Breaking The Girl
By: Dasteiza
Harry is convinced by his girlfriend, Fleur, to seduce her socially awkward sister, Gabrielle. Harry takes up the challenge and finds that the Delacour women are very affectionate. Harry/Fleur Harry/Gabrielle Harry/Apolline SMUT Lemons Harry/Multi
Rated: Fiction M - English - Harry P., Fleur D., Gabrielle D., Apolline Delacour - Chapters: 4 - Words: 14,226 - Reviews: 19 - Favs: 337 - Follows: 425 - Updated: Apr 9 - Published: Feb 25 - id: 14549999
Chapter 1
"I think something is wrong with Gabrielle," Apolline said in French as she walked into the room. Fleur looked up from her fashion magazine and raised an eyebrow at her.
"What are you talking about?" Fleur asked in confusion.
"Have you noticed how she has never shown any interest in the opposite sex?" Apolline asked as she sat down next to Fleur. Fleur thought about it for a second and realized that she was right.
"Yes, I have noticed. Maybe she's into girls," Fleur suggested, but Apolline shook her head.
"She's never shown any romantic interest in them either. It's so strange," Apolline said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.
"What's the big deal? She seems happy enough. Besides, she'll probably come around in time," Fleur told her.
"She seems content, not happy," Apolline corrected her. "She spends all day in that greenhouse of hers. She never socializes with anyone. It's not healthy."
"I can talk to her, but I don't think it will do any good," Fleur said, tossing her magazine on the side table. Apolline shook her head.
"It won't. She's in her own little world, and she has no interest in breaking free."
Fleur sighed and replied, "There isn't much we can do about it if she doesn't want to change."
"Maybe you can give her a little push," Apolline said with a cheeky smile.
"What do you mean?" Fleur asked.
"The only person she has ever shown any romantic interest in was 'Arry," Apolline told her.
Fleur remembered the crush she had had on Harry. Fleur used to tease her about it. "That was years ago, before 'Arry and I started dating."
"Yes, but it's still something. I was hoping you could ask him to flirt with her a little bit. You know … get her to loosen up. Maybe that will start a fire in her," Apolline suggested.
Fleur rubbed her chin in thought. The idea wasn't half bad.
Breaking the Girl
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Harry muttered, dragging a hand through his hair as he followed Fleur up the gravel path.
She giggled and slipped a hand beneath his arm to pull him closer. Fleur pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and wiped off the lipstick left behind. The morning was cool, and the scent of cut grass and peonies hung in the air. Fleur's parents' estate sprawled around them. It was quite the sight to see with its manicured hedges and elaborate flower beds leading up to the glass dome of Gabrielle's greenhouse. They passed beneath a trellis woven thick with red roses and ducked under a swarm of bees hovering above the blooms. Fleur leaned into Harry and whispered conspiratorially, "She will be so surprised to see you 'ere. I didn't tell 'er you were coming."
Harry chuckled and shook his head. He could see the outline of Gabrielle, crouched over a workbench inside the greenhouse. Her silvery-blonde hair was pinned up in a messy knot. She wore a man's button-down shirt over her own clothes, and the sleeves were rolled up past her elbows. Her hands were stained with dark soil. As they came closer, Gabrielle didn't look up. She was focused on repotting a spindly orchid, her brow furrowed in concentration. Fleur held the door for Harry, ushering him in with a flourish, and the muggy air inside hit him like a wall.
Gabrielle glanced up, blinking in surprise at the pair of them. For a split second, her face was blank. Her eyes widened, and she grinned happily. " 'arry! What are you doing 'ere?" Her voice was soft, but it carried easily in the thick, humid air. Harry suddenly felt awkward as he loomed in the doorway with Fleur hanging off his arm. It wasn't every day that his girlfriend asked him to help seduce another woman.
"I'm just here to see how you're getting on," Harry said, acting casual. "It's been a while since I last saw you."
"I've been busy," Gabrielle replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a muddy knuckle. She regarded him with polite curiosity. She then looked to Fleur. "Is there something you needed?"
Fleur squeezed Harry's arm. "We just wanted to say 'ello, Gabrielle, and remind you not to work too 'ard."
Gabrielle shrugged. "I like keeping busy." She turned back to her orchid and began packing moss around its roots.
Harry hesitated, unsure what role he was meant to play in Fleur's plan. He glanced at Fleur, who nodded encouragingly. "You're growing orchids?" he tried, stepping closer to the workbench.
Gabrielle shrugged again. "They're difficult. I like the challenge." She looked up at him with unreadable blue eyes. "Would you like to see?"
He nodded, and Gabrielle motioned him forward. She gently spread the orchid's delicate roots for him to see. Harry watched, fascinated by her focus, but also suddenly aware of Fleur's eyes on him, measuring his interactions.
He cleared his throat. "So, er, are you enjoying your summer?" His small talk needed some work.
Gabrielle glanced at Fleur before looking back at Harry. "It's fine." She wiped her hands on the hem of her shirt and regarded him with a faint, puzzled smile. "Thank you for asking."
Next to him, Fleur's grip on his arm was almost possessive, but her smile was bright. " 'arry was 'oping you could show 'im your collection, Gabrielle. You 'ave so many rare plants. 'e's never seen anything like it."
Gabrielle nodded, and, without another word, led them to the back of the greenhouse. She didn't waste time with pleasantries. She set off down the narrow aisle, weaving between pots and trays with the familiarity of someone who spent most of her waking hours in this humid sanctuary. Harry and Fleur fell in behind her. Fleur clung to Harry's arm, and the heat prickled their skin almost instantly. The further they moved from the entrance, the denser the foliage seemed to get. Leaves brushed against Harry's shoulders and legs, and water droplets dampened the legs of his trousers. The air was thick with the scent of damp soil and fertilizer. Gabrielle walked with her head held high, not slowing or looking back.
They passed a row of tiny cacti, each one labeled in a neat, looping script. Beyond that stood a collection of creeping vines. Their tendrils twisted around copper wires Gabrielle had rigged above the workbenches. She stopped when she reached a waist-high table near the far wall. On the table sat an assortment of squat, vicious-looking plants. Their colors were lurid and strange.
"These are my carnivores," Gabrielle announced. Her voice was quiet but filled with pride. She stepped aside so Fleur and Harry could get a better look. "Most of these are magical, though a few are Muggle. They are very rare. Most people cannot keep them alive."
Harry stared at one with spiny jaws that were half-open. The plant turned to face him and lunged forward, snapping its jaws. A shimmering purple pitcher plant glistening with syrupy, neon orange nectar. He'd never seen anything like them outside textbooks. They didn't have any of these in his Herbology class. "They look …dangerous," he said, and Gabrielle smiled. She seemed pleased that he was taking an interest in her passion. She reached for a jar of dead flies on a shelf, pinched one delicately, and dropped it into a waiting pitcher plant. The plant gurgled, and the pitcher folded in on itself. It began pulsating grotesquely.
Fleur shuddered, but Gabrielle only shrugged, her eyes alight. "That's just 'ow they are." She looked at Harry with her beautiful blue eyes. "They 'ave to be strong to survive."
Harry nodded, feeling a strange kinship with the weird, elegant creatures. "You must spend a lot of time on them," he said.
Gabrielle's mouth twitched at the corners. It was a very cute gesture, Harry discovered. "They are very demanding." She turned to her sister. "You could never do it, Fleur. It takes patience."
Fleur wrinkled her nose, but she didn't rise to the bait. She looked over at Harry. "Gabrielle is the only one I know who can keep a plant alive for more than a week," she said, her tone teasing but affectionate.
"She must be a very loving person," Harry teased.
Gabrielle said nothing, but a faint flush crept up her neck. She fiddled with the leaves of a wriggling vine while meeting Harry's eyes again. "Would you like to feed one?"
Harry nodded and stepped forward. Gabrielle offered the jar, her stained fingers brushing his as he took a dried fly. He reached for the nearest pitcher. This one was smaller than the last. Its outer layer was yellow with bright purple rosettes. It was a bright pink inside the pitcher. Harry looked at Gabrielle for confirmation. She nodded, and he dropped the fly into the bright pink opening.
He jumped a little as the pitcher shut, and Gabrielle snorted. Her very soft laugh made her sound almost normal. "You see? They are quick." She seemed pleased with his reaction.
Harry grinned. "They are much faster than they look."
Gabrielle nodded again. "Most people underestimate them."
"Gabrielle, do you ever get bored out 'ere all alone?" Fleur asked out of curiosity.
Gabrielle tilted her head, considering the question. "No," she said decisively. "There is always something to do."
Fleur exchanged a glance with Harry and shrugged. "I suppose I am not surprised."
Gabrielle ran a finger down the side of the pitcher plant. "They are better company than most people."
Fleur gave a short laugh. "That is very sad, Gabrielle."
Gabrielle didn't answer, but Harry watched her, sensing there was more to it than she let on. She started to turn away, but Fleur reached out and touched her shoulder. "Wait. Show us your favorite one."
Gabrielle hesitated before gesturing to a low, shallow pot at the very edge of the table. Inside it was a single, spidery plant with curling leaves covered in dew. The drops glimmered in the sunlight, and Harry realized the plant was covered with tiny gnat corpses.
"This one is called Drosera Regia," Gabrielle explained. "It is a Muggle plant from South Africa. It is almost extinct. I 'ad to write letters for months before someone would sell me a cutting."
Harry leaned in close, careful not to touch. It looked like something out of a fantasy novel. "It's beautiful," he admitted, and Gabrielle's whole body seemed to relax at that.
She looked up at him with a small, genuine smile. "Thank you."
Fleur watched the exchange with raised eyebrows but said nothing. After a moment, she let her hand drop from Gabrielle's shoulder and glanced at the door. "Well, I 'ope you enjoyed the tour, 'Arry."
Harry nodded, but he kept his eyes on Gabrielle, who was already tending to her plants again. Her hands moved with practiced care. Fleur tugged his sleeve. "Come on, we'll let 'er get back to it."
They retraced their steps through the greenhouse, and sweat prickled at the base of Harry's neck. He glanced back once, catching Gabrielle watching them over the top of a pitcher plant, her expression unreadable. Harry smiled and waved.
Outside, the air felt thin and cold by comparison. Fleur let out a dramatic sigh. "She is so strange sometimes, non?"
Harry shrugged, still thinking about the look in Gabrielle's eyes as she fed the carnivores. "I think she's just different. Not everyone needs the same things, you know."
Fleur chuckled and shook her head. "Maybe you are right, 'Arry. But I still think she needs to get out more." She gave his arm a playful squeeze. "Speaking of, we should go for a walk before lunch. I want to show you the lake. You can work on Gabby more later."
He smiled, letting himself be pulled along, but he couldn't shake the image of the wild, predatory plants or the girl who loved them.
Breaking the Girl
After dinner, they found themselves in the sitting room, sprawled across the overstuffed couch. The fire was crackling merrily, and Fleur was curled up against Harry, using his lap as her personal throne. She toyed with his fingers and gently scraped her nails over his knuckles. They watched the flames dance in the grate, and Fleur giggled when Harry tickled her inner thigh.
Gabrielle entered quietly in bare feet and loose, faded shorts with a t-shirt knotted at her hip. She hesitated on the threshold, then padded over and perched at the far end of the sofa. She curled one leg underneath herself and stared at the flickering flames.
Fleur noticed immediately and warmly called out to her. "Come closer, Gabrielle. You look cold."
Gabrielle rolled her eyes at the suggestion. "It's a little chilly, but I'm not cold." But she shifted closer anyway, stretching her feet toward the fire and sighing as she settled. Harry suspected she just liked being included, even if she would never admit it.
He watched the two girls interact, struck by their differences. Fleur was always charming and confident. Gabrielle was shyer, her gestures tentative, and she spoke just enough to get her point across. But even with all the differences, they were still strikingly similar in a lot of ways.
Harry reached for the tea on the low table, poured a cup, and offered it to Gabrielle. She accepted it gratefully, wrapping her cold hands around the mug. Her nails were stained purple and green at the cuticles. She sipped her tea and made a face.
"It's very sweet," she complained.
Fleur giggled. "That is 'ow 'e likes it. 'Arry is a savage Englishman after all."
Harry smirked and poked Fleur in the ribs. "It's not so bad once you get used to it."
Gabrielle took another sip and said nothing. She stared into the fire, her eyelids drooping. Harry caught the way she moved her neck, stretching it side to side, and he wondered if she was still sore from her hours in the greenhouse.
"Are you alright?" he asked. "You look tired."
Gabrielle nodded. "My back 'urts. I was working all day, cleaning the benches and lifting pots. It's nothing."
Fleur sat up with a catlike gleam in her eyes. "Oh, poor Gabrielle. You work too 'ard." She prodded Harry's thigh with her foot. " 'Arry, you should make yourself useful and give 'er a massage."
This made Gabrielle jerk upright. "No, it's fine. Really."
Fleur ignored her. " 'e is very strong, aren't you, 'Arry?"
Harry was a little embarrassed by his girlfriend, but he scooted closer to Gabrielle anyway. It was hard to say no to Fleur when she was so insistent. "I could try, if you want," he offered.
Gabrielle shifted uncomfortably but turned so her back faced him. She hugged a couch pillow to her chest and ducked her head, as if preparing for an ordeal. Fleur hopped off his lap and sat on his other side. Harry placed his hands softly on her shoulders and felt the tension bunching in her muscles. He pressed his thumbs in, moving tentatively at first. Gabrielle said nothing, but her shoulders dropped a little after a minute.
Fleur observed with a sly smile, her feet tucked beneath her. "See? 'e is very good," she said, as if advertising Harry's services to the room.
Gabrielle made a noise that sounded somewhere between a sigh and a whimper as Harry added pressure and found a knot at her shoulder blade. He worked it gently, and then gradually deepened the pressure when she didn't object. Gabrielle kept her gaze fixed on the fire, her blue eyes hooded. Her lips parted with a tiny, involuntary gasp as he dug his thumb in a little deeper.
"Too much?" he asked.
Gabrielle shook her head quickly. "No. It's … good."
Fleur's smile widened. "Gabrielle never wants to admit when something feels nice."
Harry tried to hide a grin, instead focusing on his task. He slid his hands up to her neck and kneaded carefully. Harry then slid his hands down her arms. Gabrielle's skin was warm from the fire. She exhaled, and her eyelids fluttered in brief surrender. When Fleur caught his eye, she nodded in approval, as though Harry were a prize student.
"There," he said, rolling his thumbs over her shoulder one last time. "Did that help?"
Gabrielle stretched her arms above her head and rotated her neck. "Yes. Thank you." She seemed embarrassed by her own relief. She tugged at the hem of her shorts, trying to regain her composure.
However, Fleur wasn't done. "You should do the lower back, too, 'Arry. That is where all the muscles are." She reached across Harry to demonstrate, her fingers pressing against the small of Gabrielle's back. Gabrielle jumped, more from surprise than pain.
"I don't think …" Gabrielle started, but Fleur cut her off. "It is not so scandalous, you silly girl. 'Arry, be gentle with 'er."
Harry placed his hands on Gabrielle's lower back, feeling the muscles tense under his touch. He worked her body carefully, not wanting to hurt her. His fingers glided along her soft, delicate skin. Gabrielle made no sound, but her breathing grew heavier. She pressed her face into the pillow, muffling a quiet moan as Harry rolled his palm over a particularly tight spot. Her slight shudder was visible even in the dancing firelight.
Fleur watched the whole scene with open amusement. "You like that, don't you, Gabrielle?" she teased.
Gabrielle glared at her, and then at Harry, but the effect was ruined by the pink flush in her cheeks.
Fleur laughed, delighted by her embarrassment. "Poor thing. She pretends to be so tough." She nudged Harry. "You can use more pressure. She is strong enough to take it."
Harry did as she said, feeling a little more confident now. He kneaded the base of Gabrielle's spine in slow, circular motions. She arched her back slightly, almost presenting herself to him. Fleur leaned closer, and her lips nearly grazed Harry's ear.
"You can make 'er melt, if you try," Fleur whispered, loud enough for all three to hear.
Harry felt a rush of embarrassment and excitement at the suggestion. He slid his hands up and down Gabrielle's back, caressing her silky, smooth skin. Gabrielle was trembling now, but she didn't ask him to stop. Her breathing was quick, and her face was half-hidden behind the curtain of blonde hair. Harry's hands traced the slope of her sides and the flare of her hips. He squeezed her hips lightly, and Gabrielle gasped.
After a minute, Gabrielle sat up abruptly, brushing Harry's hands away. "That's enough," she muttered. Her voice was a bit gravelly. She hugged her knees to her chest, fixed her eyes on the fire, and did not look at either of them. Harry could tell she was embarrassed.
Fleur grinned triumphantly. "You see? I told you 'e was good."
Harry glanced uncertainly at Gabrielle. He then looked at Fleur. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do next. Fleur stretched her arms overhead. "Now I want one, too," she declared, flopping back against the cushions.
Harry relented to her request. He pressed his hands to Fleur's shoulders and began working her muscles. Fleur purred in pleasure and let her head loll.
Gabrielle stayed silent on the other end of the couch, but she glanced over at them a few times, her eyes lingering on Harry's hands as they moved across Fleur's collarbones. Harry pretended not to notice but was acutely aware of her attention. The air felt charged, and he could see her trying not to squirm.
When the room fell into a comfortable quiet, Fleur let out a drowsy sigh. "That is heaven," she said. "I 'ave never felt so relaxed." She rolled onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow. "You are a good boyfriend, 'Arry. Maybe too good." Harry smiled kindly at her.
Gabrielle glanced away, as if the moment was too intimate to witness. She stood, crossed her arms, and mumbled something about wanting to read before bed. She disappeared into the hallway, the backs of her thighs marked with faint red indentations from the sofa's edge.
When she was gone, Fleur nudged Harry with her bare foot. "She likes you," she said, matter-of-factly. "But she will never say it."
Harry felt a strange thrill at the idea. "Really?"
Fleur nodded. "Of course. It is easy to see when you know 'ow she is. She would never let another man touch 'er like that. Not in a million years." She traced a finger along his jawline. "You must be nice to 'er, okay?"
Harry promised he would. They sat there until the fire died down, comfortable in the warm glow.
Later, when Harry slipped away to get a glass of water, he passed by Gabrielle's room. Her door was cracked open. Inside, she sat at her desk, bent over a book. She was reading, but every so often, she would pause and touch her shoulder. He wondered if she couldn't stop thinking about the massage. Harry lingered in the hallway for a moment, then continued on. He had a sexy Veela girlfriend waiting for him after all.
Chapter 2
The following morning, Harry woke to the soft light filtering through the bedroom curtains. Fleur was already awake and perched on her knees at the edge of the bed. She looked up at him with a wicked smile as he swung his legs over the side and stood there, groggy and half-hard. Fleur's hair tumbled in silver sheets over her shoulders, and her bare skin glowed in the dull morning light. Without warning, she reached for him, took his cock with practiced fingers, and slowly dragged her tongue up the shaft, tasting every inch of him.
Harry's head dropped back, and he braced his hands on Fleur's shoulders for balance. Fleur smiled up at him, her blue eyes shining with mischief, and then engulfed him in her mouth in one smooth motion. She had always been relentless with her affections, but something about these early hours made her even more direct. Her lips slid over his cock, and her cheeks hollowed while her tongue expertly slithered around him. Harry groaned, nearly losing his balance as she took him all the way down. She didn't stop until her nose brushed his pelvis. Fleur's hand wrapped around the base and squeezed, never breaking eye contact as she rocked her head in a steady rhythm.
He gathered her hair in one fist and wound it tight, using it for leverage as he thrust gently into her mouth. Fleur appreciatively hummed around him. He watched her lips work the length of his shaft. He watched the saliva gleam at the corners of her mouth, and he watched her throat flex as she swallowed him to the base.
The air was chilly, but Fleur's mouth was scorching hot. Her tongue slithered along the sensitive underside, teasing him with every stroke. Her other hand wandered between her own thighs, and her fingers pressed into pussy. She began to stroke her slit, and he could hear how wet she was. Sometimes it still startled him how much she wanted him and how much she craved his physical contact. She was insatiable, and she made him feel the same.
Fleur twisted her head and glided her lips up and down, and when she pulled off with an obscene pop, a thin string of spit still connected her mouth to his cock. She looked up at him, her face flushed and panting. "You taste so good, mon amour." She then dove back down, faster and hungrier, eager to finish what she'd started.
Harry felt his hips jerk forward as the pressure built, and his muscles tensed. Fleur moaned in encouragement, almost greedy for the upcoming flood. Harry gave in and held her head steady as his body went rigid, and he came in hot spurts across her lips and tongue. Fleur swallowed every drop until his balls were empty. She licked up the last traces with a delicate, appreciative swipe of her tongue.
When it was over, Harry let her hair fall from his hand and watched as she wiped her mouth on the back of her wrist. She looked up at him with eyes bright and a lovely smile, and he thought that no one in the world had ever looked so beautiful or so satisfied.
Fleur leaned back on her heels, still naked and utterly at ease. Harry shook his head in admiration. "You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days," he jokingly said. She just laughed and stretched, her breasts rising as she did. When she dropped her arms, her tits bounced wonderfully.
"You say that every day," she teased, rolling her shoulders as if limbering up for another round. "But you are still 'ere, aren't you?"
Harry couldn't argue with that.
Breaking the Girl
The house was bright with early morning sun when Harry and Fleur padded into the kitchen. Fleur wore one of his shirts. It was unbuttoned enough to show off the incredible swell of her cleavage. She reached up to the top shelf for a box of coffee, and the hem of the shirt barely covered her ass. Harry lustfully checked out her smooth legs as she stood on her tiptoes. It was only when Fleur placed the tin on the counter and turned that Harry realized he wasn't alone in his staring.
Apolline Delacour stood at the stove, already humming and stirring a pot. She looked up at them, her eyes shining with delight. She wore a nightgown so sheer and short it should be considered illegal, and her hair was twisted into a loose French braid that ran over one shoulder. The gown's fabric clung to her curves, and the way she leaned toward the stove gave Harry a perfect view of her backside. She seemed to float as she moved between the stove and the counter. She didn't hide the sway of her wide, womanly hips or the cock-hardening bounce of her tits. She was a woman entirely at ease in her own skin.
"Bonjour, cheris," Apolline sang, her voice warm enough to fill the whole kitchen. She glided across the tile and wrapped Harry and Fleur in a single, enveloping hug. She pulled Harry down for a kiss to both cheeks, but her breasts pressed against his chest with a softness that was impossible not to notice. The scent of her hair was sweet like honeysuckle. Harry felt his ears warm, and he knew Apolline noticed, but she only smiled wider.
Apolline's nightgown was so low-cut that the entire upper portion of her breasts was exposed, and the nipples beneath the silk were stiff and visible, pinched tight against the fabric. When she let Harry go, she ruffled his hair playfully and turned her attention to the eggs sizzling in the pan.
Fleur smirked at Harry. "Maman always makes breakfast like this on weekends. It is 'er tradition," she explained, slipping an arm around his waist. "Ignore 'er. She loves to embarrass."
"Embarrassing isn't exactly what I would call it," Harry said, aiming for nonchalance, but the words came out a little breathless.
Apolline laughed. "You are too sweet, 'Arry. Much nicer than the men in this country, anyway. They are all so uncouth." She blew him a kiss over her shoulder, and Fleur made an exaggerated gagging noise.
Breakfast was a loud and messy affair. Apolline insisted on serving everyone by flitting around the table and brushing her fingertips over Harry's shoulders or squeezing his bicep in approval. She sat next to Fleur, but more than once, Apolline reached across the table, letting her arm graze Harry's hand as she refilled his glass or offered him a slice of baguette. There was a lot of accidental contact, but Harry could never tell when it was intentional.
Gabrielle wandered in, dressed in a tank top and tiny sleep shorts, and she hesitated at the kitchen entryway. Her hair was all tangled, and her eyes were still foggy with sleepiness. She looked at Harry first, then at Apolline's exposed chest, and she blushed furiously before sliding into her seat as quietly as possible.
Apolline noticed, of course. She reached over and smoothed Gabrielle's hair. She then planted a kiss on the top of her head. "You are late, darling. Eat. You need your strength."
"Sorry," Gabby mumbled and reached for the jam. She kept her eyes on her plate, and her cheeks still glowed red. Harry tried not to look at her, but she had a way of capturing his attention.
Fleur nudged Harry's thigh under the table. "Tell Maman about last night," she whispered.
Harry glanced up, caught Apolline's smoky gaze, and nearly lost his nerve. "It's nothing," he said, but Fleur cut in.
" 'Arry gave Gabrielle a massage … on the sofa. It helped 'er shoulder," Fleur announced brightly.
Apolline's eyes lit up. "Oh, that is wonderful! You 'ave such skillful 'ands, 'Arry." She beamed at him, then turned to Gabrielle. "Did it 'elp, Gabby?"
Gabrielle nodded, still not looking up. "Yes. It was nice."
Apolline clapped her hands together. "Perfect! You must keep doing it, 'Arry. Gabrielle needs to relax more. She is always so tense, even at 'ome." Apolline reached over and brushed a crumb from Gabrielle's cheek.
Annoyed with where this conversation was going, Gabrielle took her leave, saying she needed to check on her plants. Fleur snickered when Gabby left the room. "She is very stubborn. She is like you, Maman."
Apolline waved a hand in faux annoyance. "Nonsense. I am nothing like that. I am open, and I feel everything." She looked at Harry. "It is a Veela thing, I suppose. Fleur is the same. We are made to love and to be loved. But Gabrielle … she is different. She holds everything inside."
Harry wasn't sure how to respond, so he just nodded and took another bite of toast. Apolline leaned forward, and her chest nearly spilled from the thin straps. She fixed Harry with a conspiratorial look. "You must 'elp 'er, 'Arry. She will never admit it, but she trusts you. You are good for 'er."
"Fleur says the same thing, but I don't know what I'm doing. I don't really know how to help her," Harry confessed.
Apolline's smile softened. "It is not about knowing. It is about caring. If you care for 'er, she will feel it and respond in kind." She reached out and squeezed his hand. Her skin was incredibly soft and warm. "You do not 'ave to force 'er, you just 'ave to be there when she decides to open up."
Fleur rested her head on Harry's shoulder, her hair brushing his cheek. " 'e is very patient," she said. "That is why I love 'im."
"Well," Apolline said. "There is no rush. Gabrielle 'as plenty of time." She winked at Harry. "But if you want, I can give you tips. I am very experienced." She laughed at her own joke, but Harry thought there was more truth than humor in it.
They finished breakfast in good spirits. Apolline began cleaning with a flick of her wand, humming to herself as she worked. Fleur went to shower, and Harry lingered in the kitchen, helping Apolline clean up. She brushed a lock of hair from her eyes and smiled at him. "You are a good man, 'Arry. I think you were sent to us for a reason."
"What reason is that?" he asked.
Apolline laughed softly. "To 'elp the girls, of course. They need it, each in their own way." She tilted her head and considered him for a moment. "You are gentle in our presence. That is rare."
Harry was about to answer when Apolline stepped closer, closing the gap between them. She reached up and adjusted the collar of his shirt. Her fingers were warm against his neck. "Just so you know," she said, her voice low. "Veela can sense these things. Feelings. Needs. It is … intense, sometimes." Her eyes searched his, looking for understanding.
He swallowed. "Is that why everyone's so affectionate?"
She smiled knowingly. "It is our nature, but it is also a choice. You will see. Just be yourself, 'Arry. That is all that matters." She leaned in and softly kissed him on the lips. She smirked, patted his cheek, and turned to leave, her hips swinging as she left the kitchen.
Harry stood alone for a moment, trying to calm his thundering heart. He wasn't sure if he was excited or terrified, but he knew he liked the feeling.
Breaking the Girl
Later that afternoon, Harry found himself alone in the sunroom, tinkering with a chessboard that had been left on the side table. The house was quiet. Fleur and Apolline had left for the village, and Gabrielle was nowhere to be seen. Harry played both sides of the board until he heard soft footsteps behind him.
He turned to find Gabrielle standing at the threshold, her arms folded over her chest. She wore a loose sundress and no shoes. Her hair was freshly brushed and fell in waves down her back. Harry thought she looked very beautiful. She eyed the chessboard.
"Do you want to play?" Harry offered, tilting the board in her direction.
Gabrielle hesitated before nodding. She sat across from him. Her movements were careful, as if wary of breaking some invisible barrier.
They played in silence for several moves. Gabrielle's face was cool and unreadable, but Harry caught her sneaking glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking. He moved his bishop and asked, "Did the massage actually help, or were you just being polite?"
Gabrielle set her knight down with a click. "It 'elped," she admitted. "I don't like being touched, usually. But it was … fine."
"Just fine?" Harry teased.
Her lips twitched into almost a smile. "Maybe better than fine, but don't tell Fleur. If you do, she'll be insufferable."
Harry chuckled and shook his head. Fleur certainly could be insufferable at times. "I promise." Gabby graced him with a small smile and nodded.
Breaking the Girl
The next morning, Gabrielle wandered down the stairs, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. The air in the kitchen was thick with the aroma of strong coffee and fresh pastries. She padded in barefoot, her hair mussed from sleeping with her head under the pillow. Apolline was already at the table, sipping from a porcelain cup in her usual silk robe. Fleur sat across from her, eating a croissant. The two women were deep in quiet conversation, but the sound of Gabrielle's approach made them pause and look up.
Gabrielle hesitated on the threshold, as if measuring the mood in the room. She glanced around and asked, "Where is 'Arry?"
Fleur arched an eyebrow and flashed a smirk. "You miss him already?" she teased in French. She tore off a bite of croissant and chewed, watching Gabby over the rim of her coffee cup.
Gabrielle's cheeks colored. She gave a little shrug and busied herself with the breadbox, tearing at a croissant with more force than necessary. Apolline observed this with a sly smile, but her voice was gentle. "He is out. He said something about an errand."
Fleur set her coffee down. "He will be back soon, Gabby. You are not rid of him yet." She reached over and untangled a lock of her hair. "Did you want to make him breakfast?"
Gabrielle rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now, just a tad. "No. I just … never mind."
Apolline cocked her head. "You like him, don't you?"
Gabrielle cut herself a thick slice of bread and buttered it. "I barely know him."
"Ah, but you want to," Fleur said in a sing-song voice, drawing the words out. "You can admit it. It's not a crime." She grinned cheekily, showing a row of perfect, white teeth.
Gabrielle turned her attention to the window. The garden outside was wet with dew, and the greenhouse roof glistened in the morning sunlight. She chewed her bread in silence, pretending to be absorbed by the sight of a bird picking its way along the stone path.
Apolline poured herself more coffee. She said softly, "It's alright to like him. Fleur does."
Fleur wrinkled her nose at her, but said nothing. There was a gentle knock at the back door, and then Harry's tousled head appeared around the frame. He was carrying a large, square parcel, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string. His face was flushed, and his hair looked even messier than usual … if that was even possible.
"Sorry, I'm late," he said, stepping inside. He smiled sheepishly at the tableful of women. Gabrielle's eyes moved to the package and quickly looked away. She instinctively wiped her hands on her tiny shorts.
"You brought something?" Fleur called out.
Harry nodded and set the parcel on the table. "It's for Gabrielle." He wobbled the box, then slid it across to her.
Gabrielle stared at the package as if it might be a trick. "For me?"
"Open it," Harry said. He was grinning now, but there was a nervous energy behind his smile.
Gabrielle picked up the box. Her fingers trembled as she worked at the knot of string. She angled herself away from the others, shielding the unwrapping from their view. She peeled away the brown paper to reveal a simple wooden crate with slats spaced wide enough to see the green inside.
She lifted the lid. A small, cactus-like plant sat in a nest of straw. It was bristling with bluish-gray nodules. The plant pulsated slightly, as though it were breathing. Gabrielle gasped. "No … is this …?" She looked up at Harry with huge, blue eyes.
He nodded, proud but bashful. "A Mimbulus mimbletonia. My friend Neville grows them. I thought you'd like it."
Gabrielle's hands hovered over the plant, careful not to touch the spines. "It is so rare," she whispered. "And so … beautiful." Her voice was reverent.
Fleur blinked in surprise. "You know about this plant?" She sounded almost skeptical.
Gabrielle nodded. "Of course. They are fascinating." She glanced at Harry, her cheeks flushed. "Thank you. I 'ave never seen one except in books."
Harry shrugged, but he was pleased to have made her happy. "Neville's got a greenhouse with a few of them. He's the only person in the UK who has one. Apparently, they're very hard to grow. He said they're fussy, but if anyone could keep one alive, it'd be you."
Gabrielle smiled at him, and her expression was shy and genuine. It was nothing like her usual coolness. She cradled the plant in her arms and gave him a look that was almost tender. "I should re-pot it right away," she mumbled, blushing madly. She gathered up the crate and hurried out of the kitchen, holding the Mimbulus mimbletonia like a newborn child.
Fleur watched her go before turning to Harry. "I did not know you could be so thoughtful," she teased. "Now she will never stop thinking about you. You 'ave created a monster."
Apolline smiled over the lip of her coffee cup. "It was very sweet, 'Arry … and smart. If you want to win a woman's 'eart, you must give 'er something to care for." She reached across and squeezed his hand. Her nails were painted the same pale blue as her robe. "You are a charmer."
Harry laughed, but his ears turned a bit pink. He sank into a chair and reached for a croissant. "It wasn't a big deal. I just thought she'd like it, that's all."
Fleur leaned over and kissed his cheek. She then nuzzled his cheek with her cute nose and nipped at his earlobe. "You are adorable," she said. "But also very, very clever. That plant will keep 'er busy for weeks."
Apolline glanced at the kitchen clock. "You 'ave a talent for making women 'appy, 'Arry," she said. "I 'ope you realize this."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I think you're both exaggerating."
Fleur shook her head. She moved to his lap and straddled him. She slid her arms around his neck. "You should be proud," she told him. "It is a good thing."
Harry was about to respond when Apolline stood. She glided across the tile, refilled her coffee, and returned to the table. She sat very close to him, and her thigh pressed against Harry's under the table. "You are good for both of them," she said quietly. "You make this 'ouse feel alive."
Harry glanced at the back door, where Gabrielle's silhouette was visible through the glass of the greenhouse. She was already kneeling as she gently worked the plant from its crate. He watched as she spoke to it, though he obviously couldn't hear what she was saying.
Fleur kissed his neck. "You are not jealous?" she teased Apolline.
Apolline smiled, but her eyes were deep and mysterious. "Jealous? Never. There is enough of 'Arry to go around." She lightly ran a finger along Harry's jaw, tracing the stubble. "Besides, it is fun to share."
Fleur giggled and pressed her lips to Harry's again. He felt the weight of both women's attention and affection, and he had the strange sense that he was at the center of some crazy plan he didn't fully understand. He sat there for a while, basking in their warmth.
A sudden shout made the three of them jump. In the garden, the Mimbulus mimbletonia had apparently ejected a glob of Stinksap, and Gabrielle was clutching her wrist and cursing in rapid French. Harry bolted for the door, followed closely by Fleur and Apolline. They were all laughing.
Out in the greenhouse, Gabrielle's hand was coated with the viscous, foul-smelling sap. She looked mortified, but also secretly delighted. Harry didn't hesitate. He grabbed the watering can and started rinsing her hand. The cold water sluiced away the goo. Fleur doubled over with laughter, and even Apolline was giggling.
Gabrielle shot them a glare, but underneath it, she was clearly touched that Harry had come to her rescue so quickly. "Thank you," she muttered. Her cheeks were red, but she didn't let go of his hand.
Fleur wiped a tear from her eye. "You see? She already trusts you."
Apolline put an arm around both girls, pulling them close. "We should 'ave more breakfasts like this," she declared. Harry rolled his eyes, smiled, and squeezed Gabrielle's hand, ignoring the stench of Stinksap.
Chapter 3
Fleur strolled into the bedroom, toweling off the last beads of water from her perfect skin. Her hair was still damp and clung to her neck in sleek, silvery strands. The towel, failing to properly cover her curvy body, was loose and barely covered the curve of her ass, and she let it fall to the carpet as soon as she saw Harry sprawled on the bed. Fleur's body was a sight to behold. Her tits were big and bouncy, and her light pink nipples were shamelessly stiff from the chill. Her belly was flat and toned, and her hips were already rolling with a subtle, seductive rhythm as she approached the bed.
She crawled onto the mattress on all fours and meowed playfully, shaking her ass in his direction. Her legs were toned and smooth, and Harry couldn't help but stare at the way her pussy lips peeked out between her spread thighs. They were perfectly hairless and slick even before he touched her. Fleur arched her back and dropped her shoulders, pushing her cunt and asshole up like a whore offering herself to him. Harry peeled himself from the headboard, grinning like an idiot. He ran his hand from the base of her spine down to her ass. She shivered at the touch.
"Someone is eager," Harry said, settling himself behind her. He could smell the arousal wafting from between her legs.
Fleur glanced over her shoulder, and her blue eyes shone wickedly. "I am always eager for you, mon amour. Maybe today, you will give me what I deserve?"
Harry was more than up for the challenge. He palmed her ass and squeezed, spreading her wide. He tugged gently on her pussy lips, loving the way they snapped back into place. He traced a finger along the crack of her ass, letting it rest on the tiny, pale hole at the center. Fleur wiggled her ass impatiently, and her thighs tensed as she tried to rub herself against his hand. She moaned when Harry pinched her lips and then dipped a finger inside, teasing her entrance just enough to make her whimper.
"Do you want it?" Harry asked, watching her closely.
"Oui," Fleur gasped, pressing herself down onto his hand. "I want it so much, 'Arry. Please." Her accent thickened when she was aroused, and Harry relished every desperate syllable.
He bent forward and licked a straight line from her clit up to her asshole, savoring the taste of her against his tongue. Fleur shuddered and planted her face into the blanket, muffling a scream. Harry licked her slower and deeper, swirling the tip of his tongue around her clit before dipping it into her pussy. She was already so wet that Harry's lips came away glistening.
He buried two fingers in her and worked her open, curling them just enough to make her hips jerk back at him. Fleur panted and clawed at the blanket as he licked her. He was now focusing on her asshole. Fleur's eyes fluttered as he tickled her tight hole with the tip of his tongue. Harry then went back to her clit, which made her gasp. When he began sucking her lips between his teeth, she started shaking, unable to keep still under the steady assault.
"Fuck me, 'Arry," she pleaded. "Do not tease. I need you now."
"Say please," Harry said, giving her ass a little slap.
Fleur let out a choked laugh. "Please, monsieur. Fuck me. Make me yours."
That was enough for him. He yanked down his shorts, and his cock was already hard and bobbing. He lined up and pushed the tip against her entrance, just enough to spread her lips around him. Fleur was so wet that it took almost no effort to slide in. She sucked him in all the way to the base on the first thrust. Harry grabbed her hips with both hands and pistoned into her, the slap of their skin echoing in the otherwise quiet room.
He set a punishing tempo. Each thrust pushed Fleur forward, and then he dragged her back onto his cock with a wet slurp. Fleur howled in pleasure, and the sound bubbled up from deep in her chest. Harry slapped her ass harder, and she came undone. Her body shook as she squirted onto the bedsheets. Her pussy clenched so hard around him that Harry almost lost it.
"Fuck, Fleur, you're so tight," he groaned, bending over so his chest pressed against her back.
She twisted her neck and caught his lips in a sloppy, upside-down kiss. Fleur slipped her tongue into his mouth and moaned when he sucked on it. "Do you like fucking your little Veela?" she asked breathlessly.
Harry answered by pulling out and slamming back into her. He ground his hips so deep she almost came again. " 'arder," Fleur begged.
Harry did as told and fucked her with quick, brutal thrusts. He reached down and tweaked her clit, and she screamed, her high-pitched voice echoing off the high ceiling. She squirted again, and the spray drenched his balls and soaked the sheets. Fleur pushed back with everything she had, milking his cock with her cunt as her nails dug into the mattress.
The room was filled with the sounds of wet flesh, ragged breathing, and Fleur's relentless begging. Harry felt himself getting close. He pulled out just as he was about to explode, and stroked himself, aiming at the small of Fleur's back. He came in long, hot ropes that shot across her skin, some of it dripping down her ass crack. The rest pooled in the hollow above her tailbone.
Fleur collapsed face-down, her body twitching as the orgasm rippled through her. She was content to lie there with Harry's cum staining her back. After a moment, she giggled happily. Harry flopped onto the bed next to her, breathing hard. "I'll never get a moment of peace when you're around."
Fleur rolled onto her side with cum smeared across her back. She kissed his shoulder. "Do not pretend that you don't love it." She purred, rolling her hips against his thigh.
They lay together for a while, and the air in the room was thick with the smell of sex. Harry eventually pulled the sheets up to cover them and nuzzled into the crook of her neck. "You know the whole house heard us," he said.
Fleur smiled unashamedly. "Let them hear. I want them to know you are mine." She curled her arms around his neck and pulled him close, already drifting into a contented doze.
After a short nap, Fleur roused herself and padded to the bathroom. She returned with a warm, damp towel and cleaned the cooling cum off her back. She tossed it onto the pile of dirty towels. She climbed back into bed, spooned up behind Harry, and wrapped both arms around him like he was a giant teddy bear.
Harry closed his eyes and let himself relax against her. He felt Fleur's soft and steady breath. Her body was perfectly molded to his. It wasn't long before he drifted off.
He woke some time later to the sound of muffled giggling. Fleur had rolled onto her back, spread out in a lazy pose. Her naked tits were proudly displayed, and her hands were behind her head. She glanced over at him, smiling slyly.
"Are you ready for breakfast?" she asked while playing with his chest.
Harry smiled and rolled over to kiss her. Fleur moaned into his lips. They didn't bother getting dressed. Instead, tossing on a couple of robes. After all, it was a house where modesty really didn't exist.
In the kitchen, Apolline was making tea, wearing only a silk slip that did nothing to hide her gorgeous, womanly curves. She was practically spilling out of the top and bottom of her slip. She shot them a knowing look as they entered, and she poured two mugs and handed them over.
"Did you two sleep well?" Apolline asked, raising an eyebrow.
Fleur grinned. "Very well, thank you." She sipped her tea and winked at Harry.
Apolline looked him up and down before running a finger across Fleur's shoulder. She traced the faint red marks from Harry's grip. She chuckled and shook her head. Harry felt a strange rush of pride at that and sipped his tea in silence. He watched the two women laugh and flirt, their bodies radiating warmth and comfort. In that moment, Harry was seriously thinking of moving in and making this thing permanent.
He didn't have to think about it for long. Fleur leaned over, kissed his cheek, and whispered, "'Ave you recovered yet, lover?"
He set his tea down, grinning. "Maybe."
She gripped the waistband of his shorts and tugged him toward the hallway. Apolline laughed, but didn't protest as they disappeared back into the bedroom, already pawing at each other and ready to start all over again.
Breaking the Girl
When Apolline and Fleur had left for town, Harry decided to go outside and spend some time with Gabby. He stepped outside and shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight. He wandered down the back path, and the garden was heavy with the scent of early spring. Morning dew glistened on the leaves of the topiaries, and the flower beds hummed with bees. He walked across the lawn and past the beds of lavender until he reached the greenhouse located on the far side of the garden.
The door stood slightly ajar, and when he knocked, it swung inward on a rusty hinge. The thick, warm air inside smelled of compost. Gabrielle was in there with her back to him as she watered a rack of squat orange gourds shaped like fists. Her long hair was tied up in a messy knot, and sweat beaded at her temples. She wore faded jeans and a t-shirt. The shirt was cropped, and her belly gleamed with a layer of sweat. Harry's eyes lingered on the swell of her hips above the waistband of her low-slung jeans.
She turned at the sound of his footsteps and slightly jumped when she saw him. "Oh! 'Arry. You startled me," she said. Her accent was more pronounced than Fleur's. A smudge of dirt streaked her cheek and the bridge of her nose, and there was a small leaf stuck in her hair.
"Sorry," Harry said. He tried not to stare at the expanse of her exposed skin. "I wanted to see what you were up to in here."
Gabrielle wiped her hands on her pants and shrugged. "I'm mostly doing maintenance. Maman wants everything ready for the Spring Feast." She gestured to the rows of plants, the bins of compost, and the rack of delicate seedlings. "Do you want to 'elp? It is not very exciting, I am afraid."
"I'd like that," Harry said, and her heart gave an odd flutter. "What should I do?"
Gabby appraised him with a little smile. "Can you lift 'eavy bags?"
"Absolutely," Harry said, puffing up his chest in fake bravado.
She led him to the back bench, where several bags of potting soil rested on the floor. The mass of roots from a nearby Devil's Snare had crept over the bags and left muddy streaks across their labels. "Just fill those three pots," Gabrielle said, pointing to a trio of ceramic pots near her feet. "But be careful! If you spill, Maman will notice. She notices everything. She does not understand that a green'ouse is supposed to be dirty," Gabby snorted.
Harry nodded and got on with the task. The work was not strenuous, but the air in the greenhouse was stifling, and sweat trickled down his spine under his shirt. Gabrielle, meanwhile, busied herself with a tangle of vines at the far end of the structure. She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the uppermost shoots, and the stretch drew her shirt even higher up her back, exposing the dimples above her hips.
Harry tried not to watch her, but failed. He packed the soil into the pots and patted it down. There was a strange satisfaction in it. There was something about the simplicity of making things grow. Gabrielle was watching him from the corner of her eye.
He had just finished the last pot and was wiping his hands on his jeans when he heard a short, sharp cry from the back of the greenhouse. He looked up. Gabrielle was gone.
"Gabby?" he called, his voice echoing off the glass panels.
He heard a thud and a clatter, followed by another pained sound. Harry hurried past the rows of plants, ducking under a drooping branch of Flutterby Bush. At the very rear of the greenhouse, Gabrielle was twisted awkwardly with one leg pinned by the coiling tendril of a Venomous Tentacula. Harry knew the plant from Herbology lessons. Its appetite was matched only by its cruelty. The vine had lashed around Gabby's upper thigh, just below her bottom. It was tightening with brutal strength, trying to drag her toward the open mouth at the plant's base. Its fangs snapped in anticipation.
Gabrielle was fighting it. Her fists punched at the vine, but the more she struggled, the tighter it gripped. She was red-faced and close to tears. " 'elp," she gasped, her English faltering in panic. "Please, 'Arry …"
Harry reacted without thinking. He drew out his wand and aimed it at the plant. "Diffindo!" The Severing Charm sliced the vine above Gabby's leg. The end dropped to the floor, still twitching, and the plant recoiled with a hiss. Harry darted forward and yanked the vine loose from her leg. He then pulled her away from the snapping jaws.
Gabrielle collapsed against him. She was shaking, and her jeans were torn where the vine had dug in. Blood seeped through the denim. Harry scooped her up, surprised at how light she was, and carried her to the front of the greenhouse. He sat her down on the edge of a potting bench.
Gabrielle was sniffling now, more from the shock of it than pain, and her body trembled beneath his hands. She pressed one hand to her thigh, wincing. Harry could see the torn fabric, and the skin beneath was already swelling and purple. Having lived through many terrifying events, Harry was easily able to keep a cool head. "Where's the medkit?" he asked.
Gabrielle pointed with a shaky finger at a high shelf behind the table. Harry grabbed it and opened it up. Inside were vials, scissors, and gauze. "Hold still," he told her. He knelt between her knees and examined the wound. The jeans had to come off.
"I'm going to have to get to your leg," Harry said. "I'm sorry."
Gabrielle nodded, biting her lip. Harry tried to be clinical as he unlaced her sneakers and eased them off. He reached for the button of her jeans and then popped it free. He pulled the zipper down. He held the waistband and looked up at her for permission. Gabrielle gave a swift, embarrassed nod.
He tugged the jeans down her hips. Underneath, she wore plain white cotton panties, the sort that seemed almost ridiculous on a girl with movie-star beauty. The skin of her thigh was bruised and red. There was a shallow slash where the sharp vine had cut into the skin. Harry dabbed at the wound with a square of gauze.
"Does it hurt?" Harry asked with a compassionate voice.
"Only a little," Gabrielle said. She tried to smile, but her chin quivered. "I 'ave been attacked by it before. But not there." Her cheeks flushed pink, and she looked away as Harry pressed the cotton to the injury.
He found a vial of Essence of Dittany in the kit and uncorked it. The smell was strong and medicinal. He poured a few drops onto the wound. Gabrielle jerked and let out a soft whimper. The Dittany hissed as it hit her skin, closing the cut and leaving a silvery line. Within seconds, the cut was completely healed over. Harry grabbed a bottle of bruise remover and slathered it over her inner thigh. Gabby shuddered as his hand caressed her delicate skin. Before long, her skin was perfect and unblemished. He couldn't even tell that she had been injured.
"There," Harry said, running his hand over her soft, silky skin. "You're as good as new."
Gabrielle nodded. Her eyes were enormous, and her breath was shaky. Her legs were still bare, and the panties were snug against her wide hips. Harry realized that his hands were resting on her thighs, and his fingers were brushing the delicate fabric. He tried to pull back, but Gabby's hand found his wrist and held it down. The gesture took him by surprise.
"Thank you," she whispered, and her gaze did not waver from his.
Harry heard his pulse pounding in his ears, and he swallowed. The greenhouse suddenly felt a lot hotter than before. Gabrielle released his wrist, but her knee brushed his chest, and she didn't pull away. Harry glanced down and saw the perfect shape of her lips under the thin cotton. There was a faint, darker stripe where her pussy pressed against the curve of the fabric. He felt his cock stiffen immediately.
Gabrielle's breath quickened and caught in her throat. She looked down at Harry's hands, which were still on her thighs. She then looked up to his face, her eyes searching. Sweat beaded at her hairline and rolled down her neck. Her cheeks blazed red, but she didn't flinch from his touch. Instead, she shifted and tilted her hips forward, and her knees parted just a bit more.
The movement was intentional. She wanted him to look. He kept his hands where they were. His palms were flat against the inside of her thighs, and his fingers were curled gently around the curve of her leg. He suddenly thought that maybe she didn't want him touching her.
"Sorry," Harry said. He started to move his hands away, but Gabrielle reached out, caught his wrist again, and pressed it firmly back to her skin. Not only that, but she moved his hands higher up her thighs.
"Do not be sorry," she whispered through a massive blush. Her accent was heavy, and her breath was hot against his face. "I liked it."
Gabby just watched him with her soft, full lips slightly parted. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed him in. She held his gaze, even as she hooked her ankles behind his back and coaxed him closer between her thighs. The cotton of her panties was so damp that they were almost see-through, and the outline of her pussy beneath was so visible it made his head spin.
Harry licked his lips, not knowing what to say. He felt completely out of his depth, but Gabby seemed absolutely certain. She let go of his wrist, but only so she could bring her hand up to his jaw. Her thumb brushed the corner of his mouth.
"I wanted you to come here," she said, so softly he barely heard it.
Harry nodded as his mind reeled. He realized that Apolline and Fleur were both right about her. He could smell her through the heat of the greenhouse. He could smell her shampoo, and he could smell the wetness between her legs. He glanced down, and her thighs tightened around him, keeping him in place. She made it abundantly clear that she wanted more.
He leaned forward as he ran his fingertips along the outside of her leg. The heat from her skin radiated up into his hands. He pressed his mouth to her thigh, just above the line of her panties, and Gabrielle gasped. She grabbed his hair in both fists.
Harry's cock throbbed, straining in his jeans, and he felt himself flush with excitement. He wanted to touch her everywhere, but he held back, waiting to be sure that this was what she wanted.
Gabrielle drew in a shaky breath and leaned forward, trembling as she clutched his head. "Yes," she said, nodding once to let him know that she really wanted this.
The tension, which had built so gradually, finally snapped. Harry's hands slid up the backs of her thighs, and he kissed her right next to the damp crotch of her panties. Harry breathed in her womanly scent, and his cock was so hard it almost hurt. Her legs trembled against his chest, but she didn't close them. In fact, she spread them wider, giving him more room to operate. He looked up, and their eyes met. Gabrielle stared right at him with pleading eyes, desperate for him to go further. Harry was quite happy to fulfill her wish.