Secret of the Male Veela
folder
Harry Potter › Threesomes/Moresomes
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
16
Views:
131,840
Reviews:
139
Recommended:
5
Currently Reading:
12
Category:
Harry Potter › Threesomes/Moresomes
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
16
Views:
131,840
Reviews:
139
Recommended:
5
Currently Reading:
12
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Veela Designs
Rating: T for depictions of femme slash and blood-letting.
Posted: 2/15/2006
Beta: Yogert
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Chapter 9: Veela Designs
Aim… concentrate… fire… 50 meters away, an arrow impaled the target dead in the center.
The young archer lowered her longbow and pulled off her headgear, allowing the gentle winds to caress her waist length silvery hair.
“You know, Fleur. That won’t help you in a duel.” The archer gave her friend an offended glare, but didn’t answer. Regine was correct after all. The part-veela was under no illusion about the possible difficulties and physical conflicts that would soon confront the male veela and anyone who supported him. In this regard, Fleur couldn’t help but feel somewhat deficient compared to her friend. While a capable dueler in her own rights, the veela was far surpassed by her friend who benefited enormously from her muggle self-defense classes and experience as an exceptional fencer. Indeed, while normally being fairly pacific, Fleur wondered if maybe, just maybe she could use some additional advanced training. At the very least, it would help build stamina for certain vigorous activity…
“Flower? Are you all right? I didn’t mean anything by that.”
“It’s fine, Regine. I was just thinking. Come inside. I finally got them.” Fleur noted with cheer, dragging her friend across the expansive field of the Delacour family manor.
They were in front of Fleur’s opulent bedchambers, before Regine managed to ask:
“Got what?”
“Les Bananes.” The veela answered with a cute smile, but Regine knew better. Years of experience as the other girl’s best friend and then recent experience as her lover showed the human girl that her veela friend had a mischievous and kinky streak a mile wide. Naturally she was suspicious and subtly concerned.
“Why?”
“Well… you still need practice.” The blonde’s eyes widened in surprise as her friend manhandled the protesting human girl through the doors.
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Fleur bit her lips, resisting the urge to laugh aloud as her friend choked down another one of their test objects, all the while glaring at her.
“You weren’t supposed to swallow it. That’s the fifth one!” The veela mocked pointing to the pile of banana peels on the side. The indignant human girl tried to say something along the lines of ‘bite me,’ but given that she had a mouthful of banana meat in her mouth, jumbled words weren’t the only thing that came out.
“Eww… You got it in my hair.” Fleur complained. Growling, Regine tackled her veela tormentor and soon the two friends were rolling on the bed, shrieking and laughing playfully. Naturally things heated up soon after. With a cry of triumph, the human girl succeeded in pinning the veela down. Grabbing two handfuls of her friend’s silvery locks, she slammed her lips onto her friend’s. Fleur moaned as she felt her orifice being ravished while pieces of gooey banana meat and banana scented saliva was being pushed into it. Naturally, the veela lapped it all up like it was honey, enthusiastically frenching her friend back in turn.
“Sissy Fleur, Sissy Regine… why are you kissing each other like that?”
‘Holy Fuck!’ The two girls pulled back from each other so quickly that Fleur ended up rolling off of the bed, hitting the ground with a thud. The wide-eyed Gabrielle giggled. A cute, soft flush covered the pale child’s face, her blue eyes, bright and opened, watching the two older girls half in fascination and half in embarrassment.
“Ahm, Gabrielle…you see…”
“I thought you were with Harry!”
“I am. It’s just…”
“So you are already cheating on him! How could you, Fleur?!” The thought of her sister being unfaithful to her hero sent the little girl into tears. Unable to form the words to defend herself, Fleur could only watch in aghast as the pint sized veela raged. Regine laughed, naturally finding this highly amusing, until the shrimp sized veela whirled on her.
“And you, sissy Regine, how dare you try to break them up and take my Harry for yourself!” The human girl stopped laughing immediately.
“No, wait, Gabrielle.” Too late, Regine dodged violently to the side to avoid the fireball that just missed her head by a hair of an inch.
“Gabrielle, please! Just listen.” Fleur pleaded as she dropped to her knees in front of her little sister, holding out her hands for peace. The young girl glared back with tear stained eyes, but dissipated the fireball she was holding. Gabrielle was rather special and unique in how she could use her veela fireball powers without actually transforming. The Delacour matron had asserted that it was a blessing; a sign that Gabrielle would grow up to be a powerful veela. That may be true, but it was also a curse for family and friends, because it meant one might not even see the tall tale sign of an angry bird before one is consumed by fire.
“We… we share Harry, Gabrielle, and each other.”
A pair of big azure eyes blinked questioningly back at her.
“You mean like a ‘ménage-a-trois’?” Regine chortled on the side, while Fleur grimaced, feeling quite dirty even as the girl asked in a very innocent manner. The young girl took her sister’s silence as an affirmative answer.
“Fine, but since you are already sharing Harry, then you can’t object to sharing him with me when I’m older. After all, I’m family.”
Gabrielle reasoned logically.
“Oh, by the way, mama says there’s a special guest who wants to see you in the living room.” With a dazzling smile that showed off her roll of white teeth, the young veela cheerfully bounced out of the room, leaving behind two shocked older girls.
“Did little Gabrielle just talk me into sharing Harry with her?”
“Probably, but don’t worry, you still have 8 or 9 years to convince Harry not to dump you for your sister.” The veela fumed in anger while glaring at her friend, which sent said friend into paroxysm of giggles.
“Oh, lighten up, my flower. It’s cute, admit it.”
The veela sighed.
“It iz cute! Mais…” Regine cast her friend an inquisitive look. Her jaw dropped when she realized her veela was really, genuinely concerned.
“What are you afraid of? Or are you really jealous of your sister, who is more than 10 years your junior?” Fleur ignored the none-too-subtle barb to get a rouse out of her.
“Gabrielle is a very special veela, Regine. You are practically like a sister to us so you ‘know’ this as well as I do,” The veela rotated her body to face her friend. “…but at the same time, you… you don’t share the bond we blood sisters share. There is something about her that’s unique.”
Memories of the second Tri-wizard task popped into Fleur’s mind. She had seen it in her sister’s eyes when she woke up and felt it in her heart. In fact, the veela seriously doubted she would have confronted the young wizard champion had it not been for that singular event.
“If Gabrielle truly desires Harry, I… can’t stop her.”
“She’s eight years old!” Regine could not believe that her friend was this distraught.
“A very determined eight year old, who is also veela. Age means nothing to a veela and it won’t mean much to Harry once she’s past her majority.”
Regine grabbed Fleur’s shoulders, roughly shaking her as if trying to make her come to her senses.
“I’m appalled, Fleur, if you that’s how little you think of Harry.” The human girl said, giving her friend a sad, disappointed smile. A loud bang on the door distracted Fleur from responding.
“Come, Fleur, you don’t want to keep our guest waiting, do you?” Regine called as she walked out, leaving the veela with only her thoughts for company.
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“Mama?”
“Fleur, Regine! There’s someone special who wish to see you.” Mme. Delacour stated, looking at the girls with a rather forced smile. Fleur looked inquisitively at her mother before turning to the cloaked figure standing in the middle of the room. “This is la Comtesse de Noire, a very important figure in the veela communities here in France.”
The girls gasped as the young woman lowered her hood.
‘Mon dieu. Elle est belle.’ Was the first thought that flashed across both girls’ minds. If Regine had superficially felt at least slightly inferior to her friend, then the woman before her completely blew her away. Even Fleur wondered if this was what the ugly duckling felt when it was young and…well ugly. Truly, one could say with absolute objectivity that a full blooded, pure veela epitomized in living, breathing form, all the majesty and magnificence, not to mention the beauty, that a non-deity could ever hope to achieve.
“My lady.” Fleur managed to calm her beating heart and curtsied formally. The elder veela smiled. While far from being frivolous, the veela comtesse did enjoy the looks of awe and envy she received whenever she showed her face. The fact that those gawking at her were, in fact, two younger girls, who undoubtedly represented the top crop of what the human wizarding society had to offer, must have made the moment extra sweet.
Alas, not everyone was as easily impressed as impressionable teenagers of ten something years old.
“Thank you, Madame Delacour.” She stated in a gracious but also dismissive manner. For a moment, the Delacour matriarch looked like she wanted to protest, but then thought better of purposely antagonizing the veela dignitary. She kissed her daughter and then bid the three femme fatales a quiet goodbye.
“Ms. Delacour. I’ll get to the point. I wish to ‘speak’ to you and your friend about a person who is mutually important to us all.”
Suspicion and fear warred within Fleur’s heart for dominance, while Regine shot the pure veela a jealous and borderline loathing look. Speaking, in the practical sense wasn’t necessary at all it seemed. These were women after all, and women had a way of knowing things without actually needing any words to be exchanged.
It was many minutes before anyone successfully mustered the courage and control to speak civilly.
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In a heavily warded area in France…
“The Delacour girl has agreed; reluctantly agreed that is, but agreed nonetheless…” The speaker smiled warily. “I suggest that our contacts with the French Ministry lend whatever help they can to legally facilitate the arrival of our special guest.”
Heads turned to the de jure leader of the community. The Veela Matriarch of about 50 years old, but looking at least 20 years younger, remained most hesitant. As a politician, she had often been involved in unpleasant affairs, shook hands with devils and so forth for example, but this…
“Madame?”
“Alright. It’ll be done. What about on the other side? This ‘boy’ is not legally an adult. When the British Ministry realizes that he’s gone, they could have the French government brought before the International Council of Wizards, which could implicate…”
“By the time they find out, it will be all over. And the British Ministry will only have a case if our guest is in anyway displeased with his stay here. I can assure you that I have every intention of preventing ‘that’ from happening.” The aristocratic veela grinned rather sinisterly at the row of veela standing at attention. The Veela Matriarch frowned but acquiesced nonetheless.
“I’ll take care of it then. Good luck, Comtesse.”
“Thank you, madam.” The pureblood stated, answering reflexively with a dry and cheerless voice.
The door closed behind the parting Veela Matriarch with a soft click.
“Pussyless half-breed…” If any half-breed veela in the room took offense, they had long since learned to hide it from the iron-fisted veela pureblood.
“May I remind your ladyship that that ‘half-breed’ is still our Matriarch.”
The comtesse turned to see a young veela, with pale features and long, pure white hair similar to her own standing by the door.
“Of course, my apology, princesse. I merely wished to express my… concerns about our community’s safeguard measures.”
“The combined Germanic, Slavic and Scandinavian veela enclaves are unified, have established multiple reassurance treaties and can deploy or relocate over 95% of their populations in over half a dozen protected cities in the event of a major conflict. Less than 30% of ours accept our jurisdiction even as we are still in hostile relations with several major non-human groups.” Derision laced the veela’s impassioned words.
“Why the Matriarch put such undying faith in human laws when we are not even human I will never know. But what I do know is that our ‘rights’ are entirely provisionary and not constitutionally defined. A single simple majority vote by the conservative Parlement (1) could reverse everything we have gained in the last fifty years. This is the kind of security the vampires in Britain depended on and look at what happened to them. This isn’t just ill-advised policy, this is downright stupidity, stupidity that will invite aggression and geno—”
“Enough! I think you have been told before. That’s not for you to decide, comtesse .” Was the cool reply. The young veela momentarily affected a particularly cold and dangerous image, one quite reminiscent of a veteran politician engaging in brinksmanship. On a girl that appeared to be under 20 years of age, that image looked quite out of place.
The pureblood aristocrat swallowed, hard, presumably ingesting whatever else she was planning to say to the person who came to the defense of the esteemed Matriarch.
“Won’t matter soon anyways.” She muttered under her breath, but not quiet enough as the silence of the room carried it to the ears of everyone in the room. “Is there something I can help you with, your highness?”
“Don’t mind me, comtesse. Just thought I should drop by and see how everything is; given how important your operation is to us all. Carry on.”
“Of course.” The pureblood aristocrat answered, turning her back on the young royalty. And for the next thirty minutes, she outlined details to the half a dozen veela attentively arrayed before her.
“What about his girls?”
“What about them?” Comtesse de Noire stated, turning to give the questioner an annoyed look.
“What if he brings them?” The pureblood veela princess pressed on, drawing a sickening sweet smile from the older veela.
“I’m counting on that.”
“They could complicate your plan.”
“… Or they could help facilitate it. I’m not a fool, your highness. Rest assured that they, should they appear will be dealt with.” The observing royalty frowned at the ambiguous response but didn’t ask any more questions, which was just fine to the lecturing veela as she made her final remarks.
“… three words: Quick, clean and simple.”
“You underestimate him, my lady.” The other veela in the room tensed at the audacity of this underling. True, she was an important if not crucial underling and a pureblood to boot, but an underling nevertheless.
The comtesse was definitely not pleased at being interrupted. She cast the princess a look before glaring at her subordinate.
“And you severely underestimate the abilities of your peers. Just because you failed…”
The veela, who formerly passed off as Lavender Brown fumed with anger. The only reason she had failed was because she had been specifically ordered to maintain complete secrecy and keep her distance until the target had reached his majority so as to minimize possible legal complications. The rationale was that a pureblood veela could easily ensnare a young human male no matter what, thereby negating the need for a long-term relationship to develop prior to bonding. It was a marriage contract of sort: one in which the prestige and potential influence of the young wizarding hero would be wedded to the beauty, grace and interests of the veela. In exchange for having an angel as a bedmate, his ears would be forever open to the words of said angel. The plan was simple; the plan was clever; and the plan was utterly ruthless.
Naturally no one anticipated two problems to occur: One, that the young Wizarding Hero would end up being a legendary male veela; and two, that an inexperienced offspring of a rogue veela would have gotten to him first.
“I followed my orders to the letter! I crafted myself into the perfect image of a frivolous, outgoing and easy human blonde so that I would be open to him when the time came, yet he never even looked at me. Even the Delacour girl’s veela aura barely affected him, and this was all before he became the ‘one’.”
“Your point being? So what if he managed to overcome this Delacour girl. She had a fraction of the potential any one of us have. You are trying to compare ‘us’ to a traitor’s offspring, who happens to be a quarter blood and thinks her power is little more than a natural cosmetic fragrance.” The comtesse’s face twisted into a haughty sneer.
“I saw him throw off the Imperius Curse cast by a fully trained adult wizard like it was nothing!”
Now this definitely took the other veela by surprise. The speaker pressed forward.
“He is unlike any human I know and he won’t be like any of the male veela of the past! In using Thanatos’s power level as the sole rubric for judging our target’s potency, we set ourselves up for catastrophic failure.”
“Which is why there are seven of us! And as we all know, the Imperius curse is child play compared to our compulsion aura.”
The formerly disguised veela kept her tongue in check. Of course, she could be exaggerating her concerns, for indeed, the plan seemed almost airtight on paper. There were seven, SEVEN fully boasted and augmented veela, including two purebloods. The sheer volume of the female estrogen produced would have been enough to put even Thanatos, arguably one of the most virile male veela ever, out. Surely, Harry Potter stood no chance against all seven of them.
The comtesse growled, clearly tired of her subordinate’s pessimism especially given such favorable circumstances. “Rationalize your failure if you must, but you will NOT depress the morale of everyone else with your defeatist attitude!”
“Do you have any idea as to how long it has been since a male veela has walked the Earth? A thousand years… a thousand years since the last one left us. Have no doubt about it. We have to do this. For our ancestors, for ourselves, for our posterities…” The comtesse punctuated each word for emphasis, looking at everyone in the room before settling on the eyes of the young ‘princess’.
She then turned to the only other pureblood veela on the seven-veela team.
“Now, your presence is neither required, nor at this point, desired. Do not make it intolerable as well because then, I will have no choice but to have you replaced! So, are you with us, mon petit Aconit?”
Under the expectant gazes of her compatriots, the aptly named beautiful and deadly flower looked at the white-haired veela princess and then at her superior.
“I am.” She stated coolly and without hesitation.
The veela leader smiled, temporarily satisfied with her subordinate.
“Good. Then let us continue.”
The veela comtesse whipped out a thin blade and made a small cut on her wrist. A small red dot formed around the point of penetration, but that wasn’t enough. The blade dug in deeper and the red dot soon became a red blot that kept expanding. Oozing liquid trailed down both sides of her arm, superimposing the image of a red ring upon the veela’s flawless alabaster skin, before collecting at the underside of her wrist.
Drip, drip, drip-drip…
Droplets of blood splashed on the table with increasing frequency until a small puddle had formed. The bleeding veela frowned as if realizing that she had made the wound one size too big. But rather than healing herself, she merely clenched her fist. There were faint traces of muscle contractions within her lower arm as the leakage gradually slowed to a dribble.
She cast a significant and half sneering look around the room. None of the other veela reacted visibly, but none missed its meaning either. Not only was she the plan’s chief architect and top advocator; not only was she the most senior in ranking; now, she was also the first one to shed blood as well. Comtesse de Noire was formally claiming her place as the ‘first’ within this little group of seven and dared anyone to challenger that claim.
The inhuman female allowed herself a self-satisfied smile when none was forthcoming.
“Aconit…”
The veela didn’t hesitate as she cut her wrist like her elder had done. Without the need for further prodding or orders, each of the other five veela silently followed suit in committing the same gruesome action.
The entire process was rather beautiful… in a fantastical and horrific sort of way, like one of those bloody sacrificial rituals of old. It definitely looked the part as the small table soon became clogged with droplets and puddles of the precious bodily fluids of veela. Not for long.
A conjured bowl appeared in the center. As one, the seven veela turned their wounded arms upside down and raised them forward, so that each of the seven bloodied appendages was squeezed between adjacent limbs. No sound was made when flesh met flesh; no shout was uttered when open wound touched open wound; and no cry was emitted as blood mixed freely, collecting, first, at the tip of the elbows and then in the bowl bellow. The veela looked on with stoic calmness as the intermittent droplets turned into steady streams, then to a torrent...
“That’s good.”
If not for the very slight edge in the comtesse’s voice, an outside observer of this scene might have been tempted to make the astonishing assumption that Veela did not actually require any blood to function normally. These veela’s steadfastness and the natural paleness of their skin had meant that it was virtually impossible to physically gauge the effect of the substantial blood loss.
The blood flows gradually slowed to trickles, then to droplets before cutting off completely, leaving on the table a bowl of swirling red liquid.
“The blade.” The haughty veela took the purple dagger by the handle without even glancing at who had offered it and plunged its length into the bowl. The blood that came in contact with the colorful blade immediately darkened while the blade gradually took on a bleak, sinister shade of coloring as well.
… The blackness of the liquid met the darkness of the blade,
… At first, they battled one another,
… Then they merged with one another so that one would be hard pressed to tell the two apart,
…. Finally they merged into each other so that former was in fact being absorbed into the latter!
If any of the females present found the concept of an inanimate object sucking her mutated blood into itself disturbing, she hid her disgust well. Slowly, but inevitably, the level of the liquid in the bowl gradually fell until the tainted blood was all gone.
The comtesse held the black blade up in the air, rotating it in the light, as if examining it. Even as the dagger literally pulsed with the energy of an unmistakable dark aura and pulsed with increasing strength and volatility, none of the veela present seemed concerned. In fact, all they did was shield their eyes an instant before the room was bathed in an explosion of white light.
When the light dissipated, the jagged dagger had returned to its original purple color. The bleak darkness that surrounded it had vanished without a trace as had all evidence of the gruesome affair that took place: the table was spotless; the deep flesh wounds on the girls’ arms were completely healed; and the blood streaks that crisscrossed the lower arms of the veela had also disappeared leaving behind unblemished and flawless white skin.
Minutes later, after dismissal and after curtsying to the royal princess at the door, the five silvery haired veela, their masks once more in place, happily bounced out of the room, flooding the hallways with cheerful barter. With their long blonde hair flying and looking heart-wrenchingly gorgeous even while being casual, it is little wonder that the world continue to shower them with such high acclaim. Truly, do the veela not epitomize the effervescence of spirit, purity of form and beauty of angels? Truly, are they not the most wondrous, lovely, and of course for half of the human magical population, the most desirable creatures in the mortal realm?
Perhaps, but perhaps that’s not all they are…
The veela comtesse allowed herself a rare genuine smile of contentment while being in the presence of the other two pure veela. Handing the purple blade back to its rightful owner and intoned with a note of finality towards the royal guest observer:
“C’est fini.”
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Translation:
La Comtesse – The Countess
Mon dieu. Elle est belle. – My god. She is beautiful.
La Princesse – The Princess
Mon petit Aconit – my little aconite (essentially my little poisonous flower)
C’est fini – It’s finished
(1) Yes, it’s ‘parlement’ not ‘parliament’. I did spell it correctly. In France under the ancien regime, the parlements, of which the parlement of Paris (or Parlement with capital ‘P’) was the largest and most powerful, were in theory a non-legislative judiciary bodies, which gradually took on de-facto legislative powers. Naturally I tweaked it to fit in my story but you get a rough idea.
Posted: 2/15/2006
Beta: Yogert
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Chapter 9: Veela Designs
Aim… concentrate… fire… 50 meters away, an arrow impaled the target dead in the center.
The young archer lowered her longbow and pulled off her headgear, allowing the gentle winds to caress her waist length silvery hair.
“You know, Fleur. That won’t help you in a duel.” The archer gave her friend an offended glare, but didn’t answer. Regine was correct after all. The part-veela was under no illusion about the possible difficulties and physical conflicts that would soon confront the male veela and anyone who supported him. In this regard, Fleur couldn’t help but feel somewhat deficient compared to her friend. While a capable dueler in her own rights, the veela was far surpassed by her friend who benefited enormously from her muggle self-defense classes and experience as an exceptional fencer. Indeed, while normally being fairly pacific, Fleur wondered if maybe, just maybe she could use some additional advanced training. At the very least, it would help build stamina for certain vigorous activity…
“Flower? Are you all right? I didn’t mean anything by that.”
“It’s fine, Regine. I was just thinking. Come inside. I finally got them.” Fleur noted with cheer, dragging her friend across the expansive field of the Delacour family manor.
They were in front of Fleur’s opulent bedchambers, before Regine managed to ask:
“Got what?”
“Les Bananes.” The veela answered with a cute smile, but Regine knew better. Years of experience as the other girl’s best friend and then recent experience as her lover showed the human girl that her veela friend had a mischievous and kinky streak a mile wide. Naturally she was suspicious and subtly concerned.
“Why?”
“Well… you still need practice.” The blonde’s eyes widened in surprise as her friend manhandled the protesting human girl through the doors.
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Fleur bit her lips, resisting the urge to laugh aloud as her friend choked down another one of their test objects, all the while glaring at her.
“You weren’t supposed to swallow it. That’s the fifth one!” The veela mocked pointing to the pile of banana peels on the side. The indignant human girl tried to say something along the lines of ‘bite me,’ but given that she had a mouthful of banana meat in her mouth, jumbled words weren’t the only thing that came out.
“Eww… You got it in my hair.” Fleur complained. Growling, Regine tackled her veela tormentor and soon the two friends were rolling on the bed, shrieking and laughing playfully. Naturally things heated up soon after. With a cry of triumph, the human girl succeeded in pinning the veela down. Grabbing two handfuls of her friend’s silvery locks, she slammed her lips onto her friend’s. Fleur moaned as she felt her orifice being ravished while pieces of gooey banana meat and banana scented saliva was being pushed into it. Naturally, the veela lapped it all up like it was honey, enthusiastically frenching her friend back in turn.
“Sissy Fleur, Sissy Regine… why are you kissing each other like that?”
‘Holy Fuck!’ The two girls pulled back from each other so quickly that Fleur ended up rolling off of the bed, hitting the ground with a thud. The wide-eyed Gabrielle giggled. A cute, soft flush covered the pale child’s face, her blue eyes, bright and opened, watching the two older girls half in fascination and half in embarrassment.
“Ahm, Gabrielle…you see…”
“I thought you were with Harry!”
“I am. It’s just…”
“So you are already cheating on him! How could you, Fleur?!” The thought of her sister being unfaithful to her hero sent the little girl into tears. Unable to form the words to defend herself, Fleur could only watch in aghast as the pint sized veela raged. Regine laughed, naturally finding this highly amusing, until the shrimp sized veela whirled on her.
“And you, sissy Regine, how dare you try to break them up and take my Harry for yourself!” The human girl stopped laughing immediately.
“No, wait, Gabrielle.” Too late, Regine dodged violently to the side to avoid the fireball that just missed her head by a hair of an inch.
“Gabrielle, please! Just listen.” Fleur pleaded as she dropped to her knees in front of her little sister, holding out her hands for peace. The young girl glared back with tear stained eyes, but dissipated the fireball she was holding. Gabrielle was rather special and unique in how she could use her veela fireball powers without actually transforming. The Delacour matron had asserted that it was a blessing; a sign that Gabrielle would grow up to be a powerful veela. That may be true, but it was also a curse for family and friends, because it meant one might not even see the tall tale sign of an angry bird before one is consumed by fire.
“We… we share Harry, Gabrielle, and each other.”
A pair of big azure eyes blinked questioningly back at her.
“You mean like a ‘ménage-a-trois’?” Regine chortled on the side, while Fleur grimaced, feeling quite dirty even as the girl asked in a very innocent manner. The young girl took her sister’s silence as an affirmative answer.
“Fine, but since you are already sharing Harry, then you can’t object to sharing him with me when I’m older. After all, I’m family.”
Gabrielle reasoned logically.
“Oh, by the way, mama says there’s a special guest who wants to see you in the living room.” With a dazzling smile that showed off her roll of white teeth, the young veela cheerfully bounced out of the room, leaving behind two shocked older girls.
“Did little Gabrielle just talk me into sharing Harry with her?”
“Probably, but don’t worry, you still have 8 or 9 years to convince Harry not to dump you for your sister.” The veela fumed in anger while glaring at her friend, which sent said friend into paroxysm of giggles.
“Oh, lighten up, my flower. It’s cute, admit it.”
The veela sighed.
“It iz cute! Mais…” Regine cast her friend an inquisitive look. Her jaw dropped when she realized her veela was really, genuinely concerned.
“What are you afraid of? Or are you really jealous of your sister, who is more than 10 years your junior?” Fleur ignored the none-too-subtle barb to get a rouse out of her.
“Gabrielle is a very special veela, Regine. You are practically like a sister to us so you ‘know’ this as well as I do,” The veela rotated her body to face her friend. “…but at the same time, you… you don’t share the bond we blood sisters share. There is something about her that’s unique.”
Memories of the second Tri-wizard task popped into Fleur’s mind. She had seen it in her sister’s eyes when she woke up and felt it in her heart. In fact, the veela seriously doubted she would have confronted the young wizard champion had it not been for that singular event.
“If Gabrielle truly desires Harry, I… can’t stop her.”
“She’s eight years old!” Regine could not believe that her friend was this distraught.
“A very determined eight year old, who is also veela. Age means nothing to a veela and it won’t mean much to Harry once she’s past her majority.”
Regine grabbed Fleur’s shoulders, roughly shaking her as if trying to make her come to her senses.
“I’m appalled, Fleur, if you that’s how little you think of Harry.” The human girl said, giving her friend a sad, disappointed smile. A loud bang on the door distracted Fleur from responding.
“Come, Fleur, you don’t want to keep our guest waiting, do you?” Regine called as she walked out, leaving the veela with only her thoughts for company.
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“Mama?”
“Fleur, Regine! There’s someone special who wish to see you.” Mme. Delacour stated, looking at the girls with a rather forced smile. Fleur looked inquisitively at her mother before turning to the cloaked figure standing in the middle of the room. “This is la Comtesse de Noire, a very important figure in the veela communities here in France.”
The girls gasped as the young woman lowered her hood.
‘Mon dieu. Elle est belle.’ Was the first thought that flashed across both girls’ minds. If Regine had superficially felt at least slightly inferior to her friend, then the woman before her completely blew her away. Even Fleur wondered if this was what the ugly duckling felt when it was young and…well ugly. Truly, one could say with absolute objectivity that a full blooded, pure veela epitomized in living, breathing form, all the majesty and magnificence, not to mention the beauty, that a non-deity could ever hope to achieve.
“My lady.” Fleur managed to calm her beating heart and curtsied formally. The elder veela smiled. While far from being frivolous, the veela comtesse did enjoy the looks of awe and envy she received whenever she showed her face. The fact that those gawking at her were, in fact, two younger girls, who undoubtedly represented the top crop of what the human wizarding society had to offer, must have made the moment extra sweet.
Alas, not everyone was as easily impressed as impressionable teenagers of ten something years old.
“Thank you, Madame Delacour.” She stated in a gracious but also dismissive manner. For a moment, the Delacour matriarch looked like she wanted to protest, but then thought better of purposely antagonizing the veela dignitary. She kissed her daughter and then bid the three femme fatales a quiet goodbye.
“Ms. Delacour. I’ll get to the point. I wish to ‘speak’ to you and your friend about a person who is mutually important to us all.”
Suspicion and fear warred within Fleur’s heart for dominance, while Regine shot the pure veela a jealous and borderline loathing look. Speaking, in the practical sense wasn’t necessary at all it seemed. These were women after all, and women had a way of knowing things without actually needing any words to be exchanged.
It was many minutes before anyone successfully mustered the courage and control to speak civilly.
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In a heavily warded area in France…
“The Delacour girl has agreed; reluctantly agreed that is, but agreed nonetheless…” The speaker smiled warily. “I suggest that our contacts with the French Ministry lend whatever help they can to legally facilitate the arrival of our special guest.”
Heads turned to the de jure leader of the community. The Veela Matriarch of about 50 years old, but looking at least 20 years younger, remained most hesitant. As a politician, she had often been involved in unpleasant affairs, shook hands with devils and so forth for example, but this…
“Madame?”
“Alright. It’ll be done. What about on the other side? This ‘boy’ is not legally an adult. When the British Ministry realizes that he’s gone, they could have the French government brought before the International Council of Wizards, which could implicate…”
“By the time they find out, it will be all over. And the British Ministry will only have a case if our guest is in anyway displeased with his stay here. I can assure you that I have every intention of preventing ‘that’ from happening.” The aristocratic veela grinned rather sinisterly at the row of veela standing at attention. The Veela Matriarch frowned but acquiesced nonetheless.
“I’ll take care of it then. Good luck, Comtesse.”
“Thank you, madam.” The pureblood stated, answering reflexively with a dry and cheerless voice.
The door closed behind the parting Veela Matriarch with a soft click.
“Pussyless half-breed…” If any half-breed veela in the room took offense, they had long since learned to hide it from the iron-fisted veela pureblood.
“May I remind your ladyship that that ‘half-breed’ is still our Matriarch.”
The comtesse turned to see a young veela, with pale features and long, pure white hair similar to her own standing by the door.
“Of course, my apology, princesse. I merely wished to express my… concerns about our community’s safeguard measures.”
“The combined Germanic, Slavic and Scandinavian veela enclaves are unified, have established multiple reassurance treaties and can deploy or relocate over 95% of their populations in over half a dozen protected cities in the event of a major conflict. Less than 30% of ours accept our jurisdiction even as we are still in hostile relations with several major non-human groups.” Derision laced the veela’s impassioned words.
“Why the Matriarch put such undying faith in human laws when we are not even human I will never know. But what I do know is that our ‘rights’ are entirely provisionary and not constitutionally defined. A single simple majority vote by the conservative Parlement (1) could reverse everything we have gained in the last fifty years. This is the kind of security the vampires in Britain depended on and look at what happened to them. This isn’t just ill-advised policy, this is downright stupidity, stupidity that will invite aggression and geno—”
“Enough! I think you have been told before. That’s not for you to decide, comtesse .” Was the cool reply. The young veela momentarily affected a particularly cold and dangerous image, one quite reminiscent of a veteran politician engaging in brinksmanship. On a girl that appeared to be under 20 years of age, that image looked quite out of place.
The pureblood aristocrat swallowed, hard, presumably ingesting whatever else she was planning to say to the person who came to the defense of the esteemed Matriarch.
“Won’t matter soon anyways.” She muttered under her breath, but not quiet enough as the silence of the room carried it to the ears of everyone in the room. “Is there something I can help you with, your highness?”
“Don’t mind me, comtesse. Just thought I should drop by and see how everything is; given how important your operation is to us all. Carry on.”
“Of course.” The pureblood aristocrat answered, turning her back on the young royalty. And for the next thirty minutes, she outlined details to the half a dozen veela attentively arrayed before her.
“What about his girls?”
“What about them?” Comtesse de Noire stated, turning to give the questioner an annoyed look.
“What if he brings them?” The pureblood veela princess pressed on, drawing a sickening sweet smile from the older veela.
“I’m counting on that.”
“They could complicate your plan.”
“… Or they could help facilitate it. I’m not a fool, your highness. Rest assured that they, should they appear will be dealt with.” The observing royalty frowned at the ambiguous response but didn’t ask any more questions, which was just fine to the lecturing veela as she made her final remarks.
“… three words: Quick, clean and simple.”
“You underestimate him, my lady.” The other veela in the room tensed at the audacity of this underling. True, she was an important if not crucial underling and a pureblood to boot, but an underling nevertheless.
The comtesse was definitely not pleased at being interrupted. She cast the princess a look before glaring at her subordinate.
“And you severely underestimate the abilities of your peers. Just because you failed…”
The veela, who formerly passed off as Lavender Brown fumed with anger. The only reason she had failed was because she had been specifically ordered to maintain complete secrecy and keep her distance until the target had reached his majority so as to minimize possible legal complications. The rationale was that a pureblood veela could easily ensnare a young human male no matter what, thereby negating the need for a long-term relationship to develop prior to bonding. It was a marriage contract of sort: one in which the prestige and potential influence of the young wizarding hero would be wedded to the beauty, grace and interests of the veela. In exchange for having an angel as a bedmate, his ears would be forever open to the words of said angel. The plan was simple; the plan was clever; and the plan was utterly ruthless.
Naturally no one anticipated two problems to occur: One, that the young Wizarding Hero would end up being a legendary male veela; and two, that an inexperienced offspring of a rogue veela would have gotten to him first.
“I followed my orders to the letter! I crafted myself into the perfect image of a frivolous, outgoing and easy human blonde so that I would be open to him when the time came, yet he never even looked at me. Even the Delacour girl’s veela aura barely affected him, and this was all before he became the ‘one’.”
“Your point being? So what if he managed to overcome this Delacour girl. She had a fraction of the potential any one of us have. You are trying to compare ‘us’ to a traitor’s offspring, who happens to be a quarter blood and thinks her power is little more than a natural cosmetic fragrance.” The comtesse’s face twisted into a haughty sneer.
“I saw him throw off the Imperius Curse cast by a fully trained adult wizard like it was nothing!”
Now this definitely took the other veela by surprise. The speaker pressed forward.
“He is unlike any human I know and he won’t be like any of the male veela of the past! In using Thanatos’s power level as the sole rubric for judging our target’s potency, we set ourselves up for catastrophic failure.”
“Which is why there are seven of us! And as we all know, the Imperius curse is child play compared to our compulsion aura.”
The formerly disguised veela kept her tongue in check. Of course, she could be exaggerating her concerns, for indeed, the plan seemed almost airtight on paper. There were seven, SEVEN fully boasted and augmented veela, including two purebloods. The sheer volume of the female estrogen produced would have been enough to put even Thanatos, arguably one of the most virile male veela ever, out. Surely, Harry Potter stood no chance against all seven of them.
The comtesse growled, clearly tired of her subordinate’s pessimism especially given such favorable circumstances. “Rationalize your failure if you must, but you will NOT depress the morale of everyone else with your defeatist attitude!”
“Do you have any idea as to how long it has been since a male veela has walked the Earth? A thousand years… a thousand years since the last one left us. Have no doubt about it. We have to do this. For our ancestors, for ourselves, for our posterities…” The comtesse punctuated each word for emphasis, looking at everyone in the room before settling on the eyes of the young ‘princess’.
She then turned to the only other pureblood veela on the seven-veela team.
“Now, your presence is neither required, nor at this point, desired. Do not make it intolerable as well because then, I will have no choice but to have you replaced! So, are you with us, mon petit Aconit?”
Under the expectant gazes of her compatriots, the aptly named beautiful and deadly flower looked at the white-haired veela princess and then at her superior.
“I am.” She stated coolly and without hesitation.
The veela leader smiled, temporarily satisfied with her subordinate.
“Good. Then let us continue.”
The veela comtesse whipped out a thin blade and made a small cut on her wrist. A small red dot formed around the point of penetration, but that wasn’t enough. The blade dug in deeper and the red dot soon became a red blot that kept expanding. Oozing liquid trailed down both sides of her arm, superimposing the image of a red ring upon the veela’s flawless alabaster skin, before collecting at the underside of her wrist.
Drip, drip, drip-drip…
Droplets of blood splashed on the table with increasing frequency until a small puddle had formed. The bleeding veela frowned as if realizing that she had made the wound one size too big. But rather than healing herself, she merely clenched her fist. There were faint traces of muscle contractions within her lower arm as the leakage gradually slowed to a dribble.
She cast a significant and half sneering look around the room. None of the other veela reacted visibly, but none missed its meaning either. Not only was she the plan’s chief architect and top advocator; not only was she the most senior in ranking; now, she was also the first one to shed blood as well. Comtesse de Noire was formally claiming her place as the ‘first’ within this little group of seven and dared anyone to challenger that claim.
The inhuman female allowed herself a self-satisfied smile when none was forthcoming.
“Aconit…”
The veela didn’t hesitate as she cut her wrist like her elder had done. Without the need for further prodding or orders, each of the other five veela silently followed suit in committing the same gruesome action.
The entire process was rather beautiful… in a fantastical and horrific sort of way, like one of those bloody sacrificial rituals of old. It definitely looked the part as the small table soon became clogged with droplets and puddles of the precious bodily fluids of veela. Not for long.
A conjured bowl appeared in the center. As one, the seven veela turned their wounded arms upside down and raised them forward, so that each of the seven bloodied appendages was squeezed between adjacent limbs. No sound was made when flesh met flesh; no shout was uttered when open wound touched open wound; and no cry was emitted as blood mixed freely, collecting, first, at the tip of the elbows and then in the bowl bellow. The veela looked on with stoic calmness as the intermittent droplets turned into steady streams, then to a torrent...
“That’s good.”
If not for the very slight edge in the comtesse’s voice, an outside observer of this scene might have been tempted to make the astonishing assumption that Veela did not actually require any blood to function normally. These veela’s steadfastness and the natural paleness of their skin had meant that it was virtually impossible to physically gauge the effect of the substantial blood loss.
The blood flows gradually slowed to trickles, then to droplets before cutting off completely, leaving on the table a bowl of swirling red liquid.
“The blade.” The haughty veela took the purple dagger by the handle without even glancing at who had offered it and plunged its length into the bowl. The blood that came in contact with the colorful blade immediately darkened while the blade gradually took on a bleak, sinister shade of coloring as well.
… The blackness of the liquid met the darkness of the blade,
… At first, they battled one another,
… Then they merged with one another so that one would be hard pressed to tell the two apart,
…. Finally they merged into each other so that former was in fact being absorbed into the latter!
If any of the females present found the concept of an inanimate object sucking her mutated blood into itself disturbing, she hid her disgust well. Slowly, but inevitably, the level of the liquid in the bowl gradually fell until the tainted blood was all gone.
The comtesse held the black blade up in the air, rotating it in the light, as if examining it. Even as the dagger literally pulsed with the energy of an unmistakable dark aura and pulsed with increasing strength and volatility, none of the veela present seemed concerned. In fact, all they did was shield their eyes an instant before the room was bathed in an explosion of white light.
When the light dissipated, the jagged dagger had returned to its original purple color. The bleak darkness that surrounded it had vanished without a trace as had all evidence of the gruesome affair that took place: the table was spotless; the deep flesh wounds on the girls’ arms were completely healed; and the blood streaks that crisscrossed the lower arms of the veela had also disappeared leaving behind unblemished and flawless white skin.
Minutes later, after dismissal and after curtsying to the royal princess at the door, the five silvery haired veela, their masks once more in place, happily bounced out of the room, flooding the hallways with cheerful barter. With their long blonde hair flying and looking heart-wrenchingly gorgeous even while being casual, it is little wonder that the world continue to shower them with such high acclaim. Truly, do the veela not epitomize the effervescence of spirit, purity of form and beauty of angels? Truly, are they not the most wondrous, lovely, and of course for half of the human magical population, the most desirable creatures in the mortal realm?
Perhaps, but perhaps that’s not all they are…
The veela comtesse allowed herself a rare genuine smile of contentment while being in the presence of the other two pure veela. Handing the purple blade back to its rightful owner and intoned with a note of finality towards the royal guest observer:
“C’est fini.”
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Translation:
La Comtesse – The Countess
Mon dieu. Elle est belle. – My god. She is beautiful.
La Princesse – The Princess
Mon petit Aconit – my little aconite (essentially my little poisonous flower)
C’est fini – It’s finished
(1) Yes, it’s ‘parlement’ not ‘parliament’. I did spell it correctly. In France under the ancien regime, the parlements, of which the parlement of Paris (or Parlement with capital ‘P’) was the largest and most powerful, were in theory a non-legislative judiciary bodies, which gradually took on de-facto legislative powers. Naturally I tweaked it to fit in my story but you get a rough idea.