Instead of backing down, the devil maids exchanged amused, sultry smiles, clearly enjoying the spirited opposition they faced. Their gazes drifted playfully to me, gauging my reaction with visible delight, deliberately stepping closer to fan the flames of rivalry.
"Is that so?" Lyra purred teasingly, locking eyes with Fleur, her voice dripping with playful insolence. "Yet here we are-sent explicitly by Lady Sitri herself to ensure our Young Master's every... desire is fully satisfied."
"Indeed," Lyna continued sweetly, her gaze dancing mischievously over Gabrielle's figure before returning pointedly to me. "It's our sworn duty-and greatest pleasure-to make certain Master Harry thoroughly enjoys his trip in every possible manner."
I inwardly groaned, sensing the escalating tension rapidly becoming a powder keg ready to explode at any moment.
Fleur's expression turned glacially cold, her voice sharp as she retorted swiftly, "Well, we can assure you both-Harry already has all the attention and enjoyment he could possibly require. Your services are quite unnecessary." The dangerous glint in Fleur's eyes clearly conveyed the veiled threat behind her words.
Gabrielle quickly nodded, her demeanor matching her sister's intensity as she added, "Exactly-why don't you two return to scrubbing floors or whatever it is you lowly maids usually do. We have tonight under control, merci beaucoup."
From her chair, Madame Delacour suddenly let out a lilting, amused giggle. She said nothing outright, but she clearly found her daughter's situation to be funny.
I might have found it funny too, if this catfight wasn't happening because of me.
Fleur shot her mother a brief, exasperated glare, clearly unappreciative of her amusement.
Seriously mum... Did you have to send these twins after me...? I groaned in my head.
At that moment, Monsieur Delacour stepped forward, clearing his throat pointedly. "Allow me to introduce myself," he spoke formally, his deep voice slightly strained as though forcing politeness. "I am Jean Delacour. It is... nice to meet you, young man." His tone indicated that he didn't fully mean it, clearly annoyed at seeing the rapidly escalating tension between his daughters and my devil maids.
"A pleasure, Monsieur Delacour. Thank you for allowing me to join you... Sorry about... all this..." I trailed off.
He took a moment before responding. "See that my daughters continue to be treated with the utmost respect," he added gruffly, subtle warning threaded into his words.
"Of course, sir," I responded earnestly.
I could see that he genuinely cared deeply for his daughters' happiness.
Jean Delacour's sharp gaze locked onto mine, assessing me carefully as his brows drew together thoughtfully. "Harry Sitri, is it?" he finally inquired, tone cautious and probing. "Yet you bear a striking resemblance to Harry Potter. In fact, I'd wager you are Harry Potter."
"Ah, yes," I said, meeting Jean's piercing stare head-on. "My given name truly is Harry Sitri. It's... complicated. The world knows me as Harry Potter, but that's merely because the public remains unaware of certain truths regarding my mother's past." I hesitated briefly, glancing downward, my voice lowering even further. "Infidelity, to be precise..."
The more and more I had to tell everyone this, at least the less awkward it was becoming for me. And of course, I could never be ashamed of Serafall being my real sire!
Jean's stern expression softened a bit, replaced momentarily by surprise, and perhaps a glimmer of understanding.
Apolline Delacour suddenly laughed as she gracefully rose from her seat and approached us. Her every movement exuded a captivating sensuality, making it abundantly clear where Fleur and Gabrielle had inherited their enticing charms. "Now, now-such a delicious scandal," Apolline teased lightly, the playful smile never wavering from her beautiful face. Her eyes danced mischievously as they lingered appreciatively upon my form. "You needn't worry, Harry. Your little secret shall remain safe with us. We Delacours are quite adept at discretion. We all have our unpleasant and our pleasant secrets, don't we?" The delicate, flirtatious undertone woven subtly into her words was unmistakable.
I couldn't suppress the small, appreciative grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Thank you, Madame Delacour. Your understanding means a lot." My voice was quietly sincere.
Her eyes glinted mischievously. "Do call me Apolline, Harry-I insist."
Both Fleur and Gabrielle rolled their eyes simultaneously at their mother's obvious teasing, though neither appeared particularly surprised.
"Truthfully, I don't believe this secret will need to remain hidden for much longer. Once I officially begin attending Hogwarts this year, the full truth is bound to come out eventually. Until then, I greatly appreciate your discretion," I told both parents.
Jean crossed his arms, nodding solemnly as he absorbed my words. "If I may inquire, Harry-why exactly have you remained hidden from our world for all these years? The public has searched fervently for any sign of you since that dreadful night so long ago. Why only now did you appear?"
I hesitated slightly beneath his penetrating stare. This guy really had the "bad cop" look down. As expected of the head of his country's magical law enforcement.
Revealing my true identity as a devil wasn't exactly the easiest conversation starter. How was I supposed to explain that my supernatural heritage had prevented my Hogwarts letter from ever reaching me?
Fortunately, the decision was abruptly taken from my hands. Before I could offer any uncomfortable explanations, a magically amplified voice suddenly boomed throughout the immense stadium, reverberating powerfully through the crowded stands.
"Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards-welcome to the highly anticipated 422nd Quidditch World Cup!"
The immense audience roared deafeningly in response, an electric wave of excitement sweeping palpably through the air around us. Relieved, I exchanged quick, knowing glances with Lyra and Lyna. For now, at least, my secret remained safely intact.
...
As the match officially began, everyone in the luxurious private booth settled comfortably into their seats. I couldn't help but notice exactly where Fleur and Gabrielle had inherited their tantalizingly bold sensuality from-their mother, Apolline.
She had practically draped herself across her husband's side, fingers slowly tracing patterns over his chest as she leaned in close and whispered intimately into his ear. Jean Delacour maintained his dignified composure, though the slight flush creeping up his neck revealed that even he wasn't immune to his wife's provocative teasing.
Seated on either side of me, Fleur and Gabrielle seemed eager to imitate their mother's behavior. Fleur pressed her body enticingly against mine, her soft curves molding comfortably to my side. Her delicate fingertips idly traced along my forearm, sending pleasant tingles racing beneath my skin. Not to be outdone, Gabrielle leaned even closer, her thigh brushing teasingly against mine as her fingers trailed languidly across my chest.
Their touch was possessive, yet oddly affectionate-like they wanted to make it explicitly clear whom I belonged to at that moment.
Lyra and Lyna had, thankfully, ceased their earlier teasing of the Delacour sisters. While they were undoubtedly mischievous devils who delighted in stirring up trouble, they were also still dutiful maids at their core. Evidently deciding it was time to behave more professionally, Lyra stepped forward with a polite smile. "Would anyone care for some refreshments?" she asked with practiced charm.
Fleur's eyes lit up mischievously, and she exchanged a glance filled with wicked amusement with Gabrielle. "Actually, yes-I'd like something rather special. Could you perhaps prepare a cocktail for me? Let's see... I'll take a French 75, freshly mixed. Extra cold, please."
Gabrielle giggled softly, clearly enjoying herself. "And I'd like a Blue Lagoon, perfectly chilled, garnished generously with fresh pineapple slices and cherries-oh, and precisely three mint leaves. Merci."
"Um... what?" Lyra asked in surprise.
Lyna nodded with her sister. "We were asking if anyone maybe wanted a cola or some chips-"
I couldn't suppress my amused grin and cut Lyna off. "Better get to it, ladies," I told them calmly, unable to hide the laughter in my voice. "You wouldn't want to disappoint your young master by not getting his friends their drinks, would you?"
Finally I was able to get one back after all their teasing...
The twins pouted in tandem, expressions filled with mock-betrayal, before turning and heading reluctantly to the well-stocked bar at the back of the private box. I overheard Lyra whisper grumpily to her sister, "We were never trained as bartenders, dammit... I have no idea what they asked for."
Lyna huffed quietly in response. "Quiet. We'll figure it out somehow-can't lose face in front of these Veela sluts."
My attention returned to the field below as the booming voice of the announcer reverberated throughout the massive stadium once more. "Ladies and Gentlemen-please warmly welcome tonight's team mascots!"
Cheerful applause erupted as a shimmering golden cloud of glittering Leprechauns darted playfully across the stadium, delighting the audience with their festive antics. Gold literally rained from the sky causing a small frenzy but I knew from legends it was obviously fake gold.
Moments later, however, the atmosphere abruptly shifted as another group emerged onto the field-Veela. Immediately, a powerful wave of supernatural allure cascaded outward from the graceful, ethereal dancers. Their shimmering gowns clung enticingly to their forms, movements hypnotically seductive as they began a tantalizing dance. I glanced around, noticing the captivated expressions of nearly every man present in the stadium, each staring entranced by the mesmerizing performance below. Surprisingly, however, I felt nothing but mild curiosity and admiration at their elegance-not even the slightest trace of unnatural attraction or compulsion.
Beside me, I sensed Fleur and Gabrielle grow noticeably tense. Fleur's elegant features twisted into a faintly disapproving frown, eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance. Gabrielle pursed her lush lips, looking displeased as she leaned further into my side.
"Is something wrong?" I whispered gently, genuinely puzzled by their reactions. "You two seem upset."
Gabrielle sighed softly, glancing toward the field below with irritation. "They're debasing themselves-reducing our kind to mere cheerleaders for entertainment. It is undignified."
Fleur nodded solemnly in agreement. "Veela allure is something special and sacred-not some cheap spectacle meant to entrance an entire stadium."
My gaze shifted to the other men in the stands once more. Suddenly, a curious thought crossed my mind, and I turned toward the sisters. "Wait-are you two wearing your allure-blocking jewelry right now?" I asked curiously. "Now that I think about it, I haven't felt anything unusual around you all day."
Slowly, pleased smiles spread across their beautiful faces. "No, Harry-we haven't worn them at all today," Fleur admitted.
Gabrielle leaned even closer, her voice dropping seductively as she added proudly, "You're completely immune to our allure. You are truly a man amongst men."
"Immune?" I repeated, intrigued by their delighted expressions. "Does that make a difference?"
Fleur smiled knowingly, "It's a very important trait for any male who intends to take a female Veela as a... mate."
Gabrielle's smile deepened, her slender fingers tracing intricate patterns on my chest once more. "Indeed, Harry," she murmured sweetly.
I could hear Lyra and Lyna quietly growling in frustration from behind the bar area. They were clearly eavesdropping while struggling to mix the elaborate drinks Fleur and Gabrielle had requested. Their whispered complaints and occasional curses brought an amused smile to my lips, though I didn't let it distract me too much from the spectacle unfolding below.
Settling comfortably between Fleur and Gabrielle, I turned my full attention toward my very first Quidditch game. The entire event was, to put it bluntly, chaotic.
The players zipped rapidly around the stadium, soaring dangerously close to each other at dizzying speeds, diving and maneuvering with reckless abandon. Trying to follow the action was a daunting task, and it didn't help that the rules themselves seemed completely nonsensical to me. Seriously-whose bright idea was it that the Seeker could single-handedly win the game in under a minute?
Still, it was undeniably entertaining, if only for Gabrielle's exuberant reaction beside me. She sat perched right on the edge of her seat, hands gripping my arm so tightly it bordered on painful, but I wasn't complaining. Seeing her so passionately engrossed in the match was genuinely adorable, and every excited gasp or delighted cheer brought a fond smile to my face.
Fleur, on the other hand, was decidedly less interested. From our frequent letters over the past months, I'd learned that she far preferred football to Quidditch, finding the wizarding sport overly chaotic and unstructured. I tended to agree, though I certainly wasn't going to voice such blasphemy aloud within earshot of Gabrielle.
As the match continued, I found myself gravitating more towards conversation with Fleur. The game provided a comfortable backdrop for our increasingly flirtatious dialogue. We chatted lightly about everything and nothing-favorite places in France, amusing stories from her school, subtle jokes and teases that only deepened the warm tension between us.
Of course, I enjoyed Gabrielle's lively company just as much. Despite her fierce focus on the match, she occasionally turned toward me, eyes alight with excitement and cheeks flushed attractively. Between particularly exciting plays, she'd lean close, pressing her soft curves firmly into my side as she breathlessly explained the strategies behind certain maneuvers. Her enthusiasm was captivating.
After what felt like an eternity of fast-paced madness, the match finally ended in a genuinely baffling conclusion. Some bloke named Krum-apparently quite famous, judging from the deafening cheers-managed to catch the tiny golden Snitch, and yet somehow his team still lost the game. Honestly, the Seeker position felt like a rigged joke.
Still, the stadium erupted in wild applause, witches and wizards alike cheering with unbridled enthusiasm. Fleur chuckled softly beside me, shaking her head in amusement. "They'll be celebrating this madness all night long," she murmured with a playful smile. "Though perhaps that's not such a terrible idea after all. I could be persuaded to enjoy a bit of partying myself, provided the right company...non?"
