The night before Bill and Fleur's wedding was one that Harry would remember vividly for a long time...
Response to the Monthly Challenge for June at PottersPlace3. Most likely a one-shot, but I might add a sequal of sorts to it later on.
Crowded into the small apartment above 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' with the Weasley boys and a dozen-or-so other wizards of Bill's acquaintance, Harry looked up from his drink when the twins called for silence from their position on either side of the door leading to the store downstairs.
After the men had quieted somewhat, the twin on the right began the announcement. "My fine gentlemen, it is our great pleasure-"
"-our very great pleasure, that is, to introduce to you the night's entertainment; the one-"
The identically grinning identical redheads finished together, whipping open the door with a flourish, revealing a feminine figure's silhouette in the darkness beyond the portal. "Mistress Shadow!"
There was a veritable explosion of noise, as all the men in the room began cheering and hooting, stampeding to get a closer seat to the action before 'Mistress Shadow' had even stepped into the room. Harry, completely nonplussed, turned to Remus with a questioning expression on his face.
The werewolf chuckled and leaned in closer to Harry so the seventeen-year-old could hear him over the ruckus. "Mistress Shadow is something of a living legend among the wizards of Europe; she's quite possibly the most expensive stripper in the wizarding world, and supposedly worth every galleon. Business must be booming for the twins the be able to afford her just for their brother's s-stag's night." Coughing at his stuttering, Moony took a sip of his drink before speaking up once again. "Here, I'll get us a better view." Drawing his wand, he tapped the couch the duo was seated on, and its legs promptly grew until they could see over the heads of the crowd.
The green-eyed wizard's eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw the swaying witch entrancing the assembled wizards. The dusky-skinned female was impossible graceful, her gorgeous body swaying to an exotic tune before the throng of men in a shimmering blood-red floor-length dress. The slits up the sides of the dress showed off her long legs as she moved from one wizard to the next, running her gloved fingers over each (Ron's face almost seemed ready to explode, it was that red) before stopping in front of the leering groom-to-be. As the stripper knelt in front of the mauled wizard and assaulted his belt she glanced up past him, locking eyes with the teen seated above the rest of the men. Any attraction Harry felt towards the woman died suddenly and horribly as he met her pale blue eyes and an icy chill settled over him. Swallowing nervously, he set down his butterbeer and nudged his former Professor. "I'm not feeling so good; I think I'll head back to the Burrow."
Remus was grinning stupidly, sniffing at the air with a glazed look in his eye, so it took a second for Harry's words to sink in. Even then, they didn't completely register. "...hmm? Oh, sure, sure. You run along...have fun..."
Harry hesitated for a moment, eyeing Remus worriedly, before sighing. There were two dozen other wizards in the room, all of whom were older than he was; they'd look after the werewolf in his absence, if he even needed looking after. Dropping to the floor, Harry popped out of the apartment and reappeared in the back rooms of the store, where the fireplace could be found.
Taking a step and immediately slamming his leg into a desk, Harry cursed under his breath and drew his wand. "/Lumos/." Squinting in the sudden illumination, the Boy-Who-Lived searched around the cluttered room for the fireplace, and once he found it he crossed the room and carefully aimed the still-glowing tip of his wand at the logs. "/Nox. Incendio/." In the warm light of the now crackling fire, Harry flipped up the lid of the twins' floo-powder container - a small toilet on the mantle - and withdrew a small handful of silvery powder, but before he could throw it the flames began burning an emerald green. Jumping back hastily, the young wizard got some distance between himself and the fireplace, his wand raised and a curse on his lips as a familiar blonde bombshell stepped out of the fire. "...Fleur?" Harry frowned, his wand still pointed unerringly at the blonde's chest. "What did you call me after I was chosen as the fourth Triwizard champion?"
The veela stared curiously at the wizard as she negligently cleaned the ash from her robes with a flick of her wand. "I believe I foolishly called you a 'little boy'. What are you doing down 'ere?"
Tucking his wand away in his pocket, Harry stifled a wince and tried to casually study a number of cauldrons off to the side. "I was just heading back to the Burrow. It's late and tomorrow's a big day."
Fleur smiled widely. "It is, isn't it?" The sudden stomping of dozens of feet on the floor above made the blonde frown and look up curiously. "...that sounds like more than just Bill and 'is brothers...are they 'aving a bachelor party!?"
"...um..." Fidgeting under the witch's heated and piercing gaze, Harry took his time trying to formulate an answer that wouldn't result in a great many curses being thrown around. "...I wouldn't really know. It's not something I've had much experience in." The former Beauxbaton champion arched an eyebrow and planted her hands on her hips imperiously, coincidentally pulling her inky black robes tighter over her chest and highlighting her narrow waist. The teen managed to yank his green eyes away from the voluptuous form in time to catch the gist of Fleur's next question.
"-a naked or nearly naked witch with them?"
'...no. Yes. No.' A sigh emptied Harry's lungs, and he scratched the back of his neck nervously. "...yes."
The blonde's gaze went back to the ceiling for a moment before she sniffed and shook her head, almost amused. "Then Bill will miss out on the present I prepared, and 'e 'as no-one to blame but 'imself."
The Gryffindor frowned, a little confused, but relieved by the lack of anger. "Present?"
"Yes, present. Nymphadora wanted to arrange a bachelorette party, but Bill 'as been uncomfortable with me being around other men ever since...that night. To be fair, 'e called off his bachelor party and said 'e was just going to 'ave a quiet night with 'is brothers." She paused while an explosion of cheering rang through the floor above, and continued once it died down a little. "I was going to surprise 'im, drag 'im away for a little fun, but since 'e is obviously busy, I will simply 'ave to find some other way to amuse myself for the last night of my single life." With that declaration, she paused, then stared at the young man across from her. After a long minute that left Harry distinctly nervous, she grinned wickedly and moved, heels clicking on the stone floor until she was only inches away from the slightly-taller teen. She reached through the neck of her robes - revealing a pale-blue garment beneath her black robe - and pulled out a necklace, holding it out towards Harry in the palm of her hand. "Take my 'and, 'arry."
Again, Harry was forced to drag his gaze and attention back up to Fleur's face. "What?"
Rather than being annoyed, the French woman looked distinctly pleased. "It is a portkey, and it was will take us to my rooms at Chateau de Delacour. I didn't plan on spending the night alone, and this will give us a chance to...catch up."
After several seconds, Harry cautiously reached up and took hold of Fleur's offered hand. As soon as he did, that familiar feeling of the hook behind his navel snagged him, and the duo were hurled unceremoniously from Diagon Alley to the Delacour family home, where Fleur landed gracefully and Harry slammed into the floor. On the plus side, the floor was quite possibly the most comfortable surface he'd ever been slammed into, and Harry had every intention of saying so to his beautiful host, when his vision cleared and he almost swallowed his tongue.
Having shed her black robes and thrown them onto a very large bed, Fleur was grimacing slightly and tugging at the collar of what appeared to be a Beauxbatons Academy uniform, albeit one several sizes too small; it strained to cover her sizable bust, molded to every inch of her gorgeous body, and stopped just beneath the curve of her arse, which gave the reclining wizard a front-row seat to undeniable proof that the blonde had shaved herself bare and chosen not to wear panties on this most auspicious of evenings. "Though I 'ave no doubt that Bill would 'ave enjoyed my old uniform, I 'ad not intended to wear it for very long, so if you will excuse me, I will go change into something more comfortable."
"..." Harry's mind registered one thing, and one thing only, as Fleur turned and walked to a door across the room, and that was her delectable backside...and maybe the blue, thigh-high silk stockings encasing her sleek legs. The slamming of the door behind the blonde snapped the wizard out of his stupor, and he guiltily jumped to his feet, taking deep breaths and consciously looking anywhere but at the door to the room his best mate's and ex-girlfriend's oldest brother's wife-to-be had just entered. The room's dÃ©cor was marvelous; luxuriously furnished in dark colors - mostly dark woods and blues - and softly lit by a number of floating candles, the atmosphere was very...intimate.
Seating himself nervously on the bed, he almost immediately jumped back to his feet when the door opened once more, and Fleur walked back into the room dressed in a fluffy blue bathrobe and carrying a wine bottle and two glasses. "Please, sit, make yourself comfortable!" As Harry did so, Fleur busied herself at the bedside table, pouring two glasses of a dark red wine. Handing one to Harry, she broke the silence. "So, I 'eard that you broke up with Ginevra?"
Harry grimaced and downed half the glass in one hit before answering. "Yeah, I...woah!" Swaying slightly as his vision wavered once again, Harry took a moment to steady himself. "What..."
"Silly boy, you are supposed to sip this wine slowly, not inhale it like a fish does water!" Clicking her tongue, she opened the drawer to the bedside table and pulled out a box, carrying it as she sat down as close as she could to Harry without actually being in his lap. "'ere, fill up your belly with some of these; they will 'elp."
With his free hand (and with some trial and error), Harry opened the box and began slowly devouring the chocolate squares within. After a dozen or so his vision had mostly cleared, and he eyed the rest, and the wine in his glass, a little suspiciously.
Fleur rolled her eyes at his suspicion. "Oh, don't look at them like that! The wine is very potent, I admit, but you really aren't supposed to drink it so fast. And I added a few drops of sobering potion to each of those chocolates to clear Bill's 'ead in case 'e'd drunk too much." She took a sip of her wine and smirked slightly. "Though I wasn't going to just give them to Bill; 'e was going to 'ave to work for the potion."
"Pick one up, and just 'old it in your 'and." When the wizard did so, it only took a couple of seconds for the dark substance to melt into a goo that dripped from his fingers. "See? They 'ave a very low melting point. 'ere, let me..." The silvery-blonde took a hold of his wrist with her slender but surprisingly strong hand and positioned it in front of her face. With a sly gleam in her eyes, she got to work, her pink tongue flicking the chocolate from the fingers of the restrained hand. For the longest minute of Harry's life he was mesmerized be the hot tongue exploring and cleansing his digits, and all the while his breathing grew more labored. Finally, Fleur was left with just the last joint of Harry's index finger between her full lips, and she made sure he was looking her in the eyes before she let it go with a final flick of the tongue that had beads of sweat breaking out on the teen's scarred forehead. "There, all clean."
Taking another sip from his shaking glass - though he really wanted to completely drain it - Harry nervously asked, "Fleur, what...why..."
She leaned forward and silenced him with a soft, chaste kiss. "Bill may be celebrating the last moments of 'is independence with some pole-dancing sow, but I 'ave no interest in 'aving some man-'ore-for-'ire track filth into my room." She set her half-full glass down on the bedside table and cupped Harry's flushed face in both hands. "You, on the other 'and, are one of the few wizards I would ever allow to touch me in such a manner. I like you, I respect you, and I trust you." She kissed him again, this time flicking her tongue across his lips before pulling back. "And I would very much like it if you fucked my brains out."
"B-but I...I've never..."
"Then I shall teach you." Vanishing Harry's glass from his weakening grip and moving aside the box concealing Harry's 'wedding tackle', Fleur snuggled in close to the Chosen One and began gently stroking his crotch, purring appreciatively at the mass of flesh rapidly swelling beneath his clothing. "We shall start with the basics, of course, and if you learn quickly we shall move on to the advanced material. 'ow does that sound?"
A much more heated kiss - with plenty of tongue - struck the young wizard completely dumb, and Fleur took the opportunity to strip out of her bathrobe, then straddle Harry's lap dressed only in her shimmering stockings. "Bill will 'ave me to 'imself for many years, but until the 'our when 'e and I exchange our marriage vows, my body is yours to do with as you please...this I swear."
Shivering as his magic pulsed faintly, Harry thought it over for exactly two seconds before lunging forward and feverishly claiming Fleur's eager lips with his own.
Meanwhile, in Diagon Alley, a certain pure-blooded, blonde wife and mother eyed the smoldering wreck of 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' with a contempt that was smothered when she was approached by a sinister lady of the night. "Potter?"
Mistress Shadow's husky voice was tinged with faint amusement and respect. "He has good survival instincts; he fled almost as soon as I walked in the door, so I guess I'll only be getting paid half of my fee. On the other hand, you'll be happy to know that your niece's paramour reacted exactly as expected to my perfume. Here," She held up a dripping, head-sized bag. "One trophy, as requested."
Taking the offered bag gingerly and peeking inside, Narcissa grinned maliciously at its contents. "I've missed far too many of little Nymphadora's birthdays, but I think a keepsake from her filthy ex-lover should make it up to her."
"I know I wouldn't say 'no' to a gift like that. The portkey?"
The blonde witch handed a Knut to the assassin. "That should drop you just inside the wards surrounding the blood-traitors' hovel."
Examining the coin, Mistress Shadow smirked at the implied insult to the target. "Mocking them even now, I see. Any special requests?"
Narcissa shook her head after a moment of consideration. "No, just kill them all."
For anyone wondering why I haven't updated Gene-Spliced Harry for a while, my computer fucked up horrifically and was unusable for about a week. Then I was working on this, when I wasn't catching up on other things that needed to be done.
With any luck, another chapter of GSH will be posted in the next week.