Secret of the Male Veela

Posted: 3/30/2006
Beta: Yogert

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Chapter 11: Le Bastion des Veela

Vivid emerald eyes cautiously swept across the vast expanses of thick forest bushes. The young man breathed deeply and gasped in surprise. Harry Potter was a simple city boy, and as such he was taken quite off guard by the simple but most pleasurable freshness of the gentle air, helped facilitated by the presence of the hundred feet tall trees all around him.

It had been an eventful day for the young man. After using the special French portkey Fleur had sent him, Harry arrived at the edge of a dense forest, overjoyed to find his girlfriend along with several curiously masked and cloaked figures. The initial joy and delight he felt, however, quickly gave way to darker emotions when Fleur explained the nature of his visits. Apparently Regine was already at a nearby hidden veela city, where the French veela who had approached Fleur was waiting for him.

Harry was not pleased when Fleur stated in rather clinical terms that he would be bedding seven of her fellow veela. In retrospect, had he been more level-headed, Harry might have noticed that Fleur’s words were a reflection of her own uncertainty and, dare he say it, intense jealousy. As it was, however, the male veela was focused on the manner in which the quarter veela made her ‘demand’ known to him. His response left the older girl almost in tears…

Harry sighed.

“Where are we?” He asked, turning to his companion. Harry’s inside churned at the thought of meeting these unknown veela.

“I zink ve are somewere inside the Ardennes Forest in northeastern France.” A small voice offered. It was spoken so softly that Harry almost missed it. The young man chanced a glance at his exotic French lover, and almost winced at her very slight but very distinct (to him) sullen expression.

‘Great job, Harry old pal. What a great boyfriend you were back there. A month gone and you give the supposed love of your life a tongue lashing of a lifetime’ The haunting voice of his conscious echoed within Harry’s heart, causing his stomach to twist in a most uncomfortable manner.

In retrospect, it wasn’t even bad news, was it? To copulate with what was it… six, seven veela, not counting Fleur… at the same time too? Most males could barely even dream about being with one veela, and here he was, hours from being with more than he could possibly have imagined.

‘So, why the bloody hell did I yell at Fleur?’ After all, there was no reason for him to have blown a casket at Fleur, right? Especially when Fleur, though clearly not pleased with the idea of sharing Harry with over half a dozen of her own veela brethren, also showed no sign of opposition. Alas, one of the cons of being super intuitive was that one couldn’t delude oneself.

The male veela sighed once again.

He had been very angry, but it was at himself, not Fleur. And anger most certainly was not the first emotion he felt when Fleur propositioned the idea. No, it was lust; pure unbridled lust. Harry later had to flip back through his memories to make sure he wasn’t drooling that first instant when the thought of being surrounded by mountains of veela flesh entered his mind. Even so, he vividly recalled how his eyes glazed over momentarily as he wondered how wonderful it must feel to have so many soft, warm, willing bodies pressed against him… and how fiercely he growled when he forcibly chased away the tainted images.

All along his trip across the English Channel, he had thought of how to shower his French lover with his undying devotion, to show that none of the few muggle girls he had been with could compare to her, and to a lesser extent (if he was being truthful) Regine. But what was the first thing he does when he meet her? Why, drool over some random girls, whom he never met before, of course. He had been rightfully angry with himself, for being in that one moment exactly what he always wanted to be: a blasted normal teenage male. And to top it all off, he took out that anger on Fleur.

‘How much more of an ass can I be?’ Thought the male veela in self loathe.

“Fleur…” Began Harry. But as Fleur pair of shining azure eyes locked onto his own emerald ones, he hesitated, feeling his resolve fleeing him.

“Miss Delacour, Mr. Potter. This way please.” One of the cloaked escorts called out in a soft and melodious but at the same firm voice.

The male veela turned to look at one of the ‘escorts’. Clad in long flowing dark battle robes and covered with a thick shroud that completely obscured their faces, Harry had at first mistaken them to be Death Eaters given the similarity of their clothing.

Closer examination revealed several discrepancies. First, where as the presence of the white masked DEs naturally inspired fear and hate, these figures in their dark purple battle robes just exuded a sense of, well… imperial authority, for the lack of a better phrase. Two, all of them were rather small in stature with no one being larger or taller than Harry, himself. From what he could recall, there were quite a few DEs roughly Goyle and Crabble Sr. in size at Voldemort’s rebirth. And three and this could just be him, but Harry just knew these people were way too slim and curvy to be all male. While the robes didn’t exactly cling against their bodies like leotard suits, they did show enough to tell Harry they were female. And to top it off Harry had caught flicks of fine silvery blonde hair on the peripheral of his vision making it clear who these escorts were.

Now, Harry could hardly be termed a sexist, but he had been nurtured in a particular setting where particular views on what particular roles particular peoples in society had prevailed. As such, the sight of a dozen cloaked petite veela, armed with the cloak and dagger persona didn’t really jive with what he knew.

Harry cleared his thoughts in an attempt to regain his bearing again, but by then Fleur had moved in the direction the lead cloaked figure had instructed. Out of his element so far as the female mind is concerned, Harry at last decided to silently follow his lover and their veela escorts deeper into the forest. Surely he would have time to apologize later, wouldn’t he? Nevertheless, Harry couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt at being shafted for the first time by his love since that fateful night in the infirmary at Hogwarts.

After ten minutes of trekking, the Englishman noticed the trees that spurt up like overhanging appendages to only thicken in numbers. Most curious since Harry thought, based on the veela’s portrayal, that their home was more like a muggle city of sorts, with expansive open fields, sophisticated constructions and grand residences. Just as he was about to voice his confusion, their guides stopped.

“We are here, mademoiselle, monsieur.”

Harry blinked in response, looking rather bewilderedly at the massive tree trunks all around him. ‘Was this a joke? There’s nothing here…’ The young man was about to voice his befuddlement when something caught on the edge of his senses gave him pause. Something was decidedly off…

The male veela closed his eyes, took in a deep gulp of air – just as he had done earlier - only to gasp in surprise.

“These trees aren’t real, are they?” Of course, they sounded and felt real when Harry struck them, but he knew otherwise. Turning to the veela escorts, he could almost make out the small smiles of appreciation being bestowed upon him. Even Fleur had a trace of something akin to knowing pride as she looked at their veela escort leader. The cloaked figure didn’t respond immediately, but then no explanation was really necessary when the forest in front of them suddenly disappeared.

“May I have the honor of welcoming you to Le Bastion, the hidden veela city…”

“Bloody hell…” Harry jaw literally hit the ground, as a majestic city of enormous proportions seemingly appeared out of thin air replacing the thick forest of mossy trees. Bold, grandiose and massive structures featuring chiaroscuro colonnades and domes stretched as far as the eye could see. Open grassy plains, colorful and man made lakes dotted every which way to complement the monumental architectures. Of course, none of this could even hope to compete against the grandness of muggle Paris one would witness as one walked along the Champs-Élysées. But compared with what could only be described as the dilapidation of magical Britain, the veela city was beyond impressive.

The young man’s head swirled about to take in all the sights as the veela entourage led him and Fleur through the city. Wide-open pathways, paved with what appeared to be charmed marble tiles, which glistened brightly in the broad afternoon sunlight. For such a grand city, the streets were strangely deserted with but a few pedestrians loitering about. A few of the veela had looked rather curiously at the human male, but quickly moved along upon noticing who he was keeping company with.

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As the cloaked veela closed in to form a tight ring around Harry and Fleur, rapidly speeding them along to their final destination, two figures monitored the group’s journey via a magic mirror within a fortified room in the palace.

“Little Aconite will have them here momentarily. Are you certain you are willing to accept my plan, your highness?” The veela aristocrat questioned, showing just a hint of a haughty sneer.

The tiara wearing veela ignored her companion’s barb, answering calmly: “Like I said before, absolutely not, but I won’t challenge it.”

“Thank you so much, your highness.” The white haired youth closed her eyes, physically biting her tongue to hold back the harsh retort she had on the edge of her lips. She knew the Comtesse was baiting her, trying to provoke her into throwing a fit like some spoiled teenage girl. She knew how the other veela’s mind worked. Hard, coldly calculating, amazingly perceptive to the point of being dangerous, Blanche de Noire did not get to where she was by being stupidly insubordinate.

The young girl turned on the elder veela.

“We don’t like each other, but even I know we are together in this. God help us all if you should fail.”

The elder veela, however, remained unperturbed to the younger girl’s dire warning.

“Oh, looking after the welfare of someone?” She guessed, nodding towards the magic mirror still centered on Harry, Fleur and their veela escort.

“Only the welfare and safety of our people. Lavender can look after herself. She doesn’t need me.” The veela royalty spat back. The comtesse only smirked as if pleased to have extricated an angry emotional reply from the normally calm and reticent girl.

“Curious how you speak as if ‘Lavender’ is a real person and not a simple alias.”

The princess looked away, not bothering to answer that particular inquiry.

“If your plan fails, we are as good as dead or have you forgotten what Thanatos did? Don’t ‘fuck’ up, Comtesse de Noire.” Blanche smiled at her fellow veela’s colorful word choice.

“Not to worry, I don’t intend to.” As sincere as the venerated elder veela sounded, the veela princess wasn’t reassured. She was about to open her mouth to speak again when the door opened.

“Pardon for the intrusion, my lady, your highness, but the human guest requests her ladyship’s presence for a previously arranged matter. She says it’s urgent.”

The princess looked questioningly at the comtesse, who was smirking in a rather devious manner.

“Hmm… the little human bitch that initially came with the Delacour girl challenged me to a little duel. Not to worry, now’s not the time, so I won’t hurt her… too much.”

“Please inform Aconite, I mean ‘Lavender’, to keep our guests occupied while I take care of a little problem. Shouldn’t take more than half an hour at most.” The aristocratic woman gave younger veela a much too carefree smile as she walked away.

As the door closed shut leaving the princess alone with her thoughts, she wondered not for the first time if she should have taken Lavender’s advice and scrapped the comtesse’s scheme. Technically it was within her powers as the Royal Princess of the French Veela and she suspected that even now Lavender harbored hopes that she would override the comtesse’s authority.

The young princess sighed, blowing hot air out of her mouth and watching strands of her snow white hair fly upwards as a result. But then what could have she done? Comtesse de Noire had made it very clear that any opposition to her golden plan would be met by all the force her prestigious title and position could bring to bare. And it was much too naïve for her to hope that the ever vigilant veela could be ambushed. She just didn’t have the heart to instigate a war that would pit French veela against French veela, sisters against sisters, mothers against daughters, and families and friends against each other.

‘Fucking politics…’ The young lady ruefully shook her head. But it was far too late now. She had given her word and was every bit as committed to the present course of action. One way or another it would all be over soon.

The Veela Princess took one last look at the magical mirror. To the handsome young English boy, Lavender had often spoken so fondly of, she offered one very fitting epithet: “Je suis désolée. I’m sorry, so very sorry.”

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Harry watched in silence as all but the leader of the cloaked veela escorts exited the front door of the dome like interior of the grand palace. He watched as the still cloaked veela moved towards him, but instinctively shrunk away and dropped into a defensive stance as she pushed against his personal space. Surprised, the veela backed away, turning to Fleur for help.

“It iz ok, ‘arry.”

Trusting his lover, Harry allowed the other veela to guide him into the center of the room where after the veela uttered some words in French, a dais podium rose out of the ground. The young man felt a jolt pass through him as his right hand was pressed against the cold spherical surface.

“What was that?” He asked suspiciously.

“That keyed you into the ward around this city so you will be able to come here directly, Mr. Potter. My apologies for the long trip but the nature of the ward made it necessary for you to come through the long way the first time around. It’s to prevent surprise visits by large groups of unpleasant people. From now on, though, you may travel here without having to go through the forest first.”

Harry nodded. This city wide ward vaguely resembled the fidelius charm he read about recently, with the possible exception of being light years ahead in terms of scope of area covered and degree of security offered. Thanatos’s diary had alluded to at least half a dozen potentially critical weaknesses to the now popular secrecy spell all of which seemed to be covered by this ward.

As the veela released his hand and moved to walk away, Harry arm shot out and grasped the surprised veela by the arm.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” The male veela peered at the still cloaked and shrouded lithe figure, half curious and half suspicious. There was something about the girl that seemed very, very familiar. Almost unconsciously, Harry leaned into the veela while pulling the unresisting smaller girl closer to him as if hoping that by closing the distance between them he could catch hold of whatever it was that about her that was eluding him. It wasn’t until the two were bodily pressed against one another that Harry suddenly backed off, having sensed the tension shooting out of his veela lover standing not three feet away.

With marked hesitation, the mysterious veela pulled back her shroud, revealing a shock of white blonde hair framed around a beautiful heart shaped face with high aristocratic cheekbones. Harry found himself being pulled into the two prominent deep brown orbs, which sat on top of a cute button nose. The young woman looked roughly his age, but carried an aura of mystique and confidence of someone far older and experienced. Harry had no problem admitting that she was gorgeous. And he was by no means an easy judge of purely physical attractiveness given the bevy of beauties he had become acquainted with. Even so Harry had to fight against an inane urge to blush as the young veela curled her cupid bow lips into a coquettish smile.

“You could say that.”

As if suddenly losing her shyness, the young girl linked her arm around Harry’s like an old friend and whispered conspiratorially in his ears:

“You took my best friend to the Yule Ball.”

The brief expression of confusion that crossed the young man’s features was almost immediately replaced by one of surprise and awe.

“Lavender!? But, how?!” How indeed. The petite and pale exotic creature before him looked nothing like the ditzy teenage bimbo from school.

Harry must have had a funny look on his face because Lavender broke down in giggles. But it wasn’t the annoying high pitched shriek she often shared with Parvati; this sound actually made Harry’s feel pleasantly warm. Of course, he warmed up a hell lot more when without preamble, Lavender, the veela, darted forward and pulled her schoolmate into a sizzling kiss.

In retrospect, Harry would have liked to have been able to say that he had resisted with all his might, but alas that was not to be. Having voluntarily cut himself in anticipation of meeting his French lovers, Harry really didn’t expect to be caught in a situation where he couldn’t find relief. But that was exactly what had happened in the aftermath of the previously mentioned argument with Fleur. The male veela was effectively sitting on top of a mountain of suppressed excess sexual tensions along with a good dose of self-guilt, anger and hurt (the last coming from the cold shoulder Fleur gave him earlier). Hence, it wasn’t surprising that his innate defenses against this sexy girl’s advances happened to be a bit weaker than usual. It also didn’t help that said sexy girl was a fully trained pure blood veela, who knew exactly where and how to push Harry’s button.

So, for about thirty seconds, Harry was far too engrossed with figuring out whether the girl in front of him tasted like cherry or strawberry to worry about the expression the girl standing less than a meter away was wearing. It wasn’t until he caught sight of the glare a certain quarter veela was directing at them, that Harry’s mind caught up to his hormone drugged body…

‘Shit.’ Of course, when it did, it just about killed his rising hardness.

“I see zat you know each other rather vell.” Fleur’s calm and leveled voice took both Harry and Lavender by surprise. And they were doubly surprised by the darkly humored addendum. “And you said you didn’t ‘av such ‘friendz’ at Hogwarts.”

Harry was amazed that even as his lover was undoubtedly feeling hurt and betrayed, she managed to reign in her primal urges enough to crack a joke... or at least he thought it was a joke. Still, while he was relatively certain that she wouldn’t develop a ranting rage or transform into a flame throwing bird, the feeling passing through their bond was bad enough to make Harry wince.

The pureblood veela was even more impressed by the level of control the untrained quarter blood veela possessed. Had she been born as part of the community and not as an outsider and considered to be an obstacle, she most likely would have had a bright future. ‘How truly unfair life is…’

Fleur walked towards Harry, stopping so that she was just inches away from him. The male veela struggled for a minute to try to come up with a semi-plausible excuse before sagging in defeat. Even so, his emerald eyes never wavered from meeting Fleur’s blue ones.

“I’m sorry, Fleur.”

The blonde girl calmly looked at her younger lover.

“Are you really, ‘arry?”

Of course he was sorry… or so Harry wanted to rant and yell but found that he truthfully couldn’t. What was it that he was really sorry about? For kissing the other girl? For yelling at her earlier? Or perhaps, he simply apologized because it was expected of him?

“It’z… it’z ok, ‘arry. She’s one of the ones anyway.” The older teen grounded out in a resigned manner as she looked at the white haired veela on the side. Giving the stunned young man a warm hug, the quarter veela then proceeded to give Harry a very juicy kiss on the lips, the same lips which had just moments before had been locked onto the girl beside them.

“Taste like strawberry.” She remarked in an offhanded manner. Then with a flourish of her silky blonde hair, Fleur walked away, muttering something about finding her best friend so that they could get on with it.

Click – clock… the sound of two pair of boots echoed through the long deserted hallways of the grand palace. One would think it rather strange that there would be no one around, but at that moment, Harry was way too preoccupied with his own thoughts. In fact he was pretty much being dragged along by his veela companion and classmate.

‘So she’s one of ‘them’, huh?’ The male veela thought as he gave the veela a more critical look-over. On the one hand, he noticed that Lavender wasn’t ‘really’ a cup C going D, though to be truthful, given her stature a B was really more than adequate. On the other hand, the close contact allowed him to get a very good sense of the taut muscles rippling just underneath her robes. Clearly either the girl knew some serious glamour charms or the Hogwarts robes did much too good a job of hiding a student’s features. Harry could sense the barely suppressed emotions of lust and want lying inside the girl. On the one hand, his natural instinct was interacting with those perceived emotions, slowly turning his inside into a raging inferno. On the other hand, the powerful thrill from earlier to bed the lovely beauty before him was being assaulted by feelings of doubt and guilt.

As the male veela was lost in the depth of his mind, the veela female soldier also had her own haunting thoughts to contend with. Currently she was afflicted with a pang, no not a pang; A pang indicated a notion of smallness that was completely the opposite of what the pureblood veela felt. What the veela codenamed Aconite, formally disguised as the human girl Lavender Brown, felt was nothing less than an earth shattering screech that sent her heart reeling in pain. She was absolutely disgusted with herself for kissing Harry Potter. Of course, it had felt wonderful beyond description; and she felt her mouth salivate as she thought of what they would do very soon. Yet at the same time, she also felt despicably dirty; dirty for having tried to poison the beautiful relationship between the two lovers. And this wouldn’t even compare to what she would soon take part in committing. Only years of training and an imbued mentality of imperviousness kept the girl from fleeing from where she felt she just shook hands with the devil. It was a very good thing that Harry was too caught up with his own thoughts to notice the emotions his companion was suffering through. By the time conversation resumed¸ the veela had successfully pushed her reservations into the recesses of her mind

“So if you are French and a veela at that, what were you doing at Hogwarts when Beauxbatons is so much closer to home?” Curiosity but also a hint of suspicion was clear in Harry’s question.

The veela bit her lips. This was a tricky issue. Historic analysis of male veela had shown that they were unnaturally adept at picking up the slightest lie or exaggeration from a female’s words. Some had dubbed half jokingly, half seriously it as the ultimate male response to the so called ‘woman’s intuition’. In essence, she would have be to as honest as possible while innocuously stirring the conversation away from topics that might force her to reveal something about the plot currently in play. This might have been a daunting if not impossible task for any normal human girl, whose mind had a good chance of being turned into mesh at the very presence of a male veela. But Aconit Violet had been trained for exactly this sort of thing.

“I won’t lie to you, Harry. Can I call you that, by the way?”

“Might as well since we are going to end up sleeping together.” The girl took her soon to be mate’s dry response in stride, though her pale cheeks did take on a noticeably pink hue.

“Very well… Harry. The reason I was at Hogwarts was so that I could seduce you.”

The male veela instantly tensed but Harry somehow resisted the urge to back away from the girl.

“Why? Because I was the Boy Who Lived?” The young man felt memories of his previous encounters with Dumbledore flashing across him. Expecting a similar sprawl about his role in providing for the greater good, the simple ‘oui’ he got took Harry completely by surprise.

“Excuse me?”

“I said ‘yes’. You are special, Harry, and have been ever since that fateful encounter with the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort wizard who’s currently rampaging in your country.”

Harry allowed a few seconds of silence to develop before setting the bait.

“I was told that it was my mother’s love that saved me.” A soft smile graced the pretty veela’s face as she felt her companion studying her intently.

“Do you think your mother was the only parent who ever gave her life trying to protect her offspring from the killing curse?” When Harry looked away, the veela momentarily panicked thinking she said something wrong. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect for the person who gave you birth, milord.”

Harry proceeded to wave her off but stopped as his mind picked up the last bit.

“Lord?”

“That is correct. By virtue of being the male veela, you are our lord, Monsieur Potter.”

A troop of about half a dozen more blondes walked towards the slowly walking couple. At the head were a silver haired woman, maybe an inch taller than him, and a much younger white haired youth, wearing a golden tiara. Four pale, stone faced veela guards, wearing blue and purple robes with flowery embellishments, followed at about half a pace behind.

“Matriarch, Your Royal Highness.” Lavender acknowledged. The stateswoman nodded while the young royalty whom she bowed to seemed mighty miffed by her display of formality and showed it with a disapproving glare.

Lavender, except for the briefest hint of a smirk, ignored this and turned to Harry. “Harry, these are two of the most important people of our community; Matriarch Celeste Caillaude and Princess Violette Mercière.”

“Enchanté, mademoiselle.” Going by what he gleaned from various texts on traditional customs, Harry gently took the young royalty’s hand and lightly kissed it. When he rose, he saw the older woman appraising him with an air of approval while Lavender grinned openly at the slightly flushed veela princess. Looking between the two girls, Harry briefly wondered if they might be related before remembering they were all veela. Of course, they were all petite, blonde, slim and gorgeous in the almost same exact ways. These two girls probably just seemed more similar to each other given the pure white hair they both had as compared to the silvery blonde of the others. In fact, the only physical difference Harry could see was their differing eye color; Lavender’s eyes were a rich hazel in coloring while the veela royalty had two large sapphire orbs, which sparkled with vivaciousness.

“I suppose I should ‘thank you’ for the arranging all this, madam. Seven veela is after all every man’s dream.” The sarcasm might have been a bit unfair, since Harry most certainly wasn’t inherently opposed to living out this ‘every man’s dream’, but wasn’t entirely out of place. Here he was, possibly just hours from living a fantasy few men would have even dared to dream and yet he just couldn’t look forward to it.

“I’m afraid most of the credit must go to Comtesse de Noire, but I do assume partial responsibility.” Comtesse de Noire; Harry filed the name away for future consideration.

“You know, I still don’t know what the exact nature of this ‘quid pro quo’ deal is…” Quite untrue as Harry pretty much knew what the whole deal was. Understanding its logic was another matter. Supposedly by screwing and bonding seven of the veela of their choosing, he, Harry, would be recognized as the rightful lord of the veela community, which in return, would pledge to fully support him with all of their political and military might. But the whole thing just had a smack of surrealism that made it very difficult for Harry to swallow.

“Thanatos’s Diary mentioned that I would be the rightful lord of the veela by virtue of existing.” The females in question looked at one another in surprise. That Harry would have gotten his hands on the age old relic regarding his heritage this early clearly didn’t cross any of their minds.

“True, but bonding with a veela would solidify that relationship in the eyes of everyone.” Lavender offered cautiously. To Harry, the response was spoken without conviction, sounding distinctively dry and rehearsed.

“I’m already bonded with a part veela.” A fact which Harry doubted the other veela missed.

“Madame Delacour had, I’m afraid, rejected the veela community entirely in favor of assimilating herself and her daughter fully into French wizarding society… Mademoiselle Delacour is, therefore, an unacceptable choice.” Harry growled, his eyes glowing hot red with anger.

“I don’t enjoy being told who I could deal with, much less who I should share my bed with.” The female entourage shrank away, taken back by the young man’s sudden vehemence and, indeed, devotion to his own.

“Of course not, Harry. If you really don’t want to, we won’t force this.” The other females swerved to look at their princess in surprise, but the royal heiress only ignored her compatriots as she favored the young man with an indulgent smile, a smile that sought to convey a note of apology and a feeling of good will; and a smile that the male veela couldn’t help but react to in kind.

“Perhaps, we should talk about more pleasant matters?” The princess’s suggestion was found to be readily agreeable. And the mood lightened significantly as Harry bartered easily with his classmate and the two veela dignitaries. The young man was pleasantly surprised at how forthcoming and genuinely interested they were in answering all of his questions and inquiries.

Still an undercurrent of unease was still thick in the air. Harry couldn’t help but think that the cute veela princess changed the topic not only because it was making him uncomfortable. Everyone seemed to be inordinately concerned with making him feel comfortable. And the offering to him of not one, not two, but SEVEN tempting baits? What was that all about? Back when he was ‘only’ the Boy Who Lived, Lavender had been the only one set for him and Harry would have been quite happy with the arrangement had he not met Fleur. So why such excess now? If this was a smoke screen, what was it that was being hidden?

“… but we do hope that you’ll give us the chance, Harry. I realize that you have already bonded to Fleur, but to be frank, she’s only a quarter veela and far removed from her culture. The seven of us that have been arranged for you, however, are very much in tune with our heritage and we could make it ‘very’ enjoyable for you.” Lavender’s cheery voice dropped several pitches to take on a much more husky and sexy tone.

‘I don’t doubt that…’ Harry thought as he felt his inner fires being expertly stroked while slim nimble hands slipped under his clothes. He entertained the playful veela’s advances for a minute before thinking it too absurd – or was it erotic? – that the girl was literally fondling him in front of complacent veela dignitaries. ‘Talk about a one track mind…’

“… You’ll also find, Lord Potter, that this formal alliance would give you unprecedented levels of access to normally government sanctioned resources.” The Matriarch noted sagely, casting a gaze at Lavender at the end. “Resources, which should be very useful in your feud against the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort.”

“You mean political and military resources?”

“Amongst other things.” Having seen how quickly they managed to slip him into France with a cross-channel portkey, Harry had a good idea that these people must have pretty good political clout. But an actual militia…

“You don’t think we can fight? And against the rag-tag bandits your rogue English lord has assembled, no less.” The royal heiress sounded very amused. When a puzzled Harry looked at her, she gave a broad smile, flashing two rows of perfectly neat and white teeth.

“The comtesse and I believe one of yours are currently dueling. I think you’ll find that their demonstration would be most informative. Shall we?” A pale, slender arm rose, seeking his own while a pair of unnaturally large blue eyes pined his own emerald ones.

“Of course, your highness.” Harry allowed the young princess to link arms with him as Lavender had done and then to guide him away.

Following behind the two, the Matriarch arched a questioning eyebrow towards the white haired youth beside her. Lavender looked back at her, shrugged once, and turned her attention back to two people in front of her. The elder veela smiled sadly in response.

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Translation:

Le Bastion – bastion, stronghold
Je suis désolée – I am sorry