A Broader World (Harry Potter/DC Universe)

“What… what iz zis?! ‘Arry?!”
 
Fleur Delacour-Weasley is visibly lost in confusion as well as slight arousal, even as her mother and younger sister both grab hold of her and drag her over to the bed. Positively coated in his cum to the point that it goes beyond mere staining, Gabrielle and Apolline Delacour are effectively beacons of Harry’s sexual prowess, like lures designed specifically for someone precisely like one Fleur Delacour-Weasley.
 
Not only is she a part veela just like her mother and sister, but Fleur also has the magic of the life debt that her family owes to contend with. As such, with the smell of HIS cum filling her nostrils, Fleur’s struggling was… less than it should have been. After all, she should have been more than capable of fighting back, even without her wand. She was a fully trained witch, was she not? To say nothing of her veela heritage.
 
In the end though, the part veela isn’t doing much at all besides squirming and offering weak denials through her pouty, pillowy lips.
 
“Zis… zis iz wrong! Ooooh, w-what ‘ave you done with Bill?!”
 
Her denial and accusation might have had more impact if they weren’t separated by a wanton moan escaping those aforementioned pillowy lips. Her mother and sister lift her up by her knees, placing her on the bed in such a way that her neatly trimmed pussy is now bared for all to see, the gorgeous French bride gasping as her family members press it up against the base of Harry’s magnificent, exposed cock.
 
Fleur’s denials fall to the wayside and she clams up, whimpering through clenched teeth at the feel of his thick hot rod getting her cunny running in no time at all. Her hips begin to unconsciously gyrate on his cock a moment later however, prompting her to speak up again, her accent even thicker than before.
 
“Non! Non, we cannot do zis, ‘Arry! Please! I am a married woman now!”
 
“She’s a fucking cunt, is what she is. Just like all the rest of them. She wants it, look how badly she needs you. She wants you to jam it in. She wants you to fucking claim her like all the rest.”
 
Galatea’s voice in Harry’s ear is like the devil on his shoulder, begging him to fuck the angel right in front of him so to speak. Because… there’s no denying Fleur to be an angel brought down to earth. Harry has thought so since he first laid eyes on her back in his Fourth Year, and he thinks so even more now, with a few more years on Fleur’s part to have matured.
 
She’s the perfect mixture of her mother and her sister. Where Gabrielle is beautiful but still young, and Apolline is matured and gorgeously delicious, like a fine wine… Fleur is like the ripest, sweetest grapes, ready to be plucked straight from the vine and popped into one’s mouth. Biting down on this grape would be absolutely delicious, Harry knows as much. But at the same time…
 
“You know you want her, Harry. Just as you know she wants you.”
 
“Non! Non!”
 
“She can’t even properly speak any longer. Look at how her body is reacting. Her mouth might be denying it, but her lower lips don’t lie.”
 
Tea isn’t wrong about that. Fleur Delacour’s pussy is currently hot-dogging his cock, her lower lips practically lip-locked around the base of his length, gushing wet as they clench down. Fleur herself is seemingly helpless to stop her body from involuntarily grinding against the side of his cock, needily rubbing into his great gargantuan girth again and again.
 
“In the end, all that matters is power, Harry. Those that have power can do whatever they want with it. You have the power now. You think anyone will believe her if the bitch tattles? Of course not, they’ll trust their savior. And besides, once you fuck her, she’ll be singing your praises just like her mother and sister. You deserve this, Harry. You are powerful, you are mighty. Which means you can take whatever you want and there’s not a single fucking thing they can do about it.”
 
… It might have worked, if she hadn’t delivered that final monologue. It might have worked even with the monologue, if not for Zatanna’s warning. But like a splash of ice cold water down his back, Galatea’s words along with Zatanna’s crystallize in his mind, and Harry realizes just how close to the edge of the abyss he is. One good push and he’ll topple right over, but despite Tea trying to give him that push, instead she’s inadvertently pulled him back from the edge.
 
Her speech is eerily reminiscent of something Voldemort would have said. Power was something that the Dark Lord had waxed on poetically about a lot. Harry should know, he had to share the asshole’s mind for a full year there. Of course, with Galatea saying it instead, it’s undeniably far sexier and even far more… intriguing.
 
Merlin, there’s nothing more Harry wants to do then what Tea says. There’s nothing more he wants to claim then motherfucking Fleur Delacour-Weasley. She’s a hot piece of ass and she’s RIGHT in front of him, restrained by her own family members, who he just got done fucking into submission. This does feel like the obvious continuation to that route, and yet… and yet…
 
Harry knows that if he follows Galatea’s lead here, there will be no turning back. He’ll go dark, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to find his way to the light again. But Harry James Potter has been fighting against the darker nature of humanity and more specifically wizard kind since he was eleven years old. Of course, he’s a lot older now, and a lot smarter.
 
He’s not about to deny Galatea directly to her face on this matter. She wouldn’t take that too kindly, and Zatanna’s warning is still quite fresh in his mind. He has to play the long game and wait for a proper opportunity to take Tea on later, in his own way.
 
Fleur Delacour-Weasley’s juicy wet cunt is right there, lip-locked around the base of his shaft, kissing his cock quite energetically. She’s so damn sopping wet at this point it’s ridiculous, her pussy providing far more lubricant than would be necessary for him to fuck her silly. Or rather, far more lubricant than would be necessary if he was going to fuck her cunt.
 
It’s the perfect amount for another hole, on the other hand. The perfect amount… for her ass. With a hoarse yet domineering and commanding voice, Harry finally speaks.
 
“Lift her up higher.”
 
Gabrielle and Apolline obey, having no choice in the matter. Of course, Gabrielle is far more enthusiastic about things then her mother. The youngest Delacour certainly didn’t NEED the magic of the life debt to control and command her. Regardless, the two women lift up the third, and Fleur yelps as Harry reaches forward and grabs her by the underneath of her legs, his thumbs digging into her thighs as he brings her in closer.
 
When next their bodies touch, it’s no longer her cunt lips pressing into the base of his cock, but the head of his gargantuan, massive member pushing between her perfect, pale round butt cheeks as he searches out her sphincter and begins to slowly penetrate it.
 
“N-Non! Not there, ‘Arry! What do you zhink you are do-IIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!”
 
Fleur’s squeals fill the marital chamber as she’s slowly but surely impaled on Harry’s shaft. Her ass, as tight as any hole Harry has ever had at this point, nevertheless gives way before his well-lubricated cock. All of those gushing pussy juices despite Fleur claiming that they couldn’t and shouldn’t be doing this together, have provided not just ample lubrication for Harry, but also done the same for Fleur’s own anus. Her fluids had been sliding down his shaft and his balls, but also dripping onto her own undercarriage this entire time, leaving her asshole nice and wet when Harry finally began… loosening it up.
 
Galatea laughs at Fleur’s words, and Harry feels a small surge of sweet relief that the blonde Argoan isn’t upset by him not taking the bride’s quim. Still behind him, head resting on his shoulder and hands running over his body, Tea chuckles darkly.
 
“It’s about time someone removed that stick from your ass and replaced it with something… meatier, you silly French bitch. Take it. Take Harry’s big fucking cock as deep as you can.”
 
“O-Oh! Merde! Merde, merde, merde!”
 
As Fleur cusses in French, her head tilted backwards and her eyes up to the ceiling, Harry begins to fuck her. Silently, he sends the poor part veela an apology. If it were entirely his choice, he likes to think he would have left Fleur well enough alone. Hell, he would never have capitalized on his life debt to the Delacour family, if not for Galatea’s machinations and Apolline’s shitty attitude. The Delacour Matriarch had forced his hand there, while Gabrielle had turned out to be just like Hermione, eager to submit to him in any way she could.
 
Now here he was, forced by other people’s actions and choices in to giving Fleur Delacour-Weasley the ass-reaming of a life time. He couldn’t even go slow… Tea wouldn’t hear of it.
 
“Harder, Harry! Fuck her tight little French ass harder! Stuck up bitch thinks she’s better than you! Time to teach her otherwise!”
 
“N-Non! P-Please, ‘arry! M-Mercy! I beg of you, m-mercy!”
 
He can’t do that, can’t show mercy right now. If he does, Tea may just spell blood in the water, and he’s not ready yet to face off against the superpowered alien clone. He needs more time, to find a way to bring Tea to heel without having to hurt her too much, to find a way to settle things without losing her. Because… even now, with all of this, even with Zatanna’s warning, Harry still loves Galatea.
 
And maybe, some part of him, the part that’s his ‘Saving People’ thing, wants to save her a second time. He rescued her once and nursed her back to health. Who’s to say he can’t do it again? Who’s to say he can’t save Galatea from herself?
 
But first, he has to fuck Fleur’s ass harder and faster, thrusting up into her from below as deeply as he can now, his balls now smacking up against her poor pale butt cheeks as she’s bounced up and down on his dick against her will.
 
“Switch up positions, Harry! You can fuck her harder if she’s face down, ass up!”
 
With Galatea’s insistence assistance, they switch positions, Fleur ending up forced face down on the bed, her ass lifted high in the air. Apolline and Gabrielle hold down her hands as her arms are pulled out in front of her, pinning her in place from the front while Harry crouches down behind her and mounts her ass from above.
 
“N-Non, not again! Please, ‘Arry!”
 
Galatea giggles while Fleur squeals as Harry ignores her begging words and inserts his cock back into her already-gaping asshole. There’s still plenty of tightness and resistance and friction to be had as Harry jackhammers down into her from above, but at the same time, her ass is already starting to be reshaped into the perfect sleeve for his cock.
 
If nothing else, the anus is very… malleable. Even more malleable than the pussy, in fact. For all that the cunt is elastic, it’s like a rubber band in a way. Push it too far, and it’ll snap. But the asshole is different, it’s moldable, and as Harry slams his cock deep into Fleur’s bowels again and again, that moldable nature is put fully to the test. Inch after inch of thick, meaty bitch breaking prick dives into her ass until her back door is fully reshaped by his cock.
 
“You’re so BIG, ‘Arry! W-Why iz it so BIG?!”
 
Lost in the throes of passion, and not really knowing how to respond anyways, Harry doesn’t offer a reply. Tea does for him though, still pressing herself into him from behind, almost like she’s holding him so tightly in order to be able to experience him fucking Fleur first hand, or something. Leaning over his shoulder, the blonde grins wickedly.
 
“Because you’re finally being fucked by a real man, you stupid trollop. This is what a true wizard’s cock feels like. Get used to it, you silly little cunt.”
 
Then, Galatea leans in closer to his ear, breathing hot air across the lobe as she runs her hands across his chest.
 
“Do you see that mirror over there, Harry? Do you see it in the corner?”
 
Blinking, he looks up and after a moment nods, seeing the mirror she’s talking about. Galatea lets out a perverse little giggle, even as he continues to ram into Fleur’s ass with all his might, pounding her down into the bed through squeal after squeal, shriek after shriek.
 
“Wouldn’t it be so fucking hot if we all walked over there, and you fucked her standing up, bent over in front of that mirror? Just imagine the look on her face as you plowed her ass again and again, forcing her to watch herself getting pounded up the back door on what’s supposed to be her very special night~”
 
Harry’s cock throbs inside of Fleur’s asshole, causing the part veela to whimper and groan as his member pulsates and jumps from Tea’s words. It’s an incredibly hot visual image, and the only thing that ruins it just a little bit is this whole situation and the reminder that Harry is robbing Fleur and Bill, two of his friends, of their wedding night.
 
Still, there’s no helping it. And truth be told, Harry is absurdly turned on by Tea’s idea anyways. Reaching forward, he takes hold of Fleur’s wrists and pulls her hands from the grasp of her mother and sister, and with a grunt, he thrusts forward, forcing Fleur forward as well until eventually she’s coming off of the bed. Gabrielle and Apolline help her to stand up at that point before letting go again as Harry begins to walk-fuck her over to the mirror.
 
“M-Merde, merde, merde!”
 
Fleur’s repetitive French cussing follows them both all the way to the mirror as she’s jarred forward again and again, walking on incredibly shaky legs, held up only by Harry’s cock lodged in her fat ass. Finally, they’re there. Harry watches Fleur’s face contort in disbelief and horror as she’s forced to watch herself being ass-fucked in the mirror.
 
As he fucks her hard and fast from behind, Galatea moves into position behind him again. One hand runs up and down across his chest, but the other slides down under his pistoning prick. As she fondles and massages his balls, Harry groans loudly and tips right over the edge finally, filling Fleur with a thick, hot load of his seed.
 
The beautiful French bride can only watch, choking on her own spit, as her belly distends from her bowels being filled to the brim with more cum than they were ever meant to handle. And then, when Harry begins to pull back, Tea growls and bumps her hips into his, pushing him back in.
 
“I know you’ve got more in the tank, Harry. Don’t hold back on her account.”
 
And so, Harry lets himself go a little bit, enjoying Fleur’s ass even as she slowly starts to break down and enjoy it as well. The horror never quite leaves the French witch’s face, and she weakly begs him to stop every once in a while in that sexy French accent of hers, but it’s incredibly obvious from the way she’s begun to push her hips back into his plunging cock that she’s loving it, no matter how much she wants to claim otherwise.
 
Fucking her again and again, Harry blows not one, but THREE loads in Fleur’s bowels before he’s finally done with her, his cock exploding into her asshole and leaving her belly even more distended, like she’s somehow three months’ pregnant from a simple ass fucking. It’s an obscene sight to be sure, but Fleur herself is spent by that point, her eyes rolling back in her head, her tongue lolled out of her mouth, and her body only propped up by him at this point.
 
As Tea whispers something else in his ear, Harry lets out a low breath and then nods, pulling out of Fleur, letting go of her arms, letting her fall unceremoniously into a face down heap right in front of the mirror… and then turning to regard Gabrielle and Apolline with desire in his eyes and a fully hard cock that even now is ready for another round.
 
-x-X-x-
 
“D-Do not zink zat I will stand for zis, ‘Arry P-Potter… you ‘ave gone t-too far!”
 
Apolline Delacour’s haughty recriminations and all around disapproval of him ruining her daughter’s wedding night might have more bite to it, if she wasn’t ‘willingly’ bouncing up and down on his dick right now. Moaning wantonly to punctuate her altogether useless declaration, the gorgeous MILF of a veela tosses her head back and shudders in orgasmic bliss, experiencing another explosive climax at the end of his thick, fat bitch breaker.
 
Harry’s hands are on Apolline’s ass, and he’s bouncing her up and down on his dick, enjoying the tight, clenching feel of her dripping wet cunt, even as he rams up against the entrance of her womb, slowly pushing into it yet again just like he did before. And yet, still she has the time to talk. Still, she has the time to insult him.
 
As bad as he might feel about ruining Fleur’s night, Harry isn’t about to take such bullshit from Apolline. He still remembers her attempt to dominate him, like she thought pinning him down and having her way with him would somehow allow her control over Tea as well. The Delacour Matriarch is an intensely sexual creature by her very nature, being half veela instead of just quarter like her two daughters. And Fleur and Gabrielle could certainly be sexual creatures all themselves… but they didn’t hold a candle to their mother, and that much was obvious.
 
For all the crap she was spewing, she knew who had won their little exchange. Even now, even with her riding him, they knew who was really in charge. Harry was quite the power bottom, thrusting up into her, slamming home into her hungry twat time and time again as his fingers dig DEEP into her already reddened and marred bountiful buttocks. He lifts her up his cock and then slams her back down again at the same time that he’s plowing up into her, making it all the harder for her to get words out.
 
As she’s gasping and choking on the way his big fat cock is ramming up into her, Galatea pipes up, smirking evilly.
 
“He could go further. Perhaps he could even knock you up. After all, didn’t he save one of your children? It would be fair recompense, for you to give him a child in turn.”
 
Apolline chokes again, this time on her spit as she stares at Galatea in fresh horror. Harry, meanwhile, feels his cock jump with excitement inside of the gorgeous Delacour Matriarch. He couldn’t deny that the thought had it’s appeal. Even more so when Gabrielle jumps in a moment later before her mother can manage to get ahold of herself enough to respond in the midst of being bounced up and down on Harry’s meaty hot rod with such vigor.
 
“Oh please, ‘Arry! Do it! Fill my mother with your cum! Knock her up! Breed her for me!”
 
In her excitement, more and more of Gabrielle’s own French accent is slipping in, though at the same time the younger witch has clearly spent the most time on English soil during her formative years and it shows in just how English she ends up sounding. Apolline, meanwhile, lets out a whimpering mewl of disgust, shaking her head back and forth. But Gabrielle doesn’t let up and very much isn’t done yet.
 
“Give me a third sister to play with, ‘Arry! I’ve always hated being the youngest! With zis, I could have a sister to lord over as well, and to teach all of ze important things in life! Like how to worship your cock the best~”
 
Once again, Harry’s member spasms and throbs inside of Apolline Delacour at Gabrielle’s words. Honestly, it shouldn’t be arousing. Any sister that he gave Gabrielle via her mother’s womb would be HIS daughter. Not to mention, it would be another two decades before she would be old enough for such… activities, right?
 
He shouldn’t find it arousing, really he shouldn’t… but the idea of turning the Delacour family into his own personal harem, fucking and breeding them all, and then doing the same to the next generation of part veela French witches once they came of age… it’s an incredible turn on and there’s nothing Harry can do about that.
 
He’s become such a degenerate, hasn’t he? This is exactly what Tea wants for him, to turn towards this path of darkness and all around depravity. Harry is trying to fight it, really he is… but he can’t help himself.
 
Meanwhile, Fleur has recovered enough that she and her mother are able to share a look of horror as the youngest Delacour dives straight into the deep end of depravity and debauchery with Galatea. However, the shared look is cut short as Fleur is forced to watch her mother hit another explosive orgasm, Apolline’s eyes rolling up in her head and her horrified expression breaking into an expression of pure, unimaginable pleasure and bliss, euphoric ecstasy etched across every beautiful line of her face.
 
Fleur’s sopping wet cunny subconsciously twitches in jealousy as Harry abruptly turns things to a more… appropriate position for her mother. With a simple flip, their positions are reversed. Harry is on top and Apolline Delacour is on bottom as her limbs subconsciously wrap around his body in the lewdest, most wanton of mating presses.
 
Capturing her mouth with his own, Harry kisses Apolline as he fucks her into the bed, except it’s by no way a loving kiss. It’s domination made manifest in it’s purest form. Harry attacks Apolline’s mouth with his own, his tongue diving past her puffy, pillowy lips and wrestling her tongue into submission. And much to Fleur’s horror but also growing envy, Apolline not only lets it happen, but she also almost seems to welcome it.
 
From wrapping her arms around his neck to her legs around his waist, seemingly holding him in and refusing to let him go, Apolline Delacour looks like she almost WANTS to be knocked up and bred. Or maybe she’s just given up. Either way, with Gabrielle shouting encouragement in one ear and Tea murmuring it in the other, Harry can’t bring himself to stop. Fleur was one thing, and he’d held back there as much as he could for Bill’s sake. He hadn’t touched her cunt, which at this point was the best that the Weasley man was going to get in all honesty.
 
But Apolline Delacour? This bitch of a French witch could sit on it and spin! With a lust-filled growl, Harry slams home into the Delacour Matriarch’s cunt one final time, before proceeding to deliver a hot, thick load of sticky white cum to her womb. And then, he keeps on fucking her, because just like with Fleur, one load wasn’t enough.
 
This time however, he doesn’t need Tea to tell him he isn’t done. Both her and Gabrielle are begging him to breed Apolline anyways, so their words are already filling his head as Harry gives in more and more to some of his deeper, darker desires, fucking the MILF into the bed harder and faster by the moment, pounding into her with all his might.
 
His body covered in sweat, his burgeoning musculature tensing and bulging from the sheer ferocity that he’s allowing himself to show, Harry lets out a vicious, victorious ROAR as he fills Apolline with another load of his seed, and then another. Beneath him, the Delacour Matriarch moans and squeals in equal measure, her body shaking and spasming, her cunt clenching and clinging to his pistoning prick.
 
On the last load, Harry pulls back. He doesn’t pull out or anything like that, but he removes his upper torso from Apolline’s grasp, leaving her laying on her back fully exposed, her massive pale tits bouncing and jiggling, her hands left to claw at the sheets on either side of her. She looks up at him with puffy open lips and hazy, glazed-over eyes, panting and mewling and moaning as he continues to jackhammer into her.
 
All the while, the MILF’s legs remain tight around his waist. Harry couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to, but he doesn’t even try. With a vicious grunt, he fills her one last time with his seed… and with her body exposed and Harry leaned back as he pumps a final load of thick hot cum into her womb, Galatea leans forward with a wicked grin on her lips.
 
Her eyes glow red for a moment, and then a low grade version of her laser vision lances out. A moment later, Apolline Delacour is squealing as a lightning bolt is branded right atop her mound, into her pubic hair. To Harry’s mild surprise, the French MILF shudders and orgasms one final time around his cock as a result, her pussy walls getting incredibly tight as the branding takes place.
 
And then, as if that was her last hurrah, Apolline slumps back and faints dead away, eyes rolled up in her head and entire body twitching and spasming involuntarily as she just collapses on the bed, completely unconscious.
 
-x-X-x-
 
Pulling out of Apolline’s fucked silly body, there’s no doubt in Harry’s mind that he’s done it. Mission Accomplished, Apolline Delacour is almost certainly going to get pregnant with his child. Harry knows this to be the case because he felt the magic of the life debt twinge when Galatea brought it up earlier. Not that Apolline bearing his kid would actually satisfy things, Harry could tell that as well. But one way or the other, the magic of the life debt would make sure that she got pregnant off of today’s encounter.
 
Letting out a long, drawn out sigh, Harry swings his legs over the side of the bed, just sitting there and resting for a moment. Apolline lays behind him, Galatea stands off to the side, and Fleur is still resting by the mirror, though she’s no longer panting quite so heavily or struggling to regain her breath. Gabrielle, meanwhile.
 
“Let me clean you up, Harry! I can use my mouth, I’m really good with it!”
 
“No. Not you.”
 
It’s not Harry that answers Gabrielle’s request, but Tea. The Argoan Clone has a nasty grin on her face as she rejects Gabrielle, causing the youngest part veela to droop in sadness. Harry doesn’t speak up to countermand her though, instead watching with hooded eyes as Galatea walks over to Fleur and grabs the poor bride by her silver-blonde hair, yanking it up and pulling Fleur up with it.
 
Forced to her knees, the poor French witch can only mewl pathetically and claw at Galatea’s hand to no avail as she’s dragged over to where he’s knelt.
 
“Stop fighting, you dumb cunt. You have a mess to clean up. A mess that YOUR mother made.”
 
With that said, Tea shoves Fleur’s face into his incredibly messy cock, specifically near the base and balls, rubbing Fleur’s features in it. Interestingly enough, the part veela’s struggling ceases a moment after Galatea does so, with the beautiful young woman mewling as she inadvertently brings in Harry’s scent mixed with her own mother’s, straight from the source.
 
“Go on! LICK!”
 
Though still seemingly reluctant, the temptation is apparently too much. With a wanton moan, Fleur’s tongue slips out and she begins to lick and lap at his cock, starting with his balls, slobbering all over them for a brief moment before slowly working her way up his throbbing, pulsating shaft. Even now, Harry is still fucking hard, still ready to go. It’s been a long night, to be sure, and yet… he’s good for more action.
 
Action like Fleur Delacour-Weasley reaching his cockhead and slowly beginning to tongue his glans, her eyes lidded and hazy as she looks up at him, seeming almost like a broken woman. This right here was supposed to be her special night, and Harry had come and done this to it. Bill Weasley is still unconscious over in the corner and will remain that way until they leave. He has no idea that his wife has been desecrated and defiled. No clue that even now the love of his life is beginning to suck Harry’s cock with a feverish devotion that should have been reserved solely for him.
 
Because despite her initial reluctance, Fleur is starting to really get into it. Temptation takes a firm hold of her, and before either she or Harry know what’s happening, the gorgeous bride is giving him the best blowjob her lust-addled mind can muster. She’d been preparing herself for this, for this moment. It just wasn’t supposed to be Harry she was doing this for.
 
For all her veela heritage, Fleur was a bit of a prude. Or rather, she had Bill Weasley wrapped so tightly around her little finger that she decided what sort of sexual antics they got up to in the bedroom. For example, her ass was completely off limits. Likewise, Fleur had told him that she refused to perform oral… while expecting HIM to perform oral on her.
 
The former was because Fleur was afraid of anal. After tonight, she felt like she had reason to be. But the latter, her refusal to give oral… it wasn’t because she was afraid or disgusted by it, it was because she was worried she would give a poor showing. Put simply, she didn’t know HOW to give oral. But she’d been practicing. Oh yes, ever since their wedding day had been decided and announced, Fleur had been planning out their wedding NIGHT.
 
On top of the slutty, racy lingerie that she’d been stripped of by her mother and sister, Fleur had also been practicing her oral skills, preparing herself to completely rock Bill Weasley’s socks off on the first night of the rest of their lives together. She was going to give him the best damn blowjob of his entire life, and in preparation for that Fleur had gone absolutely ham on training her mouth and throat to accept any sort of phallic shape it needed to. Likewise, she’d worked on her tongue technique as best as possible at the same time.

And so, as Fleur descends down Harry’s cock, her tongue plays with his glans for a moment before she gulps down his ENTIRE length with nary a gurgle or a gargle, her pretty little neck positively bulging even as it swallows continuously the entire while. Suppressing her gag reflex with ease, the lust-addled part veela gives into her own deepest desires. She wanted to impress SOMEONE with the technique that she’d been perfecting for months now, and if it couldn’t be Bill, then she’d damn well make sure it was Harry fucking Potter, the boy who’d saved her sister all those years ago!
 
As Fleur’s mouth and throat, meant for Bill Weasley, are claimed by Harry instead, the young man in question finds himself on the other end of things for a moment. Now it’s his turn to let out a loud groan as he goes cross-eyed, struggling not to grab hold of Fleur’s hair and face fuck her right then and there.
 
Her entire technique is to die for, from the way her tongue worked over the head of his cock and is now writhing along the underside, to the way her throat welcomes the vast majority of his shaft with open arms. Finally, her pillowy lips have suctioned down to the base of his dick as she deep-throats him eagerly, and the whole experience is just… beyond what he expected.
 
“Fuuuuck, Fleur… you’re an amazing cocksucker. Probably the best I’ve ever had!”
 
In the moment, with his head thrown back and his eyes drifted shut in sheer pleasure, Harry doesn’t think about what he’s saying or who else is in the room that he’s talking to. His cock is too busy getting serenaded by the tightest, yet most welcoming throat he’s ever impaled with it, and his balls are churning in preparation for releasing another load.
 
But as much as Fleur seems all too pleased to have earned his praise, Galatea is jealous. Though Harry doesn’t see it, the Argoan Clone’s eyes narrow in slight anger that Fleur managed to get such overwhelming praise from her lover, and her lips, which had been turned up into a wicked grin, turn downwards not into a frown.
 
A moment later, the Argoan is sneering as she grabs hold of Fleur by the hair again and begins to roughly slam the poor veela’s head up and down her lover’s cock, causing Harry to let out a surprised grunt followed by a pleasured groan as Fleur begins choking and gagging on his dick almost immediately, all of her training combined with her technique not giving her any experience with being forcibly face fucked by another, much stronger woman holding onto her.
 
“GAGKH! GAGKH! GAGKH!”
 
It’s actually more pleasurable this way, but even still, Harry isn’t so sure about this. He doesn’t want to hurt Fleur, not anymore then they already have. With a groan, Harry makes eye contact with his alien lover, a note of reproach in his voice.
 
“Tea…”
 
But Galatea pays him no mind, continuing to bounce Fleur’s head back and forth on his cock as she grins viciously once more. She looks to Gabrielle and Apolline then, sneering at them both as well for good measure.
 
“What the fuck do you two think you’re doing, laying around like that?! Get over here and serve your MASTER!”
 
Before Harry can countermand that or even begin to come to terms with the gravity of what his alien lover is suggesting, both Gabrielle and Apolline are in position, the latter more reluctant than the former, but nevertheless obeying. The two part veela, one young and nubile and the other mature and voluptuous, lean into his sides and rub themselves against his body, moaning as they do so and splitting his attention.
 
With Gabrielle and Apolline kissing him and pressing their tits against him, offering their cunts for his hands to fondle and their asses for him to knead, Harry simply can’t find the time to tell Galatea off for ruining Fleur’s rhythm. It doesn’t help that it really does feel amazing, having Fleur Delacour-Weasley forced down his cock by Tea’s insistent hand again and again.
 
“GAGKH! GAGKH! GAGKH!”
 
With Galatea forcibly skull fucking Fleur on his bitch breaker of a member, and the other two Delacour women distracting him by worshipping the rest of his body, Harry simply can’t hold back any longer. Finally, he bursts and explodes down Fleur’s throat, with a vast majority of his thick hot seed coming back up out of the sides of her mouth and nose.
 
Needless to say, by the time he’s done cumming, Fleur’s already ruined makeup is even more thoroughly destroyed and the part veela looks all together messed up. Her pillowy lips are stretched wide around his cock, while her bulging throat is convulsing. Her eyes are rolled up in her head, and her nostrils are flaring as his cum trailed down from her nose as if she’s bleeding it out.
 
With a satisfied smirk on her face, Tea lets go of Fleur’s head, letting the positively wrecked bride slump backwards off of Harry’s cock, panting heavily and blowing cum bubbles all the while.
 
Harry’s cock finally begins to flag then, slowly starting to soften. And yet… something tells him his night still isn’t over, even now.
 
-x-X-x-
 
With a groan, Bill slowly begins waking up. There’s a crick in his neck and he feels tense all over, like he slept funny. But there is he, laid out in his marital bed, completely naked. It takes him a moment to remember the events of the day prior, and when he does, a goofy smile spreads across the red headed curse breaker’s face. He got married yesterday, and to the most beautiful woman he’s ever met at that.
 
How a regular schmo like him had managed to bag a beauty like Fleur Delacour, Bill found himself wondering every day. Smile still on his face, he looks down to see a familiar delicate feminine hand wrapped around his cock and follows the arm up to look into his wife’s eyes.
 
The smile immediately drops, replaced by a wide-eyed gaze as Bill stares at just how positively WRECKED Fleur is. His wife is DRENCHED in cum from what seems like head to toe, her face coated in it and her body the same way. She gives him a smile, even as Bill tries to look back and remember what the fuck happened the night before.
 
Unfortunately, it’s a complete blank. Had he really had that much to drink, that he couldn’t even remember his own wedding night? A sense of dismay begins to spread through Bill, until Fleur pipes up.
 
“Ah, zere iz my ‘andsome husband, finally awake. Mm, the way you slaked your lusts on me last night… it was so very intense. I have no idea where it came from, but you… you were quite the beast, Bill.”
 
Was he? He really, seriously couldn’t remember, and that was bothering him intensely. Yet, at the same time, the proof was in the pudding, right? The results of last night were staring him right in the face, and Bill feels the embers of pride building in his chest, even as he stutters out a response.
 
“I-I was a bit drunk, I guess…”
 
Fleur just grins at that, even as Bill beats himself up internally for such a shitty line.
 
“You were a true man last night, Bill Weasley. I ‘ope you can show the same passion and zeal every night from now on~”
 
He… really wasn’t sure he could. Eyes raking up and down her body, Bill finds himself baffled at the sheer… amount of cum he ended up releasing onto her. He COVERED her in his seed from the look of things. How the fuck had he managed that? Where had it all come from? Bill wasn’t particularly small or anything, in fact he considered himself decently well-endowed. But this? It looked like his wife had gotten gangbanged by an entire group of guys while he was asleep.
 
Obviously not, Bill trusted Fleur implicitly. But still, he was more and more impressed with his drunken self by the second, while at the same time more and more annoyed that he couldn’t remember anything. And also, more and more worried that he wouldn’t be able to give a repeat performance now that he was sober.
 
Luckily, for all that she’s stroking his morning wood at the moment, Fleur doesn’t expect anything in the moment. Leaning forward, she gives him a deep kiss with her pillowy lips and then pulls back and leaves the bed.
 
“I need a shower after all of zhat. I shall go clean myself off~”
 
As she saunters towards the bathroom to do exactly that, Bill bites his lower lip and reaches down to take over jacking himself off. He hated to watch her leave… but absolutely loved to watch her go, her heart-shaped ass glorious as ever as he stares at the red fingerprints where he must have dug into her buttocks quite hard.
 
As well, he could swear he saw cum leaking out of her ass crack as well, right before she disappeared into the bathroom… but no, that was impossible. He chalked it up to his imagination in the end, after all, despite being such an ass man, Fleur had explicitly told him her ass was off limits.
 
As she goes to get cleaned off, Bill proceeds to jack off to the mental images of his wife, covered in his cum, along with her lingering touch across his body. It’s surprisingly easy to cum, almost as if he hadn’t already spent the whole night coating Fleur in his seed. His load is also entirely average… but far too small to have helped much in doing what had been done to Fleur, so he supposed he was still pretty spent.
 
In the end, the human mind will do everything in it’s power to convince itself that a lie is the truth, rather than forcing itself to face what actually happened. That’s precisely what happens with Bill Weasley as he doesn’t allow himself to acknowledge even one single hint that anything untoward happened the night before.
 
It was their wedding night after all… how could it be anything whatsoever but insanely special?
 
-x-X-x-
 
As Harry wakes up elsewhere, he’s a LOT sorer than Bill Weasley. His body was finally recognizing the proverbial meatgrinder that it’s been through the evening and night before. Harry’s everything is positively THROBBING in pain underneath the soft, warm bodies of two familiar part veelas. Gabrielle is laid out across his chest, while Apolline is curled into his left side, the both of them still fast asleep.
 
Laid out on his right side is Galatea, also still asleep. Harry doesn’t doubt for a moment that the symbolism of her sleeping ‘at his right hand’ isn’t on purpose. It sounds like exactly what Tea would do, in this case. Slowly turning his head, clamping down hard on his tongue so he doesn’t let out a painfilled groan and wake anyone up, Harry looks over at his alien lover.
 
Even in her sleep, Tea has a superior smug smirk etched on her face. And yet, in her sleep it’s almost soft in a way… Harry is reminded of how much he loves the alien clone as he watches her slumber. He could never betray her, not truly. This isn’t a case of him versus Voldemort, where he had to do what needed to be done, where it was almost easy to do what needed to be done.
 
Things weren’t so black and white as him avenging his parents by defeating their murderer, not this time around. And yet, Harry recognized in Galatea a potential for great and lasting evil. She could easily be as worse, maybe even worse than Voldemort if she were left unchecked. And because of their connection, because of the love in his heart for her, she might very well drag Harry right down with her.
 
Slowly, painfully, Harry leans forward the scant few inches between their faces and kisses his sleeping alien lover on the lips. At the same time, he resolves to find a way to temper her personality and rein her in, before the world finds itself with another crazy villain to contend with. He won’t let her become some sort of Dark Lady… and he won’t let her turn him into a Dark Lord either.
 
He’s going to put a stop to this, one way or another.

-x-X-x-

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