All Holes Open for Business

Author’s Note:

All characters in this story have been aged up to 18 and above. This work contains mature content intended for adult readers only.

“The Affligo Sonus charm is a focused auditory pulse designed to disrupt concentration and cause momentary disorientation in living targets. When cast properly, the spell produces a tight cone of sound that resonates at a frequency just above the human hearing threshold. Unlike the more common Sonorus or Quietus charms, Affligo Sonus operates not on volume but precision. Key variables include wand-tip stability, distance from target, and modulation of magical intent. Overcasting may result in nosebleeds, equilibrium loss, or brief unconsciousness.”

Harry raised his head with a small smile. It was spell that didn’t look like much on paper, but in the right hands, it could end a duel before it really started. He grabbed the parchment beside him and scribbled a note in the corner: Good for close fights.

Harry leaned back in his chair, stretching a little as he let the quill rest. Across the room, the rest of the class was still hunched over their notes, flipping pages or squinting at their books. They were halfway through the two-hour Charms period, the classroom unusually quiet, just the soft scratch of quills and the occasional throat clear.

The First Task had been a week ago. One week since he stood in front of a dragon, spoke to it in a dead language, and somehow walked away with all his limbs still attached. You’d think that would count for something. It didn’t. He was still getting shoulder-checked in the hallway. Still hearing “cheater” muttered behind his back. Still eating alone most nights and spending more time with books than people. Whatever brief respect he’d earned burned out fast. Apparently, surviving a dragon didn’t mean shit if you were still a nerd.

Before Harry could sink any deeper into it, the classroom door opened and students turned around to see who it was. Colin Creevey poked his head into the classroom, cheeks flushed, camera bouncing against his chest. He scanned the room, spotted Harry instantly, and beelined over like he’d been waiting all day for this.

“Professor Flitwick?” Colin said, slightly out of breath. “Sorry to interrupt, sir. I’m supposed to get Harry. The champions are being called for a quick interview. Rita Skeeter’s here.”

Flitwick paused his reading and furrowed his brow. “Hmm. Yes, I believe Professor Dumbledore mentioned something about that this morning…” He tapped his notes once, then gave a small nod. “Alright then, Mr. Potter. Off you go. Good luck with Ms. Skeeter, try not to give her too much to work with.”

And that was how Harry found himself walking down the corridor toward an interview he hadn’t asked for, led by the human firecracker that was Colin Creevey. The younger boy practically bounced with every step, talking a mile a minute in that high-pitched voice that made Harry’s headache pulse behind his eyes. Something about quills, flashbulbs, how amazing the dragon bit was, and how Rita Skeeter was such a big deal, and did Harry think she’d want a picture? Maybe two? Maybe ten?

When they rounded the corner, Cedric was already heading down the same hallway, bag slung over one shoulder, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. He spotted them, slowed a bit, and gave Harry a nod. “Hey. Getting dragged in too?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Looks like she wants all four of us.”

Colin jumped in before Cedric could answer, practically bouncing. “Isn’t it exciting? Rita Skeeter! This is going to be so good! She might even ask you both the same questions, oh, maybe I can get a picture of you two together…”

Cedric smiled politely. “Hi, Colin.”

Colin flushed bright red. “Right. Sorry. I’ll, um… I’ll be quiet.”

Cedric turned back to Harry. “Anyway. You alright?”

Harry nodded. “You?”

“Fine,” Cedric said, then shrugged. “Bit tired of people cheering for me every day. Feels like I’m still in the First Task, just without the fire.”

Harry huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. I get that.”

Cedric glanced at him again, more thoughtful this time. “You handled it well. That Horntail was a nightmare.”

Harry met his eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “You too.”

Colin opened the door and stepped aside as Harry and Cedric entered. Dumbledore stood near the center, speaking quietly with Madame Maxime. Karkaroff kept to the side. As the door closed behind them, Dumbledore looked up.

“Thank you, Mr. Creevey,” he said. “You may return to class.”

Colin gave a quick nod and left without another word.

Harry took a few steps toward Dumbledore, hoping that he could just slide past this whole circus unnoticed. Maybe blend into the background, let the other champions soak up the attention. No such luck.

Rita Skeeter was on him in seconds.

She swooped in, grabbed his arm like they were old friends, and in that sweet voice that made his skin crawl, cooed:

“Mr. Potter! How lovely to see you! How are you feeling? You did so wonderfully in the First Task, such bravery, such poise…”

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he gently pulled his arm free.

“Funny. Thought you spent the last three days calling me a cheat.”

Rita didn’t miss a beat.

“Only what the public was thinking, dear,” she said, flashing a smile that didn’t come close to her eyes. “My job is to ask the questions no one else will.” She leaned in, voice dropping conspiratorially. “And really, Harry, wouldn’t you rather tell your side of the story before others invent it for you?”

He stared at her. “Depends. Will you write it that way?”

That made her pause. Just for a moment.

“Why don’t we take a seat,” she said brightly. “Get somewhere a little more private.”

Before he could object, she’d already started steering him toward a side room partitioned off with floating velvet curtains and too much perfume. Harry glanced over his shoulder at Cedric, who gave him a look that said: rather you than me.

Inside, it was worse. There was a squat armchair too deep for comfort, a quill floating ominously over a roll of parchment, and because the universe had a sense of humour, Fleur Delacour.

She looked up when he walked in.

“‘Arry,” she purred. “I was wondering when you’d show.”

He tried not to look at her.

She was lounging with one leg crossed high over the other, skirt riding up shamelessly.She was wearing that same slutty tank top, tits basically spilling out. Her outfits were as always way too distracting.

He turned to Rita instead. “Why is she here?”

Rita, who had plopped into her seat with all the grace, smiled far too wide.

“I decided on a double interview,” she said, waving vaguely at the velvet curtains like that explained anything. “More energy. More chemistry. But I couldn’t quite decide which pairing had the most drama. Cedric and Krum? Too polite. Krum and Fleur? No sparks. But you…”

Her eyes glittered.

“You, Harry, have a bit of tension with everyone, don’t you?”

Harry crossed his arms. “So you brought me in here blind?”

“Oh, come now.” Rita’s voice went sing-song. “I’ve heard things. Rumours. Whispers. A certain wager…”

Harry froze.

“She didn’t tell me details, of course. But Fleur was quite insistent that the two of you had history worth printing.”

Fleur made a soft little hum from her corner. “You didn’t want boring, Rita,” she said lazily. “And we are anything but boring.”

Harry turned to her slowly. She was grinning, blue eyes lit with wicked amusement, like she could feel the heat flushing his neck already.

She was going to do it. Right here, right now. Tell the most notorious gossip in the magical world that she’d let him cum all over her tits and face. That he’d begged to squeeze her. That she’d dropped to her knees and stroked him until he came like a desperate animal.

He looked at her hard.

She giggled and patted the seat next to her.

“Sit, ‘Arry.”

Harry sat. He was already done with the interview before it even started.

Rita grinned like a shark. “So. The First Task. Tell me how it felt, Mr. Potter. Facing down a Hungarian Horntail. The Boy Who Lived, alone in the arena. How heroic.”

Harry stared at her. “I managed not to shit my pants.”

Fleur snorted. Rita blinked like she was waiting for more, then forced a laugh.

Fleur cut in before it got awkward. “He was brave. Didn’t scream, didn’t faint. I was shocked, honestly. Thought he might cry.”

Rita looked like she was going to explode. “Right. So. There was a bet?”

Fleur smiled wider.

“Oh, yes. A very personal one,” she said sweetly. “I lost. He… collected.”

Harry turned slowly to look at her. She didn’t break eye contact. He could feel the heat rising in his face.

Rita leaned forward, way too excited. “Do tell.”

Fleur just shrugged. “Some things are private.”

Rita looked like she might pass out from the knowledge of a juicy rumour dangling just in front of her… and yet nobody wanted to share.

“And now,” she said quickly, trying to recover, “the egg. The next task’s coming fast. Any clues yet? Anything at all?”

Fleur’s fingers started fidgeting with her nails, which was weird. Fleur never fidgeted. Harry glanced at her face and saw it clear as day.

“Still working on it,” she said coolly. “I’m close.”

She didn’t know shit. Harry had to work very hard to stop from smirking. Well, well, well. Fleur Delacour couldn’t solve the problem. The problem he already started to work on. Of course, he was a nerd so he found the trail in one of his books. Golden egg like the one from first task are meant to be kept in special enviroments but he still didn’t figure out which one.

Rita picked up on it. “Harry? You?”

Harry just smiled politely and shook his head.

Fleur turned to him with a little smirk. “Got a secret, Potter?”

“Maybe.”

She raised her brows. “The egg spoke to you in Parseltongue too?”

“No. I actually did the reading.”

She gave a fake little gasp. “Wow. Books? Nerd.”

“Better than being clueless.”

“We’ll see.”

Rita was writing so fast the quill was squeaking.

Fleur turned to her. “Would you give us a second?”

Rita blinked. “What? Why?”

Fleur glanced at the quill, then back at him. That smile wasn’t cute anymore. She was planning something.

“Private rivalry stuff”

Before Rita could argue, Fleur grabbed Harry’s sleeve and pulled him up. He let her. He was curious. The way Fleur was looking at him reminded him of one particular moment that hadn’t left his head since.

She dragged him behind the curtain. Harry didnt really know what to expect.

She turned and looked him up and down like she was checking her options.

“You really figured something out, didn’t you?”

“Not your business”

She stepped in closer, fake pout on her lips. “Not even a hint? After everything we’ve shared?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean the bet you lost?”

Her mouth twitched like she was trying not to smile. “You’re so mean, Potter. I was being nice.”

He scoffed. “That was nice?”

Fleur leaned in slightly. He could see her nice round tits very easily in that position… big and round..

Harry kept his eyes locked on hers.

She noticed. Of course she did.

“You don’t even want to look?” she whispered. “I wore this for you, you know.”

“Then you wasted your time.”

She stepped even closer.

“You’re so tense, You’re not still mad about the whole… on-my-knees thing, are you?”

Since their last… moment, Fleur had been acting strange. Not outright flirting, not really, but there were glances. Looks that were too long, like she was waiting for him to say something. Or do something. And she’d been nice. Weirdly nice. Like they were mates. Which made no sense, considering she barely spoke to anyone who wasn’t useful. And now this little trap of an interview, curtain and all. He should have seen it sooner. She wasn’t here to talk. She wanted help with the egg.

Harry folded his arms across his chest in annoyance.

“No, I’m not mad. Just wondering if there’s any reason you pulled me back here besides trying to wring the clue out of me.”

Fleur let out a soft, exaggerated sigh. She laid her hand on his arm, fingers sliding slow over the sleeve until she found his bicep. She squeezed gently.

“Mon dieu. You’ve gotten so tense. What is it, hmm? Afraid I’ll bite?”

Harry decided to make himself a little bit more happy and glanced at her nipples poking through the material of tank top. Nice.

She leaned in closer, her other hand rising to rest on his other arm, palms warm and slow, thumbs pressing into the muscle like she was giving him a massage.

“Just a little clue,” she whined. “S’il te plaît, ‘Arry. You’re ze smart one, non?”

She tilted her face up toward his, pouting just a little. “Be nice to me.”

Harry looked down at her, unimpressed, and said, “If you want something from me, maybe you should be nice.” He stepped back, just far enough for her hands to slip away, and nodded toward the curtain. “Otherwise we can go back out there and let Rita keep scribbling fantasies.” He turned to go, but her hands were suddenly on his chest, stopping him with a soft gasp as she breathed,

“Wait.”

He turned slowly.

Fleur looked at him, really looked at him, and her voice came out small, honest for the first time. “I do need help,” she said. “I’m not pretending.” Her fingers curled in his shirt like she was trying to hold him there. “I don’t know what to do with the egg.” Her mouth opened, then closed, like she was swallowing everything she wasn’t saying yet. “Please.”

His fingers closed around her wrist and peeled her hand off his chest. “Why would I help you?” The words came out like a slap. “You’re not my friend. You’re not on my side. You’re here to beat me.”

He stepped in, close enough to make her tilt her chin up, and he saw everything. Her tits rising with each shaky breath, shock in her blue eyes. Harry wouldn’t admit it but the feeling was great.

“You want help? Then earn it. You can be nice, right?” He pushed her gently but firmly until her back hit the curtain pole, the velvet swaying around them. Fleur gasped, caught off guard, but didn’t move away. She just stared up at him, lips parted, hands trembling slightly as they slid down his chest.

Fleur hesitated, eyes darting down, uncertain for once. Harry watched her stare at the bulge straining against his trousers and almost wanted to laugh. “What possible use do I have for you?” he asked softly, almost kind, just to see her squirm. Her lashes fluttered as she looked up at him again, face burning, lips parting like she might whisper it but Harry didn’t let her. “Funny,” he murmured, leaning in close, “you were the one who said you’d offer your tits, your throat… anywhere… just to feel it.”

Fleur didn’t move.

She stood there like a statue, back straight, fists clenched at her sides. Her whole body looked like it was strung too tight, like one wrong word might snap her in half. There was a heat coming off her… not anger, not magic, just raw, coiled tension. And still, she hesitated.

Harry caught it, subtle but unmistakable – the stall in her breath, the way her jaw tensed like she was biting back something sharp. Fleur Delacour, who never stumbled, never second-guessed. She could walk through a crowd like royalty, cool and untouchable. But here, now, all that elegant armor had slipped. What was left looked a little unsteady. A little undone.

He hadn’t expected that. Not from her. She was supposed to be the one who made others flinch, who could turn silence into pressure with nothing but a look.

He could’ve ended it. Said something sharp, pulled away, reminded her this wasn’t smart. He should have. That would’ve been the decent thing, the responsible move. But instead, he took a single step back. Just enough to give her room. Space to choose.

Fleur’s eyes darted toward the curtain. Voices murmured beyond it, blurred by distance and fabric. She looked back at him, face unreadable.

“This stays between us,” she said quietly.

Harry slipped his wand from his pocket and gave it a small, lazy wave.

“Muffliato.”

The hum of the outside world faded. Sound dulled. The space around them thickened, like they were underwater.

He met her eyes. “It does now.”

She lowered herself to her knees without a word, like gravity had finally won. There was no hesitation now. Just Fleur, quiet and burning, like this was where she’d meant to end up all along.

“I should make it worth your time,” Fleur whispered her accent curling around every word like silk dipped in heat. Her hands moved to the hem of her top, dragging the fabric up her body until her breasts spilled free. No bra. Just bare, flushed skin, nipples already stiff with anticipation. She cupped them lazily, thumbs grazing over the tips, teasing herself more than him.

“You’ve missed them, haven’t you?” she moaned softly, leaning forward just enough to let them jiggle with the motion.

Harry’s mouth was dry. He didn’t answer right away, just reached down, unzipped, and pulled himself free. His cock twitched in the open air, already half-hard from the sight of her on her knees.

“Yeah,” he muttered looking at her. “Your tits are great.”

He paused, fingers tightening around the base of his shaft.

“But get to work.”

Fleur’s eyes gleamed, wide and dark, like she’d been waiting for that command. She shifted closer on her knees, lips parting, breath hitching as she stared at his cock like it was something sacred and obscene at once.

She leaned in and gave the head a slow lick – flat tongue from base to tip, hot and wet, dragging every inch like she needed to memorize the shape. Her lashes fluttered. A faint moan escaped her throat, like just the taste of him short-circuited her brain. She swirled her tongue around the crown, teasing the slit, then sucked gently, lips wrapping tight with a quiet pop as she pulled off again.

“I’ll earn it,” she whispered “I’ll suck until you forget your name.”

Harry let out a low moan, barely aware of it leaving his mouth. He shifted his stance, feet spreading a little wider for balance as heat pooled in his gut. Both hands found his hips, gripping tight like he needed something to hold onto. He glanced toward the curtain, nerves flaring, but nothing moved. The voices stayed distant. No one was coming.

When he looked down again, Fleur was already leaning closer. Her cheeks were red, lips parted, eyes locked on his cock with open hunger. Her tits swayed with each breath, heavy and perfect, catching the dim light. She didn’t speak. Just wrapped her lips around him and started to suck like she meant it.

No teasing, no buildup just mouth on cock, wet and eager. Her tongue slid along the underside, tracing veins, pressing just right as she took more. She gagged a little when he hit the back of her throat but didn’t stop. She moaned around him like the taste was addictive, spit already dripping from the corners of her mouth.

Harry’s mind blanked. Completely. His legs nearly gave out. His hands hovered like he didn’t know what to do with them, then clutched at his hips again just to keep from grabbing her head and losing it completely.

“Fuck…” he breathed, eyes wide. He’d imagined blowjobs before but nothing had prepared him for this. The sounds, the mess, the way her tits bounced every time she slammed her face down onto his cock.

He was losing it. Fast.

Harry couldn’t help it anymore. His hips started to move pushing his cock deeper into her mouth with each thrust. Fleur moaned like she wanted it rough, like the feeling of him using her mouth turned her on more than anything.

“Ahh ohh…” she gasped around him, voice muffled and trembling.

Her eyes fluttered up to meet his, and the look hit him like a punch. Submission. Pure and aching. Like she wanted him to take control, to ruin her throat.

He reached down, fingers threading through her silvery hair, gripping tight. She didn’t flinch. If anything, she leaned into it. When he pulled her forward, cock sliding deep into her throat, her eyes rolled back and she let out a messy gag.

“Gghk.. ohh… mmmf…”

Spit poured from her lips. Her hands clutched his thighs again, nails digging in as her throat clenched around him. The sound, the heat, the pressure.. it all blurred together. Harry groaned, head tipping back, completely gone in the moment.

“Fuck… Fleur…”

His hand tightened in her hair, rough and perfect. The other slid down, grabbed her breast, and squeezed hard fingers pinching her nipple until she gasped around his cock. The mix of pain and pressure made her moan deep in her throat, eyes rolling up as the tip pushed past her gag reflex again. She couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. And she didn’t care. Her pussy clenched so hard she nearly came right there, still fully dressed. She started rocking her hips without meaning to, slow little circles like her body was chasing friction through her knickers.

“Mmmff—ohh… ohhh…”

She was such a fucking mess. Drool everywhere. Mascara smudged. Her tits bouncing from the force of his thrusts. But none of it mattered. All she could feel was the stretch of his cock in her throat and the hot, pulsing need in her cunt.

She loved this. Loved being used. Loved knowing he could barely handle it. That he was this close to blowing because her mouth was just that good. And Merlin, his cock was huge. She hadn’t even taken it all yet, but it still made her stomach twist with need every time he slid deep.

The curtain behind her fluttered, and she swore she heard voices. Her clit throbbed. Someone could hear. Someone could come in.

She moaned louder around him, grinding harder, chasing that sharp, dirty edge. She was going to come from this. From sucking him. From being nothing but a pretty mouth and a dripping cunt behind a curtain.

And she wanted it.

Then Harry let go of her hair.

For a second, she thought he was done. That he’d pull away, leave her aching. But then she felt it. His fingers wrapped around her throat. Firm. Warm. Possessive. Her eyes flew up to his, and everything inside her just snapped.

He was watching her like she was a toy. A hole.

His grip closed a little tighter. Not painful. Just commanding. She couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. But she didn’t want to. She only wanted to serve. To choke. To cum.

He thrust again. Deeper. Slower. The head of his cock pressed against her throat and stayed there.

Her body locked.

“Mmmgh – ahhh, I’m cumming on your cock – oh fuck – ”

Her whole body convulsed. Legs trembling. Pussy clenching hard. Soaking through her knickers. She moaned again, louder, wetter, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth. Her hips rolled without rhythm, chasing a climax that had already taken her apart.

She came with his cock in her mouth, his hand on her throat, and the sound of footsteps just beyond the curtain.

Her orgasm didn’t end. It broke her. She was his now, his filthy Veela fuckpet, ruined forever by a clumsy, quiet boy with a monster cock who didn’t even know what he was doing and that made it hotter, made her pussy gush harder, because her magic chose him, and now she would crawl, beg, serve just to feel that stretch again.

He was going to cum. That was the plan, anyway. One more thrust, one more second of her mouth wrapped around him, and he was done. Then he heard it.

“She dragged him behind the curtain?” Rita’s voice.

“I’ll check,” Dumbledore said, calm as always.

Everything inside him locked up.

He yanked her off, not gently. Her mouth popped off his cock, shiny and open, a thread of spit still connecting them. She looked up, slow, like she hadn’t heard a thing.

“Clean up,” he muttered. He was already stuffing himself back into his pants.

“Shirt,” he said, pushing it into her hands.

She struggled with it. Shaky fingers, dazed eyes. Still floating.

He wiped her mouth with his sleeve, smearing spit across her cheek like it was nothing.

Footsteps. Closer.

He grabbed her wrist, yanked her up, her knees nearly buckling.

“Act normal,” he whispered. “Right fucking now.”

She was still swaying. Shirt halfway on, mouth parted. He didn’t have time for this. The footsteps were right there. Harry did the first thing his panicked brain offered he slapped her. Hard. Right on the ass. The sound cracked through the curtain space like a wand going off. Fleur jolted upright like she’d been electrocuted, spun around, eyes wide. Her hair whipped with the movement, and for the first time in a full minute, she actually looked awake. Alert. A little betrayed. Harry stared at her, dead serious. “Button your shirt.”

She froze when he said it. Not because of the slap, not because he was angry, but because of the words. Button your shirt. Just that. And something in her moved before she even meant to. Her fingers started doing it automatically. Her eyes dropped. Her shoulders settled. “Yes, sir,” she said, quiet, automatic, like it had been carved into her bones. Harry didn’t hear it. He was already turning toward the curtain, breathing hard, trying to look like someone who hadn’t just had a girl choke on his dick in a side room at school. Ten seconds later, the velvet parted and Dumbledore looked in.

His face gave away nothing. No smirk, no frown, not even a raised eyebrow. Just that calm, infuriating stillness that made Harry feel twelve again and guilty for things he hadn’t done yet.

“Everything alright out here?”

Harry swallowed. His shirt felt like it was sticking to his back.

“Yeah,” he said, because it was the only word he had.

Dumbledore gave a small nod, like that settled it. “Good. Ms. Skeeter’s eager to continue.”

He turned and walked off like he hadn’t just interrupted the filthiest blowjob in Hogwarts history.

Fleur didn’t speak. She just stared straight ahead, cheeks still pink, hair a little wild. Her shirt was buttoned, but not right. She hadn’t fixed the bottom, and one side sat higher than the other. Harry said nothing.

They stepped through the curtain.

Rita looked up like she hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“Ah,” she said brightly. “There you are. I was starting to think you’d eloped.”

Harry dropped into the chair, still half-hard and annoyed about it. His balls ached. His brain was scrambled. Fleur had moaned, writhed, came like she was in heat, and he’d been one second away from finishing before everything went to hell. Now she was sitting there like none of it happened, lips pressed together, legs crossed like a damn princess.

And she still wanted something from him.

Rita gave her quill a little flick. “Now,” she said. “About that egg…”

Harry didn’t look at Fleur. He didn’t need to. He could feel her watching him.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I’ve been working on it.”

Rita leaned in, eager. “Anything to share?”

He let the silence stretch just long enough to make Fleur squirm.

“I mean, I’ve made some progress. Found a couple translation threads. It’s a song, obviously. You just have to know where to listen.”

Fleur shifted in her seat.

He smiled. Tight. Annoyed. Still pissed off.

“Not that anyone’s earned my help yet.”

He clenched his jaw. If Rita weren’t there, he’d drag her back behind that curtain and fuck her.

The door opened.

Krum stepped in. Annoyed, unimpressed. “You done? I don’t have all day.”

Harry stood. “Yeah.”

Rita looked like she wanted more, but Harry was already walking. Fleur didn’t wait for permission. She followed fast, head down, not a word.

Harry kept walking. Fast. Past the statue at the end of the hall, around the corner, halfway to the stairs until a hand caught his arm and yanked.

Fleur shoved him hard against the wall.

He blinked.

She was pressed close, chest heaving, eyes wild.

“I’ll do anything,” she said.

He didn’t move.

“Anything,” she repeated, louder. “You want me on my knees? Again? On your bed? In the forest? I don’t care. You want me begging? Then tell me. Just…just help me.”

Harry stared at her. His cock twitched again. Of course it did.

“I’ll let you know, when I figure it out.”

---

The answer was right there. Tucked at the bottom of some dusty, half-ignored chapter wedged between magical acoustics and merfolk anatomy. Harry stared at the line again, barely breathing. To hear what lies beneath the surface, drown the voice in still water. That was it. Just simple, stupid instructions he’d wasted a week chasing in circles.

The egg had to be opened underwater. That was the whole thing. He leaned back in his chair, hand dragging down his face, heart thumping like he’d just outrun something. A week of digging, skipping meals, snapping at anyone who talked too loud, and there it was. Done. Solved.

He sat there for another second, then he grabbed the egg, shoved it into his bag, and stood. He didn’t need to think about who he was going to next. She’d been waiting.

Saturday night. Harry moved fast but careful, bag slung over one shoulder, the egg inside thudding gently with each turn he took. He hadn’t told Fleur much. Just the time. The place. If she was serious, she’d show.

He reached the Prefects’ Bathroom and muttered the password. The door eased open.

She was already there.

Fleur sat on the warm marble bench, legs crossed, arms resting behind her. Her hair was pinned up, a few strands falling around her neck. The little black dress she wore clung to her like it had been poured on, thin straps barely holding up the fabric stretched across her chest. When she looked at him, it wasn’t with a smirk. It was… calm. Certain. Like she already knew how this night would end.

“Hello,” she said.

She stood and kissed him. Slow. Soft. Her lips tasted like mint and heat and something expensive. It wasn’t teasing. It was a promise.

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, then slid the dress off her shoulders. It hit the floor in silence.

Her bikini was almost nothing. Tiny triangles holding back too much tit. Thin strings hugging her hips. Her body was ridiculous. Perfect. And she knew it.

She smiled at him. “You like?”

Harry swallowed. “Yeah.”

She stepped to the edge of the pool and walked straight in like the water belonged to her.

He stripped fast, down to boxers, heart hammering. He joined her.

The pool was warm, deep, and lined with glowing soap bubbles and enchanted candles. She swam slow circles around him, brushing past him too often to be an accident. Her tits broke the surface every few seconds, nipples hard, skin glistening. He tried to stay focused.

“Let’s hear it,” he said, holding up the egg.

She nodded, and they dunked under together.

The song poured out, distorted and ghostly, just like the book said. Voices from somewhere below, talking about time, air, what he’d have to find. But Fleur wasn’t listening.

When he surfaced, she was already close.

She pressed her body against him, arms on his shoulders, tits against his chest.

“Later,” she whispered. “You can save the world later.”

She took his hand and guided him to the edge of the tub.

“Sit.”

He did.

She floated between his legs, water lapping against her collarbones. Then she ducked, lips brushing his thigh, and grabbed the waistband of his boxers.

He didn’t stop her. She pulled them down.

His cock sprang out, hard, heavy, wet from steam and want.

She let out a moan that sounded half-religious.

“I just can’t think,” she breathed. “I need to suck you off properly. I need you to cum down my throat.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide, almost dazed.

“Please… please, sir… can I suck your magnificent prick?”

Harry leaned back slightly. Spread his legs wider.

“Do it,” he said. “Make me cum, Fleur.”

She looked up at him once more, then reached behind her neck and tugged the knot loose. Her bikini top floated off, lost in the bathwater. Her tits surfaced a second later, full and perfect, nipples already hard. She just leaned forward again, breasts pressing against his thighs as she settled between them, bare and offered, like she knew he’d enjoy the view.

Harry let out a low breath. His cock throbbed.

She smiled like she felt it.

Then her lips met his skin, and she started to suck.

Her mouth moved with purpose now no teasing, no show, just hungry focus. She started at the base, kissing it first, tongue sliding beneath, then dragging up slow until the tip pressed against her lips. She let it rest there, heavy and hot, before finally taking him in.

Warm, wet, perfect.

Harry hissed through his teeth. His hand dropped to her damp hair, not pushing, just resting, like claiming a handle.

She sank lower. Her tongue swirled under the head, then flattened along the bottom of his shaft as she slid down, taking more, letting him feel every inch.

He grunted, thighs tensing. Her tits bounced lightly with each motion, skimming the edge of the tub as the water rippled around her. She didn’t look up this time. She didn’t have to. Her mouth said everything. This was where she wanted to be. Where she needed to be.

He shifted slightly on the edge, legs spreading wider.

“Good girl,” he muttered.

Fleur moaned around him. A soft, muffled sound that sent vibrations all the way up his spine. Her hands gripped his thighs harder. Her pace quickened.

Harry looked down at her, lips stretched around him, eyes half-lidded, and muttered, “Yeah… work that cock, bitch.”

Fleur moaned around him again, deeper this time, and her head started to bob faster, each motion slick and hungry. She sucked with purpose, her tongue gliding and swirling, hollowing her cheeks just right. Her hands squeezed his thighs, steadying herself as she fucked her mouth on his cock like she’d trained for it. For a full minute she worshipped him like that wet, relentless, devoted.

Then she pulled back with a gasp, a thick string of spit connecting her lips to his tip.

“I want more,” she breathed. “I want your balls in my mouth.”

Harry didn’t answer. He just watched, chest rising and falling, as she dipped lower. Her tongue traced the base of his shaft, then dragged down to his sack. She licked slowly at first, teasing, almost reverent. Her hands cupped him gently, lifting his balls with care. Then she sucked one into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it with a moan like it fed her. She sucked the other next, sloppier this time, wet noises echoing in the quiet room.

Harry groaned, head falling back slightly. “Fuck, Fleur…”

She let his balls slip from her mouth with a lewd pop and licked lower. Her fingers slid under his thighs, coaxing them wider. Then lower still, she licked beneath, teasing that forbidden space between. She paused, breathing hot against his skin.

“Let me taste you everywhere,” she whispered, voice hoarse with need.

Before he could reply, her tongue pressed against his rim. He jolted but didn’t stop her.

Fleur moaned at the taste, eyes fluttering shut. Her hands spread him open, and her tongue worked in circles, lapping, teasing, licking his hole like she’d found the center of some dark spell. She spit on it. Licked again. Then pressed her tongue in.

Harry let out a strangled, broken sound, one hand fisting the edge of the tub. His whole body shook.

“Oh fuck..fuck, Fleur..”

She didn’t stop. She moaned into him, tongue fucking his ass while one hand reached up and stroked his cock again. Long, tight strokes. Her grip was slick from spit, perfectly timed with every flick of her tongue.

Then she pulled back, her breath hot and ragged, spit clinging to her lips. She gave his rim one last lickbefore dragging her tongue all the way up his taint, over his balls, and back to his cock.

She looked up at him, pupils blown wide, and whispered, “I want it in my throat.”

Harry’s chest heaved. He just nodded, unable to speak.

Fleur wrapped her lips around his cock again, sealing her mouth tight and sinking down until her nose nearly touched his skin. He gasped, hips bucking, hands shooting to her hair.

Then he felt her fingers pressing lower. She teased around his hole again, circling, rubbing gently. Then she pushed one in.

“F-fuck!” he groaned, whole body locking up.

Her mouth sucked harder. Her finger moved deeper. Tight around his cock, warm inside him, she worked him like she knew his body better than he did.

Each motion was filthy and perfect her throat squeezing, her tongue flattening beneath him, her finger curling deep and slow like she was hunting for his soul. He was losing it. His abs clenched. His thighs shook.

He was going to cum. Hard.

“Fleur..I’m..shit..I’m cumming…”

She didn’t pull back.

She moaned around him and shoved her mouth down one last time, swallowing his cock to the hilt as her finger thrust deep into his ass.

Harry shouted. The sound tore from his chest.

His cock exploded down her throat – hot, thick ropes of cum pouring into her mouth as she swallowed every drop without flinching. Her throat worked around him, milking every twitch. Her tongue never stopped moving.

By the time it was over, his hands had gone limp in her hair, and he was slumped half-forward, panting, ruined.

She pulled off slowly, with a wet pop, licking her lips like it was dessert.

She smiled.

“Ready to help me now?”

Harry didn’t speak for a while. He couldn’t. His brain was floating somewhere outside his body, disconnected from everything but the heat still humming through his spine. He slumped further against the smooth tile, arms loose at his sides, cock twitching faintly in the water as it cooled. Fleur didn’t press him. She just stayed close, chest rising and falling with a kind of post-climax calm, her chin resting on his thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her fingers trailed lazy circles over his skin, soft and almost affectionate. She looked up at him again, and her smile had changed. Less cocky. More real. “You’re incredible, you know that?” she murmured. Harry blinked, groaned faintly, then let out a breath that might have been a laugh.

“You’re insane.”

Fleur giggled. “Maybe. But now we can focus, oui?” She reached for the egg, lifting it gently between them. “Let’s figure this out. Together.”

Harry rolled his head toward her, still recovering, but he nodded. “Alright. No distractions this time.” Fleur smirked but didn’t argue. She climbed back into his lap without shame, tits pressed to his chest, the golden egg cradled between them. The feel of her bare skin didn’t help his focus, but she didn’t seem interested in teasing now. Not yet. She turned the egg slightly, fingers finding the clasp. “So,” she said, voice low, “you said it works underwater. Filters the spell somehow.” Harry nodded again. “Opens clean. No screaming. Just sound.” She kissed his shoulder once, quick and light, then slid into the pool with the egg. Harry followed. They dunked together, and when the egg opened, the melody returned. Clear. Echoing. That same eerie song. Fleur listened closer this time, brows drawn. “A riddle,” she muttered when they surfaced. “They take something. We have to get it back.” Harry exhaled slowly. “And we only have an hour.”

Fleur pushed her hair back, water streaming down her neck.

“They said something about what you’ll sorely miss,” she murmured, eyes distant, lips barely moving.

“So it’s not an object. It’s a person.” Harry nodded. “Someone important. Someone they think matters to you.” She glanced at him, just for a second. Her voice was quieter when she said, “That could be anyone.” He didn’t respond to that. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, arms resting behind him, legs stretched out. The water sloshed gently with every movement. “There’s more,” he said. “It mentioned not breathing. Holding your breath. That’s the real problem.”

Fleur blinked. “You think it’s a test of endurance?”

Harry shook his head. “No. I think it’s about magical adaptation. Gillyweed. Or maybe a bubblehead charm. Something to survive underwater that long.”

Fleur hummed thoughtfully, then moved closer again. She rested the egg on the ledge, then turned back, tits bobbing gently as she sank to her knees again between his legs. “And if I find that for us,” she said, “do I earn another reward?”

Harry didn’t smile. He just stared down at her, chest still rising with steady, heated breaths. “You said you’d do anything,” he murmured. “I haven’t forgotten.” He moved closer, water lapping around them, his cock already thickening again. “You were on your knees for it. Moaning for it. And I’ve been thinking about bending you over this pool ever since.” He reached down, gripped her jaw, fingers wet and firm. “So here’s what’s going to happen.” His voice dropped. “You’re going to turn around, grab the edge, and arch your back like a good little slut. Because I’m going to fuck you now, Fleur. Right here. In this water. Just like I’ve been dreaming of.”

Fleur didn’t wait. She turned in the water and stepped up to the pool’s edge, moving with that same slow, sin-dripping grace. Her hands gripped the marble lip, and she bent over with a perfect arch, pushing her ass out so shamelessly it looked sculpted for cock. The tiny black bikini bottoms clung to her like a second skin, soaked and nearly transparent now, riding high between her cheeks and splitting them beautifully. The thin string curved along her hips while the fabric barely covered her slit, her pussy lips pressing against the damp material like they were trying to peek through. Her ass was obscene round, smooth, bouncing with the faintest shift of her hips, inviting his grip. Below, her tits hung freely in the water, swaying with every breath she took, nipples hard and begging for rough hands. She looked back over her shoulder, lips parted. “You want this ass, don’t you?” she purred. “Pull these panties aside and fuck your whore.”

Harry stepped forward, water lapping at his thighs, eyes locked on that perfect display. His cock twitched, already hard again, veins throbbing along the shaft as he reached out and grabbed her hips. His fingers dug into the plush flesh of her ass, squeezing tight, spreading her cheeks just to watch the way her bikini strained against her cunt. The fabric was soaked, thin as paper, molded to her folds like a second skin. He could see everything. The outline of her slit, the shape of her pussy lips, the wet little patch where she was dripping through the fabric just for him.

With one hand he grabbed the side of the bikini, yanked it aside.

Harry didn’t move at first. He just stared, frozen, breath shallow, every nerve in his body locked on the sight in front of him. Her pussy was right there. Exposed. Dripping. The first he’d ever seen in real life. And it was beautiful. Raw. Messy. Perfect. The folds glistened with slick, parted just enough to show that soft, glistening pink inside. Her clit pulsed with every breath she took, swollen and needy. She twitched under his hands, her hips pushing back slightly like she was inviting him in.

His heart hammered. His cock throbbed painfully in the water, so hard it almost hurt. He reached down and touched her slit with two fingers, slow, reverent. Her heat pulsed against his skin. She was hot. Wet. Alive. Her cunt clenched at the touch like it recognized him. Harry swallowed, dazed. “Fuck… this is my first time,” he said under his breath. “And it’s with you.”

Fleur shivered under his touch, her breath catching, her fingers gripping the marble tighter. She looked back over her shoulder, eyes wild and wide, her voice thick with lust and laced in that rich, dripping accent. “Alors… make it count,” she moaned. “Take your first fuck, Harry. Take me.”

She reached back, hands gliding over her ass, and spread herself open for him slow, shameless, filthy. Her cheeks pulled wide, exposing every raw, soaked inch of her pussy. The bikini bottoms hung off to one side, barely covering anything. Slick glistened along her folds, dripping down to her thighs. Her hole pulsed visibly. “Tu vois?” she breathed. “This is your first pussy. And it’s starving.”

She arched more, grinding back against his fingers. “Don’t hold back. You don’t need to be careful. You don’t need to ask.”

Her voice dropped to a needy whimper. “Just fuck me, Harry. Like I’m yours. Like I’m your perfect little fucktoy.”

Harry didn’t wait another second. His hands clamped down on her hips, fingers biting into the soft flesh as he pressed his cock against her slick, swollen pussy. Fleur’s breath hitched, a desperate moan tearing from her throat as he shoved inside, stretching her tight, wet cunt inch by inch.

Her back arched hard, tits spilling forward, nipples dragging wet trails through the water. Her hands gripped the edge of the pool, claws digging into the marble as she pushed her ass back, presenting herself fully to him. The soaked black bikini barely clung to her, sliding aside to reveal every dripping inch of her hungry cunt.

“Fuck me harder, Harry,” she begged, voice rough and dripping with need. “Fill me up with that huge cock. Make me scream like the filthy little whore I am. Use my pussy, use my ass fuck me raw. I’m yours to destroy.”

Harry’s hands crushed her hips as he plunged deep into her dripping cunt. Every slick inch gripped him tight, her soft flesh jiggling with each brutal thrust. He couldn’t look away. Her ass bounced under his fingers. This was his first pussy, raw and dripping, and he was going to fuck it hard enough to ruin her.

His hips slammed faster, harder. He shoved into her with brutal force, chasing the desperate screams he knew she’d give. Her moans filled the air, wet and filthy. She was his, all wet heat and trembling flesh, begging for more.

“Fuck me harder, Harry!”

Harry grunted low, pushing deeper. “You’re mine, slut.”

She cried out, hips bucking wildly. “Yes, yes! Harder, don’t stop!”

He slammed into her again, breath heavy. “Say my name.”

“Harry!” she moaned, voice breaking. “Fuck me raw, fuck me hard!”

Harry’s palm crashed down hard on her ass, the sharp smack ringing through the steamy air. Fleur gasped, then moaned, trembling with need. “Yes! Yes!” she cried, her cheeks jiggling wildly beneath his rough hand.

He yanked her hair hard, pulling her head back so her throat was exposed.

“That’s my baby girl,” he growled, fingers tightening just enough around her throat to make her gasp and shudder.

Fleur’s legs trembled as waves of pleasure crashed through her. “I’m cumming… I’m cumming…” she whimpered, voice breaking on the edge of ecstasy.

“Harry… I’m CUMMING!”

Harry grunted deep in his chest, thrusting harder and faster, driving her over the edge with every brutal slam, their wet, desperate sounds filling the room.

Harry’s grip on her hips tightened as he pulled back, eyes dark with hunger. Without warning, he slammed forward, the tip of his cock pressing hard against her tight, slick asshole. Fleur’s breath hitched sharply, a desperate scream ripping from her throat as he forced inside. Her body tensed then melted against him, surrendering to the brutal stretch.

His hand wrapped around her throat, fingers curling possessively as he began to fuck her ass hard and fast. The wet slap of skin against skin echoed around the steamy room, mixing with her wild cries and ragged moans.

“Take it, slut,” Harry growled “You’re mine to fuck, every hole, every inch.”

Fleur screamed, hips bucking wildly, nails clawing the marble edge. “Fuck me, Harry! Pound my ass! Use me!”

“Say it,” he demanded, thrusting harder.

“I am yours!!” Fleur screamed

Harry’s eyes darkened, breath ragged as he slammed into her harder, faster. The tight heat around him pulsed with every brutal thrust. His grip on her hips tightened, holding her steady as the tension built deep inside.

With a low growl, he lost control, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he filled her ass with hot, heavy spurts of cum. Fleur’s moans soared, body trembling against him as he buried himself deep, claiming every inch.

The sounds of their bodies crashing together the wet slaps, her desperate cries, his grunts flooded the room as he emptied himself inside her, owning her completely.

They lay back against the marble, bodies slick and tangled, breaths heavy and uneven. Fleur’s fingers traced lazy patterns over Harry’s chest, her eyes dark with want and mischief.

“Since you’re the one who owns me now,” she purred “let’s make a bet. Whoever gets more points in the Second Task gets to decide what the other does. No questions, just obedience.”

Harry’s eyes dropped to her, already imagining all the ways he could make her pay. “You really want to lose, don’t you?”

She smiled wickedly, pressing her body closer. “I want you to win. So you can use me however you want.”

Harry’s grin was sharp. “Then it’s settled.”

Her lips brushed his ear. “I’m already yours, Harry. Every inch, every secret.”

They drifted in the warm water, the contest looming but for now, all that mattered was each other.