This is a work of fan fiction. All characters are the properties of their respective owners. I own the story line. Chapter 16- Take Time to Enjoy the Flowers Ron was surprised to see there was no one in the den as he walked in. From what Angelina had told him earlier, the den was the de facto gathering place to pass time during parties like this. That had led him to ask how many parties like this there had been here.
Angelina's answer had been evasive and non-specific, but it was more than one and less than a hundred; one hundred would have been very impressive since the family had only come into possession of Anglsey Warrens three-and-a-half years earlier. He and Hermione probably had five or six more years before they paid off their share of the cost; he didn't know how much everyone else still owed on it.
The only one who didn't own a share was Charlie, mum and dad had been given their share of the home as a gift for their 35th wedding anniversary. He walked over to the upright shelf that held the stereo and started flipping through the rack of CD's. He had never really paid much attention to what was in it. He knew his tastes skewed a little different from the rest of the family.
He had never really heard anything he really liked on the WWN, and the stuff that Hermione liked was always too soft and slow for his taste. The Beatles were okay, Black Sabbath was better. The first time he heard Rage Against the Machine, it was like a revelation; and System of a Down was still the coolest thing he'd ever heard.
He didn't have an extensive music collection, maybe forty discs that he rotated through, but it was enough for him. This stuff looked to have mostly come from the twins' house though. He recognized Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin; he vaguely knew who Run DMC was, and John Lee Hooker sounded vaguely familiar. He was pretty sure that Hermione could tell him who Rhianna was, and probably The Police. He had no idea who Bob Marley or Sean Paul were, and a couple of the CD's had names in a language that looked like Japanese.
He was about to give up and turn on the radio when he found one marked Party Mix- OBHWF; he opened the case and found it empty. He checked the CD player and found the missing disc, he popped it back and hit 'play.' The opening guitar chord bent and slid, he smiled in memory as he recognized the song Alicia had played for him last night.
He flopped down on the long squashy couch and picked up his sandwich off the coffee table. As he finished his sandwich the second song started, it was the song that Angelina had lap-danced to for him this morning.
That made him smile, she had been a lot of fun; but he hadn't worked that hard during sex in long time. Angelina was athletic, which was probably why she still had such a great body, and she made him keep up with her since she knew he worked out with his team on a fairly regular basis.
He didn't recognize a song he guessed was called "Stroke Me," but it had a good rhythm. He stretched out and propped his feet on the arm on the far end. "Dancin' with Myself" was too danc-y for his taste, but the girl belting out "Back to the Cave" had a sexy voice. "'Allo, Ronald." Ron looked up to see Fleur walk in the room, a glass of wine in one hand and a bunch of grapes in the other. Her silvery-blonde hair was wind-blown and there were bits of grass and twigs in it.
"Mind eef I join you?" He sat up and brushed off the seat where his foot had been.
When she sat down, it was far more of a flop than he would have expected from her. She always seemed to move with a casual grace that he could never master if he lived two hundred years. "Everything okay?" he asked as he picked a stick out of the back of her hair, then leaned back into his corner of the couch.
She huffed and turned to face him. "Lavender was right, Charlie iz a Neanderthal." "He didn't hurt you, did he?" Ron sat up a little straighter. He wondered if any of his reaction was her Veela nature, or if it was just him being him.
He felt normal, he didn't feel the need to act like an idiot around her the way he had when he was young. She gave him a small smile. "No, but he is very much like ze dragons he works wis. The dragons he works with." She stressed the 'th' sounds she was making. "Your accent is nice," Ron said. "It makes you sound foreign and exotic." She spoke a bit slowly, with precise diction. "No, eet makes me sound like an uncultured peasant girl." She smiled at him again as she tossed the bunch of grapes on the plate his sandwich had been on.
"English men all think that French girls sound trés sexy. I'm an adult now, I should be able to turn eet off when I want to." "You and Bill live in France though, so shouldn't your accent be a carry over from speaking in French at home?" She slid over closer to him.
"Eet is very nice of you excuse my poor manners and horrid accent. I have been fluent in English for more than half my life now, I should be able to speak eet like an English woman by now." "Alright, if you say so. I still like your accent. It is trés sexy." He smiled at her and winked in a cheeky manner that made her smile fondly at him. "You were always very sweet, Ronald." She laughed and moved a bit closer.
"Voulez-vous venir dans ma chamber?" she whispered in his ear. "I have no idea what you just said," he laughed, "but the answer is yes if you'll say it again." This time she invited him to her room in English, but her accent was so thick it almost sounded like a foreign language. He pushed himself up off the couch and held out his hand to her. "It would be my pleasure, mon cher." That exhausted about all the French he knew.
As he followed her, he thought about her and their history. When he had first met her, he had made an utter fool of himself. Even in his later school years when she and Bill were just starting to date the first time, he had felt silly and stupid in her presence; though he had at least kept his mouth shut those times.
During his more recent contact with her, now that she and Bill were back together, she was his brother's fiancée and he was married. He wondered if it was because she wasn't radiating that aura that made men act stupid around Veelas, or if he had become inured to it.
He hadn't really been all that concerned about it, so he hadn't looked into it. He supposed it probably had more to do with him than her though, because he knew his father had never been affected by her presence. She was three stairs ahead of him now, so her arse was right in front of his face. The swing of her hips was dramatic, despite her small size, and his mind stopped wandering. Her arse was amazing, especially packed into the tight jean she was wearing.
Ever since he and Hermione had formalized their relationship, he had made an effort to keep distance between himself and Fleur, so he hadn't really assessed her in a more carnal manner. Like any guy he had noted that she was pretty, beautiful even. Her body was small and compact, her tits were small, but a good size for her frame and presented a nice bit of cleavage in the scoop neck shirts she seemed to prefer.
Her hips were narrow, her butt was tight, and her legs were skinny. In a way she was almost like a smaller, blonde version of his wife. However, whereas his wife was pretty, and somewhat unconscious of it, Fleur was beautiful and knew it.
She radiated an aura of sexuality that was intimidating to lesser men.
Now that he was thinking about sleeping with her, he suddenly became aware of his own shortcomings. He was still awkward and gangly, he wasn't nearly as cool as Bill, nor as funny as the twins, he wasn't muscular and tough like Charlie, nor hugely endowed like Harry and Lee. He could almost taste the excuse he would make to her so that he wouldn't embarrass himself in front of her.
Then he remembered that his wife was also a woman of exacting standards, and he was good enough for her. Alicia had wanted him, and wanted him badly. He was a skilled lover, he paid attention to what his lover wanted and needed.
As these thoughts crystallized, they tattered and dissipated the fog of doubt that had been growing in his mind.
Fleur looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. He smiled back at her, and he felt invincible. As she led him into her room, he realized just how much smaller she was than him, she was just a delicate little flower.
In that moment he decided how he would handle this: he was too worn out to be athletic, and since she had done porn she was probably used to being fucked hard. He would take a different approach. The room she and Bill shared was amazing; it was a little larger than his own. Whereas his door opened into the corner of the room, Fleur's opened to the middle. Heavy curtains covered most of the single window in the opposite wall. A massive four poster bed with a solid canopy frame stood in the middle of the room.
With a wave of her hand, Fleur lit the myriad of small candles that stood on the various dressers and small tables scattered around the room. She crossed to a dark wood vanity and lifted a brush from the gold and glass tray that held brushes and combs.
"Allow me," Ron said, stepping up behind her as she sat down. He took the brush from her hand, picked out the few bits of grass and leaves that still marred its silver sheen, then he pulled the brush through her long fine hair. Because of the texture of her hair, the brush passed smoothly through it; though he realized the brush was probably enchanted to remove tangles since it also did not catch on the debris that was still there.
He spent several long minutes running the brush and his fingers through her hair. It cascaded over his hands like heavy silk, and he was surprised by its weight given how fine it was.
He leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek. "Would you mind if spent a couple of hours doing nice things for you," he whispered. "Zat would be very nice," she said as she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. He kissed her again, this time on the mouth, but only gently, almost chastely. He had seen from the doorway that their bathroom featured a large tub surrounded by tile work set in the middle of the room.
He walked into the bathroom and appraised the tub, noting the depth and size; it was easily large enough for the two of them. He stoppered the drain and began to fill it with water that would initially be just a little too warm, but that they would settle into nicely.
He borrowed her wand to charm the water to maintain that perfect temperature. He opened a couple of bottles and found one that smelled of lilacs, which he thought would be nice on her, so he poured it under the faucet and let it begin to bubble.
She was still sitting at the vanity where he left her, though she watched him in the mirror. Without a word he held out his hand to her, she took it and allowed him to lead her across the thick carpet. At the edge of the tile around the tub, she allowed him to undress her with exquisite care.
He kissed her often, particularly in areas where an article of clothing had just been removed, but he was careful not to be too hungry or too aggressive. She understood what he was doing, and she responded in kind as she undressed him with equal care.
When at last they were both naked, she took his hand and stepped into the tub. He followed her in, and managed to sit without splashing. She almost asked where he wanted her, but she silently followed the lead of his hand and rested her back against his chest. He knew she could feel his erection beneath her as she sat down. She wiggled a bit to let him know she knew, but she said nothing and waited for him to make the next move.
He caressed her skin, taking care not to linger in any one area. When he stroked her hips her legs spread slightly, but he moved on to her thighs, then back up to her flanks and across her stomach before moving lower.
She was smooth, and opened eagerly to him, but he wanted to feel all of her and he wanted her to burn with desire before he took her. Their kisses intensified as he continued to rub and stroke her, and she began to grind her arse against his erection. Finally she took hold of his hands and pushed them down between her legs. When he only teased her though, she gave him a look and suddenly he went from being in complete control of himself to the ragged edge where he could barely hold back his climax.
"Finish me," she breathed into his mouth just before she invaded him with her tongue. He slid first one, then a second finger into her. With his other hand he started making circles around her clit.
When she mewed in frustration, he began to flick his finger back and forth across her clit. Somehow, he hadn't quite gone over yet, he wasn't sure how especially because it was becoming almost painful at this point.
He knew it was going to happen any second now and he wanted her there with him, so he changed the angle of the fingers working her outside. When she screamed into his mouth he exploded. Admittedly, it wasn't much of an explosion, since it was probably his seventh or eighth in the last twenty-four hours, but it still racked his body and he squeezed her hard against him.
"Zat was nice," she said as she turned around inside the circle of his arms and straddled him. They kissed for long moments; it was a slow, lingering kiss as though nothing else mattered in the entire world. "You are very good at ze keessing part," she murmured in his ear when they finally broke apart.
"Most men are more eenterested in ozzer sings." "Don't get me wrong," Ron mumbled back. "I am very much looking forward to the other things, but I want to take the time to really enjoy our time together." He began to kiss her again as he ran his hands from the soles of her feet, up her slender legs, over her narrow hips, across the smooth plane of her stomach until he cradled her slightly pointy breasts in each hand.
He circled and rubbed each nipple with his thumb until they were both hard and the areolas were crinkly. Then his fingers slid back down her flanks to the slight flare of her hips and circled around to her back.
He lightly dragged his finger nails up and down her back in narrowing strips until he reached her spine. When they met in the middle, he moved up and ran his fingers into her hair and cradled her face as he sucked her tongue into his mouth. She was all over goose bumps, and he was sure he was too, since her hands had been doing the much the same to him.
"Shall we move to the shower so I can wash your hair for you?" "How could I possibly refuse?" she said with a crooked smile that he had never seen on her before but was as cute as anything he had ever seen. Once they made it to the shower, Ron continued his slow deliberate movements. Washing her hair was more like massaging her scalp until the lather piled up and ran down her wet body and into the drain.
The wash cloths were exceptionally soft and he deliberately made sure to cover every inch of her skin, including the most intimate areas. As he was about to get up from his knees, after he had finally finished her feet, she hooked her leg over his shoulder. She stopped him though as he leaned forward for what he thought she wanted. She took the cloth from him, rinsed it thoroughly, and then took hold of his hand.
She draped the cloth over his middle finger and guided his hand between her legs. He looked questioningly at her, but she smiled and nodded slightly. Unsure that this was really a good idea, since Hermione always wanted him to be reasonably careful with her 'tender spots', he slid the cloth wrapped finger in a meandering path from her navel down her smooth pubic mound.
He lingered only for a moment on her clitoral hood before dragging along her opening. She let out a soft sigh and encouraged him to continue as she spread a legs a bit wider.
She began to pant as his finger slid into her, but when he stopped to make sure she was okay she told him to keep at it. She began babbling incoherently in French as he slowly stroked his finger in and out of her.
Her leg fell away from his shoulder as she grabbed handfuls of his hair and pulled him up. "Continuer," she begged as she crushed her mouth to his; he assumed that meant, 'continue' since that what it sounded like.
He was trying to shift his thumb around so he could rub her clit while he continued to work his finger when she screamed into his mouth and her entire body went taut.
His cock suddenly went from about half-erect to rock-hard and spewing; he didn't even have time to enjoy it before they both had strings of his milky-white cum on their chests and stomachs. Finally Fleur relaxed and he eased his finger out of her. "Sorry about zat," she said as she reached up to adjust the shower head to rinse them off. "What," she kissed him, "just," he kissed her back, "happened?" "Ze magic, eet got away from mee." She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly as her tongue flicked across his nipple.
"Take me to bed and I weel explain." Ron stepped out of the shower and held a towel out for her. She ran her fingers through her wet hair and flipped it forward as she bent over.
He had done this a few times for his wife, so he understood how it was supposed to work. Once the towel was piled atop her head, he grabbed the one he planned to use for himself and held it up for her. She smiled and turned around so that he could drape it over her shoulders; that done, he began to rub his hands over the towel briskly to dry her back, arms, shoulders, and upper chest.
He moved the towel down and continued with her stomach, flanks, hips, and each leg. He was far more gentle, and thorough, as he dried her breasts, her arse, and her crotch. "I expected you to use ze jet of warm air from my wand," she said as he finished.
"I like to be more 'hands on' with my work," he replied with a smile, "at least when I have the time." "But zere are no dry towels now," she said. "That's okay, you can blow me," he replied without thinking. Before he fully realized what he had said, she was on her knees with his cock in her hand.
"That wasn't what I- bloody hell," he gasped as she swirled her tongue over the head of his cock. It took him a bit to get fully erect again, but she didn't seem to mind as she slowly stroked him or tickled his balls while alternately sucking and licking him. Once his cock was standing tall again, she stood up and grabbed her wand.
With a flick of her wrist, warm air began jetting from the end of it. "Iz zis what you meant?" she teased as she directed the warm air across his body. It only took seconds for the air to dry most of him, but she took care to do his arse and crotch with the same care he had taken with hers.
She dropped the towel from her hair onto the floor and sauntered back toward the bedroom. "Coming?" she said with a glance over her shoulder. "Not yet," he replied as he followed her. She sprawled across the middle of the massive bed, but Ron controlled himself. Lord knew he wanted nothing more than to jump into the middle of the bed and screw her silly. However, he wanted to make sure that when he was done, he had made sure to give her his very best and that she wouldn't soon forget it.
"Do you have a favorite body lotion?" asked her as he sat near the foot of the bed. She looked askance at him, then down to his raging hard-on, then back up to him. "I'm not done spoiling you yet," he replied with a grin. "Sacré bleu," she breathed; she summoned a tube from her vanity and handed it to him.
It also smelled like lilacs when he opened it. He sat between her feet with his legs spread and under hers. "You said you'd explain what happened in the shower," he said as he rubbed the lotion between his hands to warm it. He took one foot in his hands and began to rub it in. "Do you spoil your wife like zis very much?" "Occasionally," her responded, working her heel. "She iz lucky, zoughtful men are a rare treat." She let out a soft moan.
"Zough you Weasley boys seemed to 'ave turned out alright." He asked if she was avoiding his question, and she continued with a laugh.
"In addition to being a Veela, I have been studying Tantric magic for some few years now. Do you know what that is?" "Not really," he replied, as he switched feet. "It has to do with focusing the energy of the body, the spirit, and the mind to connect to realms of higher being." He noted that her accent had all but disappeared, though that didn't bother him. "Most practitioners here in the west focus on the sexual nature of it.
I admit that was how I was drawn to it. Most magic-users simply think of it as Erotomancy or sex-magic. It is of course, much deeper than that, but to understand that takes many years of study.
I am still a neophyte." "Okay, are you saying that used some spell to make me cum when you did?" He had warmed more lotion and began working his way up her calf. "Not exactly.
Veela nature is such that we give off a sexual energy, and men are particularly susceptible to it. It is why men, immature ones especially, react so strongly to our kind. I began to study Neotantrism to understand more about my own nature and what else could be done with it, to see if I could use it to be more than just a pretty face." Ron was going to say something, thinking that maybe she was fishing for a compliment, but she continued talking with stopping. "I have learned enough that I have control over what I am projecting.
I can turn it almost completely off so that I am just like any pretty girl on the street, or I can intensify it so that others will practically throw themselves at my feet." She laughed softly. "That sounded awfully conceited, didn't it?" "Perhaps," Ron said, chuckling as well, "but you're pretty enough that I'll forgive it." He shifted forward so that she had to raise and spread her legs a bit.
He began to work more lotion into her thighs, now using one hand on each leg. "That's awfully sweet of you," she said with a tone that said she appreciated his compliment and caught the playful jab. "Any way, I have also been practicing on manipulating the sexual energy of those around me. I am still learning though, so my ability to get exactly what I want sometimes fails." She propped herself up to look at him, "Particularly when my partner is working so hard to control their own energy." Ron looked up at the tone of her voice.
He had been focusing on the smooth skin of her inner thighs, the subtle rounding of her arse, and the beckoning pink tones of her labia.
"You want very much to spread my legs and take me, to do unspeakable things to me, to make me cry out your name as you take me over and over again." She pushed herself a bit more upright and laid a hand on his chest. "I can feel the desire pouring off of you in waves. I can barely sense the control you have placed on it, but that is mostly because I am still learning about that side of it.
I could make you lose control, make you cum for me as I did in the shower; though that was an accident because I lost control of myself. You had stoked my own energy to unbearable levels and I was dying for release when you finally gave it to me." She flopped back down onto the bed. "Oh, I think I understand now," Ron said. "Is what I'm doing now causing the energy to build up again?" She replied that it was.
He brought his hands around to the inside of her knees, then up her inner thighs, causing her legs to raise up even higher and spread even more. He ended with his hands framing her pussy.
He ran his thumb over her distended labia and pressed slightly against her clit. "And now?" "You don't need to be a tantrist to understand what that is doing to me, Ronald." He looked up at her with a sly grin. "But yes, that is definitely making me more energetic. Though the massage was making the well deeper, that just makes it fill faster." Ron nodded, understanding her metaphor and decided to see if he could do both at the same time.
He moved closer to her, so that his hips were nearly touching her arse. His cock dangled above her then settled down to lay along her slit as he stopped moving.
He flexed once, causing his cock to bounce on her and she made a pleasant sound. "Are you finally going to give in to yourself and 'baise-moi bien?'" He said nothing, but their eyes were locked as picked up the bottle of lotion and squirted a bit into his hand. Slowly, methodically, he rubbed his hands together so that the lotion was warm and loose as it spread across his palms and fingers. She breathed a long, slow moan when he put his hands on her hips and smeared the lotion up her flanks and across her stomach.
Her skin didn't absorb much of it, but he knew it wouldn't- the extremities soaked up lotion far more readily than the torso and center areas of the body did, particularly after a bath or long shower.
He continued to run his hands up her ribs, across her upper chest, down the shallow valley of her cleavage. With every move his upper body made to stretch across her, his cock slid along her wet opening and occasionally brushed her clit. She seemed to be working as hard as he was to keep herself from giving in to the reward her body was craving.
When at last her torso had soaked up all it was going to and there was just a bare sheen of lotion left on his hands, he palmed her breasts. He made circles around her areola with one finger of each hand, then added a thumb to gently squeeze her puffy nipples. "Now?" she asked, her tone almost begging for a yes. The 'ohh' of her longing was torturous and beautiful as he again picked up the lotion and warmed it in his hands.
He spent very little time on her arms, his own body was losing patience with him; but he made sure to thoroughly rub her hands and massage each finger out to the tip. Then he worked quickly back up the arms to her shoulders. When he bent forward so that he could rub her shoulders and cradle her long neck in his broad hands the head of his cock mashed up against her clit.
She grabbed his biceps and squeezed to hold him in place as strings of French words fell from her lips, each one cried in the tones of pre-orgasmic cursing and his only response was a long, low 'fuuuck' of his own. When at last she released him, though it was only a few seconds, he could wait no longer and he was pretty sure that if he did she would probably hex his balls off.
"Pull your knees up," he groaned. As she did he leaned back and pressed the head of his cock into her. He sat back upright and lowered her legs down over his, which forced him deeper inside her. He slowly began to rock back and forth and her small tits began to shake with his movement. She pressed her hands against the headboard and forced herself down on to him so that he was fully seated in her and his balls were pressing against her anus.
With that realization, his body rejoiced and he knew that he was at the edge of his control. He wouldn't have long, which was a shame because her pussy was truly amazing and he felt all of her along his entire length.
"So close," he growled. "Not yet," she moaned as she threw her arms out to the side and rolled her head back. She began to roll her hips rather than hump against him. He stopped moving and began mentally working his way backward through Harry's lifetime Seeker stats with the United.
By the time he got through the two previous seasons he had built enough control that he was able to start thinking about what he was doing again.
He knew he wouldn't be far off, but he had enough control that he could start working again. "How close are you?" "Trés," she moaned. "Mettez vos mains sur moi." She put her hands back against the headboard and bore down on him again. "Say what?" he groaned as leaned back and forced his hips forward. "Touché moi," she pleaded as she rocked her hips against him.
He grabbed her by the tops of her thighs and hammered into her, his balls slapping against her ass. That was it, his control broke. He came hard, and her high keening joined his guttural growl. He could practically feel every muscle in her body clenching and squeezing as he pushed into her with everything he had and spilled into her.
She opened her eyes, they were as blue as the summer sky on perfect day and they fairly seemed to sparkle with an inner light. He could almost feel her pouring in to him, and he was a god. ------ "What was that?" Alicia mumbled against Bill's chest as a growl and scream mingled together as it came through the wall and pierced her pleasant afterglow.
She glanced down to see his cock was suddenly hard despite having been spent and flaccid only moments ago. She realized that she was also ready to go again, despite having been on the edge of consciousness seconds before. "That," Bill said a little surprised, "was my wife." "Is she okay?" "Oh, yeah. She's more than okay." He chuckled as he ran his hand up and down her spine. "She and her paramour may sleep for the next twelve hours, but they will sleep blissfully." "Lucky them," Alicia said as she dragged her finger down his chest and stomach until her hand circled his cock.
"You aren't so lucky." "Depends on your definition of lucky," Bill said with a smile as he tangled his fingers in her hair and pressed his mouth to hers.