Secret of the Male Veela

Rating: T for references to copulation and hints of lesbianism.

Posted: 1/3/2006
Beta: Yogert

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Chapter 2: Realizing the Bond

“You Know Who ….returned? Preposterous…Dumbledore, the boy was full of some crackpot scheme…”

The good Minster Fudge’s voice of so-called reason from last night rang loud and clear in Harry’s ears.

‘A crackpot scheme indeed…’ Thought Harry savagely. Of course, Dumbledore, good old benevolent Dumbledore was still trying to play the grandfather card. Trying to get everything and everyone to go his way… keeping everyone in the dark in his web of half-truths.

‘What the hell was that prophecy all about? Why did you never feel the need to tell me??’ What was it about him that was so important that Dumbledore kept it from everyone…everyone except for Snape, of course. Good old tormenting Snape. Why was he surprised when one of the banes of his existence thus far, seemed to be at the center of the conspiracy.

Harry sensed from Voldemort that Dumbledore somehow personally engineered Snape to offer that part of the prophecy to appease the dark lord, the prophecy that ultimately helped doom his parents… parents whom the bastard Slytherin head of house hated.

Oh what treachery.

A vase on the far side of the room shattered into a million pieces. Harry willed himself to calm down, before pulling out his wand and made a simple wand motion that repaired the vase. Thankfully, it was early enough that the school nurse was in her office resting. Far as he could tell, she shook off the incident with Fleur as a result of being recently overworked.

And Dumbledore was a fool to have ever trusted that scumbag. Voldemort was well aware of his follower’s double agent status: meaning that Snape was either firmly on the dark side or on his own. Harry hoped the greasy git was pleasantly shocked at the royal mess he made of his fellow Death Eaters. God, he couldn’t wait until he got his hands on that slimy…

Harry focused his anger once more and jabbed at the vase with his wand. It exploded again…and he repaired it again.

No, it would not do to lose his cool now. Not now, not now. Desperately, Harry sought out the joy that filled him last night and this morning while in the company of the French veela. It worked…for now.

When Harry woke up, it was still dark, though dawn appeared to be around the corner. His mind was in a frenzied state while bullets of sweat poured from him. The absorption of Voldemort’s memories and whatever weird transformation Fleur was talking about finally finished, and had left him momentarily more exhausted than when he first went to bed. But now that it was over, it left Harry in an interesting conundrum. What does a 14 year old with the mind and knowledge of one of the darkest wizards in history do when he’s surrounded by oblivious enemies and hostile agents wishing to either marginalize, destroy or control him.

From an objective point of view, Harry could almost sympathize with the Dark Lord’s anger and rage at the world. First, there was the abandonment of him and his mother by his father, and then Dumbledore’s general unwillingness to intervene on Tom’s behalf during the first crucial years after his introduction into the wizarding world. While Harry was certain the memories were badly tainted, he definitely could see how badly the headmaster screwed up by trying to put the young teen under a microscope as if he was some rare specimen to be studied; his actions and reactions prodded along and monitored.

Tom must not have liked that…and, of course, intelligent beings don’t really make good puppets.

On the other hand, old Tommy’s sadistic affectations with inflicting pain could and should have been arrested via psycho-therapy …had such a thing existed in the Wizarding world. Ah, of course, another failing of the magical human world…lack of advanced therapy treatment.

Harry, while no longer quite as queasy about the dart arts or even clearing off the vermin Tommy boy helped sponsor in this world, nevertheless had no desire to be popularized as a mass murderer, which undoubtedly would happen should the press ever get word of his deeds. In fact, if Lucius Malfoy and his ilk somehow anonymously distribute knowledge about what Harry did to those death eaters last night.

Bugger that…

Oh, and it just so happened that blasted Dumbledore so masterfully alienated Harry from the one person who, foolish and pathetic as he was, might have shielded him from the press, Minister Fudge.

Double bugger…

He needed to act quickly to rectify what had happened and to protect himself. He needed to get his side of the story out first and do so convincingly so as to discredit whatever the Death Eaters might say.

Harry smiled a smile that would have greatly disturbed his friends had they seen him just then for he knew just the person who was going to help him.

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The days and weeks following the Tri-Wizard Tournament’s 3rd event came and went without much happening. Harry tried to play the depressed, withdrawn, and shocked little boy card as much as possible as an excuse to avoid other people. Until he had a better handle on things he was going to stay away from situations in which he might reveal his hand, i.e. Dumbledore. Though he had the knowledge and the vicarious experiences of a master occlumens, Harry still wasn’t sure if he could block out or possibly fool the veteran legimen’s attacks in real life. It was best if that scenario was avoided all together. Thankfully the old coot bought Harry’s act just like everyone else, though not everyone was happy about it.

“Harry! Harry! Wait up!” Harry turned to find his best female friend jogging to catch up, which incidentally caused her modest assets to juggle quite nicely.

‘Down boy…’ Harry thought harshly. It hadn’t been even a week since his last rendezvous with his secret French lover and he already felt a maddeningly irresistible desire to scratch his itch. Knowing that he needed to curtail his sexual desires sooner or later was the only thing that reinforced his will in its combat against his newly discovered southern head.

“Hey Hermione, what’s up?”

The bushy hair girl glared, folding her arms across her in a classic ‘I’m going to lecture you and you can’t talk me out of it’ manner.

“You tell me, because you haven’t been speaking with Ron or me at all. I know you are still hurt over Cedric’s death, but it’s not good to keep it all inside of you. You know Ron and I are here for you.”

Harry winced. He knew he was deliberately avoiding his friends, but at this point he had no choice. His secret sex life and the secret work he was doing against Voldemort were a tad too complicated right now and he knew his friends would never understand.

‘…well, maybe Mia could if… Damn it; don’t make me cut you off!’ Harry almost groaned at the double meaning of that thought, but it seemed to have gotten the job done.

“I’m fine, really. It’s just… I just need a little more time, ok Hermione?” Just to make sure, Harry added a weak dose of his newly acquired ladies charm. It worked marvelously as he saw studious Hermione suddenly feeling weak in the knees. In the recess of his mind, Harry felt a twinge of guilt at doing what he did to his friend, but he easily suppressed it. Too much was at stake.

“Hey Harry, Mione.” Harry turned to see his other best friend run up to them. Their mutual bookworm friend answered with a scowl.

“I told you to stop calling me that, Ron.” The red head brushed her complaint aside much to the brunette’s ire and to Harry’s amusement. The young Weasley had been a fairly decent friend so far, but Harry suspected that his old buddy’s tendency to succumb to that fiery temper of his might be a major cause of friction later on. In fact, it was almost guaranteed to be a major problem.

What’s more, Ron, like him before now, and all of the Gryffindors were much too naïve, too narrow minded… too firmly caught up in the fanciful web Dumbledore spent decades spinning. Harry had no doubt that his success now depended on the cooperation of the rogue Slytherins and other fringe and pariah elements of society. And it was almost assured that he would need to go to it alone at this point. Looking at the innocent concerned faces of his two friends, he seriously doubted that their childhood friendship would survive in the future. But was he concerned about that? Of course he was, but it was a slight shock to him that he was willing to accept that as the necessary cost.

He had lived a lifetime’s worth of nightmares and pain via the absorption of Voldemort’s memories. The pain of losing a couple friendships built over a matter of years seemed tame in comparison now. Heck, he could do everyone a service if he severed his connections right now and established new ones. It would keep his old friends safe from the cold dark world out there and from being dragged into his troubles any further and it would free him to make new contacts and new friendships with ahm…the lesser elements as it were.

But he would not be so crass. For one, there was Dumbledore…yes always Dumbledore. He also owed his friends that much to remain loyal; at least for now. If they chose to shun him in time, then so be it. But they, not him, if and when it occurred, would cause the break of the Golden Trio. No, he would be the good Gryffindor he was and remain steadfastly loyal. It was an interesting juxtaposition to be sure when, even now, he planned with cunningness that would have made Salazar proud. But it would be an interesting test for him; a test to see if he could balance his thirst for knowledge, skill, and, some would argue, power, whetted by the memories of the dark lord without sacrificing all of his moral values.

“So what are you guys up to?” Asked Harry.

“Mione made us stay at the library all morning, even though school is OVER! Bloody hell, now I’m hungry.”

“Ronald Weasley, language! School is NEVER over and you are always hungry.” Retorted Hermione with distain.

“Ah, yeah right. Come on Harry, help me out.” The bickering couple turned to their friend. Caught quite off guard, the smile Harry wore momentarily slid off until he came up with an appropriate response.

“I think you are both right. Learning is always good, but…!” Raising his finger to hush Ron’s protest. “You know what they say; the harder you study, the hungrier you get.”

Neither seemed to be too pleased, but didn’t dispute Harry’s logic.

“So, want to go for lunch?” Asked Ron. Harry almost said no, which was what he had been doing the last couple of days, but seeing the hopeful expression of his friends, he agreed. Before even taking two steps towards the dinning hall, a voice startled the trio...

“Excuze me…”

Ah-oh…

“Ah…ahm, yesss??” Asked Ron, stammering rather pathetically as his cheeks heated up. Hermione instantly gave her trademark ‘I’m mad at you’ scowl.

Harry vaguely felt the desire to arch an eyebrow and send his friend off for trying to hit on ‘his’ woman…if what he was doing could be considered that, anyway. Fleur, though, gave a nervous and slightly weary smile to the two before turning to face Harry, who subsequently had to fight from reacting to the sea of swirling emotions buried just beneath the surface of her eyes.

“‘arry? May I speak wiz you?” Glancing at the two, she added by laying a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “… in private.”

Predictably, his friends instantly jumped in protest for one reason or another. Ron’s reaction was particularly interesting, as every time he tried to speak, he grew redder. By the time, he finally came to his senses and decided to remain quiet, he was as bright as a tomato. Whether it was from anger and jealousy at Harry or the amorous effect of the veela charm or a combination of the two, it made for an altogether hilarious sight to behold and Harry almost broke out in laughter.

Fleur, meanwhile, seemed genuinely surprised at the hostility directly at her, and had unconsciously taken a half a step behind Harry as if seeking his protection. It was an act that didn’t go unnoticed by Harry’s friends.

“I can talk to you later, ‘arry.” It was the brief flash of hurt and loneliness in those normally cheerful and bright blue eyes that forced Harry to act. Grabbing her arm gently, but firmly, he stopped her.

“Fleur wait. I can go now. Guys, go to lunch. I’m not really hungry and can always grab some food from the kitchens later.” Fleur was pleased, but tried her best to not show it, not that it mattered right now. Both of Harry’s friends seemed too tied up in their own emotions to notice the signs. Ron was naturally seething in jealousy and seemed intent on staying, while Hermione was clearly furious with both of her guy friends. She seemed ready to tell Harry off, until she noticed his detached expression. Realizing he was doing nothing wrong and that Ron was being the prat, she pulled her startled red headed friend off to lunch, bickering with him all the way.

Harry guided Fleur in the opposite direction for about five paces before breaking up in laughter.

“What’z so funny?” Harry squinted his eyebrows towards the opposite direction. A thin smile graced the pretty veela’s face, but then turned into a grimace of sorts. Harry watched until Fleur turned away frowning…

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I… well, I don’t think I should…”

“Speak your mind Fleur, please.”

“I don’t really like your friendz, ‘arry.” Harry blinked. Seeing his expressionless look, Fleur assumed the worst and immediately tried to give a tearful apology.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean anyzing by it. They are your friendz…”

“Hold on, hold on Fleur. It’s fine. I mean, back there, I wasn’t too impressed with them either.” Harry watched as Fleur sighed in audible relief.

“Care to explain to me exactly why you don’t like them though?”

The veela seemed hesitant at first, still fearful of invoking her lover’s wraith, but eventually caved at Harry’s urgings.

“The male red head, I think hiz name iz Weazel…”

“Weasley.” It was only out of profound respect for his friend that he didn’t break out in chuckles.

“Yes, Weazley…” The girl noted with a clear hint of distain. “…Tried to ask me to the ball in front of my fellow Beauxbatons classmates and friendz. He waz all red and stammered for five minutes.”

Harry did chuckle this time. Fleur smiled as well, apparently decided upon recounting the tale that it was slightly humorous.

“But I also don’t like how he looks at me. He’z even worse than the other boyz, so unlike you, ‘arry. You ‘av and are everyzing I want.”

Either he was simply used to the veela’s gestures of affection or because of his mental maturation, Harry didn’t blush at all. Instead, he only smiled knowingly and, after making sure the hall was clear, leaned in to give his foreign lover a tender kiss on the lips.

“Thank you, Fleur. I’m so very pleased that you have no intention of leaving me for my best friend.” The beautiful blonde made a retching sound along with some comment questioning the state of the red head’s manliness. To a bit of his own shame, he felt himself squeal with joy inside. Though still only in private, his increasing displays of possessiveness of the older girl made his chest swell with pride and filled him with a sense of contentment the likes of which he never felt before; especially given how willing she was to being ‘claimed’ by him. He knew Ron had less than zero of a chance.

Fleur Delacour, foreign beauty queen of Beauxbatons, really was quite smitten with him and Harry James Potter, Quidditch extraordinaire and Boy Who Lived, couldn’t be more pleased. Even more so since he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind…in particularly her glistening sweating, dripping…. Whoa horsy!

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts. He really wasn’t in a condition to handle any more of his hormones right now. Not if he wanted to avoid being caught shagging the hot bodacious foreign veela in the hallway.

“What about Hermione?” Harry asked rather off handedly, more as a distraction for himself than anything else.

Apparently Fleur misunderstood as she answered grudgingly.

“She’z ok, I suppose.” Partially because of his caged environment, Harry had never been particularly good at understanding the minds of people. But with his recent influx of knowledge, he’d become much keener on practically everything: particularly moods, expressions and behavior patterns of the opposite sex.

“Excuse me?” Fleur flushed slightly, from discomfort, embarrassment, or jealousy, Harry wasn’t sure…

‘Jealousy? What does she have to be jealous of? Oh don’t tell me…’

“She’z decent looking I mean. Physically, she iz cute if not quite developed. Seemz too antagonique et conflictuelle I think. Do you… do you want me to …consummate with ‘her’ as well?” The word ‘her’ was emphasized as if it was evil, and Fleur looked positively distraught at that possibility for whatever reason.

“What do you mean ‘as well’?”

It was only after he saw the faint flush caress the veela’s flawless pale skin that Harry had an inkling as to what this was all about.

What the bloody… oh bugger…

“I suspected, not that I mind of course…” Harry saw through that lie right away.

“But if you ‘ad told me rather than avoid me for an entire week, I could ‘ave introduced you to all kindz of lovely girlz from Beauxbatons. But I suppose you wanted to find your own and at your own school. I just think you could have done better than her, ‘arry.”

At some other time, Harry would have been fascinated to study the resemblance between a female’s emotional shifts and a muggle roller coaster ride, but that time was definitely not right now. Right now, feelings of sadness, envy, resignation, worry, depression, loneliness, hope, and love poured off of the veela in waves and could be seen warring chaotically against one another within Fleur’s tortured eyes.

“Hold on, are you accusing me of having sex with Hermione?” Not even the Daily Prophet has come up with something like this …yet he doubted it was from a lack of trying. Harry was very displeased with this completely unfounded question of his integrity…well perhaps not completely unfounded in light of certain events. But, once again, either because the girl was just taken by paranoia or just happened to read him wrong completely.

“Who else did you ‘ave sex with?” The older girl asked timidly. Harry was quite horrified at this point.

“I didn’t have sex with anyone, Fleur!” He ground out, almost yelling out each word. He checked the halls to make sure they were still alone.

“You thought I was avoiding you so I could have sex with… and with Hermione? Ack…bloody hell, Fleur! You were my first and only, you know!”

The girl’s cute lips locked into a perfect ‘O’ expression of surprise. Harry rubbed his temples, as Fleur seemed to look at him in disbelief as if she couldn’t believe he hadn’t cheated on her. He was only trying to exercise some control, considering it seemed likely that they would be separated temporarily once school was out for the summer. What the heck was he going to do when he couldn’t even last a week without sex? Needless to say, he had tried to achieve relief by himself, but the results so far had not been encouraging, considering doing so seemed to aggravate, and not alleviate his problem.

“Ok, you sound as if you don’t believe me, then let me ask you this.” Harry hoped to the high heavens he had read the situation correctly or else some guy was going to pay with his balls. “Have you been with another since our time then?”

Fleur took to her feet in vehement protest before Harry even finished his question. If she seemed distraught at the possibility of her lover sleeping around, the veela seemed absolutely horrified and furious she would even consider doing such a thing. Though it took a good five minutes to manhandle the flailing girl back down, Harry couldn’t feel but buoyant that he had exclusive access to the sexy veela witch… but then it could always be something else.

“Ok, settle down! Am I the only one seeing something wrong with the fact you seemed shocked I wouldn’t cheat on you, while at the same time, you are shocked that I think you might cheat on me?”

“Look, if this is some ploy to make me break up with you, I suggest you come clean now. I told you that night that you don’t have to do any of this. Heck I know we both know I’m the lucky one here.”

Harry stated with distaste, knowing that the guilt tactic was one girls were very familiar with. As much he hated to do that, he would much prefer no relationship than one built on lies. But that idea was shot to hell as Fleur began making rather heart-wrenching sobs.

“Y-you don’t understand, ‘arry. I became bonded to you zat night in the astral-plane in the infirmary. I’m now yourz and only yourz. I know you don’t believe me yet, but you are very much my master. As a veela, my very being and magic are tied to you. If I should voluntarily seek a union with another male, even if I wanted to, the magical backlash could kill me.” But the veela made little doubt what she thought of the concept of seeking a replacement or second in Harry’s place as she scrunched up her face in distaste.

“But for you… the oppozite would happen. Other witches you are with would also likely bond wiz, you az I ‘ave.”

“When were you going to tell me all this, Fleur?” The girl dropped her head, refusing to meet her love’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry, master.” Harry was about to correct her again before stopping himself mid-thought. This was the way it was suppose to be right?

“Hmm, do you have so little faith in your ‘master’ then that you would think he would be so selfish as to completely ignore the state of being of his slave? That he would callously and casually sleep around simply because he can? Is that how you think of me, Fleur?”

Partly because he only discovered the fairer sex this year, Harry would never have guessed he would be so concerned about having a compulsive playboy image. But, then again, it probably weighed heavily because of how close it came to describing what he was feeling. It’s like he went into withdrawal unless he was conjoined with Fleur every other day and part of him, the righteous part of course, was disturbed at the possibility that that craving need not be fulfilled Fleur, but rather any decent looking female would do. The lovely veela’s quietly resigned attitude about this didn’t help improve Harry’s faith in himself.

“No…no, of course not. You ‘av the kindest and most noble soul of anyone I ‘av ever met. You showed everyone zat when you rescued my sizter, Gabrielle.” As the girl seemed to be trying to make herself realize something, Harry decided to remain quiet. After a few minutes, Fleur finally looked up, her face lit with a faint but distinctly bright smile that warmed Harry’s heart.

“I’m truly sorry, ‘arry. I waz just so caught up in my insecurities zat I forgot who my master waz. Pleaze, let zis humble slave repent for her sinz.” The warm fuzzy feeling within Harry’s chest grew into a raging inferno as the veela locked her lips against his own.

“Fleur, I still feel as if I don’t know a lot of what’s going on, but I do know that this us thing is not going to work unless we talk about what we just talked about. I will NOT accept you as some sort of cheap sex slave, well…not only that at least. You got that?”

The girl nodded enthusiastically. Life seemed almost too good to be true for her. She had a loving, caring master who gave her not only great sex, but was also intent on making sure she got the most out of their relationship. This likely made it all the harder for her to keep delaying telling him everything.

Despite having the good fortune so far of meeting anyone, Harry waited until they arrived at one of the most secluded and unused corridors before wrapping an arm around his girl.

After thinking a bit, Harry decided to say something serious, or rather make something like a promise though he knew he would have a hell of a time trying to remain true to it.

“I don’t know what lies in the future, Fleur, but I want you to know that I’ll do my best to remain loyal to you… Even if I don’t have to.” Harry answered, adding the last part before the girl could protest. For some reason, though, Harry could see that the girl honestly appreciated what he said, she didn’t seem to hold much stock in it.

“And don’t worry, I would never force you to be together with another girl, no matter how great that urge is.” Harry added jokingly. Unfortunately, Harry miscalculated as a contemplative expression fell over Fleur.

“Oh, you don’t ‘av to force me, ‘arry. I am not exactly oppozed to being in a threesome with another girl, provided we all like each other.”

When he realized she wasn’t joking, Harry suddenly felt distinctively queasy and, of course, his southern brain naturally became very interested.

“I thought you said the bond would keep you from others?”

“Other malez, yes, but femalez are fine provided you approve. The bond adaptz to the master’s preference and orientation.”

“And you, as in yourself, not the bond, are ok with that?”

“Oui, given my condition, almost all of my friendz ‘re female and I ‘av alwayz liked a few of them a little more than normal.”

‘Guess that kind of explains the getting other girls from Beauxbatons’ comment.’

“Have you ever done anything with them?” Harry asked as images of him, Fleur and various friends of hers being together flooded his mind. Throughout the school year, Harry had often noticed a small gaggle of cute, but nowhere near as gorgeous, girls surrounding the beautiful veela like she was the queen bee. He had to fight hard to keep himself from dragging up memory of what some of the potential threesome candidates looked like.

“Know what? That’s not important now. But this latest surprise does tell me that we need to have a long, and serious talk, right now.”

“Come with me.” Linking his arms around the unresisting female, he pulled, or rather guided the girl through a few empty corridors to a blank indention in the walls. Ignoring Fleur’s confused expression, Harry concentrated on projecting what he wanted. A soft gasped told him he succeeded. After scanning the hall to his magic to make sure it was empty, Harry pulled the startled veela through the door that had appeared before them.

“Welcome to the Room of Requirement.” Harry said, answering his partner’s unspoken question.

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Translation:

Antagonique et conflictuelle – antagonistic and confrontational