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The door to the bedroom positively slams open as the newlyweds make their way inside. Harry Potter holds his brand new bride in his arms, and Fleur Delacour, now Fleur Potter, wraps her limbs around his body, her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. As she clings to him, she grinds her crotch into his most incessantly, though the pure white wedding dress she’s wearing does somewhat get in the way of things.
Moving over to the bed, Harry lays his veela wife back on the mattress, continuing to kiss her as she arches her spine and moans into his mouth. It was a match made in heaven, to be honest. Even if Fleur was a few years older than him, Harry was so much more than his age. He was not just the Boy-Who-Lived and the Man-Who-Won, and the Vanquisher of the Dark Lord Voldemort twice over. He was also the wizard who saved Fleur’s little sister all those years ago during the Triwizard Tournament.
And sure, Gabrielle Delacour had not been in true danger, hence why a life debt between the Delacour Family and Harry Potter had not been magically established in the wake of his actions… but Harry hadn’t known that. At the time, he’d risked life and limb to save everyone from the Merpeople, her sister included. Fleur… Fleur had never forgotten that.
She’d dallied with Bill Weasley, but that was all it ever would be… a dalliance. In truth, the man was married to his work, and Fleur had only ever intended to spend a summer working for the Goblins. She had no desire to become a permanent employee with Gringotts, no more than she ever intended to become Bill Weasley’s permanent woman.
Harry was the only wizard in all of Great Britain and perhaps all of Europe who was worthy of the haughty French Witch, in the end. The veela had been intoxicated with him for years, and when she’d finally gotten the chance, she’d jumped at it.
Meanwhile, Harry had been all too happy to welcome Fleur into his life with open arms. Things hadn’t worked out between him and Ginny, and when you have a gorgeous French veela witch all but begging you to take her… well, you don’t hesitate, now do you?
And so here they were, on their wedding night, having at long last reached their marital bed. It’d been a long day, filled with all too many social obligations for either of their tastes, but in the end, they’d made it to the finish line. Kissing one another deeply, they begin to work each other’s clothes off. Fleur’s wedding dress comes off piece by piece, and so does Harry’s tux.
They’re hungry for each other, they always have been. Both have a voracious appetite, and in a way, they feed off of each other’s wanton desires. Fleur has long been a sexual creature repressed by the idiocy and inadequacy of those around her. At Beauxbatons and Hogwarts alike, she had met only ignoramuses and little boys unworthy of her time.
Meanwhile, Harry had had a stunted life brought on by a childhood of neglect and abuse. Only after the Second Wizard War, only after he beat the Dark Lord again and finally reached the age of majority, had anyone bothered to tell him that magic could FIX a lot of that.
As such, Harry was going through something of a very late puberty. He’d already experienced a growth spurt earlier in the year that put him a few inches taller than even Fleur in height. His shoulders had broadened, and an exercise regimen combined with a potions regimen had seen him built like a damn truck by the time their wedding came around.
More than that though, the changes on the inside were even more drastic and dramatic than the changes on the outside. Namely, his libido was in a damn rage, and Fleur… Fleur was more than happy to help satisfy his needs.
Well… most of his needs. As the newlyweds strip down to nothing, their naked, sweaty, gorgeous bodies rubbing against one another, Harry growls into Fleur’s lips, his cock brushing against her sex for a moment before he pulls back.
“Now… or later?”
Moaning herself, Fleur’s beautiful pale tits heave with every breath she takes, her lips parted slightly as she looks at him lustfully but also knowingly.
“In… a bit. It iz fine… for now…”
Nodding, Harry thrusts into his wife right there on the spot. Fleur cries out, shuddering and quivering in delight as he pushes her up the length of the bed a few inches, until he can climb on as well and get on top of her. He’s soon plowing her into the mattress, Fleur’s hands going up over her head and clawing at the bedding beneath her as her beautiful veela body shakes and jiggles in ALL the right ways under his enthusiastic onslaught.
It's not the first time they’ve fucked of course, not by a long shot… but it is the first time they’ve fucked as man and wife. Fleur’s eyes roll around in her head, and she shudders in pleasure under Harry as he pounds her hard and fast. She’s Lady Potter now… his lady. It’s everything Fleur could ever have wanted.
It is not, however, everything Harry could have wanted, or indeed did want. As much as they love each other, as much as they want each other… there is one arena in which Fleur cannot help Harry. But that was alright. They’d talked about it ahead of time and come to terms with the one major point of divergence in their plans for the future. And… ultimately, the two of them had decided that it wasn’t an insurmountable challenge.
Put bluntly, Harry wanted kids. He wanted a large family, to not only rebuild House Potter, but also to be able to dote on his children in a way his parents never got to with him. Fleur, on the other hand, despised the idea of getting pregnant, of having to carry a child to term. Call it what you will. Some might say she was unnatural for not having the mating instincts that most women, be they human or veela, were supposed to have.
Some might even argue it was a woman’s DUTY to spread their legs and act the part of a broodmare for their man. Well, Fleur had no problem spreading her legs for Harry… and she could even ACT the part of a broodmare, if he wanted to roleplay it so badly. But she was very much on birth control and had no intentions of getting off of it any time soon. And this wasn’t the mundane stuff muggles had. No, veela birth control was… hm, quite effective while also being entirely safe.
As such, Fleur can enjoy herself, as Harry empties his balls in her, blowing his first load in her womb even though they both know it will have no effect. He fills her to the brim though, and Fleur orgasms right along with him, enjoying the feeling even if she would hate to ever have to face the consequences.
Pulling back, Harry looks down at her with a soft, caring smile and a raised eyebrow. Fleur looks right back at him… and then rolls her eyes, chuckling good naturedly.
“Oh, fine. Yes, now.”
Rolling him off of her, Fleur rises from their bed. Harry, for his part, just scoots to the end and sits there with his legs apart and his cock drooping for the time being. It doesn’t droop for long though, not when Fleur sashays her hips and her perfectly sculpted posterior as she walks across the room to an unassuming wardrobe on the far wall.
Looking back to him, Fleur’s eyes are twinkling as she reaches out… and yanks open the wardrobe doors.
“MMPH!”
Out of the wardrobe comes a person. Not just a person, but a witch. And not just any witch… but Hermione Jane Granger, Harry’s closest female friend in all the wizarding world. She falls forward flat on her face, mostly because her arms are tied behind her back, and she was very clearly pressed up against the inside of the wardrobe in order to see through the crack with one of her eyes.
Bound and gagged, a very naked Hermione Granger finds herself pulled up by her hair and dragged on her knees over to where Harry sits, waiting for them both. With a smile on his face, the Man-Who-Won reaches out and tugs the gag from Hermione’s mouth, chuckling softly.
“Everyone missed you at the wedding today, ‘Mione. They wondered where you were, why you didn’t come.”
Scoffing from her position standing behind her, Fleur shakes her head, her haughty French accent showing through her words.
“I’m sure most of them were wondering why you didn’t show up during zhe objections. Still, I suppose you’ve been a good girl, haven’t you?”
Hermione trembles, as she licks her lips, looking between the two of them.
“Y-Yes… I’ve stayed put all day. I’ve been a good girl. So…”
Harry grins while Fleur rolls her eyes and just smirks.
“Yes, ‘Mione. You’ve earned this. Fleur has agreed… to let you play the part of broodmare, if that’s what you still want.”
“I-It is! I’ll be good! I won’t ever try to usurp your place Mistress, I promise! I’ll be Master Harry’s submissive little concubine, and never ever get in your way!”
Fleur scoffs and runs a hand through Hermione’s frazzled brunette locks, before gripping down tightly and pulling her head back. A gasp leaves the bookworm’s lips, as she finds herself looking up into the eyes of her veela mistress.
“Of course, you won’t pet. You know your place, don’t you?”
“Y-Yes Mistress!”
“… Then fine. I officially give my blessing. Though, you’ll need to get him going again first. Say ‘ahhh’.”
“Ahh-mmph!”
In truth, Harry was already ready for round two. His cock had grown rock hard again just from watching Fleur retrieve Hermione and seeing the two girls interact. His wife interacting with his horny little slut of a best friend. Even Harry had been surprised, when the option of Hermione had presented itself. It had almost sounded too good to be true. He wanted a family, Fleur didn’t want to have to carry children to term, and here was Hermione, an alternate path.
As Fleur pushes Hermione’s mouth up and down Harry’s cock, he reflects that the French veela was right to be wary of the offer. There was every possibility Hermione was trying to supplant Fleur as his wife. But Harry wouldn’t let that happen… and in the end, Fleur trusted him. More than anything though, Hermione had proven herself today. Missing out on Harry’s wedding by letting them tie her up and stick her in their wardrobe all day… it was certainly a show of Hermione’s sincerity if nothing else.
She hadn’t been there to object, nor had she been there to do any politicking. If she tried anything going forward, everyone would wonder where the hell this little muggleborn tart came from. On top of that, there were potions that would ensure any children he gave Hermione would have only his traits, and none of hers. She’d already agreed to them.
Bobbing up and down on his cock under her Mistress’ guidance, Hermione stares up into Harry’s eyes with total devotion and adoration in her gaze. It’s honestly a little unnerving… he’d never known his friend had this in her, but he supposed it was true what they said. It was always the quiet ones, wasn’t it?
After driving Hermione up and down his cock for a few moments more, Fleur nods to herself, apparently deciding it’s been long enough. Yanking the broodmare back off of Harry’s member, she uses her grip on Hermione’s hair to drag her up onto the bed. With her arms bound behind her back, the brunette bookworm can do nothing but shuffle along, until she’s kneeling on the bed with her legs spread wide and her face pressed into the mattress.
Her hips lift high into the air, but Fleur grabs hold of Hermione’s ass cheeks and pulls them even higher, before dragging her thighs apart and showing Harry just how sopping wet his childhood friend truly is. Chuckling, the young man just shakes his head and moves into position behind Hermione. The moment his cock touches her slit, she squeals and convulses, orgasming on the spot. And then he’s inside of her and fucking her into the bed.
Fleur holds Hermione steady, but also leans forward and presses her lips to Harry’s. With his wife’s hands occupied with their pet’s body, Harry occupies his own hands with Fleur’s body. He grabs and gropes her perfect, pale tits, and he kisses her deeply, his tongue pushing past her lips. Honestly, it’s almost like he’s still fucking Fleur. Hermione’s pussy feels a little different, but not too much. Both are warm, wet, and oh so tight around his throbbing erection, especially after the potions regimen that reversed Harry’s stunted physical growth.
Hermione squeals and yowls and screams into the mattress as she cums again and again upon Harry’s cock. But there’s no denying she’s the spare here. Harry and Fleur really only have eyes for each other. They’re husband and wife after all. Hermione is the broodmare, the concubine, the pet. And she always will be.
Still, she’s a good little fuck toy, if nothing else. As he gropes Fleur’s tits and sticks his tongue halfway down the gorgeous French veela’s throat, Harry slams home into Hermione’s gushing, clenching pussy time and time again, until finally he can’t hold back any longer. With a loud groan into Fleur’s mouth, Harry unloads inside of Hermione.
Unlike Fleur, who was on magical birth control, Hermione had the exact opposite going for her. Magical fertility was apparently a booming market, especially in a world as inbred as Magical Britain. With Hermione being new blood in that regard, and Harry being as magically powerful as he was… well, the likelihood of him knocking her up was pretty much guaranteed, or so Hermione had claimed.
Of course, she’d had plenty of research to back her up… heh, she was still a bookworm, even after all this time.
Regardless, Harry finishes inside of Hermione and pulls out, still kissing Fleur until his beautiful new wife pulls back and with a twinkle in her eye, dips down in order to take him in HER mouth this time. As Hermione just lays there, face down on the bed with her ass up in the air and cum gushing from her lower lips, Fleur sucks his cock clean of their pet’s juices.
Looking down into her eyes, Harry just smiles, running a hand through Fleur’s silver-blonde locks. Then and there, he knows that the three of them are going to be able to make this work. Oh yes, they’ll make it work very well indeed…