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A Familiar Bond: Chapter 26
🕑 Added 2024-06-11 16:30:02 +0000 UTCThe winter night was bitterly cold, the chill that seeped into one’s bones. A freezing mist hung low over the English countryside as several figures clad in black traversed through the thick woods toward the looming manor in the distance.
Their footsteps crunched over the frost-encrusted ground, the cracking being the only sound apart from the rustling of their billowing black cloaks. Rudolphus Lestrange pulled his cloak tighter, his cracked lips the only part of his face visible beneath the deep cowl. His younger brother Rabastan walked beside him, muttering feverishly under his breath. The imprisoning dementors had clearly taken a heavy toll on his already fractured psyche.
Alecto Carrow shivered violently, her breath puffing out in icy plumes. "The sooner we get under a roof, the better," she growled. "This endless cold is a cruel reminder of Azkaban."
Her brother Amycus grunted in agreement, shoving his gnarled hands deeper into his pockets. The years of isolation and torture had turned the brutal siblings into little more than husks.
The warming charms on their clothes were fragile – a combination of their weakness after years of torture and suffering in Azkaban and the incompatible wands they had to manage with.
They knew little about what was happening. Aurors were feverishly searching for them and they could barely manage to move. If not for this secret ally Greyback kept mentioning, they did not think they would have managed to come so far.
Greyback’s role in their freedom had been surprising. The werewolf had overwhelmed the Azkaban fortress, freeing up whoever he wanted. Apart from the members of the Inner Circle, all the others had been turned by his pack and assimilated, which they assumed must have been an added incentive for the notorious monster to lend his aid.
It had taken them over a day but finally, they were at their destination. They arrived at the towering wrought iron gates, frozen chains dangling listlessly from the arched entranceway. Rudolphus put his arm forward, the faint Dark Mark flickering to life for barely a second as the gates groaned open.
The Death Eaters kept gazing around their surroundings as they walked. The pathway leading up to the decaying manor was unkempt, with barren trees arching high into the night sky as they approached the ancient manse. The windows were dark and empty, cracked in odd places, and as they reached the door, it slowly creaked open.
They slowly filed in, with Augustus Rookwood bringing up the rear. He shut the door behind him as they walked further into the manor, their nostrils full of the smell of decay. The floor had a thick layer of dust that went with them up the stairs and Rudolphus spied an ajar door at the end of the corridor where he could see a flickering light shining through the gap.
“They’re here,” he heard a quiet voice from beyond the door that slowly swung open, and their eyes widened when they discovered who it was.
Rudolphus brandished his wand, the first syllable of the killing curse on his lips when he found himself frozen in place. His eyes wide, he stared at the smirking visage of none other than Bartemius Crouch Senior. The rest of the Death Eaters were no different, having been frozen before their sluggish movements could be completed.
“Now now, is that how you expresses your gratitude? Azkaban took away your sense of decorum too, Rudolphus?” Crouch said mockingly. He gave his wand another flick and one by one, the frozen Death Eaters were deposited in the middle of the room, behind the couch, and their wide eyes gazed at the massive serpent coiled protectively around a small bundle, its forked tongue slithering out warningly as he gazed at them.
“Bring them here, Barty,” a cold, menacing voice echoed around the dimly lit room and the frozen Death Eaters felt primal fear and hope course through them. They could recognize the voice anywhere.
Barty waved his wand and slowly levitated the frozen bodies around the couch, depositing them right in front of the fireplace, and quickly cast the counter, watching with a small smirk as they fell over in a heap.
“My dear servants… you are finally free…”
Their eyes were full of devotion and disbelief as they gazed at their lord.
“Master… Master…” Amycus Carrow murmured as he crawled toward Voldemort on his knees and kissed the bundle wrapped around Voldemort. The massive serpent, Nagini, reared back and spread her maw, displaying massive fangs, as she dared anyone to attack.
Shivering in both fear and wonder, still in disbelief, the rest of the Death Eaters followed suit, each approaching their Master on their knees and kissing the dirty fabric dangling off the couch. They kept their heads bowed low as she slowly slid back, remaining on their knees in front of the fireplace as they demonstrated their absolute subservience to the Dark Lord.
The disfigured baby which was the Dark Lord Voldemort’s current form did not raise its head. Instead, its crimson orbs darted around, taking in each of his faithful, and even though there was no wind or chill inside the room, the submissive group let out a violent shudder under his gaze.
“My Death Eaters,” Voldemort’s voice was raspy, as if scratching a sharp knife against the steel that had a thick fabric covering it. “Over a decade and a half… it has been so long since we last met. Yet you bow before me as though you never stopped… We are still united under the Dark Mark! Look at your arms! Don’t you see it darkening? Coming to life? Never fading…”
He breathed deeply, Nagini’s presence still looming over him as she remained poised to attack.
“They are my faithful, Nagini,” Voldemort whispered, not in Parseltongue, but the serpent still understood, for it thawed a bit and slowly descended. “My trusted servants who chose to endure the suffering of Azkaban over turning their cloaks!”
“M-Master… h-how?” Rabastan Lestrange asked in a whisper, his eyes wide and fanatic.
“I have told you multiple times, have I not, Rabastan? I am immortal! Death cannot touch me…” Voldemort whispered. “Your former comrades swore to me their eternal loyalty, and yet they never came to the aid of their master… They chose to stay healthy, with their powers intact, enjoying the grandeur of their family fortunes… I have found myself disappointed… But as the benevolent lord that I am, I chose to look for reasons… reasons why they did not come to my aid. Perhaps they believed me broken, they thought I was truly gone. And they slipped back among our foes, pleaded ignorance, bewitchment, innocence… But then I reminded myself that it should be impossible, for they knew all along. They, who were aware of the steps I have taken, long ago, to defy the clutches of death? They, who have seen time and again the immense powers I have wielded against our enemies, always proving how I am the mightiest wizard out there!”
“They are traitors!”
“Traitors!”
“Turncoats!”
“Deserters!”
“Silence…”
One whispered word was enough to quash the clamor of shouts and the Death Eaters gazed up at him in adoration.
“I thought to myself… that perhaps they believed a power higher than mine existed… a power that could have vanquished their Master… and that perhaps they had pledged their allegiance to the holder of that power… I believe you know who I am talking about?”
“We will kill them, Master!”
“Aye! There is no place for deserters in the Death Eaters!”
“We will bring justice to you, Master!”
“I must admit… there were times when I found myself losing hope… attempts after attempts to return were thwarted… until someone did find me,” Voldemort whispered. In the corner, MacNair straightened.
“Walden heard from another former ally or ours about my survival and he left no stone unturned. He found me, and he brought me back home. But merely coming home was fruitless, and he brought another servant of mine back to my side,” Voldemort whispered, and the Death Eaters’ eyes widened when they saw none other than Bartemius Crouch Junior in place of where his father stood mere seconds ago.
“Polyjuice Potion,” Rookwood whispered.
“Indeed. Crouch Sr. has been taken care of, and Barty here has been working hard. I believed him burdened, but he has done something unfathomable. You will be rewarded handsomely for this, Barty. Both you and Walden, and Fenrir too. Lord Voldemort always treats people the way they deserve to be treated.”
“It is an honor, Master.”
“Aye.”
“As much as it feels trivial, Wormtail too deserves his share of reward. Had he not told MacNair, none of us would be here today,” Voldemort continued, eyeing the bulging pocket of Rabastan’s coat. “Come out, Wormtail.”
A dirty rat jumped out of the coat and quickly transformed into a balding, rotund man with a pudgy face. He resembled a rat more than a human and immediately cowered as Nagini hissed violently. His head bowed low, he kissed the fabric on the floor and gazed up adoringly.
“Master…”
“I would not have imagined you to be capable enough to trigger these events, Wormtail,” Voldemort whispered. “You shall be rewarded, but before you are, I want you to tell everyone what you have been up to since that Halloween night.”
“M-Master…” Wormtail whimpered. “Forgive me, Master. I am a coward. I chose to stay as a rat instead of seeking you out. I hid away, hoping I would live out my remaining life as a rat. I was there that night, I took your wand away with me, but…”
There was absolute silence as he trailed off, fear etched on his face as he kept staring hard at the dirty floor.
“But… what?”
“When they caught me… they found it, Master… t-they… they… I told MacNair everything before they could take me away.”
“You hid away instead of honoring the oath you gave me, Wormtail?” Voldemort whispered. “Truly fitting. You lost me my faithful wand as well. But you still had a role in all of this… You will be punished, Wormtail. But you will be rewarded as well. Your role is not over. I shall have need of you a few months later when he carry out our plans. Do prepare yourself.”
Wormtail could only grovel in front of his Master, and ignoring the rat, Voldemort regarded everyone else.
“You all are beyond weak right now. I want you to regain your lost strength. Once I have my body back, we shall resume our mission to restore the Wizarding World to its rightful place. Barty and Walden will tell you everything. Do not disappoint me.”
“Never, Master… Never.”
XXXXX
The second straight knockout round of the Dueling Tournament began right after the first ended, and the duelists who had been given a bye were scheduled to duel first.
Harry sat with Fleur and Daphne on either side of him, watching Valerie as she took her place at the dueling platform and waited for Severus Snape to start the bout. The man had not changed one bit in over two decades that she’d known of him, still as sullen and aloof as he’d been since his arrival at Hogwarts.
“Begin,” he drawled.
Her opponent, a boy garbed in Slytherin green, immediately sprang into action, and Valerie expertly dodged and weaved through the multicolored bolts with the grace of a cat, which she truly was. She had no hesitation whatsoever in utilizing the advantages her animagus form granted her.
The boy looked surprised for a moment but he persisted, trying his best to land a spell, but with her nimble feet coupled with her lithe form, it was easy to dodge his curses and jinxes. He was capable, with a variety of offensive spells in his arsenal, but his spellcasting was predictable. Valerie knew at least three future spells he would follow up with whenever he cast one, and that made for a very frustrating experience for the other wizard.
“She’s toying with him,” Fleur remarked from her spot to Harry’s left.
“Can’t fault her for having some fun with this lot,” Harry chuckled. “We all know this tournament is a foregone conclusion.”
“Higgs is considered one of the better students in Slytherin. To see him humbled like this would be a nice slap in their faces,” Daphne smirked.
“Think they’d try something?”
“Flint and his group might, but we all know how that’d end,” she replied, nudging his shoulder. Harry chuckled as he watched Val weave through another spell chain without breaking a sweat, an easy smile etched on her face.
“That we do,” he nodded.
Meanwhile, on the dueling platform, Terrence Higgs was getting more frustrated by every failed spell. The bint was making a mockery of him, jumping and running around like a bloody monkey. None of his spells had made contact yet, and she had not even fired a spell. Direct cursing was not working, which meant he needed to affect her surroundings.
“Took you long enough,” Valerie muttered with a smirk as her opponent’s barrage stopped for barely a second as he prepared to cast a wide-area spell and that was all the time she needed.
Higgs’ eyes widened when a string of spells left her wand, careening toward him at a breakneck pace, and he hastily conjured a shield. His eyes widened when the first spell collided with the shield, forcing cracks to appear all over the surface, before the second spell shattered his shield, sending him skidding back a few feet. The third spell made contact with his free arm, eliciting a loud cry of pain from him as shallow cuts appeared all over his skin, drawing blood that dripped onto the floor to his left.
He offered an instant rebuttal which was easy for Valerie to weave through. Keeping up on the offensive, the brunette shot another spell chain forward. Higgs conjured another shield that shattered as the stunner collided with it, and the banishing charm sent him sprawling over on his back. The force of the impact forced the air out of his lungs, making him gasp. Just how powerful was this bint!?
His eyes widened and he conjured another shield hastily when several vines sprouted out of the platform. The vines began lashing over his shield, keeping him trapped on the ground, and it took everything he had to maintain the shield lest he be assaulted and battered.
Everyone paying attention to her duel kept watching with wide eyes as the vines kept attacking the shield. Cracks slowly started to appear on the surface and it did not take long for the shield to shatter. No matter how much he wanted, he could not get the room to cast a spell to save himself, and Higgs cried out when one of the vines struck him hard on his left arm and he was soon overwhelmed as they wrapped around him, trapping him in place.
“Winner, Valerie Swann,” Snape’s drawl made her smirk and with a flourish, she gave a bow as custom dictated and glided off the platform.
“Calmly done, just as she told us.” Fleur said, smirking. Glancing over at Daphne, she continued, “And now it’s time to finish it quickly and be done with it. Go show them, Daph.”
“Gladly,” Daphne smirked. Exchanging a soft kiss with Harry, she stood up and walked away.
Daphne’s duel was against an older student from Durmstrang and Valerie had already joined them before it could start.
“That one looks like a brute,” she remarked, earning a snort from Fleur. Harry merely glanced at her in amusement.
On the dueling platform, Daphne regarded her opponent. He stood tall and proud, with a sneer plastered on his face, and Daphne’s lip quirked in amusement. Her opponent raised a thick eyebrow questioningly, as if silently asking what it was that she found amusing. Daphne did not bother to entertain him with an answer and assumed her stance. Her opponent had the textbook demeanor of someone who was not taking his opponent seriously and all it did was make Daphne even more amused.
“Begin!” Professor Flitwick squeaked from the side.
A furious blood-boiling curse came careening toward Daphne at a furious pace and she quickly batted it aside, watching how it sizzled as it collided with the barrier. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she regarded her opponent. She knew it was allowed and that Durmstrang had policies governing serious spells that were much more relaxed than those at Hogwarts. It seemed her opponent was going to be pushing the limits as much as he could.
Daphne showed she was not here to take whatever was thrown at her. She fired a blood-boiling curse of her own and her opponent’s eyes widened when he noticed the difference in both the curses. Daphne’s was much more dense and his hastily conjured shield shattered, sizzling violently.
Gritting his teeth, her opponent glared at her and Daphne smirked to herself. A bonebreaker and a concussion hex shot toward her in quick succession and Daphne easily batted them aside as well, to her opponent’s increasing ire and surprise. She had not moved an inch and she had not conjured a shield yet. On the contrary, his shield had been shattered upon impact. He did not like this difference in power and skill one bit.
From the sidelines, Igor Karkaroff watched the unfolding duel with a sneer. Nikolov was one of the best duelists they had at Durmstrang and he had been confident that the young man would go far into this tournament, but he seemed to be struggling against a silly girl in her fourth year.
On the dueling platform, Nikolov’s composure had shattered entirely and he let out a loud cry, sending a powerful piercing hex forward. Daphne’s eyes narrowed into a glare. She conjured a powerful shield that held firm, keeping the dangerous curse at bay. A violent shockwave erupted upon impact, the sound of a blast echoing throughout the stadium.
Fleur, Valerie, and Harry merely watched the spectacle with easygoing smiles, all knowing that Daphne had this firmly in control.
“Warning, Nikolov!” Flitwick said firmly.
Daphne’s narrowed eyes glared at Nikolov and she deemed it enough. She weaved her wand in an arc and a powerful gust of wind filled the arena they were in. Before Nikolov could cast a spell, he grunted as a blade of wind struck him straight on the chest, sending him skidding back a few feet. His eyes wide in surprise, he conjured a powerful shield around him just in time as he was assaulted by whips of wind from all directions.
“That’s an inspiration from you right there,” Harry commended, nudging Val who grinned as she watched Daphne control the wind around the arena with such expertise that no one could guess she had only recently mastered the spell.
The shield shattered within fifteen seconds of constant impact and Nikolov cried out as the gusts of wind kept assaulting him from all sides, flinging him from left to right, and from forward and behind, jolting him all around the other end of the dueling platform. He gritted his teeth in rage and fired whatever spells he could at Daphne who merely stood in place, the wind taking care of any incoming spells.
Throughout the stadium, the spectators watched enraptured as magic rarely seen was showcased on full display for their enjoyment. In principle, the duel had long been over, with Nikolov’s battered and bruised form being carried back and forth by the wind and nothing else, but he still remained free with his wand clutched firmly in his hand, which meant the duel was still officially underway. Daphne took care of that little detail in no time. A quick stinging hex to his wrist forced his wand to drop to the floor and she ceased her spell, depositing him on the dirty ground.
“Winner, Daphne Greengrass!” Flitwick announced, a proud gleam in his eyes. It had been a long time since he had seen that particular spell being used, and he looked visibly impressed.
Daphne gave a polite bow and walked away with her head held high, as the crowd looked on in awe.
She rejoined everyone shortly and Fleur asked with a smirk, “And what happened to finishing it quickly?”
“The bloke tried to be a smartass. Thought he needed to be put in place a bit.”
“The meteors would’ve been flashier if that’s the case,” Valerie supplied.
“True,” Daphne nodded, looking thoughtful. “Maybe next time.”
Harry chuckled.
XXXXX
Valerie and Daphne participated in one more duel each as the numbers kept thinning down, and this time, both faced a wizard from Hogwarts. Daphne made quick work of Theodore Nott this time who had come out violently, utilizing everything he had been taught to the best of his abilities. However, even his best was worth nothing for Daphne who took him down with a well-placed stinger-stunner combination right to the face. The swollen-faced boy was hauled off the platform as she left with her head held high.
Meanwhile, Valerie faced a boy from Hufflepuff named Cedric Diggory who, Harry had to admit, was quite capable. He had put up a fight, even though Valerie had been untroubled throughout, and his skills at Transfiguration had forced the witch to bring out a few heavy hitters. In the end though, the duel had still been rather one-sided with his girl emerging on top. The boy took it all in good spirits however as he took his leave with a respectful bow, prompting her to reciprocate in kind.
Only 64 duelists remained, and it had been announced that they would proceed further with the tournament after the Second Task. It made sense considering they wanted to stretch it out throughout the year, otherwise, they could have squeezed in the Dueling Tournament within two weeks if they tried.
Harry had been taking a walk around the Black Lake for a while now after his girls had begged off once they’d had their dinner. They had told them they would be waiting for him in what was their room now and he could not help but wonder what they must be up to. He knew Fleur was cooking up something to decide who would accompany him to the Yule Ball and Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it. Knowing her, it would entail a lot of fun for him and everyone else involved.
The castle was relatively quiet as curfew approached and Harry passed by students from different houses as they rushed back to their respective common rooms. As he climbed up the stairs toward the Room of Requirement, he wondered what Dumbledore had been up to. He had expected the old wizard to want to have a meeting as soon as they had read about the Azkaban breakout, but he had shown no interest in holding one. They had received a missive from him though, telling them to remain patient for a little while as he was working on something. They did not know what could be more important than this development though, but they had decided to abide by the Headmaster’s instructions.
One thing was for sure though. Things were escalating faster than they had anticipated, and he could not help but feel that the situation was going to get worse really fast.
Pushing morbid thoughts out of his mind, Harry walked back and forth in front of the giant stretch of wall and pushed the large door open. Brows furrowed, he gazed into the absolute darkness and slowly shut the door behind himself.
“What’s up with this?” He asked with a chuckle as he came to a stop in the middle of the room, gazing into nothingness. He knew they were up to something with this darkness and he refrained from asking the room to light up.
“Welcome, to the decision making trial,” a disembodied voice echoed around him and Harry jerked slightly. “Today, you will be deciding who would be accompanying you to the Yule Ball out of your three lovely wives.”
“Too dramatic, don’t you think?” He asked aloud, chuckling.
“Silence, or you can sleep on the couch while we three enjoy ourselves.”
Harry snorted but made a motion of zipping up his lips, although he wasn’t sure they could see him.
“Oh we can see you alright,” the same voice replied.
“Hey, no reading my mind right now. I’m not doing it, am I?”
“Fine, fine. No mind reading. Now, during this process, you will be making a decision based on touch and nothing else. All three of us have to keep quiet so you won’t know who’s who. We’ve already decided the order and who’s going to have control over which area of your body.”
“Couldn’t you three just decide by Rock, Paper, Scissors or something?” Harry asked with a slight exasperation in his voice.
“This is more fun. Deal with it,” was the curt reply.
“Fine,” Harry sighed. “Any other rules you’ve thought up?”
“As a matter of fact, we have. We can only use our palms to touch you, and we can touch your front, your back, and your legs. No touching your sensitive spots which we all know about. That’s all.”
“So you three are going to stimulate me to hell, is that it? Can I at least touch you or not?”
“Nope, you are to sit as still as you can. Just close your eyes and enjoy. If it gets too much, then you can give yourself a happy ending,” the voice called out amusedly. “Throughout this little challenge, you won’t be able to see anything but we will. Now, enough chit chat already. Strip and sit down where you are standing. A stool will appear under you and we can get started.”
Shrugging, Harry did as he was told and threw his clothes to the side. He slowly lowered himself, relaxing as the cushioned stool appeared under him.
“All right, I’m ready,” Harry called out, and even though it was dark all around him, he closed his eyes.
He felt the first pair of hands glide over the surface of his legs almost reverentially. The fingertips trailed lightly, savoring every inch with a delicate, featherlight caress that sent goosebumps rising across his skin. He shivered, finding the experience oddly stimulating. Soon, the palms followed, his skin tingling from the warmth radiating from the soft touch. The hands explored his skin with tenderness, stroking and brushing along his inner thighs teasingly, almost but not quite touching him where he wanted them to touch. They descended down his thighs and past his knees with the gentlest of touches, and Harry loved how sensual the experience truly was.
In stark contrast, the second pair of hands attacked the smooth expanse of his chest with feverish passion, making him gasp. Her fingers splayed wide, pressing and kneading his upper chest insistently, and Harry longed to reach up and touch them. The heel of the palm dug in firmly, pushing against the yielding surface in rough, forceful circles. His sensitive spots, which included his nipples, were out of limits, so he assumed this was how she was trying to stimulate him, and she did indeed seem to be doing a damn fine job at it. Her hands were demanding and conquered every bit of territory, gripping and squeezing with an intensity bordering on violent desire. It seemed as if she sought to claim and possess him by sheer force of friction and fervor. By the time she was done, Harry was left shaking as he breathed deeply, trying to control his racing heart. He had no idea mere touches could stimulate him to such an extent.
The third pair of hands played across the smooth skin of his back with sporadic, frenetic motions. Caressing up and down from his shoulder blades to his lower black, the hands soon began trailing with just the tips of fingers in twisting, swirling patterns. Barely a minute later, the fingertips began tapping gently all over his back, both relaxing and massaging him. Slowly, the contracted fingers expanded, spreading out to encompass as much territory as possible. Her palms slid greedily, pressing and pulling away to lightly stroke and tease with infuriating motions as they massaged his back. Her hands danced chaotically, acting indecisive in their fickle fluctuations between soft and rough but knowing exactly what they were doing as they delivered a maddeningly unpredictable barrage of sensations.
Three pairs of hands belonging to three different witches all had three distinctly different approaches—the first was as light as a feather's caress on his legs, the second was forceful and dominating all over his front, and the third kept varying with no apparent pattern or purpose but had been highly stimulating.
As the final pair of hands pulled away, Harry was left sitting on the stool with his breathing heavy and his eyes closed. So belatedly, he realized that he had his hand wrapped around his manhood which was slowly softening now. He waved his hand and cast a cleaning charm to take care of the mess, still reeling from the fact that he had jacked off to the feeling of his wives merely touching him, and not even in any of his sensitive spots.
“Merlin, that was much more than I’d thought it’d be,” he breathed.
Suddenly, the room was slowly lit up and his eyes adjusted easily. He gazed at all three of them as they stood in front of him clad in their nightdresses. With a soft grunt, he stood up and walked over, giving them a soft kiss each.
“So which one was the best?” Daphne asked as they settled in the bed, arms and legs wrapped around each other.
“Very tough to say,” Harry chuckled, gazing into the enchanted night sky overhead. “If I had to categorize the touches, I’d say the soft caresses on my legs were ticklish and teasing, and I kept wishing it’d continue. I wanted more of it. The touches on the front was dominating, and it felt so arousing and exciting that I almost reached out to grab whoever it was. The one on the back though was very unpredictable, keeping me engaged all the time as I kept guessing what you were gonna do next. It was also the most relaxing of all. Honestly, I loved them all.”
All three girls had satisfied smiles on their faces, as if he had said exactly what they had set out to do.
“We did our best under the constraints we put on ourselves,” Daphne replied, smiling as she cuddled up to him. “But you have to decide on one, love. Legs, chest, or back.”
“Do I?” Harry asked in exasperation. “Why can’t we all go together?”
“Because we’ll have to dance, and four people can’t dance together,” Fleur rolled her eyes. “We’ll all be together anyway. One of us will go with you, and the other two will go together.”
“That’ll piss those prissy purebloods off rightly,” Harry chuckled.
“Let them grumble all they want,” Valerie rolled her eyes. “It’s high time they stepped out of their stereotypes. And if they don’t want to, well, it’s their loss. We’ll keep enjoying life.”
“Exactly,” Fleur nodded. “So, what’s your decision?”
Harry released a deep breath as he regarded them. “All right. I’ve decided.”
They listened with bated breaths, eager grins on their faces as they leaned closer.
“Although I loved them all, I know I have to pick one. So just because of that, I’m picking the legs. It’s just… I really didn’t want it to end.”
All three witches were staring at him with similar smiles, and now it was his turn to remain in suspense.
“So who was it then?” He asked, and all he received were matching smirks from the three.
“You’ll know on the night of the Yule Ball,” Daphne smirked. Before he could speak, he found himself pinned to the bed as all three kissed him firmly one after the other.
“Come on, just tell me please,” he said once Fleur pulled away and rested her head on his chest. All he received was silence as they closed their eyes and snuggled up against him.
Sighing, Harry pulled them closer and drifted to sleep, all the while wondering who he’d be going to the Ball with.
To be continued…
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