Harry Potter never meant to enter the Triwizard Tournament. He wanted books, not dragons. Peace, not headlines. But when his name erupts from the Goblet, the rules change and so does everything between him and Fleur Delacour.
She’s veela-hot, smug as sin, and cocky enough to taunt him in tight tops and leggings painted on by dark magic. He should’ve ignored her. He didn’t.
She made a bet. He won.
Love this story, any chance I can convince you more to be commissioned?
Are you ever going to open this up to lower Patreon tiers? It’s been over 7 months since this chapter was published but I still can’t read it?
Done