FicWad

I did some checking and apparently, I also own a Blu-ray player and a fair few movies. Sadly, though, I still don't own Harry Potter. Though, I wouldn't say no if they offered to give the rights to me. . .



A/N 1 Same warnings apply as the previous chapter: Sex with a child—very disturbing—if you read it you'll feel dirty on the inside—yadda, yadda. . .



A/N 2 Well, I've been shocked and surprised (pleasantly so) by the feedback I've recieved so far. So much so that I couldn't wait to write the next part. (Don't expect the next parts to come so quickly. Was that a pun?) I'd like to thank everyone for the reviews I've recieved over the last 24 hours. You guys are awesome!



Now, with no further ado:





The Unexpected Result of. . .



. . .Being Bonded to a Veela





Harry woke suddenly when the curtains of his four-poster were thrown violently aside.

“Harry, it’s late, you’re. . .” Ron stopped mid-sentence. There was a long moment of silence during which Harry gathered his bearings. He found he was still naked and had the also still naked Gabrielle Delacour spooned up against him. His arm was wrapped around her, though, sometime during the night, his cock had slipped out of her arse. Harry realized that there was going to be no way that he could ever explain his predicament; he was caught and he was just sure that he was going to be expelled—barring Ron being able to keep his mouth shut about it.

Ron was his friend. Ron might understand; he might not say anything about it. He. . .

He was going to be expelled.

“Harry,” Ron said with an exasperated tone, pulling Harry from his worried musings, “if you’re going to sleep starkers, then at least have the decency to cover up. I don’t want to see that first thing in the morning.”

“Erm, Ron,” he began, lamely. “I, er, know this— I can explain.”

“That’s OK. I’d rather not hear it,” Ron said wryly. But Harry wasn’t listening and continued rambling.

“It’s, er, you see, uh, I was sleeping last night and, er, she, um— When I woke up she was. . .” He trailed off. There was simply nothing he could say to Ron that would explain his bed partner in any way that wasn’t, well, criminal.

Ron had blinked the first time that Harry had said the word “she” and looked at Gabrielle as though seeing her for the first time.

“Oh,” he said, with a note of surprise and confusion. “Um, hello.”

Gabrielle just smiled up at him as though she hadn’t a care in the world. Of course, Harry thought, there’s no way in the world that she’s going to be in trouble for this.

“Good morning,” she said sweetly.

Ron gave her a brief smile, then looked back to Harry.

“Better get a move on,” he said as though he hadn’t just found his best mate in bed with a very naked eight-year-old girl. “Class starts in half an hour.”

Then he was gone.

And that was it.

No comments.

No accusations.

No “what the hell were you thinking?”

No “why the fuck is there a naked child in your bed?”

The deafening silence stretched out in the wake of Ron’s departure before Harry exhaled the breath that he hadn’t realize he’d been holding; Gabrielle’s hair fluttered in front of him and she giggled. She turned over and looked at him with a sly smile on her pixyish face. She seemed to be waiting for him to ask a question so he obliged.

“What,” he said carefully, “was that?”

She didn’t answer but adopted a look of complete and obviously feigned innocence.

Harry pressed on. “Why didn’t he go spare when he saw us? He didn’t even seem to care.”

She smiled, leaned forward and kissed him. “We’re bonded,” she said simply. Then she sprang to her feet and stood beside the bed as though waiting for him. “Come Master, we must shower. We smell of our exertions. ” She said the last word as though it were incredibly naughty and, Harry supposed, in this context, it really was.

He found and slipped on his shorts, then, as he sat on the edge of the bed, reached for Gabrielle’s discarded nightgown which she apparently had no inclination to pick up herself. As soon as he touched it, however, there was a brief flare of magic and the nightgown was gone. In it’s place there was a thin strip of black leather with a clasp at each end and a highly polished medallion in the middle. There was a sudden intake of breath from Gabrielle and when Harry’s attention shifted from the leather strap to her, he found a look of surprise and delight on her face. She practically ripped it out of his hands and, before he could think to ask her what she was doing, had fastened it around her neck like a collar, the medallion shining brightly in the very centre of her throat. She was beaming.

“Oh, Master!” she squealed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He suddenly found himself with an armful of very pleased girl as she launched herself at him. “I’ll do everything I possibly can to show you my gratitude for this.” He instinctively hugged her to him as she fingered the medallion with pride. He noticed that the medallion was simple, silver, round and embossed with the letter “P”. She seemed to notice that he was studying it and she kissed him on the cheek. “I am yours,” she said simply.

Suddenly, she seemed to come to herself and she leapt from his lap and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. “Please, Master,” she said. “You mustn’t be late for class.” In a flash, she’d let go of his hand and had gathered the items he needed for his shower, including an extra towel and a clean pair of boxers, and had handed him his dressing gown; she barely allowed him to put it on before dragging him to the showers, still naked as the day she was born barring her new collar.

He was, at first, reticent to have her in the boy’s showers, but, as all the others seemed to be already down breakfasting, he soon relaxed since she seemed to be determined to stay with him.

Soon enough, they were sharing a shower and to his surprise—though in retrospect it should have been expected—he was happy that they were. He was coming to realize that he wanted her around just as much as she wanted to stay around him.

She took the soap and began lathering his body with care. It felt natural to him as though she’d washed him every day of his life. Under the intense scrutiny that she paid him as she began gently scrubbing every square inch of his skin, he expected to feel self-conscious—even after what they’d shared last night in his bed—but he wasn’t.

He couldn’t help but watch her as she bent to soap his legs and feet. She was lithe; much more graceful than others her age—whether that was something she received from the bonding or from her Veela heritage he didn’t know. Her skin was pale and smooth as though it had never seen the sun. It glistened as the water from the shower cascaded over it, running down in little rivulets. Her silvery-blond hair, darkened a few shades by the shower, was sleek and straight and perfect, even wet, and came to her mid-back.

As she worked her way up his body, taking extra care in washing his genitals, he got a good look at the front of her: her long slender neck, now wrapped in the choker that marked her as his; her undeveloped, flat chest topped with those tiny, pink nipples; the long legs that would be gangly on anyone else her age; the smooth, hairless cleft nestled between her upper thighs to which he felt irresistibly drawn.

The immaturity found in the features of her face served only to reinforce the vision of youthful beauty that he now found so captivating. The small nose, full lips and striking, wide eyes, which were the very essence of innocence despite the hint of maturity that could be seen behind them, gave her a look that would surely make even angels seem vile, ugly and iniquitous by comparison. He smiled down at her. She was his.

Twenty-four hours ago, he would not have found her sexy at all.

Hell, roughly twenty-two hours ago, he’d barely given her a second glance, now he couldn’t take his eyes off her. And he couldn’t stop himself growing hard. He couldn’t believe how much he wanted her.

She smiled impishly at him when she came into contact with his arousal.

“Master,” she chided gently. “We have little time for this.”

He only continued to smile at her, waiting expectantly.

After only a moment, she seemed to acquiesce and took him in hand. “It will have to be fast,” she said. She quickly rinsed the soap from his cock and engulfed him in her eager mouth.

Harry groaned. The girl wasted no time. She was stroking his length with one hand, caressing his balls with the other and providing the most delightful sucking sensation with her mouth, all the while laving the head of his cock with her talented tongue.

He gently placed his hands on either side of her head in an effort to show his appreciation.

“Oh, God!” he exclaimed. “That feels so good.”

She looked up at him, her eyes dancing with happiness.

She continued stroking his shaft and bobbing her head.

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” he asked, pitching his voice so that she would, hopefully, understand that it was a complement. She seemed to take it as praise and she giggled around him, sending shivers of pure pleasure down his prick that radiated like waves throughout his body. It was all he could do to remain standing. “Feel free to. . .do this any time,” he gasped. “I’d also. . .like to return. . .the favour soon.”

She shivered in anticipation at that thought which only added to the sensations that he was experiencing.

He could feel himself growing close now as he delighted in her actions.

She seemed to sense his impending climax and, as she had the night before, she grabbed his hips and thrust herself down on his cock, burying it in her throat. The feeling nearly overwhelmed him and with the feedback through the bond, she came without the need to touch herself. Her orgasm fed back through the bond to him, more intense than it had the previous night, and increased his pleasure. With a grunting cry, his cock twitched and he exploded down her throat.

She waited until he stopped spasming and then pulled off of him. He was amazed at how long she seemed to be able to go without air.

Harry enjoyed the afterglow as Gabrielle busied herself finishing her job of cleaning him up. When she was done, she washed herself with a bit of help from him. However, he was more interested in playing than actually washing.

“I’m sorry, Master, no time,” she said gently as she removed his hand from between her legs for the third time.

“I can’t help it,” he said, sounding for all the world like a little boy told to put away his toys. “You’re just too sexy. You shouldn’t be, but, Merlin help me, you are!”

Her pride in his complement was obvious, but she quickly finished washing herself and shut off the water.

She grabbed both towels and handed one to him. She hesitated with the other for a moment.

“So, you think I’m sexy when I’m dripping wet?”

Standing nude in the shower, in front of an equally naked girl who had just given him a blow job and let him come down her throat, he still somehow managed to blush when he answered, “Incredibly.”

The corners of her mouth twitched up in a mischievous smile and she dropped all but a single corner of the towel she still held.

“In that case,” she said, “I’ll just have to stay this way.” Then she turned on her heel and sauntered toward the door, dragging the towel and swaying her hips much more sexily than a girl her age ought to be able to do. “I’ll just go lay your clothes out,” she called over her shoulder as she left the room.

Harry quickly dried himself, donned the clean boxers and his dressing gown, gathered his shower things and nearly sprinted back to his dorm room where he found a school robe and a pair of socks waiting for him on his bed. Gabrielle was standing in front of the mirror, still naked and scintillating from the shower, running a comb through her still wet hair. He suddenly remembered her nightgown becoming the choker and wondered if she had anything to wear at all.

“Do you need clothes or something?” he said as he began to dress.

She looked over and smiled at him and shook her head before turning back to the mirror and refocusing on her hair.

“OK,” he said. He figured that she had a dressing gown or something that, perhaps, he just hadn’t seen before. Or maybe she was planning on borrowing something of his to wear, which would be fine with him. He knew she would find something to wear while she went. . . well, wherever it was she was going. He knew she had to leave but realized he didn’t know where she would go once she had gone and found that that bothered him.

“You’re not planning on staying here are you?” he asked, almost hoping that she was; he rather liked the idea of coming back to his dorm to find her waiting for him. However, although he had somehow seemed to dodge a bullet with Ron, there was no way he could expect that to happen with his other room mates.

She shook her head without looking away from the mirror.

“You have some place to go?” he continued.

“Of course,” she said, turning to smile at him again.

He finished tying his shoes and stood.

“Oh, OK. I need to get going.” he said awkwardly. “Um, thanks for last night. And for this morning. It was incredible.” She radiated pride and he smiled.

He grabbed his book-bag and was at the door when he realized that she was right there with him. He stopped.

“Er, don’t you think you should get dressed before you leave?” he asked gently.

She adopted the tone of one attempting to be patient with a child. “Master, I am dressed,” she said, indicating the choker she wore. “This is all I will ever wear from now on.”

“But you can’t walk around like that,” he said incredulously. “You’re naked. People will see.”

“I am yours, Master,” she said with that same air of patience. “No one will notice me.”

His eyes raked up and down her nude form; she still sparkled with slowly drying shower water. He found the idea of her going unnoticed as she was a very hard thing to believe. He didn’t have time to argue, however; he needed to get to class. Despite being young, she had to know that it was inappropriate to walk around in nothing but a choker even if she seemed determined to do so.

He thought crazily that, should worse come to worst, he would just pretend that he didn’t know her. He reckoned that no one would know the were together. After all, he thought, it couldn’t possibly be as bad as being caught naked in bed with her. They couldn’t hold him responsible for a naked girl walking around. Could they?

Without another word, he continued out the door and down the stairs, Gabrielle trailing along in his wake as though she belonged there and, considering the bond, he figured that, in a way, she did.

Upon reaching the common room, he noticed Colin Creevey and a couple other third-years sitting around. Harry guessed they had a free period first thing that morning. They all looked up at him when he entered and Colin waved before they returned to whatever it was they doing. None of them so much as glanced in Gabrielle’s direction.

With more than a bit of confusion, he clambered out of the portrait hole, Gabrielle right behind him, and checked his watch only to find it had stopped working; it occurred to him that he had forgotten to remove it before his trip into the lake. Not knowing exactly how much time he had, he decided to forego even stopping by the Great Hall to pick up some toast and instead, chose to head directly to Transfiguration. He quickly made his way through the hallways, Gabrielle, to his dismay, following him dutifully.

Somehow, he passed no one the entire way to class. When he opened the door to the Transfiguration classroom, however, he found that nearly everyone was seated, waiting patiently for McGonagall, who was standing next to her desk, to begin the lesson. Everyone turned around at the sound of the door opening and he knew that there was no way in the world that Gabrielle, who, he was very aware, was still right behind him, would be in any way hidden. He quickly and guiltily entered the room and sat down next to Hermione who had saved him a seat. As he pulled his Transfiguration book from his bag, he noticed, to his embarrassment, that his bonded was standing next to him proudly and happily, still quite naked—though now dry, save her hair which was still rather damp—as though she’d done this every day of her life.

He looked up to see McGonagall watching him judgingly.

He waited for the reaction: the stern voice, the thinned lips, the oozing disapproval.

Seconds that were aeons in length ticked by, one by one.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gabrielle move and he felt her slide her arm around his shoulders as she gently leaned up against his side as though to announce their union. Harry gulped and tried not to quail under his head of house’s stern appraisal.

McGonagall’s gaze had lingered on him for an eternity, but then she gave the slightest of nods and looked away.

Harry felt wrong-footed. Did she approve of the naked girl in her class? Was it not against the rules for students to have a nude child clinging to them? Where was the punishment? Where was the loss of points? Where was the quick expulsion? Where was the disappointment? He risked a glance at Hermione, assuming she’d be just itching to give him a lecture about trailing a naked girl around the castle, but she was merely watching the professor, waiting for the beginning of class.

The bell rang and Harry, nervous as he was, nearly leapt out of his chair. Hermione shot him a sideways glance, her brow furrowed, and McGonagall asked him if he was all right.

Not trusting his voice at the moment, he simply nodded and tried not to blush in embarrassment.

The lesson progressed as though there was one less naked Veela in the room that there actually was. Harry found it impossible to concentrate: for the first ten minutes of class it was because he was expecting the gavel to fall at any moment; for the rest of the lesson, once he realized that what she’d said up in the dorm was correct, that no one would notice her, it was because he was constantly distracted by the proximity and nudity and occasional touches of the apparently unobservable girl.

During the lesson, he noticed that several of the girls in the class seemed to have difficulty concentrating, including Hermione, whom Harry caught more than once looking at him with a slightly glazed look in her eyes before she’d flush and look away as though embarrassed.

Gabrielle’s closeness and occasional touches were driving him crazy. What was worse was she seemed to be all too aware of it and apparently prided herself in seeing just how aroused she could make him.

By the end of class, Gabrielle had Harry so worked up that Hermione had, at one point, quietly asked him if he was all right because she thought he looked flushed. In truth, Harry was more sexually excited than he had ever been during a class before—his heart was racing, his pulse was pounding, his cock was hard and throbbing (luckily hidden beneath the desk) and he was having difficulty restraining himself from taking Gabrielle right there in the middle of Transfiguration, rules and disapproving professors be damned!

And still she continued to tease him: rubbing her hands down the back of his robes, running her fingers along the rim of his ears, playing with his hair and, every once in a while, managing to manoeuvre so that his hand found it’s way in between her legs where it seemed to want nothing more than to caress her incredibly warm, bald sex of it’s own accord.

When the bell rang for the end of class, Harry mumbled to Ron and Hermione that he had something to take care of and he would see them at lunch. He seized Gabrielle’s hand and practically ran from the room. Finding the first unused classroom he could, he dragged her inside and locked and silenced the door. He unfastened his robes and while he removed them, she quickly pulled his boxers down. He stepped out of them and pulled her up to him, his cock pressed between them, leaking his fluids on her belly. They wrapped their arms around each other and they kissed. Harry’s right hand slipped down her back, over her bum and in between her legs questing for her entrance. He found her dripping.

He pulled his hand away and, grabbing her shoulders, held her at arms length.

“You’ve been very naughty, haven’t you?” he asked, smirking evilly.

Her eyes danced with excitement as she smiled and nodded. She made a grab for his turgid manhood, only to have him restrain her arms.

“You spent that entire lesson driving me mad.”

She tried her best to look innocent, but couldn’t seem to clear the guilt from her face entirely.

“You, my dear,” he said menacingly, “are now going to pay the penalty.”

Her eyes went wide. Harry could tell from the bond that she was excited, but she tried her utmost to look scared.

As quick as he could manage, he had her on the ground, hovering over her. She waited expectantly, trying for all she was worth to make her lower lip tremble convincingly.

Harry reached down, guided himself to her slick cunt and without further preamble, shoved himself all the way in. She gasped at the suddenness only to moan in pleasure an instant later. He began a steady, pounding rhythm, needing desperately to work off some of what she’d spent an hour and a half building up. Tangling her hands in his perpetually messy hair, she bucked her hips up to meet each thrust. She pulled his head down and their mouths met once again to let their tongues explore.

When their kiss broke, he licked his way along her jawline, down to her neck and around her new collar. She gasped in pleasure. He raised himself up and just drank her in with his eyes as his cock continued pistoning inside her. Young as she was, she was gorgeous—lying there beneath him, a lustful smirk on her face, her eye glazed over, her silvery hair fanned out around her head like a halo, a steady grunt escaping her each time he bottomed out in her immature pussy. He grabbed a nipple and, as he had the night before, he twisted it and pulled it before allowing it to snap back painfully. And, just as it had those few hours ago, the shock, pain and pleasure drove her over the edge. She came violently.

“Uuuhh,” she cried. “Oh, Master! Oh, yes! Oh, harder!” Her orgasm peaked and slowly faded. Harry’s cock twitched but he didn’t come.

Carefully, he raised up on his knees and rested back on his heels, pulling her along so that she was still impaled on him. He wrapped his hands around her waist and proceeded to continue pounding in and out of her. Unable to reach him in that position, she contented herself with playing with her own nipples, twisting them and pulling them as he had done twice now. She moaned each time, but she clearly did not derive the same pleasure from it as she had when it had been his hands doing the teasing.

He smiled and kept pounding away, feeling the pressure build—he was getting close. He picked up the pace a bit, but could only speed up so much as he had set a rather quick rhythm when he’d started.

Not content with abusing her own nipples, Gabrielle used her left hand to caress her chest as though she had breasts and reached her other down to play with her clit. Harry watch her masturbating as he fucked her for a few seconds, then he slapped her hand away. She opened her eyes which had been closed since she’d come and looked up into his face. He was smirking.

She groaned in frustration and moved her had back to the top of her slit.

Again, he watched it for a few seconds before slapping it away.

This time she grunted in annoyance, too aroused for words, before returning to her self-ministrations.

Another few seconds passed as he watched her masturbate.

This time, instead of swatting it away, he grabbed her hand with his left and pinned it against her hip so that she couldn’t move it.

Now she nearly screamed in defeat. He knew she was close and was just looking for that little bit to push her over the edge. He expected her to try masturbating with her other hand now, but she seemed to resist the idea and merely continued fondling her non-existent tit.

He was getting close now and his thrusting became more insistent. Gabrielle was clearly right on the brink as she began to babel incoherently as her eyes closed once again in anticipation. Harry started moaning as he approached his release.

Apparently no longer able to resist, her left hand started slowly snaking it’s way down to her pussy. He let it get only half way there before he used his right thumb to stroke her clit. The unexpected contact was all it took and she tipped over the edge and into orgasm.

With the combination of her clenching cunt, and the feedback through the bond, nothing more was needed to drive Harry over the edge as well. He cried out as his cock erupted inside her, spraying her womb with his come; the added pleasure of the two orgasms feeding one another extended both so much that, by the time Harry’s subsided, he was almost sore from the rhythmic muscular contractions. He slipped out of her and crawled up to lay on the hard floor beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and they cuddled.

“I think we should talk,” he said after a few minutes.

Her eyes darted to his but she found no anger there, only curiosity and a touch of humour. She nodded and sighed but remained silent.

“Why don’t you start with what this bond really is. Or perhaps why you didn’t explain all this last night.”

Even lying on the floor, she seemed to slump down.

“I was naïve,” she said finally.

“What do you mean?”

“I told you about the bond that some Veela choose to initiate after years of getting to know someone.”

“Yes,” he prompted.

She hesitated for a few seconds and then appeared to steel herself.

“There’s more than one kind of bond.”

He tightened his arms in an effort to show her support.

“The bond I told you about last night,” she went on, “is a bond of equals. It’s like a marriage only deeper; more intimate. Last night, I pushed you and pushed you because you seemed reluctant. When you finally gave in,” she hesitated again, “you dominated me. As much as I knew about sex, as much as any Veela is born knowing, I never thought I would like such a thing. I never thought I could.” She turned to look him in the eye. “But you forced me, controlled me. And I submitted. Willingly, I submitted. Happily, I. . . We were that way when the bond completed and that determined the kind of bond it would be.

“When I came to you last night to complete the bond, I expected only a marriage bond—I was sure that I would be your equal so that is the only bond I told you about when you asked. But with this kind of bond, I’m not your equal. I’ll be your toy, your plaything. You can use me to seek your own pleasure because I will always find mine in yours.”

“I noticed you can come without being touched,” he said.

“Yes, right,” she agreed. “It was more intense for me last night when the bond was forming, but it’s still strong—stronger than I expected it would be.” She blushed and looked away. “I had several small orgasms while I was teasing you in class.”

He smiled and she appeared to relax when she learned that he wasn’t upset by that fact.

“About that,” he said. “How is it that you spent an hour and a half standing naked in the middle of half the fourth-year students in this school and Professor McGonagall and no one said anything?”

She turned playfully on her side and began drawing slow patterns on his chest.

“It’s the type of bond we have. Since I am a plaything, a toy, I must always be ready for you, so I’ll always be naked. And since my being nude in public is not normally an acceptable thing, the bond causes everyone but you to ignore me unless you or I draw attention to me.”

“Like a permanent notice-me-not charm.”

“Exactly,” she said, smiling coyly. “It should also extend to anything I do to you.”

“And if someone does see you? Like Ron did this morning?”

“Then they’ll think that it’s nothing out of the ordinary. To them, it’s as if I’ve always been a part of you. And as soon as they’re not aware of me any more, it just slips into the back of their minds and they won’t give it a second thought; they’ll go back to not noticing me.”

“Oh,” he said. “What about weather, though. You’ll get sunburned if I have to stay outside all day. And what about cold? This castle is draughty in winter. Aren’t you freezing?”

“No,” she said. “I’m quite comfortable. The bond protects me. I’ll never be too hot or too cold or cut my foot if I step on something sharp or be sunburned.”

“That’s good to know.”

Her dancing fingers were starting to arouse him again. He was surprised at just how randy he was.

As if sensing this, she crawled up and straddled him, raising up to capture his cock in her cunt before sliding back down. Then, instead of fucking him, she just started a slow, circular grind as she continued talking as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

“There’s much more known about the marriage bond than there is about the one we have, since almost all Veela bonds are the marriage kind. It’s rather unheard of for a Veela to enter this kind of bond. There are, however a few more known facts.”

Her grinding continued and Harry could feel that she was gaining at least as much pleasure from her movements as he was.

“First, the bonding lets us share certain things. We can’t read each other’s minds, but we can share intense feelings.”

“Orgasms,” he offered.

“Yes, definitely,” she said with a wistful smile. “Those are very nice. It also allows us to sense certain things about the other like moods or simple information.”

“Really?” he asked.

“How old am I?” she asked in response.

“Eight,” he responded immediately.

“Correct. And you know this because. . .”

“I. . .” But he realized that he didn’t know.

“You know because I am. I’ve lived eight years. It’s part of who I am. Now, what’s my birthday?”

“It’s. . . Um. . . I don’t know. I can’t tell,” he said.

“That’s because my birthday is just a day, it’s not part of me,” she said. “I was born on 9 May, 1986, though. In case you were wondering.”

She increased the speed of her grinding slightly. Just enough for him to notice.

“Second, the bonding is likely to have increased your drive. You’ll likely require sex several times a day.”

That was for sure. He was on his way to his third orgasm of the day and it wasn’t even lunch yet.

“It’s a good thing you’ll always be around then isn’t it?” he asked cheekily.

She clenched her vaginal muscles and he groaned.

“Third, I’m not sure, but I think you now have the Veela ‘pull’. Or at least a variation. Possibly something very similar.”

“‘Pull’?” he asked.

“Have you ever been around Veela?” she asked. “Other than just my sister and me, I mean.”

“Yeah,” he said with a bit of embarrassment. “I made a fool of myself at the Quidditch World Cup.”

“Then you have felt the ‘pull’. It’s an ability Veela have to attract mates.”

“You think I have that now?” he asked disbelievingly.

“Did you, perhaps, notice your female classmates?”

“I noticed Hermione kept giving me strange looks,” he said. “I thought it was because of what you were doing to me.”

“No, Master,” she said. “All the girls in that class were having trouble concentrating on the lesson. Or rather, they were having difficulty not concentrating on you. Even your professor was affected.”

“McGonagall?” he asked horrified. “I saw her looking at me before class started. I thought it was because she knew you were there.”

That thought seemed to deflate him a bit, so she redoubled her efforts and added a slight up-and-down to her grinding. That recaptured his attention.

“So,” she said after half a minute. “You’ll need to practice so that you can perfect your new ability. Just think of all the willing and available pussy you could bring to your bed.” She clenched on him when she said the word “pussy” as though to accentuate it.

He smiled up at her, his brain beginning to fog over with increasing lust and arousal.

“I think you’re enough for me, Gabrielle,” he said. “Or can I call you Gabby?”

“I will enjoy any name you wish to call me, Master,” she said demurely. “I shall enjoy it twice as much if it’s not my given name.”

“You don’t like ‘Gabrielle’?”

“I love my name,” she said. “But it’s a name my parents gave me. Any other name you call me is a gift from my Master.”

“Then ‘Gabby’ it shall be,” he said. “Until I find something else sexier, or sluttier, or kinkier. . .”

She shivered as though in anticipation.

“Along the same lines, Master,” she said as she increased her pace again and began bouncing on his cock in earnest. “While I would be perfectly happy to be always the one to serve you—fuck you—make you come, I would also greatly enjoy any others you wish to seduce and would see it as nothing but a gift from my Master if I was allowed to participate—” she gave an incredibly vigorous bounce, “—or watch—” another bounce, “—or listen—” another, “or even simply to experience your orgasms through the bond while you fuck someone unknown to me.” His cock twitched and she came with a throaty cry. Her orgasm feeding back through the bond brought him near the edge and she continued to bounce rapidly on his cock.

“Master?” she asked inquiringly. “Will you warn be before you come? I’ve not yet tasted you and I would very much like to do so.”

That thought was all he needed.

He had just enough time to grit out a “Now!” before he spasmed.

Like a gymnast, she twisted off his cock and onto her knees and got her mouth to his erection just as the first shot of come erupted from him.

Again, his orgasm set hers off and she held him steady with one hand and rubbed furiously at her slit with the other.

Even having just come not half an hour before, his orgasm was still quite powerful and potent. He managed to fill her mouth with his seed.

He looked over and noticed that her orgasm was equally powerful, her juices having run down her legs to puddle on the floor. The sight forced yet another twitch from his cock, though, completely spent, this spasm was dry.

She pulled her mouth off of him and seemed to relish the taste of his sperm before swallowing it with delight. “Master!” she exclaimed with obvious joy. “You’re delicious!”

“I’m glad you think so.”

As they weren’t sure how much time they’d spent fucking and talking in the classroom and they knew that lunch was coming up, they decided to head back to Gryffindor tower. Harry put his robes back on, but at Gabby’s request, he stuffed his boxers into his book-bag. The thought of him being naked under his robes kept her so excited that she fingered herself all the way back up to the tower. By the time they’d reached the portrait-hole, she had come twice, he was rock hard and trying to hide his arousal. Harry vowed to himself to never let her know that he was going without underwear again.





And there's chapter two.



With the previous chapter no one claimed they needed the fetal position/crying-in-the-shower combination, but just to be sure, it is still an option, folks.



NOI