Disclaimer: This story takes place after Hogwarts. All characters in this story are consenting adults (18+).
"...swear, if those twins have booby-trapped the Christmas crackers again, I'll hex them into next year."
Harry paused on the stairs, Ginny's voice drifting up from the parlour below. He'd been on his way down for Christmas morning presents when the sound of familiar voices caught his attention.
"Ze crackers are not ze problem." Gabrielle's lilting accent followed. "Eet is ze mistletoe zat worries me."
"What about it?" Hermione's voice now, scholarly and intrigued.
Harry rounded the corner and found the three witches huddled together near the entrance to the parlour. Ginny wore a festive green dress that barely covered her arse, her toned thighs on full display. Hermione had chosen a red jumper that dipped dangerously low, her magnificent breasts threatening to spill free with every breath. And Gabrielle... Gabrielle wore a white dress so thin it might as well have been painted on, her Veela curves visible through the sheer fabric, her pink nipples clearly outlined against the material.
Merlin give me strength.
"Harry!" Hermione brightened when she spotted him, then immediately blushed, as if remembering exactly what his cock had felt like stretching her open the night before. "Happy Christmas!"
"'Appy Christmas, 'Arry." Gabrielle's smile was positively predatory, her blue eyes dropping to his crotch with unmistakable hunger.
"Come here." Ginny beckoned, grabbing his arm and pulling him into their little circle. "We were just discussing the twins' latest prank."
"Special mistletoe?" Harry asked, glancing around. "I haven't seen any."
"That's because it doesn't appear until..." Ginny trailed off as a soft golden glow materialised directly above Harry's head. "Until two people who are attracted to each other get close enough."
Harry looked up. A sprig of mistletoe hung suspended in mid-air, adorned with tiny white berries and wrapped in delicate golden ribbon. It pulsed with a faint magical light.
"Well, that's inconvenient," Harry muttered.
"Not really." Ginny grinned, rising on her tiptoes and pressing her lips to his. The kiss was brief but warm, her tongue darting out to trace his bottom lip before she pulled away. The mistletoe vanished instantly, dissolving into a shower of golden sparkles. "See? Problem solved."
Harry's cock stirred at the taste of her. "Simple enough."
"Oui, very simple." Gabrielle stepped closer, her body brushing against his side. Another sprig of mistletoe bloomed into existence above them, its berries gleaming white. "Oh dear. 'Ow unfortunate."
She didn't wait for him to respond. Her hands found his chest, sliding up to his shoulders as she rose on her tiptoes and captured his mouth in a kiss that was far less innocent than Ginny's. Her tongue slipped past his lips immediately, her body pressing flush against him, her perfect tits soft against his chest. Harry's hands found her waist instinctively, and she moaned softly into his mouth before pulling back with a satisfied smile.
The mistletoe vanished in golden sparks.
"Zat was nice," Gabrielle purred, her fingers trailing down his chest. "'Arry is a very good kisser, non?"
Harry's cock was now fully hard, tenting his trousers in a way that was impossible to hide. He saw Hermione's eyes drop to the bulge, her cheeks flushing pink.
"Hermione," Ginny said, her voice teasing. "You're staring."
"I am not!"
"You definitely are." Ginny gave Hermione a gentle push toward Harry. "Go on, then. Give him a proper Christmas kiss."
Hermione stumbled forward, catching herself against Harry's chest. The movement pressed her magnificent breasts against him, and Harry felt them yield softly through the thin fabric of her jumper. She looked up at him, her brown eyes wide, her lips parted.
A third sprig of mistletoe appeared above them.
"Oh," Hermione breathed, looking up at it. "I suppose we have to..."
"We do," Harry agreed, already leaning down.
Their lips met, and Hermione melted against him with a soft whimper. She kissed him like she was trying to communicate something urgent, her fingers tangling in his hair, her body arching into his. Harry's hands slid down to her arse, cupping her curves through her tight jeans, and she gasped against his mouth.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard.
The mistletoe dissolved into sparkles.
"Well," Ginny said, fanning herself dramatically. "That was educational."
"Very educational," Gabrielle agreed, her eyes fixed on the obvious tent in Harry's trousers. "Poor 'Arry. 'E seems to 'ave a problem."
Harry shifted uncomfortably, his cock straining against his trousers. Three kisses in as many minutes, each one hotter than the last, and now he was surrounded by three gorgeous witches who were all looking at his erection with varying degrees of hunger.
"The mistletoe only appears if there's mutual attraction," Harry said slowly, a troubling thought forming. "Which means..."
"Which means you fancy all of us," Ginny finished, grinning. "And we fancy you. Not exactly news, Harry."
"But if I'm attracted to..." Harry swallowed hard. "There are other witches in this house."
The three of them exchanged knowing looks.
"Oui," Gabrielle said, her smile widening. "Zere are. My muzzer. My sister. Mrs Weasley." She traced a finger down Harry's chest. "You 'ad better be very careful today, 'Arry. Ze mistletoe... eet does not lie about what you want."
Before Harry could respond, Mrs Weasley's voice echoed through the house, calling everyone for presents. The group dispersed, and Harry found himself swept along in the tide of Christmas chaos, his mind racing with the implications of what the mistletoe might reveal.
...
The morning passed in a blur of wrapping paper and exclamations. Harry received a new set of dragonhide gloves from Hermione, a box of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products from the twins, and a hand-knitted jumper from Molly that was slightly too tight across the chest, though he suspected that might have been intentional.
By midday, the crowd had scattered. Ron and the twins were in the garden, testing out new brooms despite the snow. Molly and Apolline had retreated to the kitchen, their wine-fuelled laughter echoing down the hallway. Arthur was in his shed, presumably dismantling whatever Muggle device had caught his fancy this time.
Harry excused himself to use the bathroom, climbing the stairs with casual ease.
He was halfway down the second floor corridor when he rounded a corner and nearly collided with Fleur.
She was even more stunning up close than she'd been at a distance. Her silvery-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders like spun moonlight, framing a face that could have launched a thousand ships. She wore a soft cashmere dress in pale blue that hugged every curve of her Veela body, the fabric clinging to her generous breasts, her narrow waist, the flare of her hips. The neckline was modest by Fleur's standards, which meant it only showed a tantalising hint of cleavage, the soft swell of her breasts visible above the fabric.
"'Arry!" Fleur smiled, placing a steadying hand on his chest. "Careful. You nearly knocked me over."
"Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was..."
Harry trailed off. A soft golden glow had appeared above them, and when he looked up, his stomach dropped.
Mistletoe.
The sprig hung directly between them, its white berries gleaming innocently in the corridor light.
Fleur followed his gaze and let out a small laugh. "Ah. Ze twins and zeir pranks." She didn't seem concerned, her ice-blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, zis is easily solved, non?"
She leaned in, her hands still resting on his chest, her full lips parting slightly. He caught her perfume, and his body responded before his brain caught up. Her breath was warm against his skin, and he found himself leaning forward to meet her...
Footsteps.
Heavy, confident footsteps, coming up the stairs.
"Fleur? You up there, love?"
Bill's voice echoed through the stairwell.
Fleur's eyes went wide. For a fraction of a second, Harry saw something flash across her face. Panic. Guilt. And something else, something that looked almost like... excitement?
"Quick!" she hissed, grabbing his arm. "In 'ere!"
Before Harry could protest, Fleur yanked open the nearest door and shoved him inside. It was a supply cupboard, barely big enough for one person, let alone two. Brooms and mops hung from hooks on the walls. Cleaning supplies lined the narrow shelves. And now Harry and Fleur were crammed together in the darkness, their bodies pressed flush against each other.
The door clicked shut behind them just as Bill's footsteps reached the landing.
Harry held his breath.
In the cramped space, every inch of Fleur was pressed against him. Her breasts were soft against his chest, separated from his skin by only the thin fabric of her dress and his shirt. Her hips were flush with his, her thighs bracketing one of his legs. He could feel the heat of her body, the rapid flutter of her pulse where her throat pressed against his shoulder.
Bill's footsteps passed the cupboard door. Paused. Continued on.
Neither of them moved.
"Zat was close," Fleur breathed, her lips brushing against his ear. The sensation sent a shiver down Harry's spine.
"Too close," Harry agreed, his voice barely a whisper. "We should wait a moment. Make sure he's gone."
"Oui. Just a moment."
But a moment stretched into two. Then three. The cupboard was warm, growing warmer with their combined body heat, and Harry became increasingly aware of every place where Fleur's body touched his.
Her breasts were magnificent. Even through their clothes, he could feel their softness, the way they yielded against his chest. Each breath she took pressed them more firmly against him, and Harry had to fight to keep his own breathing steady.
She's married, he reminded himself firmly. She's Bill's wife. You cannot think about her tits.
But her tits were right there, soft and full and warm, and Harry's cock had apparently not received the memo about appropriate behaviour.
Fleur shifted slightly, adjusting her position in the cramped space, and her hip brushed against his rapidly hardening cock.
She froze.
"'Arry," she whispered, her voice uncertain. "Are you..."
"Sorry," Harry managed, his face burning even in the darkness. "I can't help it. You're pressed against me and you're... you're beautiful, Fleur. I'm only human."
He expected her to pull away. To be disgusted. To hex him for getting hard against his friend's wife.
Instead, she let out a shaky breath and... pressed closer.
"I should not find zat so flattering," she murmured, her hips shifting again, grinding ever so slightly against his erection. "But I do."
Harry's mind went blank. Was Fleur Delacour-Weasley, married woman, mother, actively grinding against his cock?
The cupboard seemed to grow even warmer. Harry's hands, which had been pressed flat against the door behind Fleur, twitched with the urge to touch her. His cock throbbed insistently against her hip, and each tiny movement she made sent sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine.
"We should get out of 'ere," Fleur said, but she made no move toward the door.
"We should," Harry agreed, but his hands had somehow found their way to her waist, his fingers gripping the soft cashmere of her dress.
"Ze mistletoe," Fleur suddenly remembered. "We never kissed. Eet must still be..."
She looked up, and Harry followed her gaze.
The sprig of mistletoe floated serenely above them, having apparently followed them into the cupboard. But something had changed. The white berries that had adorned it earlier were no longer white. They'd deepened to a rich cream colour, almost golden, and the ribbon seemed to glow more intensely.
"Eet 'as changed," Fleur observed, a note of concern entering her voice. "Ze berries..."
"They were white before," Harry said slowly. "Now they're..."
"Something is 'appening."
As if in response to her words, the warmth in the cupboard intensified. Harry felt it wash over him like a wave, seeping into his skin, making his blood run hot. His grip on Fleur's waist tightened unconsciously, and he heard her gasp softly.
"Do you feel zat?" she breathed.
"Yes."
"Eet is ze mistletoe. Some kind of... enchantment..."
"We should kiss," Harry said quickly. "Dispel it before it gets worse."
Fleur nodded, her ice-blue eyes meeting his in the dim light that filtered through the crack beneath the door. "Oui. Just a kiss. Zat should..."
Her words died as Harry's lips met hers.
The kiss was meant to be quick. Perfunctory. Just enough to satisfy the mistletoe's demands.
It was none of those things.
Fleur's lips were soft and warm, tasting faintly of champagne from the morning's celebrations. The moment they touched, something ignited between them. Harry felt it like a spark catching dry tinder, spreading heat through his entire body. He pulled her closer instinctively, his hands sliding from her waist to the curve of her lower back, and Fleur moaned softly against his mouth.
She kissed him back with unexpected fervour, her tongue darting out to trace the seam of his lips, demanding entry. Harry opened for her, and their tongues met in a dance that was equal parts desperate and delicious.
Somewhere above them, the mistletoe pulsed.
Harry broke the kiss, gasping for air. "Did it... did it work?"
They both looked up. The mistletoe remained, its berries now an even deeper gold, almost bronze. The glow had intensified rather than faded.
"Eet didn't work," Fleur said, her voice trembling. "Why didn't eet work?"
"Maybe we need to... try again?"
It was a flimsy excuse, and they both knew it. But Fleur was already pulling him back down, her fingers tangling in his hair, her mouth hungry against his. They kissed again, deeper this time, more desperate. Harry's hands roamed lower, cupping her arse through the thin cashmere, and Fleur whimpered into his mouth.
She was grinding against him openly now, her hips rolling in slow circles, her pussy rubbing against his thigh. Harry could feel the heat of her even through their clothes, could feel the dampness spreading through the fabric of her dress.
"'Arry," she breathed between kisses. "We should stop. Bill is..."
"I know."
"We cannot..."
"I know."
But neither of them stopped. The heat from the mistletoe was overwhelming, drowning out rational thought, leaving only sensation. Harry's hands found her tits, cupping them through her dress, and Fleur arched into his touch with a moan that was far too loud for their hiding spot.
"Shh," Harry warned, even as his thumbs found her nipples, rubbing them through the fabric until they stood at stiff attention.
"I cannot... zis enchantment... eet makes me so..."
"I know. Me too."
Harry's cock was painfully hard, straining against his trousers, desperate for relief. And Fleur's hand, as if guided by the mistletoe's magic, slid down between their bodies and found him.
"Mon Dieu," she gasped, her fingers tracing the outline of his length through the fabric. "You are... zis is..."
"Fleur..."
"Eet is so big, 'Arry. 'Ow is eet so big?"
She was stroking him now, her palm rubbing up and down his shaft through his trousers, and Harry had to bite his lip to keep from groaning out loud. The pleasure was intense, almost unbearable, amplified by the mistletoe's enchantment until every nerve ending felt like it was on fire.
"We need to make eet stop," Fleur panted, her hand working faster. "Ze mistletoe. Eet won't go away until..."
"Until what?"
Fleur looked up at the floating sprig, then back at Harry. Her ice-blue eyes were dark with desire, her lips swollen from their kisses, her cheeks flushed with arousal.
"I theenk... I theenk a kiss was not enough," she said slowly. "Ze enchantment 'as progressed. We waited too long."
"What does that mean?"
Instead of answering, Fleur sank to her knees.
The cupboard was so cramped that she had to twist awkwardly to fit, her back pressed against the shelves, cleaning supplies rattling as she settled into position. Her face was level with his crotch, her breath hot against the straining fabric of his trousers.
"Fleur," Harry said, his voice strangled. "You don't have to..."
"I need to." Her fingers were already working at his belt, pulling it free with practised efficiency. "Ze mistletoe... I can feel eet, 'Arry. Ze need. Eet is overwhelming. I 'ave to..."
"But you're married. Bill is right outside."
The words should have stopped her. Should have broken through the enchantment's haze and reminded her of her vows, her husband, everything she was risking.
Instead, Fleur looked up at him with those stunning blue eyes and said: "'E does not 'ave to know. Just zis once. Just to make eet stop."
Her fingers found his zipper. Pulled it down. Reached inside.
Harry's cock sprang free, slapping against her cheek with an obscene thwack. Fleur gasped, her eyes going cross-eyed as she beheld him for the first time, his thick, veined shaft bobbing inches from her face, the swollen head already glistening with pre-cum.
"Merde," she breathed, her hand wrapping around the base. Her fingers couldn't fully encircle his girth, and she made a soft sound of disbelief. "Eet is even bigger zan I imagined. 'Ow do you walk around with zis zing?"
"With difficulty, lately."
Fleur laughed, a surprised, delighted sound that vibrated through her hand and straight into his cock. "I bet. Wiz all zese beautiful witches throwing zemselves at you..." Her thumb traced up his length, smearing pre-cum over his sensitive head. "Tell me, 'Arry. 'Ave you fucked zem yet? My little sister? Ze Granger girl? Ze Weasley girl?"
Harry's cock throbbed at the direct question. "Fleur..."
"You 'ave." Her smile was wicked. "I can tell. You naughty boy. Three witches in two days, and now you want me too?"
"I didn't... the mistletoe..."
"Ze mistletoe did not make you 'ard, 'Arry." Fleur stroked him slowly, watching his face contort with pleasure. "Ze mistletoe did not make you stare at my tits all through dinner. I saw you. I felt your eyes on me. You wanted zis before we ever stepped into zis cupboard."
Harry couldn't deny it. His cock certainly couldn't, twitching eagerly in her grip, desperate for more.
"And you want eet too," he managed. "Otherwise the mistletoe wouldn't have appeared."
Fleur's smile faltered for just a moment. "Oui," she admitted quietly. "I 'ave zought about you. About zis. More zan I should 'ave. Bill is wonderful, but you... zere is somezing about you, 'Arry Potter. Somezing zat makes witches lose zeir minds."
She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock.
The sensation was electric. Harry's hips jerked involuntarily, and Fleur giggled against his shaft, the vibration sending waves of pleasure cascading through his body.
"Shh," she whispered, her lips brushing against his sensitive skin with every word. "You must be quiet. Bill could come back any moment."
And then she opened her mouth and took him inside.
Holy fucking Merlin.
Fleur's mouth was hot and wet and perfect, her lips stretching around his girth as she took him deeper. Her tongue swirled around his head, lapping up the pre-cum that had gathered there, and she moaned at the taste.
"Mmm." The sound vibrated through his cock, making Harry's knees buckle. "'Arry, you taste so good."
She took him deeper, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked, her head bobbing slowly up and down his length. Her silvery-blonde hair fell forward, cascading over her shoulders, brushing against his thighs. Harry had to brace himself against the shelves behind him, his fingers gripping a mop handle so tightly his knuckles went white.
"Fleur," he gasped. "That's... that feels incredible..."
She hummed in response, taking him deeper still. Her throat opened for him, relaxing to accommodate his impossible length, and Harry watched in disbelief as inch after inch of his cock disappeared between her stretched lips.
She's deepthroating me, Harry thought, his mind reeling. Bill's wife is on her knees in a broom cupboard, deepthroating my cock while he walks around just outside.
The taboo of it all only made it hotter. The danger of discovery. The wrongness of what they were doing. Bill could open that door at any moment and find his wife choking on another man's cock, her dress hiked up around her thighs, her perfect face flushed with exertion and arousal.
Fleur pulled back with a gasp, a strand of saliva connecting her swollen lips to his throbbing head. "You are so big," she panted, her hand stroking what her mouth couldn't reach. "Bigger zan Bill. Bigger zan anyone."
Harry groaned at the comparison. He shouldn't find it hot. He absolutely should not find it arousing to hear that his cock was bigger than his friend's, inside that friend's wife's mouth.
He found it incredibly hot.
"Does zat excite you?" Fleur asked, clearly noticing the way his cock twitched in her grip. "Knowing zat your cock is bigger zan my 'usband's?" She stroked him faster, her eyes locked on his. "Knowing zat I will never forget zis? Zat every time Bill touches me, I will be zinking about 'ow your cock filled my mouth?"
"Fleur..."
"Say eet." Her voice was low, urgent. "Tell me you like eet. Tell me you like making me cheat on my 'usband."
Harry's hips bucked, driving his cock against her lips. "I like it," he admitted, the words torn from him. "I like watching you suck my cock. I like knowing Bill is right outside. I like that you'll think about me every time he touches you."
Fleur's eyes blazed with lust. "Zat is what I wanted to 'ear."
She swallowed him again, faster this time, more urgent. Her head bobbed rapidly, her throat making obscene gagging sounds as she took him deep, her hand working the base of his shaft in time with her mouth. The cupboard filled with wet, slurping sounds that seemed impossibly loud, and Harry was certain that anyone walking past would know exactly what was happening inside.
He didn't care.
"Fleur," he groaned, one hand dropping to tangle in her silvery hair. "I'm going to... I can't hold on much longer..."
She didn't slow down. If anything, she intensified her efforts, sucking harder, stroking faster, her blue eyes looking up at him with desperate hunger.
The pressure built at the base of Harry's spine, coiling tighter and tighter with every bob of Fleur's head. He could feel his orgasm approaching like a wave, gathering strength, preparing to crash.
"I'm cumming," he warned, his grip tightening in her hair. "Fleur, I'm going to..."
She pulled back just enough to speak, her hand pumping his spit-slick shaft. "Give eet to me, 'Arry. I want to taste you. I want to swallow every drop."
That was all it took.
Harry came with a strangled groan, his cock pulsing in Fleur's grip as rope after rope of hot cum erupted from the tip. The first spurt hit her face, painting a line across her cheek and into her hair. She opened her mouth quickly, catching the rest on her tongue, swallowing eagerly as he flooded her mouth with his release.
"Mmm!" Fleur moaned around him, her throat working to keep up with the volume of his orgasm. Cum leaked from the corners of her lips, dripping down her chin, but she didn't stop swallowing, drinking him down like he was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted.
Harry's legs gave out. He slumped against the shelves, sending a bucket clattering to the floor, his chest heaving as his orgasm finally subsided. Fleur released his softening cock with a wet pop, licking her lips to catch the last drops of cum.
She looked utterly debauched. Her silvery hair was mussed, a streak of his cum glistening in the strands. Her lips were swollen and glistening, her chin wet with saliva and cum, her ice-blue eyes glazed with satisfaction.
"Zat was..." She paused, swallowing heavily. "Zat was a lot."
Above them, the mistletoe pulsed once and vanished, dissolving into a shower of golden sparks.
Harry let out a shaky laugh. "I think we satisfied it."
Fleur rose unsteadily to her feet, using his chest for balance. In the cramped space, this pressed her body against his again, her breasts soft against his chest, her face inches from his.
"'Arry Potter," she murmured, her accent thick with post-orgasmic satisfaction. "You are a very dangerous man."
"I could say the same about you."
She smiled, a secretive, satisfied smile, and reached up to wipe the cum from her cheek. She looked at it for a moment, then brought her finger to her lips and sucked it clean.
Harry's spent cock twitched with renewed interest.
"We should never speak of zis," Fleur said, even as her body swayed closer to his. "Bill can never know."
"He won't hear it from me."
"Good." She reached past him and turned the door handle. "Now, we need to leave separately. Give me a few minutes, zen follow."
She slipped out of the cupboard before Harry could respond, smoothing her dress and patting her hair into place as she walked down the corridor. Within moments, she looked perfectly composed, as if she hadn't just been on her knees swallowing another man's cum.
Harry leaned against the cupboard wall, his mind reeling, his cock still hanging free of his trousers.
What the fuck just happened?
A sound from the stairs made him freeze. Footsteps. Light ones this time. Feminine.
"'Arry?" Gabrielle's voice echoed down the corridor. "Are you up 'ere?"
Harry scrambled to stuff his cock back into his trousers, his fingers fumbling with his belt. He barely got it fastened before the cupboard door swung open and Gabrielle's beautiful face appeared in the gap.
Her eyes dropped to his crotch, then rose to his face, and a knowing smile spread across her lips.
"'Aving fun wiz ze mistletoe, I see." She leaned against the door frame, her sheer white dress doing nothing to hide her perfect Veela body. "Fleur just walked past me. She looked very... satisfied."
Harry's face burned. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't." Gabrielle giggled, reaching out to touch his cheek. "You 'ave a little somezing... right 'ere."
She wiped something from his jaw and brought her finger to her lips, sucking it clean with theatrical relish.
"Mmm. My sister's chapstick is very distinctive."
"Gabrielle..."
"Relax, 'Arry." She stepped closer, her body pressing against his in the cramped doorway of the cupboard. "I am not jealous. I already 'ad my turn wiz your magnificent cock. Eet is only fair zat Fleur gets a taste too."
"You can't tell anyone."
"I will keep your dirty secret." Her hand slid down his chest, over his stomach, stopping just above his belt. "On one condition."
"What?"
Gabrielle rose on her tiptoes, her lips brushing against his ear. "Tonight. Ze attic. I want more zan just a taste."
Before Harry could respond, she pulled away and skipped down the corridor, her silvery-blonde hair bouncing with each step, her perfect arse swaying beneath her sheer white dress.
Harry slumped against the door frame, utterly spent, completely overwhelmed, and already half-hard again.
It was going to be a very long Christmas indeed.
Disclaimer: This story takes place after Hogwarts. All characters in this story are consenting adults (18+).