A Godfather's Promise

Potter” belongs to J.K. Rowling

AN: I want to extend my thanks to the great members of my Discord server, who have helped me with the writing of the chapter itself, but also re-igniting my passion for this.

Special thanks go to Meneldur, who has not only aided me with the crafting and editing of this chapter, but also the story as a whole.

With that out of the way, please enjoy the chapter!

“Dialogue”

‘Thoughts’

“Foreign Language”

A Godfather’s Promise

Chapter XVII: The Calm Before the Storm

By the time Fleur woke up, Harry had already been gone, undoubtedly to train with Sirius Black. The French witch stretched with a sigh; she missed it when Maître stayed longer in bed.

Harry had been training harder after his nightmare. Normally, Fleur would not really care, but the first week of classes was boring. So much to do and so little time. It wouldn’t be a problem if she were also taking classes, but all she did was practice on her own. There was no challenge to the next task like with the egg – the area and time of the final challenge had already been revealed to them.

A heavenly smell was enough motivation to make her get up and smile at the sight of freshly baked croissants on the table along with her imported brew of coffee. Never let it be known that Maître was not considerate. Eyes closed; she dragged her hand through her lingerie with a grin. At least the latex was fun.

She stretched again while walking to the shower, carefully stripping off her rubber lingerie and setting it in warm water, casting several charms to they could be cleaned and stored. Latex was so beautiful and yet so fragile and needed extensive care to maintain. So far, Fleur was satisfied to see that none of her rapidly growing collection had been torn or stained. Once she saw that the spells she’d mastered were working, the French witch entered a boiling hot shower herself.

The charms were already drying and storing her sleeping lingerie when Fleur got out and dried herself with another spell. ‘What do I do today?’ There was the textbook she was meaning to read, as well as some daily practice and preparation… and suddenly she remembered that Luna was supposed to surrender her wardrobe today!

With a big smile, Fleur went about her morning ritual and stepped outside the bathroom, still fully in the nude, and eagerly dug through the fetish clothes she’d bought. She picked up daring black panties and a pink minidress that only covered several inches below her waist. After donning it and shining herself in front of the mirror, Fleur saw that the outfit itself was see-through and were it not for the underwear, her flower would be easily visible to any onlooker. As it was, her nipples could clearly be seen, hardening against the top of the dress.

‘Have to read the book.’ After admiring herself on the reflection and fixing any dullness with an application of shining liquid it was time to continue her practice.

Unfortunately, the book contained nothing that was new to her, only the stale instructions of yet another overly tedious author trying to explain techniques that Fleur had already learned years ago. It was impossible to not roll her eyes and drop the tome with a bored melodious groan. She almost followed the desire to use the paper as fodder for the hungry fireplace, yet her better senses dictated to place the book back in its place.

Fleur debated which of the other books she should re-read, passing through the old and newer covers and yet her eyes were drawn to reading material that would never be taught in any classes in Beauxbatons.

With a smirk, the French witch gave into temptation and fished for the magazine she had bought during her time shopping with Harry and proceeded to lie down on the sofa with a giggle. “Rubberium,” it was called, and if the name was too subtle or the cover that featured a rubber parody of a nurse’s outfit was not enough of a hint for some oblivious reader, it would quickly be fixed with the subtitle: “The Number One Resource for the Latex Enthusiast.” With an elegant sip of coffee and a small bite of a buttery croissant, Fleur opened the first page, pouring fuel onto her fantasies.

The first few pages were filled with several new high fashion outfits, some of which looked like they may have taken weeks to design and create and looked beautiful, such as an experimental full-body kimono. Next there was the catalogue, filled with the usual suspects that nonetheless made Fleur wet her lips; the rubber nurse, the maid, and the sexy schoolgirl were in high demand.

A knock from the door shook Fleur, yet she already knew the rhythm played on the wood. “Come in!” she announced, and Luna came in with a smile and her large chest in tow. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Mistress,” Luna repeated, adding the title she had chosen for Fleur.

“Did you bring zem?” asked Fleur and saw Luna nod from the corner of her eye. “Very good, lay zem on ze bed… but I want you in ze nude first. Your gear is in ze top drawer.” The French witch observed as the Ravenclaw revealed her pale naked skin before smirking and concentrating back on her magazine.

Turns out there was not only a catalogue for clothes, but also several accessories. The one that caught Fleur’s attention most was the photo of a woman wearing a rubber nightress to sleep… sleep between latex sheets. ‘That looks like heaven!’ There was a price tag along with it. She could order them from Garden of Venus! Her nipples stiffened, clearly visible through her dress, and along with a bite of her lower lip, Fleur lightly pinched them and felt the waves of pleasure going from her front down to her sex.

Fleur was distracted by the sound of clicks; a quick look and she saw that Luna was dutifully closing the locks after donning the cuffs and collar, proceeding to open her trunk and begin to place each article of clothing neatly on the bed.

With a smirk, Fleur turned the page to see more models, although these ones were not in a professional studio that hid their fetish to the world. Oh no, these women were out in the open! She saw one smiling while walking in the park, a few blurred faces looking with interest while another sat nonchalantly in an outdoors café similar to the ones in Marseille. All this time, Fleur had worn it in private or underneath her normal clothes. Never had it occurred to her to wear them in public… and now she thought of it; walking through her hometown, showing her kinkiness to any onlooker. She pinched her stiff nipple even harder. Athena’s grace! She was actually thinking of doing it!

People already stared. Might as well give them a good reason to.

The French witch stopped her fantasies. Something was wrong. It wasn’t that she felt something, more like she didn’t feel anything, specifically, she didn’t Luna’s hands massaging her feet or a small mouth sucking her toes. Fleur mostly had not worn the many pairs of rubber stockings she’d bought for Luna’s sake. Tearing her eyes from the magazine, she soon found out that the odd blonde had taken to sucking something else entirely.

It was always strange just how Luna demonstrated that she truly belonged in the House of Rowena Ravenclaw. One moment she could be saying the most bizarre theories imaginable, and yet at the same time, she could transfigure a perfect replica of a cock, as she had done so now.

“What are you doing?” asked Fleur with genuine curiosity as she studied the creation. It was incredibly detailed, with ridges and veins making it almost indistinguishable from the real thing at a distance.

Luna made a dreamy smile. “After careful study of Master’s cock, I believe I have recreated it as best I could.” She quickly downed around a fourth of its length with a scholarly expression, studying the invention with her mouth, and then released it with a slurp. “Not quite perfect, but close.”

It did look quite a bit like Harry’s manhood, down to the length and thickness. “Why did you make eet? Maître will gladly let you suck ze real zing.”

“Training!” Luna answered with fire in her eyes. “It is quite unfortunate, yet I have been unable to take Master’s entire length inside my mouth. Therefore, I must train to earn an Outstanding in fellatio.”

It made sense to Fleur. Luna had a smaller head, a smaller mouth, and a smaller throat than most, including those her age. Despite Harry being gifted, Fleur had little trouble in doing a proper full deepthroat after just a few tries; the Ravenclaw would have more of a challenge due to her size.

Opening her mouth again, Luna began to insert the cock in her mouth with determination, stopping only when she had more than half inside; the head of the fake dick visible against her throat. The blonde then coughed with watery eyes but held her head in place nonetheless for as long as she could, finally letting go with a deep breath once a redness had spread across her face.

“This is my progress,” she stated while tapping the cock with her wand, forming a black line on the high-water mark. “I calculate that if I practice one hour every day, then I should be able to satisfactorily fit Master’s penis all the way within the next two years.”

Fleur smirked at the blonde’s determination. “You know zat Maître’s cock will get bigger, non?”

“Of course. I will need to calculate the steady growth of the organ every month as well as the size increase of my mouth and throat to make a more thorough analysis.”

Fleur watched as Luna once again took the rubber manhood inside her mouth. “You need to learn to breathe through your nose. Relax your throat, petite lune.” Her hands grasped the wispy blonde tresses and pushed Luna’s head slow and steady. “Eet is not a race. Take your time and concentrate on your gag reflex.”

The French Veela guided the younger Ravenclaw through the practice, always keeping a considerate eye to see if Luna was breathing alright and no harm was being done. “Use your tongue – Maître loves zat. Careful wiz your teeth.” By the time Luna was gagging again, she had already advanced by almost half an inch.

“Zat is good for today, petite lune. Now eet is time to see your wardrobe.” Fleur only had to take one glance to subtly shake her head. ‘This will not do at all.’ It was what she expected of Magical Britain; fifty years behind the current trends.

“When ze year finishes, you will be shopping wiz me,” declared Fleur to a still kneeling and nodding Luna.

“You don’t like them?”

The French witch pursed her lips. What was the best way to say it to Luna without hurting her feelings? “Eet’s not zat zey are bad… but I zink I can do much better. Remember your promise? Remember zat you said I could control what you wear?”

Luna nodded robotically.

“Believe me when I say zat you will like eet. Maître will like it too. Just trust me, petit lune.”

“Alright. I guess I can do that.”

“Tres bien!” Fleur reached for the chest and grabbed an enclosed packaged. “We can start wiz zis.”

The blonde curiously took the cardboard box, opened it, and took out the contents. “You want me to wear the same thing as you?” she questioned while holding the lingerie; Ravenclaw blue in color and adorned with small black frills and similarly dark little bows at the front of the bra and panties.

“Oui! You may find eet difficult at first – I did – but you eet becomes irresistibly addicting after ze initial discomfort. Zat is not all.” Fleur handed Luna another package. “You told me zat you ‘ad no socks, so I bought you some new ones.”

The socks were latex, of course, and unbelievably cute to boot. There were seven pairs overall, of different colors, and with cute ruffles around the ankle. Luna held the two blue ones that matched the lingerie with apprehension written all over her face.

“I’ve actually taken a liking to being without socks,” replied the Ravenclaw, twirling her toes.

“Zis is a whole new experience. Believe me, zey will feel like heaven on your feet. Yours are vairy sensitive, non?”

Luna wordlessly began to put on the items, starting with the lingerie that ended up being a good fit for her petite body. As the younger witch shook her body and tried to get comfortable, Fleur remembered her first time with a grin.

“Do you want me to wear this to classes?” questioned Luna while trying to fit a rubbery sock with the help of a little lubricant.

“I personally love to wear zis lingerie under my uniform. Eet’s ‘ard first, but zey become irresistible after ze first tries. You don’t ‘ave to do eet… but I would be vairy ‘appy eef you did,” grinned Fleur, giving tips here and there so that the socks could slide in easier. “Ze socks… non. Zose would be quite visible, I zink.”

The blonde witch wriggled her toes; rubber groaning and squeaking in the silence. “What’s wrong with them being visible? I think I quite like them – they feel nice against my soles.”

It was impossible for Fleur to not feel giddy. “I told you zey are good!” she beamed. “But you cannot wear zem in class. A lot of people might stare and zink you are weird.”

Luna shrugged, still twirling her feet. “They already think I’m weird. I think I would also like to wear my collar in public.”

“Non!” commanded Fleur. Had she just created a monster? “Look. Zere may be a time when ze zings we like are not viewed as badly as zey might be now, but not while we are at school. Zey ask too many questions if we wear rubber in public, but perhaps zings will change eef zere is… oh, I don’t know – a worldwide pandemic or somezing.”

“So, you want me to wear the socks only in the room?” questioned Luna with none of the usual cheerfulness in her voice.

“Oui. For ze time being. Once you enter zis room, zough, I want you to strip and wear what I choose. Speaking of which – did you practice like I told you to?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Fleur grabbed a basic make-up kit and placed it next to the floor where Luna was sitting. “Show me what you can do.” Orders given, she went back to the couch and to her magazine; the page showing the women wearing fetish clothes in public, and with what Luna had said, she now imagined both herself and the younger witch going out like the pictured women to grab some coffee.

Did she dare? Could she do it like the daring models in the magazine had done? After a few more pages she saw that it was not just daring models, but subscribers of the magazine as well, as shown in the letters sent in response to the “wear only latex for a whole week” challenge.

Her heart was being pulled in two different sides. On one hand she was quite curious to expand the ways in which she handled her fetish and wanted to be able to do what she wanted freely. On the other hand, she was dating the most important wizard in Britain, and if she did these things then the ugly stereotype of the Veela would follow her around. Harry was already dealing with a lot of bad press due to their relationship and no matter how many times he tried to say that it was nothing to him, guilt still seeped into her being every time she saw another Rita Skeeter article. How bad it would get if she sported her fetish on her sleeve?

“I’m ready, Mistress!” chirped Luna, dispelling Fleur’s fantasies.

The blonde Ravenclaw had definitely done her practice. The black eyeshadow that contrasted her ivory skin had been done masterfully, same with the plucked eyebrows. The cheeks could use some more blush and the lipstick was a bit wonky, but nothing too bad.

“Tres bien! You still need more work, but practice makes perfect. Take zat makeup kit wiz you and continue for one hour every day.”

Luna nodded with a smile. “Yes, Mistress.” She was already crawling towards the sofa and Fleur felt familiar lips laying kisses all over her feet.

“Tongue,” ordered Fleur and the kisses turned to a slow and steady worship; Luna’s pink muscle trailing over each and every one of her toes. Then, she took out her wand and waved, casting a charm that made the blonde’s hands wrench behind her back and a small lock fasten them together. “No ‘ands. Maitre likes to tie me up when I suck ‘is cock.” Luna nodded and promptly continued her licks and kisses.

The young French Veela returned to her magazine, putting the issue aside for now as she returned to the catalogue, using a pen to place a cross on the ones she liked the best both for herself and for Luna. After several minutes of feeling her frustrations going away thanks to the Ravenclaw’s worship, she commanded Luna to stop, setting the magazine away. “Stop, let me prepare better.”

Fleur stood and walked to the chest, retrieving a leather blindfold. “I don’t want to spoil ze surprise,” she whispered after fastening the piece of gear around Luna’s silver eyes.

With a smirk plastered over her face, Fleur went back to the chest and grabbed two pairs of latex items that until now she had not worn – gloves and stockings. The gloves were hard to put on, and she had to try several times by rolling the entire length before slowly gliding it on and then struggling to make her fingers find their own individual pockets.

The stockings were a little less intimidating and little harder to put on than normal stockings - without the use of lubricant, it would have been completely impossible. Both felt heavenly on her skin, and she had to take a moment to admire her reflection on the mirror, fixing any creases or lumps that were formed during the struggle to put them on.

“Alright! You can continue,” she ordered with an evil grin that widened once Luna dragged her tongue across the rubber, probably expecting the taste and scent she had grown used to.

“Mistress?” asked the young blonde with a pout.

“Remember zat time when you Maître tied me to the bed? Remember zat you wanted to play wiz me? Remember when you denied me my pleasure?” drawled Fleur, putting on as haughty a voice as she could conjure up.

Luna nodded with a, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Bien! Now you know ‘ow eet feels when you try to deny your Maîtresse ‘er pleasure, oui?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“That’s good. I assume you will not do eet ever again. Am I correct, petite lune?”

Luna nodded one last time. “Yes, Mistress.”

Fleur smirked even though the blonde would not be able to see it. Normally, she would not be attracted to the idea of dominating as much as submitting, but the silver-haired witch had to admit that it felt nice to have somebody like Luna following her commands. Relaxing back on the couch, she grabbed the magazine again and wiggled her foot. “I did not say you could stop.”

As she lost herself into the pages again, Fleur felt the tongue and fingers on her feet. Even if the latex meant the sensations were dulled, the power more than made up for it.

“Good girl.”

Susan Bones looked up at the top shelf of the bookcase where a dusty old tome rested, thankfully not gathering dust thanks to Madam Pince’s unrelenting immaculateness. She raised her hand to see if she could reach it – she could not. Struggling on the tips of her toes, she tried again and again, no success. Finally letting go of all dignity she gave a small hop, fingers grazing against the leather cover as her reward, her breasts hitting against one of the shelves.

Huffing indignantly, she nursed her chest with a glare. ‘Why couldn’t some of this mass go to my legs instead of my boobs?’ With a barely audible whine, Susan raised her hand to try again, eyes tricking her into believing that her fingers could reach if she tried hard enough.

Then a paler, slender hand grabbed the tome easily. “Couldn’t you use a spell?” asked Daphne as she handed over the book.

Susan shrugged her shoulders. “Last time I tried to do it, Madam Pince put a jinx on it that made me smell like rotten garlics for a week. You know how she is.”

Daphne huffed. “Are you done perusing books or are you going to get another one?”

The redhead walked to the table where the assembled tomes she had collected lay. There were eight now, and she probably wouldn’t be able to finish them all before the school year ended. “That’s fine, I think. Just need one more book on the list.”

The Slytherin spied the book titles. “No Herbology, no Charms, and no Ancient Runes. Why the sudden interest in offensive spells? I was under the impression that you disliked that sort of thing.”

Susan picked up the books with a soft grunt. “I can’t be useless anymore.” The image of Harry defending her floated into her mind. “I can’t just rely on others forever.”

“Who do you intend to practice with?”

Biting her lip, Susan looked back at her lover’s violet eyes. “I thought you could help me with that.”

Daphne let out another huff. “You and I in a lonely room? Darling, you already know what’s going to happen and it’s more than likely not going to involve wands,” she whispered with a graze of her fingers across the Hufflepuff’s thigh.

“Daphne!” hushed Susan with a crimson face. “Not here!”

The Slytherin let out a breath with a roll of her eyes. “Then let’s get it over with. The library makes for an excellent repellent against Malfoy but I’d rather not stand another second under Pince’s eyes.”

With a giggle, the busty redhead strode to where the last book was supposed to be placed, only to be rewarded with an empty space. “It’s been taken,” she lamented in a quiet pitch. “Who still takes out books near the end of the year.”

“Only one person,” responded Daphne, glancing straight at a lonely table occupied by a brown-haired witch surrounded by two small towers made of books and reading a tome the size of an atlas. On one of the twin columns, Susan made out the title of the book she’d been searching for.

Given a closer look, Hermione Granger looked tired, even more than Susan had seen her before. Dark circles surrounded her eyes and her hair was bushier and more disheveled than usual. It used to be that the brilliant Gryffindor would talk extensively to Harry and Ron or the teachers, now it seemed as though her mouth had been shut for the entire year.

“Hermione?” Susan’s question drew a sharp motion from the Gryffindor, as if unused to having her name being called.

“Susan?” whispered Hermione with both surprise and yet a gentle smile that disappeared the moment she looked at the other witch. “Greengrass.”

Daphne sent a cold stare. “Granger.”

“How are you?” asked Susan before Daphne could say anything hostile.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just doing some light reading for next year. It’s a shame that Madam Pince won’t let us borrow these for summer.”

Nervously, the Hufflepuff pointed at the book she’d been searching for. “Are you finished with ‘Defensive Charms for the Apprentice Dueler’?”

The chestnut-haired Muggle-born shot a confused look, then her eyes followed Susan’s gaze. “Oh! Yes. I am finished with that one. Very basic.” She handed the book to Susan.

“You are very good at Charms,” commented Susan, ignoring Daphne’s groan as she sat down opposite of Hermione. “How is it that you master them so quickly?”

Hermione gave a shrug. “Charms are easy, all you need to do is follow the instructions in the book and push your intent into the spell. Visualize what is going to happen before it actually happens. Ancient Runes, Potions, and Herbology are harder, in my experience.”

“Of course they are harder – those require patience,” drawled Daphne, sitting next to Susan with her ever-present glare.

Hermione returned the gesture with her brown eyes. “Is there something inside of you that makes it impossible to not insult someone at any moment in time?”

“I am just pointing out the requirements if you want to get better at Potions, Granger. I should know – I am the top student in Snape’s class and unlike Malfoy, I don’t get that grade due to blatant nepotism, That you took it as insult... well, that says a lot more about you than it does about me, doesn't it?”

The Gryffindor took a deep breath. “Even if you want to help, it doesn’t help when you say it in that tone. Most people will just assume you’re insulting them.”

“People can assume what they want. I do not care for what they think – it's not like most of their opinions are worth anything,” responded Daphne.

Hermione shook her head. “You’re right, you don’t care about what other people think, only about yourself, and the only way you can make yourself feel better is by putting other people down. Quite pathetic, really.”

“I don't need to put other people down to know I'm superior to them, Granger. But maybe you're projecting? Have we uncovered the reason for your constant attempts at over-achievement? Or is it something even more pathetic – burying yourself into books and work to forget how lonely you are?” Daphne shot back.

That had hurt. Susan could see it in Hermione’s face. That had hurt really bad. Daphne had an uncanny ability to find the most hurtful words and use them to stab at a person’s heart with no mercy. She had to intervene before it got too bad.

“Please, stop! Both of you! Please!” begged Susan just as Madam Pince ordered them to stay silent. Tears were threatening to spill out of her eyes again. She loved Daphne, but why was it so hard to be with her at the same time?

The table was silent for an insufferable half hour. Susan read the book, yet the words just flew by her eyes without even trying to comprehend the meaning. Daphne kept her “I ate something foul” look all throughout and Hermione did not once look away from her notes.

“Hermione?” asked Susan nervously after sending a pleading look at Daphne. “Could you… erm… I was hoping that you could perhaps help me mastering some Charms.”

Hermione narrowed her tired eyes. “Me? Why would you ask me?”

The busty Hufflepuff gazed at her thumbs. “Well… you and Harry are the best at Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts and… well… I really want to get better at them. I just think you could really help me with them.” She gave a quick glance to the pile of books. “I can help you with Herbology… and Daphne can help both of us with Potions!”

“What?!” squawked Daphne in the most undignified voice Susan had yet heard from her lover. “What makes you think that she can teach me anything that I don’t already know?”

 Hermione, for once, agreed with Daphne. “And what makes you think I can learn more from her about Potions than I can read for myself in a book?”

“Granger, no book has the knowledge that will turn you into a master potion-maker. I told you once before that the art depends on the climate, the time of day, and the quality of ingredients, and that is on top of the countless other factors. Sticking your head in every book ever written on the subject will get you nowhere. Patience and perseverance are key”

“And how do you expect to be better at Charms, Greengrass? It’s not as if perseverance is the only thing required. If you are doing things wrong, making the same mistake again and again is not going to make it better, patience be damned.”

“You are not an authority on the subject, Granger,” sneered Daphne.

Hermione put on a smug look. “Good enough to be able to make my own spell, Greengrass.”

At this, Susan jumped with interest. “You made your own spell?” Only Harry had actually created spells in their year, yet she quickly remembered that this was Hermione Granger.

“I did,” Hermione replied triumphantly, looking back at Madam Pince just in case the stern librarian had taken notice. “I finished only a few days ago but it works quite well – I’ve been using it since yesterday.”

“What does it do?”

The Gryffindor’s smile became strained, as if she hadn’t smiled in a while. “Do you know that eye that Professor Moody has?”

Susan barely suppressed a shiver. That fake eye had been in one or two of her nightmares this year. “Yeah, the one that allows him to see everything.”

“Correct. The charm I created is not as good as having eyes behind your back, but I can see through wood, through doors, through walls, and even through clothes. That way I know if somebody is carrying anything that might hurt me.”

Susan turned at the snort that emerged from her girlfriend. Daphne Greengrass’s smile was something rare and usually when it appeared, Susan could see both sadism and mirth combined into one.

“See through clothes, you say? Are you sure you are only interested in seeing weapons? I must admit, I never expected this from you of all people,” said Daphne, voice dripping with twisted mirth. “I guess what they say the quiet ones is true.”

“That’s not what this is about!” screeched Hermione, the redness characteristic of her House covering the witch’s cheeks. “My interests are purely academic – it’s your mind that’s dirty, not mine. What does that say about you?”

“I’m not the one that made a spell to see under people’s clothes.”

“That’s just a side effect!” denied Hermione. The blush had not lessened, in fact, it was doing a quick job in spreading through the entire face.

Susan thought it best to interject before things got bad again. “That’s a brilliant spell! Do you think you could teach it to us?” Her hand moved under the table to squeeze Daphne’s thigh.

Hermione furrowed her brows. “You want to see through clothes?”

The redhead’s face flushed crimson, a mirror image to Hermione. “N-No! Nothing like that! I just thought it might be useful is all.”

“Ha! I see you admit it yourself, Granger,” cackled Daphne. Susan squeezed her girlfriend’s thigh harder.

“Come on, Hermione… please?” begged Susan.

Hermione went silent again, darting her eyes between the both of them. “I guess I can make time in my schedule. Classes are almost over anyways,” she sighed. “Do you have a place to practice?”

“I know of an abandoned classroom.” Now it was Daphne that kicked her shin under the table but Susan paid her no mind. They could always find another place for their… assignations, but the classroom was perfect for practice.

Hermione nodded. “Very well then, we will start tomorrow. Now, if you excuse me, I need to do a more practical study.” She stretched her legs and pointed her wand towards her eyes. They slowly dilated, the black overtaking almost the entire pupil, and then she walked out of the library as if she had indulged a little too much in a bottle of Ogden’s.

“Are you sure this was wise?” asked Daphne once the Gryffindor was nowhere in sight. “Bringing her into our little love nest?”

“It’ll be worth it,” assured Susan.

Daphne huffed and grabbed the redhead by the shoulder. “Very well. I will accept for your sake… now, how about you and I get one last go at it before Granger prods at our place with her meddling fingers?”

For the first time in a while, Susan felt her smile reach her heart.

Harry glanced at the floating manual again. Thankfully, it had pictures so that even an amateur like him could follow through. With his hands, he held a dozen feet of pure-white rope. The rope was soft. Harry had made sure that it was soft. Yet it was still rope, and rope had only one use – to restrain.

“Zis is strange, usually you tie my ‘ands and feet, non?”

“This is shibari, beautiful.” He fastened the rope below and above her black rubber brassiere, so shiny that it flickered a bright orange with the reflection of the fireplace. “It’s supposed to be artistic, but some of these knots are complicated. This harness is made for beginners.”

“Maybe a little boring, non?”

Harry continued his work. The design was the opposite of utilitarian. Certainly, no person would do this to any traditional prisoner. Fleur’s wrists and ankles were indeed unbound, but her body was not. The rope was tied in a harness, crossing its threads above and below her breasts, making them bulge even more than their original size. Three more lines adorned her abdomen, stomach, and waist. Where the ropes met at the center of her body, they formed intricate diamonds of unblemished white.

There was still one more bind that Harry needed to tie… between Fleur’s legs. He formed a knot with the rope, then used it to cleave straight into his girlfriend’s sex. The only protection that Fleur had was the already stimulating rubber panties.

Harry looked up to see the French witch grip her bottom lip with her teeth. “Still a little boring?” he taunted, fastening the end of the rope to the small of her back.

Fleur walked with shaky legs to the mirror, spending several minutes inspecting every bit of her bondage. “Eet’s nozzing I can’t ‘andle,” she replied firmly.

The dark-haired Gryffindor walked behind her, his hands felt the soft rope at her waist and gave it a sharp tug. Fleur breathed out sharply, eyes widening. “Oh?” responded Harry. “Something tells me that you’re underestimating my rope skills.”

“You are good, Maître. Ze question is eef you are good enough,” challenged Fleur.

Harry thought about it for a moment. “A bet, then. Let’s see how well you can handle it after we climb all the way to the seventh floor?”

The French witch answered his question with a wave of her wand. Her clothes floated to her, the Beauxbatons uniform. Harry opted for his Gryffindor robes.

“Eet’s still too cold,” complained Fleur as she took her first steps outside the room. “Ze sun would be wonderful back ‘ome.”

“It’s still Scotland, beautiful. It’s as cold all the year round as the French Riviera is warm.”

Fleur grimaced. “Please tell me zat your home is a leetle kinder.”

Harry looked around, still no students but the echoes of voices were louder with each step. “It’s better in Berkshire. That’s where I live with Sirius. Potter Manor is in Somerset, though. I have never seen it with my own eyes, but my godfather says it’s about as warm as it gets in Britain.”

“Which is to say, still dreadful,” snarked Fleur. “I can’t wait to take you to Marseille.”

Harry smirked, his hand finding the crotch-rope under her robes, giving it a tug. “Can you wear a bikini?”

Fleur exhaled sharply, but quickly hid it with a smile of her own. “You’ve already seen me in ze nude, mon chéri.”

“You can make it exciting.”

“Ah, maybe I can make add my own twist to eet? You would like zat, non?”

“Of course.” Around a corner was the school’s population, fresh from vacation. Most still bleary-eyed and dragging their feet from class to class. Fleur got less looks than usual. A blessing, given that she was already biting her lips and her elegant stride was marred with small stumbles that would have been normal in any other woman.

After they ascended to the fifth floor, Fleur was lagging behind noticeably, and her breaths were shaky. “Just two more to go… and then we have to go down. Still too boring?”

Fleur responded with determined eyes. “Eet’s nozzing,” she declared, yet her hand still sought Harry’s for support to take the steps to the sixth floor.

Up close, Harry could see what his girlfriend’s pride tried to hide. Her breath was mixed with moans and gasps and her forehead sported a small shine of sweat, reflecting the light of nearby candles. When he held Fleur’s waist, Harry felt the trembling; barely noticeable, but trembling nonetheless. The most important thing, however, was that her control of the Veela allure was slipping. Many pairs of eyes, once drooping, now fixed their gazes on the struggling French witch.

Harry circled his arm around Fleur’s waist. “Just a bit more, beautiful,” he whispered.

Each step was harder for Fleur than the last if the increasing volumes of the moans were any indication. She held onto Harry’s shoulder as if it were a lifeline, and by the time they had ascended all the steps to the uppermost floor of the castle, the platinum-haired witch was breathing like she had just finished a sprint around the school grounds.

Harry looked around to see no other students around and, with a mischievous smirk, found the crotch-rope and tugged again, the knot stabbing further directly at Fleur’s core. “I read this was challenging for most women,” he said with a humorous tone, “and you just had to put latex panties on top of that, didn’t you?”

Fleur let out a breath that could have been either a haughty laugh or a quick moan, or both at the same time. “F-Fine… you ‘ave w-won zis time, Maître… s’il vous plait… stop!”

He gave one last, harsh tug and then let go. Fleur’s mouth opened and he captured her lips. Harry’s arms trapped Fleur, exploring ever inch; the soft flesh under the clothes and the tight rope binding it. A palm found her enlarged breast and he squeezed…

The sound of footsteps made Harry pull himself away from the kiss. The noise was… odd, like the intruder was stumbling rather than walking. He snatched Fleur’s hand with his own and strolled towards the hallway’s corner to sate his curiosity, ignoring her pout. What he found surprised him.

“’Mione?” he asked, more to call her attention to him than anything; that hair was unmistakable. When the brilliant witch turned around, his suspicion was confirmed. It was Harry’s friend alright, looking like she always did: busy. The only thing that made him furrow his brows were her eyes. The brown color was still there, but the blacks of the pupils were wide like he’d never seen before. ‘Drugs?’ No. It was impossible. Not Hermione Granger. Who would even smuggle drugs into Hogwarts anyway?

It almost looked as if his words had no meaning to Hermione, she continued to stumble around the hallway until she almost literally slammed into them. “H-Harry?” she gasped… then looked towards his companion and immediately turned red. “Fleur!? W-Wha –“ Hermione stumbled on her own words nearly as bad as she stumbled on her footing.

‘Fleur’s allure is going haywire.’ “Mione? Are you alright?” asked Harry.

 Hermione shook her head, pointed her wand towards her eyes, and changed them back to normal. “Yes!” she shouted, her voice echoing throughout the entire floor. “I’m… I’m just tired is all!” Her face was still as red as the Hogwarts Express.

Harry nodded. “You should probably go and get some rest, ‘Mione. Been burning those eyes in the library again? Your eyes looked kind of weird there.”

The brilliant witch’s face reddened even more. “I-It was just a spell I was working with!”

“Really? What does it do?” asked Fleur.

“I… erm… I-It doesn’t really do anything!” stuttered Hermione. “It’s… err… I made that spell, but it doesn’t really work.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Your own spell? That’s great! Spells take a lot of time and effort but it’s worth it when you make your own. What was it meant for?”

By now, Hermione looked more like a tomato than a person. Even Susan had never taken this shade before. “L-Like I said, it doesn’t work… I… I need to go now!” she yelled and sprinted out of the hallway. Both Harry and Fleur’s gaze followed the frazzled brown hair until it disappeared.

“She’s probably pulling all-nighters – ‘Mione usually does that near the end of the year,” sighed Harry. “Someone needs to get her to calm down.”

“Zat’s all well and good, Maitre, but right now your Fleur is about to lose ‘erself,” gasped Fleur. Harry snapped back to reality and looked at his girlfriend. Her shirt was fast clinging to her skin due to sweat, and the outline of the ropes was slowly becoming more obvious.

He offered his arm once again. Thankfully, the stairs were mostly empty now, with the exception of a group of First Years too pre-pubescent to do anything but smile innocently at Fleur. Even Harry felt his manhood straining against his pants as Fleur’s control over her allure was almost completely gone. When they finally returned to their floor, she hurried ahead, heels clacking desperately against the floor until she collapsed on the couch.

Harry followed soon after. Fleur’s hands were clawing all over her body, searching for the knots. “Take zem off, Maitre!” she begged. “Eet’s too much!”

He smirked at her. “Oh? You want to stop the sensations? Are you sure about that?”

“Oui!” cried Fleur. “Make eet stop, mon chéri. Hera’s mercy!”

“You asked for it,” whistled Harry, going to their equipment trunk. When he found what he was looking for, he made a spell to float it over to the bed. “Hey, beautiful? Remember when you said you were interested in trying out the way Luna likes to sleep?”

Fleur stopped moaning and opened her eyes. The sleepsack was not the leather one that Harry used on Luna, this one was made of rubber, yet despite its look was just as durable as the former one. She widened her eyes and breathed in while Harry untied the rope harness, taking every liberty to squeeze, fondle and pinch her body, with particular attention paid to her breasts. Not once did she complain, and she even melted into his arms once he finished unbinding her. He almost had to carry her to the sleepsack.

The French witch was shaking as she lay down on the bed, yet that was not a problem to Harry. He had already done this to Luna multiple times, the only difference was that Fleur was taller. “How is it?” he asked once he had tightened the straps.

“Tight.”

Harry grabbed a black ballgag. “Time to finish complete the look.” Fleur opened her mouth, enough to jam the ball in. He soon added a pair of earplugs and a blindfold. “I’ll let you out in an hour,” he whispered and stepped over to his desk.

Luna was able to spend untold hours in the sack without even making a sound except the occasional giggle and struggle. Fleur, on the other hand, could barely handle fifteen minutes. Harry hadn’t even picked out a book to read by the time his girlfriend broke into a pitiful struggle against the hard rubber, groaning and moaning and thrashing around against the chains that fastened the sack to the divan. But the stone on Harry’s desk remained silent in stark contrast. No safeword yet.

Harry grabbed his hourglass and turned it to begin the countdown. The sound of creaking rubber was soon accompanied by the turning of pages, and the inked words on the textbook made it easier for him to be distracted from the aching stiffness between his legs.

The calendar marked a week until the Third Task, yet the problem was not that Harry hadn’t been preparing; the problem was that he didn’t know what to prepare for. For previous tasks, the Gryffindor had known what to expect. First a dragon, then a lake. Now, before Harry’s eyes, laid a maze of thick plants, hiding its secrets within its thorns. There could be anything there: beasts, traps, other wizards, or even just some scatter-brained riddle that Bagman thought would be funny.

Harry’s eyes dragged through the text, but the trickling grains of sand in the glass captured his true interest. Once the last grain rested on top of the rest, he rose from his seat and patrolled around his struggling girlfriend, and calmly took off the earplugs and the ballgag.

“Hello again, beautiful. You look a little needy right now. What are you thinking?” He ran his palms over where her breasts would be.

“I am zinking ‘ow Luna can spend so many ‘ours locked in zese zings. I’m bored!”

Harry smirked, patting her head. “Maybe if I left you here for another hour you can find out.”

“Non! You ‘ave to let me out!” protested Fleur. “Besides, I need to finish my application for zat bank you Eenglish ‘ave.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “Gringotts? You’re making a job application for Gringotts?”

“O-Oui. Eet’s ze biggest employer aside from ze Ministry, non? I figured zat eet would be ze best place to find a job ‘ere.”

“You’re staying here? I thought you would be taking a broom back to France the moment the Tournament was over.”

Fleur let out a breath. “I am going to France… for a while, but you are ‘ere, non? I don’t intend to stay away from you for long. Why? Are you that eager to get away from me?”

“I just didn’t think you were the kind that wanted to go to Gringotts for work?”

Now it was Fleur’s turn to smirk. “What else do you suggest, Maitre? I want to do zings on my own, not be some bitter pureblood wife.”

“But is Gringotts what you truly want? Counting coins with obsessive goblins?”

“Zere are… ozzer zings I want to do but… non.”

Harry kissed her forehead and stared into her blindfolded eyes. “What is it?”

“Eet’s silly.”

“Tell me.”

“I… I always dreamed of being a designer,” admitted Fleur, her face turning a rare shade of red. “Ever since I was a leetle girl. Eet’s stupid.”

Harry chuckled. “It’s not.”

“I am ze top of my class and a daughter of Delacour. Zings are expected of me.”

“Who cares? It’s not what you want, is it? Why should you care about it? Isn’t it what you want to do? Besides, being a designer is a prestigious career, isn’t it?”

Fleur blushed even redder. “Well… I was not zinking to be a traditional designer, mon chéri. You... ehm… already know ze zings I would like to design? Wouldn’t it shame you?”

Harry pressed his lips against her ear. “I. Don’t. Care,” he whispered. “Does it make you happy? That’s all I care about. It would only disappoint me if I had to see you go to a job you don’t want just to prove something to anyone that isn’t yourself.” He reached behind her head to undo the blindfold. Fleur blinked her eyes at the light and then settled them on him.

“Do you really not care about what zey would zink? About what zey might say of ‘Arry Potter’s perverted girlfriend?”

He gave her a brief kiss. “They’ll say what they’ll say… and then they’ll go home and think: ‘I wish my wife did those things for me. That Potter bloke is the luckiest man in the world.’ And you know what? They’ll be right.”

Fleur blurted out a giggle. “I… I will zink about eet,” she said. “For now, can you take me out of zese? I need to stretch.”

He grinned. “Alright, I wanted to keep on practicing with ropes anyway.”

Her eyes widened. “On second zought… I’ll stay ‘ere for a few hours.”

Harry gave her a last kiss then pressed the gag back against her lips. “Your choice, beautiful.”

“Really, Maître?”

“You know I had to do it, beautiful.”

“This is such a bad stereotype, Maître.”

“I have a sexually submissive French girlfriend. I’m pretty sure there’s a worldwide contract that this must be done at least once.”

Fleur looked at the outfit laid atop the bed. Its colors were black and white, glimmering in the light. It was a parody of a traditional maid’s dress, with a shortened skirt and plunging neckline, not to mention the fact that it was made from rubber. The tag said it was a “French maid” dress, but Harry imagined its name held the same meaning as Americans calling chips “French fries.”

His girlfriend held the suit between her fingers. “Vairy funny, Maître.”

“Come on, put it on while I go get Luna.” Fleur rolled her eyes and muttered something in French yet took off her clothes nonetheless.

Harry’s attention shifted towards Luna in her sleepsack. Rather than going for the blindfold and gag combination, this time Harry had opted to try out one of their hoods. Every single inch of the Ravenclaw was smothered by black leather. With a wave of his wand, the straps undid themselves and the hood was unlaced. Luna stretched herself after spending the entire night in her bondage and smiled at Harry.

“Good morning, Master!”

“Good morning to you as well,” replied Harry, helping Luna get back on her feet. “Go and help Fleur while I go for my morning run, hmm?”

It had rained the last couple of days. Harry almost slipped several times on the mud and the cold humidity seeped into his bones. He should have listened to Fleur and stayed back in the room, yet if he had done that, he would not have seen the fully grown maze that he and Fleur would have to enter tomorrow.

“Are you ready?” asked a voice coming from behind him. Harry turned to look at Cedric tip-toeing around the slippery ground.

Harry nodded forwards. “Do you know what’s in there?”

Cedric shook his head. “The same as you. If I knew something, I would tell you. I still owe you for telling me about the dragons. They’re really keeping their cards close to their chest on this one. Have you asked Krum?”

“No,” replied Harry. “Krum would have heard it from Karkaroff. So that means even the Headmasters are being kept off the loop.”

“Probably.” Cedric breathed in and looked at the sky. “Listen, Harry… I know it’s a competition and all, but if things get rough in there –”

“Our lives come first,” agreed Harry. That was already something he had told himself many times. Glory was good, but being alive was better, and he had two more reasons to live waiting for him back in the castle. “Somebody wants me killed, and the first two times didn’t work out. Whoever it is that put my name in the Goblet has one last chance. If they’re serious, then I will need to keep my guard up.”

“I’ll have your back if things get that badly. Krum will be the same, most likely, and I’m going to guess that Fleur will most certainly be there for you.”

Harry nodded. “Thank you, Cedric. Best of luck.” He shook the Hufflepuff’s hand and walked away, back to the castle. Familiar faces passed him. Hermione, Neville, Hannah, Susan, Daphne, Tracey, Blaise, even Ron, but there were only two people that he wanted to spend this day with.

Fleur was already dressed when he stepped back in the room. She had complained before, but now posed in front of her reflection and turned around with a smile. “Bon retour, Maître.” She continued to talk fast in French.

“That’s your rebellion? Talk in French so I can’t understand?”

Fleur smirked. “You wanted a French maid, non?” She waved a feather duster at him and fixed her white bonnet. “Eet only makes sense I speak in French, oui?”

“The accent is sexy enough.” His eyes wandered across the room. “Where’s Luna?”

Fleur’s smirk shifted into a large grin as she stepped to the table that was covered with a large metal cloche. She slashed her wave once and the cover lifted. Luna laid on her back, still nude, but not uncovered. Breakfast had been served on her body. On each of her breasts lay a pancake topped with white whipped cream and a strawberry. Her stomach was arrayed with a variety of breads while both legs held sliced apples, oranges, peaches, grapes, and several types of berries going all the way down to her toes. On her womanhood lay a cherry on a bed of cream.

Harry could only watch as Fleur bent on the table, her latex skirt crawling upwards. She wasn’t wearing underwear. The French witch grabbed a grape and fed it to Luna. “Breakfast is served, Maître.”

It took him a bit to snap back to reality. He stepped behind Fleur and smacked his palm against her exposed derriere. “I’m starving.” His mouth aimed for the pancake, and bit down until he felt Luna’s hardened nipple. Fleur climbed on the table and picked up piece of bread. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“As ready as I can be, Maître.” She drizzled some honey on Luna’s stomach and dipped the bread. “Just one more day, non? One more day and eet’s all over.”

Harry nodded. “When will you be coming back?”

“Ze early days of summer – I want to be ‘ere for your birthday.” She had placed four berries between her toes and presented them to Luna’s mouth. “I just ‘ope ze south of Eengland is warmer.”

“It is,” assured Harry, eyeing Luna’s body. She was way too still. Biting into a peach, his fingers tickled at her side and the blonde exploded into a fit of giggles, her body fidgeting like a leaf but not spilling a single morsel. “Tomorrow,” his voice turned serious, “we try to stay together. We try to stay safe. We’ve come too far for something bad to happen.”

Fleur’s playful smirk flattened. “I know.” Luna lay completely still, her dreamy smile missing. “Eet will be over soon, and then we won’t ‘ave to worry anymore.”

Harry felt a ghost of a grin tug at his face. “I want to see Potter Manor with you. With both of you, if we can. I’ve heard Sirius talk about it, and dreamt about it, it but never seen it.”

“I’m sure eet will live up to your dreams. Me? I’m worried zat your closets will be too small.”

The Gryffindor dispelled his worries with a snort. “I’m sure you’ll find them to your satisfaction, future miss designer.”

“I ‘ave not decided yet!”

Harry kissed her. “Then tell me some other day. Right now, I want to relax.” Both turned their attention back to their “plate” and finished their breakfast.

The rest of the day was spent playing games, telling stories and laughing. Kinky games could wait for another day. A day when the unknown task was not looming above his head. Harry slept that night with both of them, one on each arm, as he hoped it would be for many nights to come.

Hope you all liked the chapter. This was probably kinkier than you’re used to by now, but it will hopefully will make up for the following two, which will be plot-driven and the kink factor will be set aside until the end of Fourth Year.

If you liked this chapter then you can leave a review on what you liked and what can be improved. If you want to join my Discord server, you’re more than welcome to.

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Until next time!

The Metal Sage