. All the background noise disappeared the moment she went inside the mirror. Now, only the occasional wind makes any sound.
"Obviously. It's a 'mirror' world," Harry says, taking her hand in his, guiding her out of the woods.
She can see the Beauxbatons Carriage far on her left, bereft of any students. If he's right, this entire world is empty.
She stops in her tracks, forcing him to halt beside her.
The whole world is vacant. Her brain cannot comprehend that. It means every house, every park, every land is up for taking. She can live anywhere, she can eat anything. She can even travel wherever she wants without the usual headaches.
"We can live 'ere forever," she whispers, wonderstruck.
"You could. But it gets boring quickly. A world is nothing without its people. Not to mention, everything will start to decay and malfunction with no one to watch over. For example, the muggle vehicles have already crashed in the cities, causing jams and explosions." He squeezes her hand.
He's right about that.
She nods, her elation back in control.
"We can duel there." Harry reminds her why they are here, escorting her away from the forest.
They come to a stop on a stretch of levelled ground. She can still see the Beauxbatons Carriage and the giant's hut. The treeline is at her back and the Hogwarts castle protrudes in the distance.
She unholsters her wand and transfigures her long skirt into fitting trousers. She grips her loyal wand at her side, watching his back as he jogs away to make appropriate space for the duel. Then he turns around and faces her. She can see the overconfident smirk on his handsome face.
She'll wipe it clean.
"On three!" he yells. "One… two… three!"
Fleur starts with a quick chain of spells to prod his defences. A stunner is followed by a disarmer, then a wide flare of fire gushes out. The three spells are cast within seconds, one after another. She's always been a quick caster. It has earned her a lot of renown in certain circles.
Harry points his wand at the ground and flicks it upward. A sturdy wall erupts, blocking her view and shielding him from her spells.
She's impressed. Not by the spell itself but by the speed of his transfiguration. It was near instantaneous. Transfiguration isn't supposed to be that quick unless you are a master at it.
Having deemed him a serious threat, she decides to stop playing and give it her all. Before he can crumble the wall and hurl the debris at her—as she would—she thrusts her wand forward and fires a swirling, golden ball of pure, raw magic. It would nullify any incoming spell and crush any defence he mounts.
Her wand hand trembles from the taxing magic. It's one of the most powerful attacks she knows. Usually, she'd save it as a finisher, a trump card. But this is no ordinary opponent. She has been watching Harry the moment he entered the tournament, and he has proved worthy to be a champion. Underestimating him would bring her defeat. That's not something she wants. Gabrielle has already lost face with her underwhelming performance, Fleur can't lose to a wizard, however talented he may be.
She braces herself for a surprise, her feet set on the ground, her wand aimed at the rushing golden globe. He shouldn't be able to do anything—yet, a part of her knows winning won't be that easy.
A grimace mars her face as he simply vanishes the dirt wall and directs his wand at the enormous mass of magic, seemingly unconcerned.
She can only gape in shock as her strongest attack is sucked into his wand. The wide mass of swirling golden energy funnels into the tip of his wand. His euphoric gasp travels all the way to her; his body glows with the stolen magic. With gleaming skin and swaying hair, he jabs the wand in her direction.
Fleur freezes in place, knowing there's no defense against this magic—unless you're Harry Evans and can pull off whatever the hell he did. Running and dodging won't work either; the ball of magic is a target-seeking spell. It will hound her until it strikes.
There's only one option left.
She summons every last drop of her reserve and thrusts her wand forward, repeating the same spell. An equal mass of pure magic will nullify it. She knows exactly how much power she used when casting it the first time. Now, she has to do it again.
She must be precise. If her spell is weaker, it will be as useless as a paper shield. But if it's too strong, it will keep moving forward after canceling the first, allowing Harry to seize control and send it back at her.
The two massive balls of raw magic collide, crackling like thunder and blasting a wave of scorching air in every direction. She shields her face with her hand. The heat is suffocating. She staggers as the opposing forces implode, creating a brief vacuum that pulls everything inward. Air rushes in to fill the space where the magic once was.
A second later, everything is still.
Harry is standing with the same confident smirk. But she doesn't have that much energy. She collapses on her knees, heaving, exhausted after using that taxing spell twice in a row.
Her opponent swaggers to where she's slumped. He places his foot on her thigh, looking down at her. "I win."
Before she can use her wand, he snaps his fingers, sending it reeling away. "I win. Now kiss my foot. Or will you still fight? You can't possibly have another secret hidden that will help you. Right?"
She sucks in a sharp breath, looking at his knowing smile. He knows. He is somehow aware of that.
"If you have something like that, don't be shy, I won't judge. I like to trounce my opponents when they are at their best."
Fleur sneers and pushes his foot away from her lap, glowering at him. "You think you can survive that?"
"Effortlessly."
She laughs and gets up. "You asked for it."
It's not everyday she gets the opportunity to go all out.
~xXxXx~
I've always wondered where Teresa got her 'unlocked form'. And it has to be from somewhere.
Teresa herself told me Nicolas Flamel's greatest strength is his alchemy, the ability to transfer powers between subjects. Isabella Zabini is not a Veela, yet she has allure, stolen from abducted Veelas who are most probably dead.
As Fleur transforms before my very eyes, sprouting bird-like wings, my hunch proves true. Just like Flamel stole the Veelas' allure and gave it to Zabini, he did the same with the transformation, perfecting it before passing it to Teresa.
There are differences, of course. Where Teresa only got wings in her unlocked form, Fleur's transformation is more… bestial. Along with a pair of wings, her face has changed the most. While it is still humanoid, her mouth has turned into a beak, and her skin is covered in a soft spattering of white feathers. Even her eyes have changed, going from blue to black, beady and predatory.
She flaps her wings and rises into the air, releasing a shrill cry.
Now let's see her level jump.
Fleur Delacour
Level: 58 (True Veela Form)
Beauty Tier: S
Seduction: 77%
Points Available: 9
Kinks: Power Play, Pet Play, Incest
Not as impressive as Teresa's, but it would be unfair to compare. Teresa Clare is on a whole other level. Still, Fleur went from level 29 to 58, doubling her strength. Though her beauty tier remains the same. I assumed it would become SS.
"You literally are a French bird." My joke doesn't seem to land as she launches a green fireball at me.
I run away, a wise choice when I hear the loud explosion behind me, the searing heat making me sweat.
She crows in amusement, pelting me with exploding fireballs nonstop. It seems that's the only thing she can do in this form. She sacrificed versatility for speciality.
I form a powerful shield around me, my vision obscured by the never-ending green flames. One after another, explosions keep hitting my barrier, attempting to shatter it. But my magic is far stronger than hers, able to sustain the damage.
After a minute, the barrage of fireballs stops and Fleur trills smugly, her feathered hands on her hips, her beady eyes brimming with arrogance.
I guess I need to show her that I can fly too.
Activating my [Wings of Angel] perk, I shoot into the sky, straight at her. Her startled squawk is the sweetest sound I've ever heard. I slam into her before she can bolt, my arms coiling around her waist.
I can feel the skin beneath a single layer of feathers. Warm and silky.
She struggles in my grasp, flapping her wings like a trapped chicken. Mine flap too, countering her force, keeping us in the same spot. I pin her arms at her sides, Thankfully, they are indeed hands and not claws. "I win. Surre—"
I'm not prepared for the kiss that lands on my lips. In an instant, her beak disappears and her full pink lips crash onto mine. I didn't know she could control a part of her transformation; the rest of her body is still in 'True Veela' form. I don't have the mental discipline to ponder over it when an attractive S-tier girl tries to eat my face. The kiss is hot and steamy, the adrenaline boosting the pleasure.
My fingers slip down her waist, grabbing a handful of firm booty. Where did her trousers and underwear go? Do they disappear in this form?
… Who cares?
I snog her, continuing the battle with my tongue, squeezing and feeling up her bum.
Just like the surprise kiss, I'm not prepared for the knee on my groin.
I gasp in pain, my eyes watering, my hands falling from her butt to clutch my jewels.
She laughs cruelly, flying away. "Catch me if you can!"
I heal the ache in my balls and rocket after her, both furious and aroused. Even in this near-delirious state, I know this is just a game to her. Fleur is already mine, but she wants to play prey and predator. She wants to be caught and overwhelmed. She wants me to force her on her knees and extract the prize from a fallen enemy.
That's why I hold back, remaining just a little behind her.
The air fills with the sound of flapping wings and excited laughter. Soon, Fleur starts throwing fireballs—but not at me.
I can only watch in awe as she turns her fury on Hogwarts castle. A section of one tower erupts, engulfed in roaring green flames. Her laughter shifts into a gleeful cackle as she continues her assault, unleashing fire and explosions, leaving chaos in her wake.
As she aims at the Ravenclaw tower, I crash into her, kissing her, pawing her arse again.
She shudders in my embrace and kisses me back, her lips burning hot, her tongue warm and slick. My one hand leaves her behind and finds her large tit. Strangely, her breasts are unchanged, unmarred by the layer of feathers.
Her lip bite shocks me—it makes me throb. And I pinch her stiff nipple in return, sliding the hand on her arse further down, pushing my fingers between her cheeks, going past her backdoor, sinking into her wet pussy. She moans and nuzzles my neck, seeking the friction, addicted to the shock of pleasure.
When she tries to kick me again, I catch her knee and spread her legs, her gasp louder than our flapping wings, cutting through the wind. I vanish my clothes and slide my pulsing cock in her thighs. The flimsy layer of feather between our skin is a strange experience. Not bad, but certainly new.
As I grab her waist and prepare to push into her, she headbutts me and flies away, chortling. "I am not zat easy! Try 'arder, mon chou!"
I could just catch her in an instant, yet I play the game, hunting her like a prowling tiger.
She throws a fireball at me, changing direction, flying past the burning tower.
I keep at her tail and grab her ankle once I'm close. She shrieks and attempts to kick me in the face. I lean away and catch that ankle too, yanking her back into my arms, her back firmly pressed into my chest, my cock lodged between her arse cheeks.
She makes a hell of noise as I trap her wings as well, as we freefall.
"'ARRY!"
Just as we're about to crash, our fall turns into a glide, as we roll and fall on the tiled roof. Before she can flee again, I pin her on her hands and knees, mounting her unceremoniously, penetrating her tight velvety hole.
"Ah!" She sighs in bliss, her wings twitching at her back.
I bite back a moan as her insides clench on my shaft, shifting around to fit it perfectly. There's something different about a Veela pussy. It just feels so hot and unique. I slide my hands around over her belly, fondling her hanging breasts, as I acquaint myself with her insides in a slow and thorough manner.
My thrusts are careful, wanting to prolong this different sensation.
"'Arder, Master!" She slams her arse back, clutching the roof tiles, stealing the air from my lungs.
Master? Have I tamed her?
I hold her large perky mounds—as much as I can—and rut into her, slapping my hips on her feathery arse.
She moans and screams, aggressively thrusting back, matching my pace, fucking herself on my cock. Her wings signal every shift in her pleasure. Sometimes they twitch and other times they flap and tremble. My own wings are no better, revealing my ecstasy.
Her shriek announces her climax and she collapses on her belly, mewling like a satisfied cat, her inner walls clenching and fluttering around my manhood, coaxing me to give in.
I grunt and plunge as deep as I can, my fingers digging into her fat tits hard enough to leave a bruise. She gasps and gently sways her arse, more grinding than thrusting, cooing at me to fill her up, to come for her.
What man can resist that?
My cock kisses her womb and gifts her with spurt upon spurt of white cream, coating her insides in warm, gooey fluid. I lay atop Fleur on the sloped roof of the castle, my weight crushing her beneath me, my sensitive shaft depositing all it can into her pussy before going soft and slipping out.
I sigh as she shoves me off and flees again, seemingly not done with this chasing game.
Oh well, neither am I.