Fleur Delacour Pt. 2

Even with such determination, Fleur was still feeling a bit of inner turmoil the next day when she finally decided to put her plan into action. Transfiguration with the Gryffindors and Slytherins… the class itself was coming to an end and while most of the boys from both houses had spent much of the class leering at her, the few times she'd met Harry's eyes, the young man had seemed more considering than anything else.

Of course, with Daphne Greengrass and Hermione Granger on either side of him, clearly vying for his attention, it was clear that Harry had a lot on his plate already. And yet… and yet he was still considering it. As Fleur had suspected, the young man simply couldn't be satisfied with what he'd gathered up so far. There would be more. And she might just be among them.

With a "class dismissed" from Professor McGonagall, everyone has headed out. In truth, Harry and his two lovely witches are the last ones to leave the room, allowing Fleur to approach them without anyone around, what with Minerva busying herself near the front of the room.

"Harry. I need to speak with you."

Fleur's French accent is of course unmistakable, and though it is probably cruel to do so, she can't help but enjoy the way both Daphne and Hermione stiffen, knowing who's behind them even with their backs turned to her. Harry, by comparison, remains completely calm as he turns around at the same time as the two witches, a casual smile on his face. Before he can say a word however, Hermione and Daphne step in.

"And what could you want with Harry?"

"Honestly, you shouldn't be wasting his time, he has a lot to get done."

Its clear that there's no real bite to either witch's words. They're all bark. Yapping, really. But Fleur isn't surprised, nor does she necessarily blame them. The veela is very self-aware, and that means understanding why most witches would be more than a little insecure around a beautiful woman such as herself. Still, that doesn't mean their little childish antics don't amuse her. Fleur's gaze slides easily between the two frowning girls, but before she can take them to task, Harry does it for her.

Both Hermione and Daphne gasp and blush in embarrassment as Harry gives them each a swift swat to their rear.

"Go on ahead girls. I'll meet up with you later… promise."

The two young witches exchange a look with one another, but its clear that neither is willing to disobey Harry. He's already got them completely under his control, and Fleur can't help but be a tad impressed. She'd be even more impressed if it was those Professors he was said to have tamed, but regardless, she's a little wet at Harry's show of power, even as Hermione and Daphne squirm for a moment longer before leaving without their precious wizard to drape themselves over.

Neither is happy about it… but neither is willing to go against Harry in the end. That certainly works in Fleur's favor. With them out of the way, and McGonagall still quite far out of earshot, Fleur smiles as she steps a little closer to Harry, her much more developed, much more womanly body on display through her tight form of dress as she gazes at him appreciatively. Her French accent once again shines through when Fleur bows her head slightly in respect, before speaking her mind.

"Harry… I would challenge you to a duel, tonight. I have heard interesting things about a special room on the Seventh Floor. We will initiate combat there, if you are amenable."

For the first time, it seems she's actually surprised the young man. Mildly at best, but Harry is still surprised nonetheless as he lifts his eyebrows and presses his lips tightly together.

"A duel? Have I done something to offend you, Fleur?"

Smiling, the beautiful veela shakes her head back and forth, her silvery-blonde hair bouncing slightly in time with her motions.

"No Harry, you have not. However, a duel is customary if a wizard seeks to claim a veela like he would a witch. We are not so submissive as your female counterparts. Tell me Harry, would you like to claim a veela?"

Fleur preens a little under Harry's intrigued gaze, and with such a blatant, open invitation, the powerful young wizard finally leers at her in the way the other boys had… except there's more in his gaze. This is not the lustful yearning of a virgin child, this is the hungry desire of a man who gets what he wants, and who knows what he is entitled to.

"… Perhaps I do."

And yet, even now he could be circumspect. Harry had always been immune to Fleur's allure though, so the veela isn't surprised when he looks at her without much more than appraisal and a hint of desire, the hungry look washed away for the time being. Fleur bites her lower lip, nibbling on it for a moment before smiling wickedly.

"Mm, then we will duel, and we shall see who the victor is between us. I must warn you though, Harry Potter. It has been a very, VERY long time since any wizard has managed to lay claim to a veela through submission and conquest. I do not truly know if you are up to the task. I have grown in the last year. Was your showing at the Triwizard Tournament a fluke? I can only hope not, I suppose. I would so hate to be disappointed by the heir to the Potter and Black Houses."

This time, only one of Harry's eyebrows climbs up his forehead as she mercilessly teases him, questioning every ounce of him. As Fleur expects, Harry is not the kind of wizard who allows his pride to be bruised without recompense. Though she certainly ISN'T expecting his reaction, when the young man simply holds up a hand and without a word or a wand, rips her panties off of her body from beneath her knee-length skirt, summoning them to his hand.

The veela's eyes go wide as her wet pussy lips are quite suddenly exposed to a cool breeze present in the classroom, and her legs buckle slightly from the show of force, magical as it was. Harry just smirks and crumples her torn panties into a ball, before slipping them into his pocket. Then, he's the one stepping forward, closing the last bit of distance before them as he invades her personal space.

"I'll be taking these until tonight. We'll have to see if you can earn them back. I'm not sure if you're… up to the task."

And then he's gone. Fleur's legs are still shaking when Harry walks out the door of the classroom, and she has an atomic blush on her face, even as her lips press together in a thin line. She'll need to spend some time before the duel taking care of the heat between her thighs if she's going to give anything close to a proper showing. It wouldn't do to collapse partway through, or, Merlin forbid, before then even begun.

Turning away from the door, Fleur opens her mouth to ask Minerva for the rest of the day off, only to freeze when she finds the older, more mature witch watching her with a small, knowing smile on her face. The veela instantly realizes the Transfiguration Mistress saw everything. She might even have heard everything, if she'd used one of the many subtle eavesdropping spells that a witch of her experience and caliber no doubt knew.

"Go."

The simple word, filled with such amusement and understanding… Fleur blushes even harder as she hurries from the room, filled with embarrassment. Did Minerva see herself in Fleur? Did she duel her mentor all those years before, when she was still a young witch? Did she lose and submit to him, a-and… and- No, Fleur couldn't think like that!

Fleur wasn't going to lose this duel. She wasn't Minerva McGonagall, the blood of veela ran through her veins and she was stronger than that! She was… she was stronger than that.

Right?

-x-X-x-

Arriving on Hogwarts' Seventh Floor, Fleur walks back and forth three times as she was instructed, imagining a room perfect for dueling. The door to the magical room appears on her third pass, and she steps inside to find Harry waiting for her, much to her chagrin and surprise. Was the wizard TRYING to show her up, or was he just naturally that good?

Either way, Fleur can't help but grit her teeth as Harry floats there in the middle of the room, looking like he's meditating or something. When she enters, one of his eyes cracks open and he smiles slightly, before slowly descending for a landing.

"Ah, good. You're here. I was beginning to wonder…"

Fleur growls at that and steps out into the center of the room, a dueling arena if she'd ever seen one. Letting her wand drop from its holster into her waiting hand, the veela points the magical focus in Harry's direction.

"I do hope you are ready to begin Harry. I've been looking forward to this."

Chuckling darkly, Harry pulls his own wand out and adopts a rather lazy stance. Despite that, Fleur actually feels a small sliver of fear. He'd ripped her panties from her body silently, without a wand in sight. If that was his magical strength without the focusing tool, what was his strength WITH one? Licking her lips, Fleur slowly edges the circle. Harry does the same, amusement dancing in his eyes and on his face as his lips curl upwards slightly.

And then, without any warning, not so much as a twitch in his countenance, Harry begins to cast, and Fleur's eyes go wide as she rushes to defend herself. The 'duel' if it can even be called that, is more akin to a slaughter than a fair fight. They don't so much as battle, as Harry stomps her in every way. Fleur goes all out, but almost immediately she knows she's outclassed. Her spells bounce off of shields, both magical and physical, and it takes her every ounce of her agility and strength to dodge some of the crackling, blistering magic that Harry sends her way.

Harry had relied on raw talent and pure magical power during the Triwizard Tournament, and he'd still won every challenge, standing above both Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum in every way by the end. But now, unbeknownst to the pressured veela, Harry had spent the summer in the care of his godfather, a wily and resourceful wizard in his own right, if not quite as powerful as Harry. Under Sirius' tutelage, the young man had grown in leaps and bounds. Fleur doesn't stand a chance. She never did.

Even knowing she's completely outclassed, it still takes Fleur a while to realize the duel is only continuing because Harry wants it to. He's toying with her, and it's not so much that she's dodging his magic by the skin of her teeth, but more than he's ALLOWING her to dodge him. No, more… she's not managing to dodge him at all, he's simply aiming at her in such a way that her spectacular female form takes absolutely no damage, while her clothes get more and more cut up, until finally, Fleur falls to her knees in exhaustion, most of her body on full display as Harry stands over her, amusement on his face.

"I… I lose. You've won, Harry. You've beaten me."

The tip of his wand presses against the underside of her chin as he forces her to look up into his vibrant green eyes, a blush coloring Fleur's cheeks. She doesn't fear him… she knows he won't hurt her, instinctively almost. But the possessive, appreciative gaze she finds looking down at her turns her on more than she'd have thought possible.

"And what does that mean, Ms. Delacour?"

A shudder runs through Fleur's body and she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. Only a moment though, before she opens them again, licking her lips as she stares up at Harry in complete and utter submission.

"It means… it means I submit. I'm yours, Harry. You can do whatever you want with me now. I won't fight you. I CAN'T fight you."

Harry's smile widens into a grin, even as his eyes trail up and down her half-exposed body.

"Then why are you still calling me by my name?"

Another shudder, as Fleur bites her lower lip, her pussy growing all the wetter at the insinuation. Dropping her eyes for a moment, the veela looks like quite the contrite little slut, as her fingers curl in her lap.

"I… apologize, Master."

"That's better. Now than, slut. Tell me, what should a kind and loving Master do with his new veela pet? After all, as you told me, no wizard has conquered a veela in hundreds of years. How should I treat my darling little magical creature, hm?"

-x-X-x-

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