Disclaimer: This story takes place after Hogwarts. All characters in this story are consenting adults (18+).
The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the living room walls. Harry sat on the worn sofa, a book open in his lap that he had absolutely no hope of reading. Not with Gabrielle pressed against his side like she was trying to meld their bodies together.
She'd appeared out of nowhere, materialising beside him the moment everyone else had wandered off to various corners of the house. Mrs Weasley was in the kitchen with Apolline, their laughter echoing down the hallway. The twins had dragged Ron outside for some snow-related mischief. Bill and Fleur had retreated upstairs. And somehow, Gabrielle had engineered this moment of privacy.
Harry glanced at the doorways for the hundredth time, praying for someone to walk in and save him from himself.
"You keep looking at ze doors," Gabrielle murmured, her breath warm against his ear. "Are you expecting someone?"
"Just... checking," Harry managed.
"Checking for what? We are alone, 'Arry."
She shifted beside him, and Harry made the mistake of looking at her. Properly looking.
Merlin's saggy bollocks.
Gabrielle was dressed like she was trying to give him a heart attack. A tiny white skirt that barely covered anything, riding up her creamy thighs with every movement. Her top was criminally low-cut, a flimsy thing that seemed to be losing its battle against her perfect Veela tits with every breath she took. The soft swells of her breasts threatened to spill free, the fabric straining, her nipples clearly visible through the thin material.
She looked like sin wrapped in innocence, her silvery-blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her blue eyes wide and seemingly guileless even as her hand crept onto his thigh.
"What are you reading?" she asked sweetly, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his leg.
Harry looked down at the book. The words might as well have been Mermish for all the sense they made. "Something about... Quidditch."
"Mm. You must like Quidditch very much. You keep staring at ze pages."
Her hand slid higher. Harry's cock, which had been at a persistent half-mast since she'd sat down, surged to full attention.
"Gabrielle..."
"Yes, 'Arry?"
"What are you doing?"
She looked up at him through her lashes, the picture of innocence. "I am just sitting wiz you. Is zat not allowed?"
"You know exactly what you're doing."
A smile curved her lips, transforming her angelic expression into something far more wicked. "Perhaps I do." Her hand found the bulge in his trousers, and she squeezed gently. "And perhaps I am tired of pretending ozzerwise."
Harry bit back a groan. "Someone could walk in any second."
"Zen we should be quick, no?"
She swung her leg over his lap before he could protest, straddling him on the sofa, her tiny skirt riding up to reveal she wasn't wearing any panties. Her bare pussy pressed against the front of his trousers, warm and already slick, and Harry's resolve crumbled like wet parchment.
"I saw 'ow Ginny looked at me at breakfast," Gabrielle whispered, rolling her hips slowly. "So smug. Like she 'ad won somezing."
"Gabrielle..."
"She told me what you did. In ze bedroom." Another roll of her hips, grinding against his trapped cock. "She zinks she is better zan me because she got your cock first."
Harry's hands found her waist on instinct, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. "This isn't a competition."
"Everything is a competition, 'Arry." She leaned forward, her tits pressing against his chest, her lips brushing his ear. "And I intend to win."
Her fingers made quick work of his trousers, undoing the button and zipper with practised ease. His cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach, and Gabrielle gasped.
"Fuck," she breathed, reaching down to wrap her delicate fingers around his shaft. "I forget 'ow big you are. I zink about it all ze time, but zen I see it and..." She stroked him slowly. "It takes my breaz away."
Harry glanced at the doorways again. Still empty. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure they could hear it in the kitchen.
"We shouldn't..."
"But we are going to." Gabrielle lifted her hips, positioning him at her entrance. "Unless you want me to stop?"
She paused, the tip of his cock just barely pressing against her slick folds, and raised an eyebrow. It wasn't really a question. They both knew he wasn't going to say no.
"Fuck it," Harry growled, and pulled her down onto his cock.
Gabrielle's gasp turned into a long, low moan as she sank onto him, her tight pussy stretching to accommodate his thickness. Her head fell back, her silvery hair cascading down her back, her tits threatening to escape her top entirely as she arched her spine.
"Oh! Oh, 'Arry, you are so... ah!"
Harry gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to thrust up into her. She was impossibly tight, even tighter than Ginny, her walls gripping him like a velvet vice. The heat of her was incredible, surrounding him completely, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to cum right there.
"Shh," he hissed, his eyes darting to the doorway. "Someone will hear you!"
"I do not care!" Gabrielle started to move, riding him with slow, deliberate rolls of her hips. "Let zem 'ear. Let zem know 'ow good you feel inside me!"
Her top slipped lower with each movement, and Harry watched in fascination as more and more of her perfect tits came into view. The fabric caught on her nipples for a moment, then gave up entirely, and her breasts spilled free, bouncing gently as she rode him.
Sweet Circe.
They were perfect. Full and round, the skin impossibly smooth, her pink nipples standing proud and begging for attention. Harry leaned forward and captured one in his mouth, sucking greedily, and Gabrielle's moan echoed through the living room.
"Yes! 'Arry, yes! Just like zat!"
She picked up the pace, bouncing on his cock with increasing urgency. From a distance, with her skirt pushed up around her waist but technically still on, her top pulled down but still clinging to her shoulders, they might have looked almost decent. Just a couple cuddling on the sofa, nothing to see here.
The wet sounds of her pussy swallowing his cock told a very different story.
"Ginny cannot make you feel like zis," Gabrielle panted, her nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. "She is just a little girl! I am a Veela! I was made for zis!"
Harry couldn't argue with that. Everything about Gabrielle was designed for pleasure. Her impossibly tight cunt, her perfect tits bouncing in his face, the way her body moved on top of him like she was born to ride cock. It was almost supernatural how good she felt.
Because it IS supernatural, you idiot. She's a fucking Veela.
"Tell me," Gabrielle demanded, grinding down hard on his cock. "Tell me I am better!"
"You feel incredible," Harry groaned, his hands squeezing her arse, helping her ride him harder. "Your pussy is so tight!"
"Tighter zan Ginny's?"
"Fuck! Yes!"
Gabrielle's laugh was triumphant, breathless. "I knew it! I knew I would be better! My pussy was made for your cock, 'Arry. Made to squeeze every drop of cum from your fat cock!"
She was riding him faster now, her movements growing erratic, her moans getting louder. Harry could feel his orgasm building, the pressure coiling at the base of his spine, his balls tightening.
"Gabrielle... I'm getting close..."
"Good! Cum inside me! I want to feel you fill me up!"
Harry's brain, which had largely been offline since Gabrielle climbed into his lap, suddenly snapped back to attention.
"Wait... are you on the potion?"
Gabrielle's rhythm didn't falter. "Non."
"What?!"
"I am not on ze potion." She looked down at him, her blue eyes dark with lust. "Does zat scare you, 'Arry? Ze zought of breeding my tight little cunt?"
Harry's cock throbbed traitorously at her words, even as alarm bells rang in his head.
"Gabrielle, I can't... we can't..."
"Why not?" She squeezed him with her internal muscles, and Harry saw stars. "My body is made for zis. To take your seed. To carry your children."
"Fuck!"
"You want to." She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear. "I can feel 'ow much you want to. Your cock is so 'ard inside me. Just let go, 'Arry. Fill my womb."
Every instinct in Harry's body was screaming at him to do exactly that. To grab her hips and slam her down onto his cock and pump her full of his cum until it was dripping out of her. The thought of it, of breeding this perfect Veela witch, was almost enough to make him finish right then.
But some small, responsible part of his brain refused to shut up.
"No!" Harry gasped, his hands tightening on her waist. "Pull off! Let me... let me cum on your face instead!"
Gabrielle pouted. "But I want..."
"Face! Now!"
With a huff of disappointment, Gabrielle started to lift herself off his cock. Harry was right on the edge, his orgasm mere seconds away. Just a few more inches and he could pull out properly, she could get on her knees, he could paint her gorgeous face with his...
"Harry? Are you in here?"
The world froze.
Hermione's voice came from the doorway behind the sofa. She was approaching from the entrance that led to the kitchen, which meant she couldn't see them yet, blocked by the high back of the sofa. In about three seconds, she would round the corner and see everything.
Harry panicked.
His hands, which had been helping Gabrielle lift off, did the exact opposite of what they should have done. They pulled her back down, slamming her onto his cock, burying himself to the hilt in one sharp motion.
Gabrielle's eyes went wide.
The sudden fullness, the feeling of his cock hitting her cervix, combined with all the built-up tension, it was too much. Her whole body seized, her back arching, her mouth opening in a silent scream as she came hard on his cock.
No, no, no, no, no!
Her pussy clamped down on him like a vice, spasming around his length, milking him with rhythmic pulses. And Harry, who had been teetering on the edge of orgasm, never stood a chance.
The choice crystallised in his mind with terrible clarity. He could shove Gabrielle off him right now. Let his cock spring free, shooting his load into the air like a fountain. Hermione would round the corner and see everything. His cock. Gabrielle's bare pussy. The evidence of exactly what they'd been doing splattered across the sofa cushions.
Or he could stay buried inside her. Cum deep in her unprotected womb. And pray to every deity in existence that Hermione didn't notice anything.
It wasn't really a choice at all.
Harry came.
His cock pulsed, rope after rope of hot cum flooding Gabrielle's tight cunt, filling her up, his seed painting her womb white. He bit down on his lip so hard he tasted blood, desperately fighting to keep his face neutral as the most intense orgasm of his life tore through him.
Gabrielle was still quivering in his lap, her own orgasm rolling through her in waves, her pussy greedily milking every drop from his cock. Her face was flushed, her tits still exposed, but Harry had the presence of mind to yank her top up just as Hermione appeared around the corner of the sofa.
"Oh!" Hermione stopped short. "I didn't realise you had company."
Act normal. For the love of Merlin, act normal.
"Hey, Hermione," Harry managed, his voice strangled.
Gabrielle, the absolute menace, simply snuggled deeper into his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck. From Hermione's angle, she had to look like she was just sitting on him. Cuddling. Completely innocent.
Except for the fact that Harry's cock was still buried inside her cum-filled pussy.
"We were just... talking," Harry said.
"On his lap?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"Oui." Gabrielle's voice was breathy, fucked-out, and she didn't seem to care at all. "'Arry's lap is very comfortable."
Hermione's eyes narrowed suspiciously. She couldn't see anything incriminating, Harry was almost certain of that. His trousers were technically still on, just undone beneath the skirt. Gabrielle's top was covering her tits again. They looked almost decent.
"Right," Hermione said slowly. "Well, Mrs Weasley wanted me to tell everyone that lunch will be ready in about twenty minutes."
"Great," Harry said. "Thanks."
Please leave. Please leave. Please leave.
If Harry's prayers were heard, they were answered by a cruel and unusual god. Because it wasn't Hermione who decided to leave. It was Gabrielle.
"Oh, if lunch is in twenty minutes, zen I should freshen up." Gabrielle stretched languidly, her movement causing her to shift on Harry's cock. Which was still inside her. Still hard. "Would you excuse me?"
No. No, no, no.
Before Harry could think of a way to stop her, before he could come up with a single excuse to keep her in his lap, Gabrielle stood up.
His cock slipped free with an obscene wet sound.
Time seemed to slow down as Harry watched his own cock flop out into the open air. It was absolutely drenched in their combined juices, glistening with Gabrielle's arousal and his own cum, standing tall and proud and very obviously freshly used.
There was also the small matter of the white fluid now trickling down Gabrielle's inner thighs as she stood.
Hermione's eyes dropped. To his cock. To Gabrielle's thighs. Back to his cock.
Her jaw fell open.
"I will see you at lunch, 'Arry," Gabrielle said sweetly, seemingly oblivious to the catastrophe she'd just caused. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Zat was wonderful."
And with that, she sauntered out of the room, leaving Harry alone on the sofa with his cock out and Hermione standing there looking like she'd been hit with a Stunning Spell.
The silence stretched between them, thick and horrible.
Disclaimer: This story takes place after Hogwarts. All characters in this story are consenting adults (18+).