Chapter 105: French Flower [R-18]

Albus became a guest for a whole week. Every day Dorea went to check on him and bit by bit he was recovering. By the fourth day he was able to enjoy the play room in the basement, or rather the magical weather there. He was dumbfounded by the way Rick and Lily had recreated the room of requirement while making it better in some ways. He spent his time learning the runes and the talisman all over the walls.

When the children saw he was a guest for the short term they were curious. The story that Bella had given Susan and Rose was that Albus had tried to lift a curse from a dark object and it backfired. It was half of the truth, the girls knew it but said nothing. Bella had been quite clear that they were not quite adults and shouldn’t concern themselves with adult things and instead enjoy their summer freely.

In the meantime, Rick visited Regulus every day to study his ritual and helped him finish it. He nearly hit his head against the wall when he saw his cousin’s calculations and magical symbols he used. He gave him a quick course on the latter and corrected the mistake on the former. Still, Rick was impressed that Regulus learned all of it from first hand experience from his travels.

The ritual was finished in three days however they took two more to optimize it. The pain Albus would have to go through would simply kill him, so they went back to it, changing the magic circles so the pain would be divided among people. Of course, arithmancy obliged, they couldn’t just make a hundred people participate to make the pain as hurtful as a mosquito sting. It didn’t work like that. They either needed 7 people or a multiple of it, Albus not being included. The limits didn’t stop there as the people needed to be male since Albus was male.

Seven men had been easy to find. Rick of course, then Regulus, Moody, Arthur Weasley and his twins, Fred and George. There were plenty of others but they had duties in the order or with the Aurors. The Weasley kept quiet lest Molly forbid them to be part of that illegal and untested ritual. Just to be sure, Rick had given the notes to Lily who checked everything. She called her husband completely nuts but validated the calculations.

The seventh member turned out to be Draco, who volunteered. Rick had refused even faster than Narcissa could. Both had to relent when Draco pointed out that men they could trust to keep the ritual secret were all needed elsewhere while he just had a free summer and that he was already sixteen. While not an adult, he was legally allowed to drop out of school and start working for a living which was a very adult thing to do. With no other choice and placated by his logic, Narcissa relented and promised a fate worse than death to Rick if something irreversible happened to her son.

Rick was drawing the circle inside the playroom which had been changed into a simple basement when Moody came in followed by the twins supporting Dumbledore.

“Are you sure it won’t summon a demon? Because it looks nothing like any ritual circle I have seen before.” the old retired auror said.

“That’s because it’s partly based on alchemy. Very few people are knowledgeable and smart enough for that.” Rick replied finishing the last inscription. “Is the pig ready?”

Arthur answered from behind them. “I have it here.” A huge unconscious pig was floating around in front of him.

“Perfect, put him down on that circle on the left center. Albus lay down on your back on the right one. Everyone takes a position inside one of the six circles with only one line.”

““What about the seventh?”” asked the twins.

“It’s mine. It’s to launch the ritual, if something goes wrong I’m paying the price, no one else.”

Moody wondered. “How does that work exactly?”

“My circle is a start. It’s what funnelled the magic into the ritual. It goes directly into Albus and the pig‘s circle. The curse will be transferred from Albus to the pig and it will be very painful, as such Albus has a supplementary circle which leads to our circles. Now you guys are just an end point, it’s pain you will receive not magic at least not directly. My circle however creates a loop, it’s a start but also an end, that’s why if it goes wrong it’s on my head.”

“Why not -”

“Transfer the pain-”

“To the pig-”

““Too?””

“We are already killing the pig with the curse, no need to make him suffer more than necessary for one. For two, the pig would probably die from the pain before the transfer of the curse is completed.” Rick answered the twins.

““Fair enough.””

“Alright, get in position. You just have to sit down cross legged and wait until I tell you, you can move.”

When Rick saw everyone was ready, he cut his hand open with a cutting curse and put his blood on a symbol on the floor. He began chanting an incantation and the whole ritual circle shone with a bright light. In a flash seven men felt a good deal of pain, like a bone they had broken and that an idiot was touching, asking if it hurt. A dark black smoke with a hint of purple came out of Albus’ mouth and slowly moved towards the pig, entering its body. When no more smoke came out, Rick stopped chanting and removed his hand.

Everyone was groaning in discomfort but happy it was over. Rick stood up and went to check on Albus, using a diagnostic charm.

“Okay, we’re good.”

“Great because I’m not doing this again.” Moody snapped as Arthur helped him up, and handed him his walking staff.

“Not an experience I’d like to repeat.” Draco mumbled loudly, dusting himself.

“Let’s get Albus into bed and have lunch.” Rick invited everyone while keeping Regulus behind. “You think it would work for you know what?”

“Like this? No.”

“That’s what I thought, it’s because it’s a soul and not a curse.” Rick scratched his chin.

“Yes, but the principle is sound. We’ll have to redesign it because we can’t be in contact with it and it’s a transfer from object to object, not living being to another.”

Rick sighed but nodded.

They joined the other for lunch and boy was he hungry. All the participants of the ritual were in fact. The conversation flowed naturally and was led by the twins answering questions about their new joke shop they were about to open in Diagon Alley. Rose had given them the gold she won for the Triwizard tournament and Draco helped finance it a bit too, finding value and prospect in what the Weasley brothers had in stock. As such both of them had agreed to a 10% ownership. The grand opening was scheduled on the first of August and of course, family and friends were invited for it.

After everyone was full, each went their own way. Either home or to work. Draco caught Rick for a moment before he went to annoy his children with his presence.

“Does the circle work for women or does it need to be modified?”

“It works for women too but you would need to find seven women instead of seven men. Why? Know someone in need of it?” Rick asked with seriousness.

“Daphne’s sister, Astoria. The Greengrass have… a blood curse. Three or four centuries old. It only affects women, very few live to reach thirty. They have suffered enough from their father that they don’t need to suffer more, so I was thinking if we could use it on Astoria.”

Lord Greengrass had been a suspected Death Eater in the previous war. Apparently he wasn’t low enough to be used as an errant boy but not high enough to be marked and be a part of the inner circle. A few bribes here and there and his arrest didn’t go further than that. He was an awful man, violent towards his wife and daughters who he considered as sacks of meat to be traded for money, connection or favors. Three years ago he suddenly fell ill and had been abed ever since. Much like Lucius had been. Rick was sure that Narcissa had a serious talk with Daphne because Lady Greengrass was nothing but a wallflower after years of abuse.

“I don't know much about curses, Draco. You should probably check with Regulus because I think a curse and a blood curse are two different things. It’s possible the ritual would need to be changed. Nevertheless a curse is a curse. If we can remove one, we can in theory remove all of them, so don’t lose hope.”

Draco nodded and wanted to check in with his mother. He wouldn’t hear the end of it if he went to visit Daphne without speaking with her first after the ritual.

For his part Rick decided to take a break. To his disappointment, Dorea had taken the children with Bella, Lily and Marlene to muggle London for a movie afternoon or so said the note his mother left with Tipsy for him.

Viktor had moved out. After an excellent season with the Magpies, winning the championship and the league, he found a good flat in London. He thanked Rick and the rest of the family for their hospitality and promised to visit every Sunday for lunch at Lea’s insistence.

Fleur, if he remembered correctly, was supposed to come back from her short vacation in France with her family in three days and as such Rick was effectively all alone with Narcissa. Thinking of spending a good time in the blonde’s company, his mood soured when she kissed him on the lips as she made her way to the floo, promising to be back tonight. No reason why she left, no destination, absolutely nothing. He transfigured his clothes for a nice swim trunk and went to the playroom.

With a deep breath, Rick let his body sink into the conjured warmth of the alpine meadow, the magical illusion of summer wrapping him in sunlight, cool breeze, and the distant hush of lake water lapping against the shore. The weight of the ritual still clung to his limbs, muscle-deep exhaustion soaked in magic’s afterburn, but the spell-carved peace of the setting eased him down to the soft blanket beneath him.

Time blurred.

The next thing he felt wasn’t the sun or wind—but warmth. Wet. Suction. Something tight and rhythmic pulling at his cock, and something else—slower, wetter, gliding kisses against his shaft, lips and tongue tracing veined ridges and the sensitive underside.

A moan slipped from him before his eyes opened.

When he finally stirred, it wasn’t in surprise but slow, blooming pleasure. He blinked against the light and looked down.

Fleur Delacour was between his legs, her silver gold braid falling over one bare shoulder, lips sealed around his cock with devout hunger. She was bobbing her head slowly, steadily, cheeks hollowing with each stroke, her tongue curling along the underside as she drew back, then swallowing again, deeper. Beside her, Nymphadora was sprawled on her stomach, her lips working the base of his shaft, her mouth moving in time with Fleur’s rhythm, pausing now and then to kiss, lick, and nibble along the side that wasn’t buried in Fleur’s mouth.

Rick exhaled through clenched teeth, not moving—just watching and feeling.

Nymie met his gaze with a wicked smirk and dipped down, her tongue flattening against his balls before she took one into her mouth, sucking gently, slowly, letting her lips and tongue worship him while Fleur’s pace began to quicken.

When Fleur realized he was awake, she didn’t stop—she moaned. Loud, needy, the sound muffled by the thick length in her mouth. Her eyes rolled up to meet his, blazing with arousal.

“Fleur,” he murmured, threading his fingers into her hair. “I’m going to fuck your throat.”

She let out a sound that might’ve been a moan, or a growl—she didn’t pull back. She pressed deeper, her nose brushing his skin, throat stretched wide around him. Her own hands came up to cover his, nodding him forward.

He began to thrust, slow but firm, guiding her head down in time with each movement. She met him with fervor, her throat tightening each time she swallowed him. Her hands squeezed his thighs for balance, her body humming with tension. When he warned her—“I’m going to cum”—she pulled back just enough to give him a wink, then dropped again, deeper, until he came.

It was thick, hot, and too much to contain. She choked once, barely, but kept going, trying to drink it all. A few ropes escaped from the corners of her mouth, trickling down her chin. One stream even escaped from her nose, but her face was lit with a pleasure-drunk grin.

When he pulled her gently back, she coughed once, then licked her lips and looked up at him with eyes full of mischief.

“She’s insatiable,” Nymphadora said, crawling up beside them, licking Rick’s shaft slowly, tasting both him and Fleur in one long glide. “Came back from France early. Found me here… waiting for you.”

Fleur, still panting, nodded. “Je pouvais pas attendre. I wanted this. Needed this. Since the first time I saw you, Rick—depuis la première fois. I thought about your cock every night. And Nymie said…” She smirked. “She said you’d let me.”

She knelt up, pulled her bikini bottom off with a single motion, and straddled Rick’s waist. Her sex hovered above him, already wet and glistening, the slick heat of her desire searing his skin.

“Je suis trempée pour toi. Je veux ta bite, tout de suite. J’en peux plus d’attendre.”

She began to lower herself—only to be stopped.

Nymphadora had slid behind her, arms slipping under Fleur’s and pulling her back against her chest. “Careful,” she whispered in Fleur’s ear. “If you let him in, it’s over. You’ll belong to him. Forever.”

Rick met Fleur’s gaze, his cock standing proud and hard between them. “I don’t share,” he said. “You do this, you’re mine. No turning back.”

Fleur’s lips parted. Her eyes flared.

“Je m’en fous.”

Then she dropped her hips.

“OH PUTAIN DE MERDE—OUIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!” she screamed, impaling herself down onto his cock in one slow, mind-shattering descent.

Her pussy gripped him like molten velvet, tight and spasming around every inch. She came immediately—violent, full-body tremors shaking her limbs, her mouth open in a scream so raw it made birds scatter from the conjured trees.

Rick’s head dropped back. Her cunt clenched around him with wave after pulsing wave, soaking him with her release. She didn’t even pause—she just started riding, her hips snapping with animalistic desperation, driving his cock in and out of her with breathless, frenzied movements.

“Ta queue est énorme, je mouille rien que de la sentir! Je veux crever dessus, j’veux que tu m’exploses, que tu me foutes en cloque, bordel—” she gasped.

“Putain, j’ai rêvé de ça! De toi, de ton foutre, de ta queue dans ma chatte, dans mon cul, dans ma gorge, PARTOUT!”

She kept going, unrelenting. Rick growled, sat up, and caught her against his chest—then stood, lifting her with him, her legs clamping around his waist. She didn’t stop thrusting. She used his body as leverage, bouncing on his cock even as he carried her like nothing.

“Prends-moi!” she cried. “Baise-moi, défonce-moi jusqu’à ce que je ne sois plus bonne à rien sauf prendre ta bite!”

He pinned her with his arms beneath her thighs, holding her still, and began to thrust upward—powerful, brutal strokes that made her scream.

“Oh putain de DIEU! Oui, OUIIIIIIIII!” Her voice cracked. Her nails scored his back.

She kissed him wildly, sloppily, tongue and teeth, her body breaking apart as she came again—this time harder. Her pussy clenched like a vice, milking him, and the pressure broke him.

He came with a roar, hot and deep, flooding her in thick spurts. She shuddered with it, wrapping tighter around him.

Even as she quaked in his arms, she whispered:

“Encore… je veux plus. Je veux tout ce que tu peux me donner.”

Nymphadora, lying on her back now with her legs spread wide, beckoned Fleur down. “Let’s find out how much this pretty little slut can take.”

Rick repositioned Fleur on all fours, her face just inches from Nymie’s pussy.

She didn’t need instructions. Her tongue darted out immediately, moaning as she tasted her lover. Rick knelt behind Fleur, watching her hips sway, her ass rising in slow circles as she devoured Nymie with the kind of fervor most saved for worship. Her wetness still glistened along her thighs, the evidence of how completely she’d come.

He reached out, ran two fingers down the curve of her back to the swell of her rear, and she responded with a wiggle, moaning something wet and muffled into Nymie’s skin.

“You want more?” he asked.

She didn’t look back—just nodded emphatically.

He lined himself up again, not at her entrance, but just above—pressing gently against the tight ring of muscle that flexed and resisted beneath his touch.

Fleur froze for only a second, then arched her back, lifting her hips and moaning, “Oui… là aussi… j’veux tout de toi…”

Rick took his time, easing in slowly. Fleur’s body trembled under his hands, but she kept licking Nymie, her fingers digging into the blanket as she relaxed and opened for him inch by inch.

By the time he was buried to the hilt, her voice was a wreck of ragged French:

“Ta queue est énorme… ça brûle, ça déchire… mais j’adore ça, j’en veux plus… te retiens pas—jamais…”

He began to move—slow, grinding thrusts that pulled low moans from both of them. Nymie gasped each time Fleur’s tongue stuttered with a particularly deep stroke, her hand tangling in the Frenchwoman’s hair.

The sounds—the wetness, the breathless gasps, Fleur’s broken babble in French—wove together into something primal. Fleur was coming again, her body clenching, her breath catching, the rhythm of her moans breaking into shaking sobs of need.

And still she didn’t stop.

“Continue… défonce-moi, frappe-moi, j’suis ta pute, ta putain… ta salope française qui vit que pour ta bite…”

Rick’s hand came down on her ass—once, then again—sharp cracks against soft skin that drew nothing but a deeper moan and a jerk of her hips.

Nymie came with a gasp, thighs squeezing around Fleur’s face, and Rick could feel the way Fleur’s whole body pulsed beneath him again—trembling, leaking, undone.

When he finally pulled out, slowly, Fleur collapsed between them—gasping, twitching, her limbs soft and splayed. Her face was slick with Nymphadora’s release, her thighs soaked in her own.

“Encore… encore…” she whispered hoarsely.

Rick knelt beside her, brushing a hand along her spine. She turned to face him, eyes shining with tears and sweat and afterglow.

“I’m not done,” she breathed. “And I don’t ever want to be.”

And in the alpine air, with the sun warm and the air sweet, they gave her exactly what she needed. Again. And again.