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This is a mistake, thought Fleur Delacour as she ran through the empty corridors of the Quidditch stadium. The yells and shouts and moans of the audience reverberating through the empty corridors created a juxtaposition that did little to quell the curiosity and anxiety flooding through her veins. There was no mistaking the presence of a tremendously powerful Incubus in the Ministry Box, the same box that Harry Potter had stood. Merde, even the Italian Minister's actions — fondling his cock from above his pants — was a clue that the presence was exuding out of him. But the moment he had looked away, the presence had practically evaporated — something that made absolutely no sense. An incubus was an incubus, and one couldn't change that nature anymore than a thestral could shift into an abraxan.
Yet, an equally byzantine truth was that Harry Potter was no incubus. Fleur had sensed the power flooding through him, and it had repulsed her, and if not for her Occlumency, she'd probably have morphed into her avian form and hurled fireballs at him. He was an abomination steeped so deeply in the Black Arts that it was a wonder how the wards of Hogwarts even allowed him to walk through its halls. No doubt another example of the incompetency of those filthy English pigs.
But if Harry Potter wasn't the incubus, who was? Not the two Ministers, not the bureaucrats, and certainly not Minister Fudge. Someone disillusioned perhaps? But even so, how could that incubus stand Potter's dark stench? Why appear next to him, announce his presence publicly and then faze away?
Too many questions, and absolutely no answers. Fleur also held a lingering suspicion that something was going on between Lady Malfoy and Potter that the others didn't know about. Truly, there were so many exciting things going on at the World Cup, and the Quidditch match happening out there wasn't one of them.
She didn't know just what it was she was seeking, but the enigmatic Harry Potter was a mystery that both eluded and teased her, and beckoned her to follow through. The more she delved into it, the greater and tantalising it appeared. She was afraid she'd get addicted to this feeling if she wasn't careful.
Her footsteps silenced and her form disillusioned, Fleur sprinted through the long, empty corridors. As a veela, her ability to sense magic was far greater than the average witch or wizard, and Potter's stench was so invariably unique that she doubted she'd mistake his presence even if it was hidden amidst a thousand people.
But Harry Potter was nowhere. It was as if he had just apparated away. But that was impossible. The entire area was layered by anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards, and the only way to leave was either to wait until the match was over, or contact any of the Aurors to authorise an early departure. Hundreds of questions flitted through her mind when she heard it.
"This way, Potter."
It was a feminine voice, and one she readily recognized. Panicking, she quickly hid behind a pillar, only to realise that the voice was actually coming from below. She looked past the railing, and found Harry Potter standing outside a ladies bathroom on the other corridor, with easily twenty feet between them, and a fifty feet chasm below should one fall from trying to cross between one corridor to the other. Unable to stem her curiosity, she levelled her wand.
"Auscultatio."
The eavesdropping spell erupted out of her wand, and sprinted across the distance between them and —
—only for Potter to step to his right, the spell hitting the ground and missing him by a couple of inches.
"Merde!" Fleur hissed, and hid behind the railing again.
"Why are we here, Lady Malfoy?"
"You can call me Narcissa, you know."
Okay, the charm was working, even though it had missed the actual target.
"You've got some nerve," said Potter. "Trying to smuggle that cilice like that in front of your husband and everyone else."
"Strange. I thought the daring and impulsiveness would attract the Gryffindor you're supposed to be. Now stop standing there like an imbecile and come in."
Cursing under her breath, Fleur stood up again, repeating to herself that she had no business poking her nose at whatever was transpiring here. As soon as the World Cup finals would be over, she would have to attend a party or two with the winners, and after some refreshments and dinner, they could safely depart for her home in Marseilles. Yes, there was absolutely no need for her to get any further involved in Harry Potter or whatever madness he was involved in.
"Carpe Retractum!"
Instantly, a thin rope shot out of the end of her wand to wrap around a pillar on the opposite corridor. She jumped away from her position in the open-air lift shaft and allowed the magic of the conjured rope to reel her in towards the pillar, which she caught easily with her free hand. Effortlessly, she pulled herself up and then tightrope walked along the pillar to the edge of the corridor before dropping down onto the balcony below. Recasting her disillusionment charm as an extra precautionary measure, she slipped into the ladies' bathroom.
It was a dingy sort of place. And by the looks of it, absolutely unused. Then she recognized the tingly sensation at the back of her wand and registered a subtle diversionary ward at work. Nothing very forceful, just a tiny nudge to ignore that particular door and walk straight, something that could easily fool anyone without the proper Occlumency defences.
All the cubicles were open and empty, except for one.
And another charm later, Fleur hid in one of the other cubicles, listening.
"Really Narcissa? What's gotten into you?"
Narcissa Malfoy didn't answer. Instead she took a step closer and pulled the zip of my pants down, followed by the rest of it, and grabbed my cock. With an expert twisting motions that could only be hers, she kept working my shaft while her other hand slid into my shirt and caressed my abs. With another non-verbal spell, both of our clothes vanished from our bodies, only instead of disappearing completely, they appeared upon the hangars hung on the wall for the exact purpose.
"I have to say, of all places I expected to meet you, this… was definitely not in my list."
I eyed the loo around me. Even with Narcissa's quick charmwork in expanding the cubicle until it was the size of a small room, the feel of being inside a loo stayed consistent. More so, it was a far cry from the quality offered by Twilfit & Tattings, and more along something closer to the Weasley home.
"Jerking another cock in this depraved, unhygienic place… I'd have expected such a thing from a mudblood. Not you."
Her magnificent breasts pressed into my chest, I took a long inhale of her scent. A mix of female arousal and lavender exuded her that should have made my head spin with delight.
My fingers slid down her body and cupped my sex, and I began rubbing the tiny cluster of nerves for half a dozen seconds before pushing two of my fingers in. It was a perfect repetition of what I had done the first time we had met, and given the surroundings, it felt poetic.
"Are you close?" I asked. There was a lot to do and I couldn't waste my time with this ridiculousness.
"Not so quick, Potter. It will take more than your fingers to make me cum."
I rolled my eyes. The last time it had taken me a sex marathon that had lasted for the better part of two hours before she had acquiesced to my superiority in the bed. This time, I didn't have the time or the intention to give her that long.
"'Sides, what's wrong with you?" She asked. "You never miss the chance to have sex with me. Don't tell me you've gotten someone better."
Technically, one could say that Amelia Bones was Narcissa's better in many ways, but in other ways, Narcissa had her beat. Then again, I placed Penelope's utterly submissive attitude on its own pedestal, as I did Hermione's ferality. Hestia's propensity for pain and bondage was greater than anyone else, only for Susan's fighting spirit to steal away certain aspects of the show. Emmeline's self-denial was utterly tantalising, as was the pleasure of cuckolding Broderick as he used and violated his wife's body in every way that mattered.
But honestly, none of them mattered. Because as much as my memories highlighted the pleasure I felt from sex, it felt absolutely bland right then. The dark power flooding through my veins wanted blood, wanted death and carnage, wanted people to scream and run away, fearing for their lives as I twisted the bodies of my victims and inflicted every form of violation upon their very souls.
"No Narcissa," I growled softly. "I just think we're wasting time as it is."
"Ah-ah," she said, wagging two fingers. "You ain't going anywhere until I have had my dose of orgasms. I've been missing them for quite a while now."
It took everything in me not to snarl. But rationality prevailed, and I knew what must be done.
Switching Paths…
Activating Path INCUBUS LORD
Registering Affinities…
Binding…
It was only because of the practice I had with Path Switching, and the constant agony that practising the Black Arts brought me that I was able to live through the feeling of my eyes burning in their sockets like living coals, as magic, tremendous amounts of magic swelled and surged within me, like a dormant volcano suddenly erupting its innards into the world outside. The power, the allure, the physical strength and the abilities of the Incubus Lord swelled within me, and an euphoria rose like a tidal wave.
Welcome, INCUBUS LORD!
That notification was expected. It was the second that surprised the fuck out of me.
Forge Orgasm Contract with Fleur Delacour?
A mote of surprise, confusion and dark amusement coursed through me as I instantly answered —
Yes.
Contract Forged with Fleur Delacour
And from right behind me, a powerful allure exploded in the cubicle behind me.
I had been utterly shocked at seeing Fleur Delacour earlier. I didn't know if Harry had somehow missed meeting the Delacours in Canon, what with being too busy watching the match with his Omnioculars, or if it was just my luck that I was meeting the Delacours at the World Cup. Either way, reading about Fleur Delacour, Veela Princess in the books was in no way comparable to the real thing. And she was the real thing, a work of art. Beauty. Grace. As such, she was not so easily quantified.
Watching her attempt to use her Allure on me had been enlightening. I couldn't really explain the process, having barely understood it myself. One moment I was shaking hands, the other moment, something that was purely her flooded through me, and in that one moment, I saw her — Fleur Delacour, as she truly was. Her facial features, superb as they were, felt almost extraneous. They weren't any more important to her appeal than a glass was to wine. It was at its best when invisible and showing the spirit contained within. Beyond mere physical presence, I could sense the nature of the woman—strength of will, intelligence, blended with a sardonic wit and edged with a lazy, sensuous hunger.
Or maybe the hunger was mine. Despite being a Necromancer, the feeling of her brought forth a hunger within me. In the space of maybe two seconds, my attention to detail fractured, and I wanted her. I wanted her in the most primal sense, in every way I could conceive. Whatever subtlety the Incubus Lord might have gone for suddenly evaporated. Images swarmed over me—images of unleashing the fires burning in me upon willing flesh. Conscience withered a heartbeat later.
Something hungry, confident, and unrepentant took its place.
Instincts ruled me, and only the most feral, vicious drives remained.
That she was able to do this to a Necromancer made me afraid.
So very afraid.
And curious.
I liked it.
A lot.
And to know that she was right there, hiding in the cubicle next to mine, and had just orgasmed from the sexual aura of the Incubus Lord made things that much more exciting.
I smiled. This was going to be fun.
Activating Decadence Link
It was the perk I had obtained from fucking Anastasia, and might I say, it was one of the most perverted and dangerous perks I have ever obtained. The sheer selfish pleasure that the woman had obtained by fooling her husband into believing that she loved him while cuckolding him by fucking a younger man and trying out all her darkest, most depraved fantasies while making her husband actually enjoy it had manifested into a perk so electrifying and sinful that I had troubles believing that such a power actually existed, and yes, it was mine to use.
A power to link two people that were getting pleasure from me, the Incubus. Using the Decadence Link, I could fuck one person and make the other feel the exact same thing.
Even without touching her.
Decadence Link forged between Narcissa Malfoy and Fleur Delacour
Activation Period : 60 seconds.
Link Activated.
More than enough for my purposes.
"You want me to make you cum, Narcissa? Is that right?"
"...Yes!" said the horny woman. "I want you to make me cum again and again and again. So stop standing there and fuck me."
I smiled. "There'll be no need for that, Narcissa."
The last time we had sex, I had to activate the Devil's Charm. It had magnified her carnal desires and reduced her inhibitions massively. She had gotten so horny that she had outright demanded an anal fucking in the middle of the DMLE. And that was before I had upgraded myself to Incubus Lord.
This time, I didn't do any of that. I just… stopped hiding my power.
One moment I was standing there, doing nothing save two of my fingers that were encased within the soft, wet folds of Narcissa's pussy. The next moment, an ethereal wave of power exuded out of my fingers, and through them, into her pussy. Her whole body thrummed in response to that power, to my presence, my proximity, my… everything. That smile on my face conveyed something to her in a flashing instant — Narcissa moaning in ecstasy, beneath me, looking at me with that lovely face mindless with sensation. And with that image came a hundred and thousand others, each of them a single captured moment, the kind of moments that are the only one to survive a frenzied dream, frozen and layered atop one another, each of them a promise, a prediction, and every one of them aimed right at the most base, the most primitive parts of her brain. It wasn't just limited to visual imagery. Each layer of the flash had its own round of sensual memory, every one of them only partial but intense — touch, taste, scent, sound and vision — dozens and dozens of dreams and fantasies, each of them being their own moment of absolute ecstasy, a memory that was just as real as reality itself, all of them compressed into that one instant of dark inspiration.
That was what I hurled at Narcissa.
It was the power of Throes of Ecstasy — the ultimate technique of my Devil's Charm back when I had been just an ordinary Incubus. Yes, I am quite aware of the irony of that statement. But with the addition of the Eye of the Incubus, a perk I had gotten after fucking Emmeline to submission, highlighted Narcissa's erogenous points and her sexual preferences, even the ones she had hidden from me until now. Directing the Throes of Ecstasy to operate based on those preferences made it all that more effective and dangerous.
One moment we were matching gazes, the next moment, her eyes widened to saucers. Narcissa arched her back, her mouth opening as she screamed and screamed and screamed, her pussy exploding with cum.
"FUUUCCCKKK!" Narcissa screamed her lungs out as she exploded, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Yes!"
Her hands clawed against my arms, bruising, even drawing blood. She wanted to get up, she wanted to get away, she wanted to push me away and pull me deeper. She wanted to coil her legs around me and wanted to push me out of the door. She wanted to scream and she wanted to cry and do a million different things. Her back arched up, pressing her sweaty breasts into my chest as she screamed and screamed. Tears ran down her cheeks and her mouth frothed with spit. Her eyes were wide as saucers and her lips were stretching to an extreme as she screamed and screamed. Her pussy had become tighter than a Gringotts vault, locking my fingers within it, while her cunt juices squirted from deep within her, coating my hand and trickling beneath.
And yet, she would not stop cumming!
Her mind was bombarded with hundreds of psychic projections, augmented with sensations of all five senses, making it more real than real could be. In effect, it was like having a hundred different orgasms with all of them triggering all at once. The victim would lose all sense of rationality and control and endlessly orgasm until there was practically nothing left. What was worse, the victim's magic forced her to constantly cum until it could expunge the psychic attack out of its system. And because this attack was directly injected into one's body — through my fingers into her cunt — it bypassed any and all Occlumency in the process.
And so long as my fingers stayed within her, it acted as a stimulus for one of the thousands of psychic memories I had injected her with. Her body was reacting constantly, leading her through countless mind-shattering orgasms.
Smiling, I pulled my fingers out, and Narcissa staggered back, looking at me through slanted eyes as she fell down to her knees and hands, trying her best to get up but failing miserably. Her mouth was open, but no words were coming out. All I could sense was that she was repeating some kind of phrase over and over again. One wandless Sonorous later, I knew what it was.
"No one's made me cum like this before!"
"No one's made me cum like this before!"
"No one's made me cum like —"
And on and on.
And with that, two things happened. The first was, quite predictably, Narcissa's World Anchor shooting all the way to a hundred from the 87% it had stood earlier. Not surprising, since Amelia Bones had jumped from midway values to the very top after I had defeated her in a battle of sex, finishing her off with the Throes of Ecstasy. For Narcissa, who was already sharing common agendas with me, not to mention her already high anchorage, hitting 100 was a no-brainer.
But it was really the second one that held my interest.
Decadence Link Shattered!
I smiled. The sixty seconds were over. Time for the clincher.
Binding Spell — Orgasm Denial Active
Let's see what you make of this, my little veela princess!
"What… what was that, Pot… Harry?" asked Narcissa, who was still trying to push herself up. A difficult task, since her own body had been rocked to euphoria so many times that it was a miracle she was even conscious right now.
"That was me making you cum with just my fingers," I told her. "Now, why don't you tell me what you've truly planned?"
It took me a little over half an hour to fully understand her little master plan in absolute detail. After entire months of feeding Walburga's cilice belt with my blood and magic, and in return, it unleashed its curses into my bloodstream. One would call that a nasty deal and stay a mile away from this horrendous artefact, but desperate situations called for desperate measures. Every single time I had put on that belt, it twisted and blackened my soul in ways I couldn't really explain even if I tried. All I knew was that this was a ritual involving an equivalent exchange, a barter with the Black Family Magic, a ceremony to prove myself worthier than the other candidates by performing what the others would shrink away from. A prolonged exposure to the Black Arts, a journey of agony, sacrifice and slow mutation of the soul to inherit that which should not be mine, in order to become the Lord Black.
And tonight, all my plans, all my pain and sacrifice would bring about my Ascension.
"Well, my future Lord Black?" asked Narcissa. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Oh? Ha, right," I said, a little startled. "How do I do that? I mean, I could just ask Dobby to —"
"As useful as it would be, I'd rather not depend on the elf that I once commanded," said Narcissa stiffly. "If you will but say, 'I, Harry Potter, Lord of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, do hereby grant Narcissa Black Malfoy admittance,' it should be sufficient for me to just pop in and out without issue."
I coughed and then did as she said.
"Right then," she said. "I'll be off. When all this is over, you shall find me at your chambers at Grimmauld Place, and I'll be very diligent in paying obeisance to the new Lord Black."
"Not worried about your husband and Draco?"
Narcissa whirled back in a bit of annoyance. "Draco is the son of Lucius Malfoy, and the next Lord of House Malfoy. So long as that stays intact, he is free to do as he pleases. As for my husband, if not for him, both of us wouldn't even be here in the first place."
And with that, she left.
A little over an hour later, the door to the cubicle next to Harry Potter creaked open, revealing a crouched, thoroughly exhausted Fleur Delacour. Unlike the proud veela heiress of the French Minister of External Affairs that had stepped in, this one looked absolutely ruined, her hair untied and all over the place, her eyes blood-soaked and tears streaming down her cheeks, and her clothes thoroughly drenched in sweat, toilet water and her own juices.
She was crying. Moaning. Grunting. Spasming. All of it and more. What had happened to her, she knew not, save that one moment she felt that impossibly vast presence of the Incubus return with a vengeance, his impossible allure crashing against her like tides crashing against the shore. The next thing she knew she had a thousand sensations of pure ecstasy, of a silhouette satisfying her carnal needs in a way she hadn't known possible; like she was being had in the most primal way possible, from every hole, every inch of her skin, every single one of her senses flooded with an influx of such potent stimuli — and she was receiving them all at once.
Her eyes had rolled to the back of her head, and her throat had gone hoarse from the screams, while her pussy kept spitting out spurts of cum all over the place. Even after several minutes had passed since Harry Potter and Narcissa Malfoy had gathered things up and left the cubicle, Fleur had stayed there, crumpled on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling, her mouth open.
"Plus fort! Plus vite!" her lips kept moving. "Encore! Défonce-moi!"
And yet deep beneath her utterly exhausted and debauched state, her second mind worked frantically, terrified as it desperately went through everything it had just learnt and felt, threw up psychic shields and rewove her mental pathways, instilling commands that her base consciousness wouldn't even understand even as it carried it out. It thought about what it had just learnt there.
Harry Potter was an Incubus. One so powerful that just exposing herself to his power had made her orgasm.
Harry Potter was a dark wizard, one that was so deep into the Dark Arts that his stench alone triggered her fight instincts.
And somehow, those two opposite natures worked together seamlessly within a paradoxical existence that made no sense. And he was in cahoots with Narcissa Malfoy to arrange for something terrible to promote his own Ascension, whatever that meant.
Believe nothing you hear and half of what you see, her father used to say. Clearly, he had picked it up by exposing himself to the British.
Slowly, painfully, Fleur pulled herself up. Whatever madness the duo was up to, Fleur wanted no part in it. But getting back to the Top Box wasn't an option anymore, not in her condition. No, the only way forward was to get back to her tent, and hopefully, get away from this madhouse that was Wizarding Britain.
Barely managing to cast a disillusionment charm on herself, Fleur slowly began to trudge her way downstairs, her lips still moving on her own, whispering…
"Plus fort! Plus vite!"
Harder! Faster!
"Encore! Défonce-moi!"
Again! Drill me!
And on and on she went.