Harry, Sirius, and Dumbledore sat around a table in the chateau, waiting on Apolline to return with their guest. They could hear a low conversation coming from the foyer, but couldn't make out any words. Harry's heart was in his throat. Now that the moment was here, he was terrified of what a necromancer might find in his scar.
Apolline entered the room a moment later. Trailing her was a witch in a long, black robe. It looked to be made of the finest silk, and was embroidered with hints of silver. There were runic symbols on the sleeves. Her hood was pulled up, masking her face, but her neck and chin were very pale. The rest was obscured in shadow.
"Gentlemen, I would like to introduce Madame Vautour. Madame, this is Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, and Sirius Black."
"Hello," the woman said in a surprisingly feminine voice.
Dumbledore and Sirius merely inclined their heads. Harry could feel the tension radiating from them. This witch didn't seem that dangerous to him so far, but perhaps they knew something he didn't. He didn't understand exactly what a necromancer did, except for the vague term 'death magic.'
"Er, hello," he said. "Thank you for meeting with me."
"You are welcome, young man. I am, after all, being paid quite handsomely to be here."
He smiled politely, unsure what was supposed to happen next. His scar prickled, and he could feel her staring at it from beneath her hood.
"Shall we commence?" she inquired. "I see no reason to linger."
"What do I need to do?"
"It is best if you are lying down while I examine you. Until I understand what sort of magic we are dealing with, I can predict nothing further."
He swallowed thickly and rose. "Okay. My bedroom is down the hall."
Everyone followed him to his room. He lay down on the bed, his nerves threatening to overwhelm him. Vautour sat down next to him, with Sirius, Dumbledore, and Apolline gathered behind her in a semi-circle.
"What precisely is it that you plan to do, Madame Vautour?" Dumbledore asked. His right hand was hidden his sleeve, gripping his wand.
"A mere examination," she answered, turning her gaze from Harry to him. "You need not know my methods."
"I'm afraid I must insist," he said tersely.
There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. Vautour reached for her hood and slowly drew it back. Harry saw Sirius' eyes widen, and Dumbledore openly brandished his wand. He still couldn't see her face properly. He saw only the edge of her jaw and her cheekbone, both of which were unnaturally pale. Her skin seemed to be pulled taut across her bones.
"You may insist all you like, but it will change nothing," she said. "My appointment is with this young man, and he is in no danger from me. I have made a vow not to cause him intentional harm, or to aid his enemy, nor would I have been inclined to do so anyway."
"I don't know about this, Harry," Sirius said, his gaze never leaving the woman.
She turned to face him, and he understood their reactions. Her eyes were blood-red and almost glowing, reminding him strongly of Voldemort's. Her skin was paper-thin and white, and there were tiny black veins beneath it. They spread across her forehead and around the corners of her eyes like barely visible tattoos. Her hair was white, but her skin wasn't marred by the wrinkles of age. He couldn't begin to guess how old she was.
"And what do you say, Mr. Potter? It is your scar, not theirs. I can already detect something malignant lurking within it."
Harry's heart thudded as he looked into her face. Her eyes were terrifying, but her expression was calm. He glanced at Apolline, who nodded subtly. He trusted her not to do something that would endanger him, or he might have walked out of the room.
"I—I want to know what you see," he said hesitantly.
"Then let us find out."
"If I see something I don't like, I will intervene," Dumbledore warned.
"And if you intervene, you may irreparably harm the boy. Should you assault me, you will not like the results, sir."
"Everyone here wishes for Monsieur Potter's well-being," Apolline said firmly. "Let us remain calm."
"It's okay, Headmaster," Harry said. "Just let her do what she needs to do."
"Thank you, young man."
Vautour smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth. He had half-expected them to be rotten. "Now, close your eyes and relax."
Harry did so, and sensed her finger hovering near his forehead. She muttered in a language that definitely wasn't Latin. He felt a strange tingle of magic in the air, and the hair on his arms stood up. His body became very heavy, as if an unseen force were pressing him into the bed. The last thing he felt was her thumb pressing hard against his scar.
Suddenly he found himself dropped into the middle of a raging sea. He gasped in shock as a huge wave rolled over him, soaking him to the core. He looked around wildly. The water was pitch black, and so was the sky, but there were a few stars lighting up the scene. He could make out a brighter light on a distant shore. He tried to move, but it was all he could do to tread water as the waves tossed him around.
Something slithered across his leg. He looked down and saw the shadow of a huge snake in the water. Another snake hissed nearby, and he realized with horror that the water was full of them. They didn't attack, but he was surrounded by dozens, maybe even hundreds of them.
Another wave washed over him, and he fought to control his rising panic. How could this be part of an examination? The only thing he could think to do was swim toward shore, but his limbs felt so heavy. The snakes grew more aggressive as he moved. One slithered across his abdomen and attempted to coil around him. A smaller one wrapped around his hand, and a third grabbed his ankle, trying to pull him beneath the waves. He kicked madly and it let go, only to be replaced by another.
He swallowed a mouthful of black water, nearly choking, and called out for help.
Suddenly he was sitting up in bed again, his chest heaving. He looked around in shock. Sirius and Dumbledore were staring at him with very worried expressions. The Headmaster gripped his wand tightly, but it was pointed at the floor. Apolline too looked disconcerted.
"What in Merlin's name was that?!" he asked, rubbing his scar. His fingers came away black, as if a dark oil had been spilled on his forehead. There was no pain, but he felt a lingering sense of terror.
The necromancer sat on the edge of the bed, regarding him with an unreadable expression.
"You heard him," Sirius growled. "What the fuck just happened? Why was he writhing like that?"
"I do not know what he experienced, but I can tell you that he is a very lucky young man."
"Lucky?" Harry said incredulously.
"Very lucky," she repeated. "Very unlucky too, or we would not be sitting here. What did you experience?"
"I fell into a dark sea. The water was black and, er, full of snakes. They grabbed me, and it felt like they were trying to pull me under."
Vautour listened closely. "Anything else?"
"There was a shore, I think. I could see a distant light. I tried to swim toward it, but the snakes got angry and fought me."
"Interesting."
"What does it mean?"
She stood and addressed Dumbledore. "You are supposedly a learned man. You already understand the nature of his scar, do you not?"
"I'm not certain what you mean," he responded warily.
She scoffed and looked at Harry. "You have been tainted by soul magic of the foulest kind, child. It has not corrupted you, and for that you should be grateful. You are being protected by a barrier of some sort, but I do not know its origin."
"A barrier?"
"We are aware of his protection," Dumbledore said. "What else did you discover?"
"As I said, that he is a very lucky child. Ordinarily I would not be able to help him, but the soul that intrudes upon his own was not placed there intentionally. It has not been able to merge with his. It clings like a parasite."
"There's another soul in me?!"
She smiled at him almost tenderly. It looked horrifying on her face. "Yes, child. I regret to say that a shattered piece of your adversary's soul resides within you. He is a great fool to have been so careless with it. His foolishness will be your salvation."
Harry shivered, trying to digest what she was saying. How could a piece of Voldemort's soul be inside him? How could souls be shattered? He fought the urge to vomit.
"I don't understand what that means. Can you get rid of it?"
"I can."
He closed his eyes in relief.
"You are certain?" Dumbledore asked sharply. "I have reason to believe it would harm him."
"Why?"
"There is a prophecy in play."
"And?"
"I will not reveal it to you. But it is possible, perhaps even likely, that what resides in Harry's scar is there for an important reason."
"Headmaster! You can't want this thing to stay inside me!"
"No, my boy, I don't," he said sadly. "But there is magic far greater than ours directing events."
"Prophecies are specious magic," Vautour said with contempt. "They will fulfill themselves no matter what actions we take. You would truly condemn this boy to live with a parasite on his soul?"
"What she said," Harry agreed urgently. "I don't want to just wait on something bad to happen, Headmaster. I want control of my own life. I want this thing out of me."
Dumbledore took a breath. "I promised you I would leave the decision in your hands, Harry, and I shall. But my research insists that tampering with your scar would kill you. Are you truly willing to place your trust in the hands of a practitioner of the darkest magics? The same magics that Voldemort practices?"
Vautour sneered. "Not all dark magic is evil, old man. The boy has been cursed by the darkest of magics, and only the darkest of magics can save him."
She turned to Harry. "Had the soul in your scar been placed their deliberately, it would be a death sentence for you. But it was not, and though its claws are deep, I can remove it. You will have to fight alongside me, but I give you my word that we can destroy it."
"How?" he asked fearfully.
"A ritual, not unlike an exorcism. You needn't understand the details. It won't be painful, and you will be aiding me from the inside, as it were."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know for certain, but you will likely encounter another vision. Perhaps the same one. Your task will be to remain alive within it until I can aid you."
Harry shuddered, almost able to feel the churning water and the snakes writhing around his limbs. "But how do I do that? There were snakes everywhere."
"By remembering that your intruder does not belong there—that your mind and soul belong to you. If you refuse to submit to his power, he cannot defeat you."
"Like a contest of wills?"
"Precisely. I will not lie to you—there is some small risk involved, despite whatever magic protects you. But if you have courage enough to defy your foe, and accept my aid when it finds you, our victory is guaranteed."
He needed only a moment to think over her words. If Voldemort had a foothold within him, it had to be removed, no matter the risk. And he certainly didn't lack the courage to fight.
"Then let's do it," he said, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt.
"When would it need to be done?" asked a pale-faced Sirius.
"Ideally on a day propitious to powerful magics. A solstice or All Hallow's Eve. Or perhaps on a day that is of symbolic importance to the boy."
"My birthday is in two days."
She smiled at him, and he had to suppress another shudder. "Is it? Then perhaps Fate is smiling on you. I propose we perform the ritual at the precise moment you were born. We need not wait longer than that if you feel you are ready."
"Harry," Dumbledore said imploringly.
"No. This is my choice."
"He was born at 8:20 PM, give or take a few minutes," Sirius put in reluctantly.
"You are certain?"
"Yes, I was there."
"Very well. It shall become the moment of his rebirth too. Let us reconvene here in two days' time. I need to gather materials. Is there a large room suitable for my purposes?" she asked Apolline.
"Yes, there is a cellar."
Vautour nodded. "Are we all in agreement then?"
Everyone exchanged uncertain glances, but it was Harry's choice that mattered.
"Yes," he said firmly.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The next day was an exercise in extreme boredom and apprehension. He had literally nothing to do while he awaited a ritual that would hopefully free him from Voldemort's grasp. All this time there had been a piece of that creature's soul within him. The thought made him physically ill.
Dumbledore's lack of surprise over the revelation left him uneasy. The Headmaster had returned to Britain for the day, as he couldn't neglect his other responsibilities. He would return on the day of the ritual to 'oversee' things.
Sirius too was nervous. He shot worried looks at Harry constantly, afraid that he might be failing him as a godfather.
Lunch was silent and tense, despite Apolline's efforts to ease their minds. She tried to project comfort with her allure, but every time she did so, Sirius would grow sleepy, like he had just been drugged.
"Are you sure about this, Harry?" he asked for the hundredth time.
He put down his fork irritably. "For Merlin's sake, yes! Can we talk about something else?"
"I just want you to be okay."
"I know, and thank you. But you're going to drive me barmy if you keep looking at me like that."
"Sorry."
"Perhaps we should try to distract ourselves with more pleasant thoughts," Apolline said. "Today's anxieties will not stop tomorrow from coming."
"What did you have in mind?" Sirius asked, again looking at his godson with concern.
She smiled and winked at Harry. "Well, we are in a veela sanctuary, Monsieur Black. You must have been disappointed to discover that it wasn't simply a large brothel."
Sirius gaped at her and Harry couldn't help but laugh at the expression on his face.
"That's not—that is to say—I don't know what you're implying. I'm just here for Harry."
She wiped the edges of her mouth with her napkin to conceal her smirk. "And your concern is a credit to you. But you are doing your godson no favors by focusing all of your fears on him. Perhaps you would enjoy a little recreation elsewhere."
"Recreation?"
Apolline couldn't contain her smile this time. "This is a tranquil place. One does not come here for entertainment. It is a refuge for veela who wish to escape the world for whatever reason. But that does not change our nature. I have a good friend who would be willing to spend some time with you, if you wish to take your mind off things."
The look of hope that crossed his face made Harry laugh again.
Sirius glared at him. "I'm not going to abandon my godson in his time of need again."
"He would be safe with me. We could take a walk around the lake while you indulge yourself in the pursuits you expected to find here."
Sirius coughed in embarrassment, unsure how appropriate it was to have such a frank discussion in front of an actual veela. Harry could see the war between concern and libido taking place behind his eyes.
"Go have a little fun, if you want, Padfoot. You're not abandoning me."
"Of course, he may not be able to resist Cosette's allure," Apolline said, casually examining Sirius. "After so many years surrounded by dementors, he might simply pass out on the floor."
"I can resist anything," he retorted, then frowned, wondering if it was a good thing to resist a veela. "If I can handle dementors, I can handle anything."
"Your godson is aware of how strong a veela's power can be. Do you suppose he could resist it, Monsieur Potter?"
Harry grinned. "Call me Harry, and—no offense, Sirius—but you might be in over your head. You went all weird on the tour."
"Nonsense. I was just in awe of the majestic scenery."
"Let's go then. I want to get out of this house anyway."
"Are you sure?" he asked, the hope in his voice unmistakable.
Harry rolled his eyes and went to retrieve his robes.
A half-hour later, the trio walked along a wide path through the foothills overlooking the village.
Apolline had already given them a brief tour of the place. There were homes and villas scattered across the pristine landscape, but not many shops and restaurants.
They had encountered only a few veela on their tour, but it had been enough to make Sirius go glassy-eyed and silent. Harry could tell that Apolline kept her allure tightly controlled, lest he turn catatonic. The veela in the village had felt no such compunction, and by the end he had needed to be pulled along by the hand.
"Cosette's cottage is just ahead," she said. "I must warn you, Monsieur Black, that I was not joking about her allure. In the heat of the moment, it will likely overpower you, even if she restrains it."
"Merlin, I hope so," he said with a silly grin.
Harry laughed. Sirius' mood had steadily improved as they walked, which helped distract him from his own.
They stopped in front of a large stone cottage with a beautifully manicured lawn and a fence surrounding the property. Colorful flowers were planted everywhere.
Apolline took Sirius by the hand. "I'll be back in a moment, Harry. We'll walk around the lake and return here in a few hours. Perhaps he will have regained consciousness by then."
Sirius huffed as she led him inside. She returned five minutes later with a smug look on her face.
"He shall find what he seeks, but I'm not certain he'll remember it afterwards."
"You really think she'll overpower him?"
"Yes, but it is not his fault. The dementors have made him vulnerable to magics that manipulate the mind. I could tell the moment I saw him."
"Won't stop him from being insufferable later," Harry muttered. "He's going to brag about this forever."
She laughed, and the tinkling sound filled his ears, reminding him of Fleur.
"I don't doubt it. Shall we walk?"
They descended toward the lake, and spent the next hour following a trail that meandered along its shore. Harry's anxiety slowly disappeared as they walked. He could sense that Apolline was giving her allure more of a free reign, and it helped him to relax. They encountered only one other person, an older veela who stopped and greeted them warmly.
He was surprised at how big the lake was. There was no way they could traverse it in the space of a few hours. Indeed, after an hour she called for a rest and led him to a shady bower near the trail.
"Shall we sit for a moment?" Apolline asked.
"Sounds good to me."
She conjured a blanket for them to sit on. They reclined in contemplative silence for a while, sheltered by huge trees. The view of the lake was impressive, and the Alps loomed in the distance. Harry took a deep breath of the clean air and wished he were in this place for a less terrifying reason.
"Thank you again for what you're doing," he said. "You have no idea what it means to me."
"It is nothing," she said kindly. "I owe you for my daughters' lives, but I would help you even without that debt. You should not be carrying such a burden."
"Believe me, I don't want to be carrying it."
"You are nervous about tomorrow?"
"Very."
"Madame Vautour will not harm you. She could not do so if she wished. She has perhaps experimented in magics best left untouched, but she is not the sort of person who admires darkness for its own sake."
"I hope not. She looks like Voldemort's sister."
Her laughter echoed in the little space. "Do not say those words in her presence."
"I do have some sense of self-preservation," he said with a smile.
"My husband tells me she lives in solitude when her services are not required. She does not seek power or money. Only enough to fund her experiments into the furthest reaches of magic. Some very important people respect her."
"Thank Merlin for that."
Harry could feel more of his anxiety draining away as they talked. Part of him wondered if they could perform the ritual outdoors. It would certainly calm his fears.
"I must thank you for treating Fleur so well," Apolline said. "I know she is headstrong. She tells me you satisfied her needs and made her time in England more tolerable."
"I'm happy to hear that," he answered, feeling awkward talking about Fleur's satisfaction. Her mother knew exactly what sort of needs he filled for her.
"Did you enjoy the time you spent with her?"
"Er, yes, I did."
She laughed. "You needn't be worried about causing offense, Harry. I quite approve of her choice in lovers. She tells me that you were mostly resistant to her allure by the end, save at your most vulnerable moments."
"Sounds about right, I guess."
"And did you enjoy her company as a person?"
"Yes. She likes to make fun of me for being English, but we got along well by the end."
"I'm glad to hear it. I know she is a touch spoiled. I worry for her. She intends to seek out work as a curse-breaker one day. She is well-suited for it, but her temperament—well, she does not always enjoy the company of other people."
"Yeah, I didn't see her around other students very much."
He didn't know what else to say. It suddenly struck him that he and Fleur had rarely talked about anything consequential during their time together.
"Veela are not generally well-liked," Apolline continued casually. "Especially by other women. We are promiscuous, sensual beings, not suited for monogamy, and that makes us enemies of most women we encounter. It is difficult for us to find traditional work, even if we excel at it."
"I didn't realize you had it so hard."
"It is not so bad. I am happy as a mother and wife. The most troublesome part of being a veela is finding adequate lovers—men who do not lose their minds in our presence. Men who can satisfy us without our having to dominate their wills."
"Ah," he said, feeling awkward again. He had grown comfortable talking about sex through his experiences in the Pride, but that was different than discussing it with the mother of a girl he had regularly slept with. Especially when that mother was a stunningly beautiful veela.
"Fleur would likely pursue you as a mate if you were not English. She has a rather strong distaste for your country."
He laughed. "I know. She reminded me every time I saw her."
She smiled softly at him. "I am curious about something, Harry."
"Yes?"
"You have never felt my focused allure. I am curious how you would respond. Would you be willing to indulge me?"
His heart suddenly started racing. That sounded like a rather intimate proposal, given the nature of a veela's allure. Surely Fleur's mum wasn't trying to seduce him.
"Er, sure."
Their eyes met, and suddenly the most incredible feeling of serene warmth washed over him. He stared at Apolline in awe. She was the most breathtakingly beautiful creature he had ever seen. His cock grew hard instantly. It was all he could do not to reach for her and pull her into an embrace. He desperately wanted to kiss her and fill his hands with her breasts.
The feeling of bliss intensified, and he couldn't stop himself. He reached forward, desperate to caress her flesh. Just before his hand reached her breast, the intensity of the desire abruptly ceased. He blinked and looked at his hand, then slowly sat back down, a little embarrassed at his actions. Even now, he could feel her allure caressing him, and he didn't want it to stop.
"Sorry about that," he muttered.
"Don't be. Fleur was right, it seems."
"Are you sure about that?" he asked, still trying to regain his senses and hide his erection. Merlin, she was powerful.
She observed him with a pleased smile. "My focused allure would turn a great many men into drooling imbeciles. You merely stared at me and smiled until I brought my full power to bear. Quite impressive for a boy your age."
"Thanks. That was, erm, an amazing feeling."
She inclined her head, acknowledging his compliment, and a comfortable silence followed. Harry took a deep breath and tried to will away his arousal. Apolline's allure seemed to linger in the mountain air. He was pretty sure she was no longer restraining it at all. It made everything around them seem somehow more alive.
"This is a beautiful place, isn't it?" she said.
"It is. I think I want to move to Switzerland."
"It's not all like this. Most of it is very cold and mountainous. This part, however, allows you to forget about the world for a while. One's worries seem so very far away."
"They do."
He stared into the distance, drinking in the beautiful scene, but could feel her gaze on him. He turned to find her watching him with a tender expression.
"There is no one to intrude upon us here, Harry. If you wish to forget your troubles for a while, you are welcome to do so with me."
"You mean…"
"I do."
Harry instantly grew hard again. Oh, Merlin, she really was offering herself to him. He could hardly believe his ears.
She tilted her head and smiled. It lit up her face exactly as it did Fleur's. "I won't be offended if you decline. I know this might feel strange for you. I only wish to help."
He unconsciously licked his lips. "Aren't—aren't you married?"
"I am. But I have taken many lovers in my time. My husband is aware. He is with his mistress as we speak."
"Ah."
She looked deep into his eyes. "Veela do not think of sex the same way you do. Two of my lovers I share with Fleur. But I will not seduce you, Harry. I just want you to know that you are welcome to share the pleasures of your body with me."
The words still seemed unreal. He was aware that veela were different, but Merlin.
"I, er—"
"Unless perhaps I am too old for you?"
"No, it's not that," he said hurriedly. "I'm just surprised."
"You shouldn't be. You are a young man who is growing into a powerful wizard. You will be quite a prize for a witch one day. Perhaps even Gabrielle, if she has her way."
He blinked at that revelation, not sure how seriously to take her.
"But that would be many years from now. Only the present matters today. It is your choice. It would have to be our secret, of course. Others might not understand."
He couldn't stop his eyes from drinking her in. Apolline was much older than him, but he wasn't certain by how much. She appeared to be no older than 35, and was even more beautiful than Fleur in some ways. His arousal pressed hard against his trousers. Why was he hesitating? If she was offering herself to him, and if no one else would know…
"I—I would love to."
She smiled beatifically. "Then come here, mon cheri. Let us chase away the darkness together."
Her allure reached out to caress him, and she pulled him into a lingering kiss. Her warm, wet tongue quickly became the center of the universe.
He soon found himself on his back, laying nude across her silk robes. He didn't even remember undressing. His mind was blanketed in a haze of pure bliss. Nothing mattered but the head of perfect silver hair that was splayed across his chest, and the soft lips that were trailing down it, ever closer to the hand that was gently gripping his cock.
When she reached it, she kissed his crown and gazed into his eyes. The look he saw there took his breath away. There was nothing maternal about this woman right now. Her eyes had turned a deep purple and radiated something primal, even predatory. She held his cock next to her face, rubbing it along her cheek lovingly, then examined it from top to bottom with a lustful gaze.
"Formidable," she whispered, meeting his eyes again.
A long tongue swept across his crown and then swirled up and down his shaft, bathing him in her saliva until it dripped onto her hand. She returned to his tip and suckled on it tenderly, and he couldn't stop himself from panting.
"Fuck," he whimpered.
He was distantly aware that his release was already approaching. There was nothing he could do to prevent it. Not when she drew him into her mouth and intensified her allure so much that he felt every nerve and vein in his cock, and every soft caress of her wet tongue.
She pulled away to deliver the faintest of kisses to his tip and ran a single finger along the underside of his cock.
"Let it go," she said.
One more tiny kiss to his crown undid him. Her allure washed over him like a flood, and he groaned in ecstasy. He spurted once into the air, then she drew him into her mouth and swallowed his release as if it were the most precious drink on earth. She suckled him until he was dry, and the next thing he was aware of was the bright, blue sky above him.
"Merlin."
He took a deep breath and tried to regain control of himself. Her allure was so much different than Fleur's. He'd felt no commands from Apolline, just an overwhelming tide of desire that was as comforting as it was sensual. He turned and found her reclining on an elbow next to him, watching him with amusement.
"Pleasant?" she asked.
He laughed. "Holy shit."
"We need not do more than that, if you wish."
"No, I want to see you lose your mind. Just try not to give me a heart attack when you finish."
She smiled and gracefully rolled onto her back. "Whenever you are ready, my dear."
He took a moment to admire her nude body. Her skin was as flawless as Fleur's, and glowed with the same inner light. Her breasts were fuller, and still winning their war with gravity; her nipples were the same dark purple as Fleur's, if a little larger; the trim hair between her legs was as silver as her hair, and seemed to glint in the sunlight. She teased open her bare lips with a finger, exposing a flash of glistening pink. He ached with renewed desire.
"God, you're beautiful."
"Then worship me as I worshiped you."
Without another word, he lowered his face to her pussy. He breathed in deeply of her scent and nuzzled her clit with his nose, basking in the little sigh that his touch produced. He couldn't resist running his cheek along her soft mound. Every hair seemed to caress him.
He took his time teasing her, licking her soft pink lips from top to bottom until her breasts were heaving and her arousal seeped onto his tongue. She tasted just like Fleur, only sweeter.
Her allure grew in power as he pleasured her, and he didn't even try to resist it. He just closed his eyes and let it wash over him. The very air was thick with sensuality, as if nature itself were dripping with desire.
He pulled her swollen clit into his mouth and suckled. Two fingers curled deep inside her and she moaned and writhed her hips. Her allure spiked so sharply that he couldn't stand it any longer. His cock had been hard since the moment he inhaled her scent. He needed to be inside her right now.
"I want to feel you," he said, panting and trying to remain in control of his body.
"Fill me with everything you have, mon amour," she breathed, and pulled him forward by his hair.
Her words ignited something within him. How was it possible that he could produce such lust in a goddess like Apolline Delacour?
She spread her legs further and he climbed atop her. He rubbed his cock along her soaking lips, found the spot he sought, and plunged inside her. She gasped at the sudden thrust and wrapped her legs around him. He groaned as the soft, wet perfection of her pussy tightened around him. He felt wrapped in a cocoon of bliss.
His head swam as he began moving slowly within her. Already his body was on the verge of orgasm. There was a feeling of such need in his lower belly that it was all he could do not to pound her in a frenzy of lust. But he held on, wanting this experience to last forever. She seemed to sense his desperation, even as her desire rolled over him in waves.
"Just relax," she whispered, and drew him into a soft kiss.
Harry lost himself in it, and the respite helped him regain control.
He thrust into her again, and her tongue became more aggressive. She crossed her feet across his ass and pulled him deeper inside her. Each penetration left her panting in his mouth, and he could no longer stand it. He withdrew his entire length and pushed in hard, overcome with lust. She gasped as he pounded her without mercy, writhing beneath him as his cock filled her.
The desire in her allure rose like a crescendo of pure joy. He felt it coming and couldn't resist it. She cried out his name and dug her nails into his back, and three more strokes overwhelmed him. He panted and burst deep inside her, painting her walls with ecstatic bursts that seemed to last forever. She spasmed around him, gripping and releasing him so tightly that blackness filled his vision. The sound of a thousand sirens echoed through his mind, and he collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily.
He couldn't have said how long they remained like that. When he finally became aware that her breasts were squashed against him and her hand was caressing his neck, it felt like waking up from a long nap.
He found the strength to roll off her, and she snuggled up to him, caressing him with more than her body. Her allure radiated a deep sense of satisfaction and comfort, as if they had just cleansed themselves from everything dark in the world.
"Well done, mon cheri," Apolline whispered. "Be confident in your victory."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry couldn't contain the little smile on his face as they walked along the path toward Cosette's cottage. His anxiety over the coming ritual had been pushed deep into the recesses of his mind, which is probably why Apolline had offered herself to him. Even now, her allure seemed to reach out and envelop him in an invisible embrace. He could still smell her and taste her, and his deep breaths were mostly due to her lingering scent instead of the crisp mountain air.
They had been walking in companionable silence for half an hour. When they reached Cosette's cottage, she led him to the front door and knocked.
"Entrez," a voice called out from within.
They entered, and Harry looked around curiously. Though it was a small stone cottage on the outside, inside it was much bigger, and had more of a Mediterranean than a mountainous vibe. Apolline led him down a hallway to a kitchen, where they found a beautiful veela sitting at a table and reading a newspaper. She was dressed only in a loose silk camisole that barely reached her thighs. It hung open in the middle, and Harry could see the curve of one perfect breast in silhouette.
Cosette didn't seem concerned that so much of her flesh was on display. He guessed that she was younger than Apolline, perhaps by five years. She had a narrower face and sharper cheek bones, with strikingly pale blue eyes.
She looked up when they entered the room.
"Bonjour, Cosette," Apolline said warmly, and then spoke in rapid-fire French that Harry couldn't follow.
Cosette laughed and responded in kind, a huge grin spreading over her face.
"Non!" Apolline said with a bark of laughter.
"Oui, je promets!" she replied, and winked at Harry. "See for yourself."
She stood and led them through the kitchen and out the back door. The back garden was decorated with a variety of flowers and birdhouses and a few sculptures. Harry looked around, wondering where Sirius was, when he suddenly found him.
Next to a birdbath was a slobbering black dog, bent over a giant white poodle and thrusting into it with abandon.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Padfoot," he breathed in shock.
But Padfoot wasn't even aware of their presence. He continued thrusting into the poodle vigorously, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. His partner didn't seem to have any objections.
Apolline and Cosette were openly laughing.
"What in the hell is happening?" he asked.
"I am sorry," Cosette answered through her giggles. "My allure was too much for 'im to 'andle after a while. 'e is not in eez, how do you say, right mind?"
"What happened to him?"
"He was fine for ze first 'our, but after zat—he started drooling. He couldn't stop trying to impress me. He turned into zat dog and tried to 'ump my leg. When 'e refused to stop, I directed him to Antoinette. Eet iz not my fault, I swear!"
Padfoot howled in agreement and his canine partner followed suit. Harry shuddered and turned around so he wouldn't have to see anything else. Azkaban must have really messed up his godfather's resistance to mind magics.
"Let me know when he's finished," he said to the women. "I'm not going anywhere near that scene."
Apolline laughed. "The heart wants what the heart wants, mon cheri."
"My heart wants to be far away from my godfather's lipstick."
Cosette cackled. "Eez tastes are not so strange. I 'ave seen much stranger. Zey are just two doggies doing what comes naturally."
"I don't want to know what you consider stranger than that."
Apolline smirked at his embarrassment. "I have seen a man mate with a sphinx, Harry. Would you mate with a centaur filly if she offered herself to you? I assure you I could arrange it."
"Please stop talking."
"Perhaps a dryad or a selkie? A veela in her transformation? Although you might end up charred to a crisp."
Padfoot howled again.
"For the love of God, just stun him or something."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
He trembled as he walked down the stairs to the cellar. Sirius and Dumbledore were at his heels.
Last night he and Sirius had been in high spirits, relaxed and happy from their respective trysts with a veela. Harry had kept his to himself, not wanting anyone to know of his experience with Fleur's mum. Sirius had bragged shamelessly about his 'conquest,' though he had also begged him not to tell anyone about his liaison with a poodle. Harry just strung him along, knowing it would make excellent blackmail material in the future.
Their sense of mirth had long since disappeared. Harry felt like he might vomit from sheer nerves. He had contemplated writing a letter to Hermione, in case things turned out badly, but decided against it. She would just worry without being able to help. Plus, composing such a letter would erode his confidence. If there was going to be some sort of psychic battle, he had to believe he would win. There was no alternative.
Apolline and Madame Vautour were awaiting them in the cellar. Vautour had arrived three hours ago to prepare the room. She had entered the chateau with two boxes and a live goat levitating behind her.
He was grateful he didn't have to watch the preparations.
The red-eyed woman acknowledged them as they entered the room. "Welcome. It is time."
Harry mumbled a greeting and glanced around the room. The air was heavy with incense. It wafted from more than a dozen black candles. The aroma was heady and sweet, and instantly made him woozy.
There was a huge pentagram in the center of the floor. It looked as if it had been painted with blood. In the center of the pentagram was the goat. All four of its feet were staked to a rod in the floor, but it wasn't moving at all. It stood unnaturally still, staring unblinkingly at nothing, and he noticed that its eyes were solid white.
Something about the animal felt deeply wrong.
"What's the matter with the goat?" he asked with a shiver of dread.
"It is nothing to fear. It is already dead."
"What?"
"You would call it an inferius in England, I suppose."
Harry glanced at Dumbledore, whose lip curled in disgust.
"And why precisely is that abomination present?" the Headmaster asked accusingly.
"Would you rather the tainted soul remain in the boy? I could use a human sacrifice, if you prefer. That would be easier. Retrieve a criminal for me if you object to a goat."
"I think he means why is the goat a bloody inferius," Sirius growled. His hackles were standing, as if his animagus form were outraged.
"The goat has been prepared as a sacrifice. It has no remnant of its soul, but it craves one, as all inferi do. The parasite soul will seek refuge in the waiting vessel, which I will then slaughter."
Sirius turned a little green at the casual explanation and Harry looked at the goat with even more disgust.
Vautour shrugged. "You did ask."
He looked closer at the arrangement, and saw small bowls full of what could only be the goat's blood. They were placed at the outer points of the pentagram. Over the whole scene levitated a black, curved dagger. It was suspended in a circle of light, and had a variety of silver and red runes along its length.
"Are you ready, child? It is five minutes until the approximate moment of your birth."
"I hope so," he said, trying not to shake too much. "What exactly is going to happen?"
"You will sit in the center of the pentagram, next to the goat. I will be here, standing on the outer circle. You must do nothing but close your eyes and allow me to work. Your mind will be asleep. The battle will take place in your soul."
"My soul?"
"The vision you experienced is a manifestation of your condition—not a place, but a metaphor that your mind can grasp. But your soul is indeed the battleground."
Harry again fought back the urge to vomit. He hadn't understood the mechanics of what was happening during their first encounter. His vision had taken place in his soul? The idea of someone manipulating his very essence was horrifying. But Voldemort had already done so, leaving him little choice but to proceed.
"I don't like this, Harry," Sirius muttered.
"Neither do I."
"It is not too late to stop this madness," Dumbledore said.
The necromancer ignored them and spoke to Harry. "Remember, child, that you are the master of your own soul. Hold fast to that truth, and we will be victorious. If you experience the same vision—if you are in a black sea surrounded by snakes—I want you to make your way to shore. If you cannot do so, then stay afloat. You will be rescued, but I do not know in what manner you will experience it."
He took a calming breath and willed away his nausea. Could he really do this? He didn't want to experience that vision again. Especially now that he knew it was a manifestation of whatever nastiness Voldemort had put inside him. But that part of him needed to be cleansed, and if a necromancer was the only way to do it…
A sudden sense of comfort washed over him, and he glanced at Apolline. She smiled at him. "You will win, Harry. You are a champion, do not forget."
He returned her smile as confidently as he could. "Let's do this, before I freak out."
"Disrobe and sit down in the center," Vautour commanded.
Harry removed his robe. He was nude beneath it, but he knew this part was coming. It was a little mortifying with other people watching, but there was no choice. He stepped into the pentagram, careful not to touch the lines of shining blood, and sat down in the center. The undead goat was only a foot away from him, and it even smelled unnatural. He tried to pretend it didn't exist.
He watched as Vautour removed her black robe and dropped it to the ground. She too was totally nude underneath. He couldn't help but stare at her body. It was hairless and unnaturally white. Just like the edges of her face, there were tiny black veins spreading in every direction. Her skin was tight and paper-thin, making her look surprisingly fit. Her withered breasts were the only thing that indicated her age.
Harry looked up and caught her blood-red eyes staring into his. She smirked as if she could read his mind, and he shivered.
She didn't hold a wand, so he wasn't sure how she was going to perform a spell, if one was even required. He glanced up and saw the black dagger floating directly above his head. He prayed he wasn't making a terrible mistake.
Vautour gave a long look at Dumbledore. "Do not enter this circle no matter what you see. It may cost you your life, and it would cost the boy his."
The Headmaster nodded reluctantly.
"Two minutes now," she said. "Close your eyes."
Harry did so, and focused on his breathing. A minute later Vautour began chanting in a language he didn't recognize. It was a long string of unending, guttural sounds. The air charged with electricity and he had to fight the urge to run from the circle in fear. Her voice rose in a crescendo and she shouted a bizarre word.
He felt himself fall asleep. It was a strange sensation. He was still somehow aware of himself. For a brief moment he seemed to be floating, then he was suddenly plunged into a cold, dark sea.
He cursed as he found himself in the same vision. The black waters churned around him violently. The sky was equally dark, and a great storm was on the horizon behind him. Lightning periodically lit up the inky black sky. He located the faint light in the distance and tried to stay calm. He could make out the edges of a sandy beach, and tried to swim toward it.
Wave after wave crashed down on him, leaving him disoriented, but he kept his head above water and tried to keep moving. The snakes were curiously absent, making it easier to swim, but at this rate it would take him forever to reach the light.
A thunderous boom echoed through the darkness and lightning arced across the sky. Furious hissing filled the air. Harry looked behind him and stared in horror as a wall of snakes slithered through the water, fleeing the coming storm. They were headed directly at him.
He swam madly, but knew he couldn't outrun them. They were too fast. They were upon him only seconds later. He screamed as he felt the writhing horde brush against his body. One wrapped around his ankle and he desperately kicked it off. A giant green one tried to bite his torso, but its fangs careened off him and it hissed in agony.
The snake's pain gave him some hope, and reminded him that these monsters didn't belong here. When another clamped down on his arm and failed to bite him, he punched it in the face and sent it flying into the darkness. Half a dozen more slithered around his ankles, trying to pull him under. He kicked his legs viciously, willing them off, and they exploded away from his body.
His growing confidence only attracted more. They surrounded him in every direction now, hissing and spitting and biting and wrapping themselves around him, so thick in the water that they held him in place. Swimming was out of the question. But Harry fought back hard, unwilling to be dragged under the dark water. He punched and pushed and clawed against the writhing mass, desperately ignoring his fear at their growing numbers. No sooner had he dislodged one than two more took its place, and their attacks only grew more frenzied.
Just as he felt they might smother him with sheer numbers, lightning lit up the sky above him and it began pouring rain. The snakes began screaming in terror, and it was the worst sound he had ever heard. He turned and saw something slicing through the water like a huge dagger. It glowed white like a patronus, and the snakes gave way before it.
It plowed through the churning water at an incredible rate. The snakes surrounding him hissed and released him, attempting to flee. A wave crashed down hard, submerging him underwater. He came up coughing and sputtering. When the white light was nearly upon him, it dove beneath the water.
Harry gasped in shock as he was suddenly flung into the air. He landed on something firm and fleshy, and was astounded to find himself riding a huge white dolphin. It was the size of a small whale, glowing brightly against the dark waters, save for its blood-red eyes. He grabbed on desperately to a fin as it hurtled toward the distant shore.
The dolphin chirped and sped through the water, knocking huge snakes out of its way. Even the waves seemed to part for it. The sandy beach approached rapidly, and before Harry could wonder what would happen when they reached it, the dolphin abruptly stopped. He was launched through the air and landed with a thud on the beach.
Darkness overcame him.
For what might have been two minutes or two hours, he felt nothing. He was aware that he existed—knew exactly what had just happened—but sensed nothing but pure darkness.
Harry was starting to wonder if he were dead when he became aware of a hard stone floor pressing into his knees. He tried to open his eyes, but instead leaned forward and vomited up the contents of his stomach. Another retch expelled black bile mixed with blood onto the floor.
He took great heaving breaths, trying to make the room stop spinning. He recoiled from the puddle of revolting gore in front of him and looked around. Sirius, Dumbledore, and Apolline were staring at him in horror, their mouths wide open. Dumbledore's wand was shaking in his hand.
Something ran into Harry's eyes and he wiped it away. His hand came away covered in a thick black sludge. He wiped again and it came away sticky with blood. He didn't need to look in a mirror to know that it was flowing from his scar.
Vautour stepped closer and looked down at him with a pleased expression.
"Am I okay?" he asked desperately.
"Yes, child, you are free."
He couldn't help it. He burst into tears at her feet. There was no pain, but he was overcome with such relief that he couldn't contain it.
The group watched him in silence as he slowly regained control of his emotions. The necromancer kneeled next to him and placed her hand on the head of the goat. It was straining against its bonds, but it could barely move.
Harry watched as she gripped the black dagger in her left hand and stroked the goat's head almost affectionately. She smirked as it tried to buck against her, clearly furious. Its eyes were now a glowing red.
"Such arrogance, goat," she said in a chiding voice. "You owe death a recompense, and she shall have it. What you took from the child has been restored to him, and you—though I am tempted to experiment on you for my own amusement, the boy deserves to watch you die. I bid you farewell. It is long past time for you to rot."
She raised the dagger to the goat's throat and prepared to plunge it in.
"Stop!" Dumbledore yelled.
Vautour turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow.
"The goat must die."
"I am aware. But I believe it should be Mr. Potter who does it."
He looked at Harry significantly, and he slowly caught his meaning.
"I'll do it," Harry said with a grimace. He got to his feet and she handed him the wicked-looking dagger. The runes on it made him shiver, but he didn't know why.
"Do not cut yourself," she warned.
"What do I do?"
"You must slit its throat from ear to ear, until it is free of its fouled blood."
He winced and took a deep breath. He had come this far. What more could killing an undead goat cost him? He shoved the knife into its neck, shocked at the resistance, then drew it along its throat to the other side. Black, viscous blood oozed and then poured out of the wound. Smoke rose from the floor where it pooled.
He pulled back in disgust when he was finished, and Vautour carefully took the dagger from him.
The goat staggered as its blood poured out. Its red eyes glared hatefully at Harry, and he glared right back.
"Die, you fucker," he whispered.
Finally, it collapsed against its bonds. The redness disappeared from its eyes, leaving nothing but white. It gave one final spasm and didn't move again.
"It is done," Vautour said with satisfaction.