Breaking the Girl (Ch. 2) (Patreon)

( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )

Breaking the Girl

Chapter 2

The following morning, Harry woke to the soft light filtering through the bedroom curtains. Fleur was already awake and perched on her knees at the edge of the bed. She looked up at him with a wicked smile as he swung his legs over the side and stood there, groggy and half-hard. Fleur’s hair tumbled in silver sheets over her shoulders, and her bare skin glowed in the dull morning light. Without warning, she reached for him, took his cock with practiced fingers, and slowly dragged her tongue up the shaft, tasting every inch of him.

Harry’s head dropped back, and he braced his hands on Fleur’s shoulders for balance. Fleur smiled up at him, her blue eyes shining with mischief, and then engulfed him in her mouth in one smooth motion. She had always been relentless with her affections, but something about these early hours made her even more direct. Her lips slid over his cock, and her cheeks hollowed while her tongue expertly slithered around him. Harry groaned, nearly losing his balance as she took him all the way down. She didn’t stop until her nose brushed his pelvis. Fleur’s hand wrapped around the base and squeezed, never breaking eye contact as she rocked her head in a steady rhythm.

He gathered her hair in one fist and wound it tight, using it for leverage as he thrust gently into her mouth. Fleur appreciatively hummed around him. He watched her lips work the length of his shaft. He watched the saliva gleam at the corners of her mouth, and he watched her throat flex as she swallowed him to the base.

The air was chilly, but Fleur’s mouth was scorching hot. Her tongue slithered along the sensitive underside, teasing him with every stroke. Her other hand wandered between her own thighs, and her fingers pressed into pussy. She began to stroke her slit, and he could hear how wet she was. Sometimes it still startled him how much she wanted him and how much she craved his physical contact. She was insatiable, and she made him feel the same.

Fleur twisted her head and glided her lips up and down, and when she pulled off with an obscene pop, a thin string of spit still connected her mouth to his cock. She looked up at him, her face flushed and panting. “You taste so good, mon amour.” She then dove back down, faster and hungrier, eager to finish what she’d started.

Harry felt his hips jerk forward as the pressure built, and his muscles tensed. Fleur moaned in encouragement, almost greedy for the upcoming flood. Harry gave in and held her head steady as his body went rigid, and he came in hot spurts across her lips and tongue. Fleur swallowed every drop until his balls were empty. She licked up the last traces with a delicate, appreciative swipe of her tongue.

When it was over, Harry let her hair fall from his hand and watched as she wiped her mouth on the back of her wrist. She looked up at him with eyes bright and a lovely smile, and he thought that no one in the world had ever looked so beautiful or so satisfied.

Fleur leaned back on her heels, still naked and utterly at ease. Harry shook his head in admiration. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days,” he jokingly said. She just laughed and stretched, her breasts rising as she did. When she dropped her arms, her tits bounced wonderfully. 

“You say that every day,” she teased, rolling her shoulders as if limbering up for another round. “But you are still ‘ere, aren’t you?”

Harry couldn’t argue with that.

Breaking the Girl

The house was bright with early morning sun when Harry and Fleur padded into the kitchen. Fleur wore one of his shirts. It was unbuttoned enough to show off the incredible swell of her cleavage. She reached up to the top shelf for a box of coffee, and the hem of the shirt barely covered her ass. Harry lustfully checked out her smooth legs as she stood on her tiptoes. It was only when Fleur placed the tin on the counter and turned that Harry realized he wasn’t alone in his staring.

Apolline Delacour stood at the stove, already humming and stirring a pot. She looked up at them, her eyes shining with delight. She wore a nightgown so sheer and short it should be considered illegal, and her hair was twisted into a loose French braid that ran over one shoulder. The gown’s fabric clung to her curves, and the way she leaned toward the stove gave Harry a perfect view of her backside. She seemed to float as she moved between the stove and the counter. She didn’t hide the sway of her wide, womanly hips or the cock-hardening bounce of her tits. She was a woman entirely at ease in her own skin.

“Bonjour, cheris,” Apolline sang, her voice warm enough to fill the whole kitchen. She glided across the tile and wrapped Harry and Fleur in a single, enveloping hug. She pulled Harry down for a kiss to both cheeks, but her breasts pressed against his chest with a softness that was impossible not to notice. The scent of her hair was sweet like honeysuckle. Harry felt his ears warm, and he knew Apolline noticed, but she only smiled wider.

Apolline’s nightgown was so low-cut that the entire upper portion of her breasts was exposed, and the nipples beneath the silk were stiff and visible, pinched tight against the fabric. When she let Harry go, she ruffled his hair playfully and turned her attention to the eggs sizzling in the pan.

Fleur smirked at Harry. “Maman always makes breakfast like this on weekends. It is ‘er tradition,” she explained, slipping an arm around his waist. “Ignore ‘er. She loves to embarrass.”

“Embarrassing isn’t exactly what I would call it,” Harry said, aiming for nonchalance, but the words came out a little breathless.

Apolline laughed. “You are too sweet, ‘Arry. Much nicer than the men in this country, anyway. They are all so uncouth.” She blew him a kiss over her shoulder, and Fleur made an exaggerated gagging noise.

Breakfast was a loud and messy affair. Apolline insisted on serving everyone by flitting around the table and brushing her fingertips over Harry’s shoulders or squeezing his bicep in approval. She sat next to Fleur, but more than once, Apolline reached across the table, letting her arm graze Harry’s hand as she refilled his glass or offered him a slice of baguette. There was a lot of accidental contact, but Harry could never tell when it was intentional.

Gabrielle wandered in, dressed in a tank top and tiny sleep shorts, and she hesitated at the kitchen entryway. Her hair was all tangled, and her eyes were still foggy with sleepiness. She looked at Harry first, then at Apolline’s exposed chest, and she blushed furiously before sliding into her seat as quietly as possible.

Apolline noticed, of course. She reached over and smoothed Gabrielle’s hair. She then planted a kiss on the top of her head. “You are late, darling. Eat. You need your strength.”

“Sorry,” Gabby mumbled and reached for the jam. She kept her eyes on her plate, and her cheeks still glowed red. Harry tried not to look at her, but she had a way of capturing his attention.

Fleur nudged Harry’s thigh under the table. “Tell Maman about last night,” she whispered.

Harry glanced up, caught Apolline’s smoky gaze, and nearly lost his nerve. “It’s nothing,” he said, but Fleur cut in.

“ ‘Arry gave Gabrielle a massage … on the sofa. It helped ‘er shoulder,” Fleur announced brightly.

Apolline’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that is wonderful! You ‘ave such skillful ‘ands, ‘Arry.” She beamed at him, then turned to Gabrielle. “Did it ‘elp, Gabby?”

Gabrielle nodded, still not looking up. “Yes. It was nice.”

Apolline clapped her hands together. “Perfect! You must keep doing it, ‘Arry. Gabrielle needs to relax more. She is always so tense, even at ‘ome.” Apolline reached over and brushed a crumb from Gabrielle’s cheek. 

Annoyed with where this conversation was going, Gabrielle took her leave, saying she needed to check on her plants. Fleur snickered when Gabby left the room. “She is very stubborn. She is like you, Maman.”

Apolline waved a hand in faux annoyance. “Nonsense. I am nothing like that. I am open, and I feel everything.” She looked at Harry. “It is a Veela thing, I suppose. Fleur is the same. We are made to love and to be loved. But Gabrielle … she is different. She holds everything inside.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just nodded and took another bite of toast. Apolline leaned forward, and her chest nearly spilled from the thin straps. She fixed Harry with a conspiratorial look. “You must ‘elp ‘er, ‘Arry. She will never admit it, but she trusts you. You are good for ‘er.”

“Fleur says the same thing, but I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t really know how to help her,” Harry confessed.

Apolline’s smile softened. “It is not about knowing. It is about caring. If you care for ‘er, she will feel it and respond in kind.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. Her skin was incredibly soft and warm. “You do not ‘ave to force ‘er, you just ‘ave to be there when she decides to open up.”

Fleur rested her head on Harry’s shoulder, her hair brushing his cheek. “ ‘e is very patient,” she said. “That is why I love ‘im.”

“Well,” Apolline said. “There is no rush. Gabrielle ‘as plenty of time.” She winked at Harry. “But if you want, I can give you tips. I am very experienced.” She laughed at her own joke, but Harry thought there was more truth than humor in it.

They finished breakfast in good spirits. Apolline began cleaning with a flick of her wand, humming to herself as she worked. Fleur went to shower, and Harry lingered in the kitchen, helping Apolline clean up. She brushed a lock of hair from her eyes and smiled at him. “You are a good man, ‘Arry. I think you were sent to us for a reason.”

“What reason is that?” he asked.

Apolline laughed softly. “To ‘elp the girls, of course. They need it, each in their own way.” She tilted her head and considered him for a moment. “You are gentle in our presence. That is rare.”

Harry was about to answer when Apolline stepped closer, closing the gap between them. She reached up and adjusted the collar of his shirt. Her fingers were warm against his neck. “Just so you know,” she said, her voice low. “Veela can sense these things. Feelings. Needs. It is … intense, sometimes.” Her eyes searched his, looking for understanding.

He swallowed. “Is that why everyone’s so affectionate?”

She smiled knowingly. “It is our nature, but it is also a choice. You will see. Just be yourself, ‘Arry. That is all that matters.” She leaned in and softly kissed him on the lips. She smirked, patted his cheek, and turned to leave, her hips swinging as she left the kitchen.

Harry stood alone for a moment, trying to calm his thundering heart. He wasn’t sure if he was excited or terrified, but he knew he liked the feeling.

Breaking the Girl

Later that afternoon, Harry found himself alone in the sunroom, tinkering with a chessboard that had been left on the side table. The house was quiet. Fleur and Apolline had left for the village, and Gabrielle was nowhere to be seen. Harry played both sides of the board until he heard soft footsteps behind him.

He turned to find Gabrielle standing at the threshold, her arms folded over her chest. She wore a loose sundress and no shoes. Her hair was freshly brushed and fell in waves down her back. Harry thought she looked very beautiful. She eyed the chessboard.

“Do you want to play?” Harry offered, tilting the board in her direction.

Gabrielle hesitated before nodding. She sat across from him. Her movements were careful, as if wary of breaking some invisible barrier.

They played in silence for several moves. Gabrielle’s face was cool and unreadable, but Harry caught her sneaking glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He moved his bishop and asked, “Did the massage actually help, or were you just being polite?”

Gabrielle set her knight down with a click. “It ‘elped,” she admitted. “I don’t like being touched, usually. But it was … fine.”

“Just fine?” Harry teased.

Her lips twitched into almost a smile. “Maybe better than fine, but don’t tell Fleur. If you do, she’ll be insufferable.”

Harry chuckled and shook his head. Fleur certainly could be insufferable at times. “I promise.” Gabby graced him with a small smile and nodded. 

Breaking the Girl

The next morning, Gabrielle wandered down the stairs, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. The air in the kitchen was thick with the aroma of strong coffee and fresh pastries. She padded in barefoot, her hair mussed from sleeping with her head under the pillow. Apolline was already at the table, sipping from a porcelain cup in her usual silk robe. Fleur sat across from her, eating a croissant. The two women were deep in quiet conversation, but the sound of Gabrielle’s approach made them pause and look up.

Gabrielle hesitated on the threshold, as if measuring the mood in the room. She glanced around and asked, “Where is ‘Arry?”

Fleur arched an eyebrow and flashed a smirk. “You miss him already?” she teased in French. She tore off a bite of croissant and chewed, watching Gabby over the rim of her coffee cup.

Gabrielle’s cheeks colored. She gave a little shrug and busied herself with the breadbox, tearing at a croissant with more force than necessary. Apolline observed this with a sly smile, but her voice was gentle. “He is out. He said something about an errand.”

Fleur set her coffee down. “He will be back soon, Gabby. You are not rid of him yet.” She reached over and untangled a lock of her hair. “Did you want to make him breakfast?”

Gabrielle rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now, just a tad. “No. I just … never mind.”

Apolline cocked her head. “You like him, don’t you?”

Gabrielle cut herself a thick slice of bread and buttered it. “I barely know him.”

“Ah, but you want to,” Fleur said in a sing-song voice, drawing the words out. “You can admit it. It’s not a crime.” She grinned cheekily, showing a row of perfect, white teeth.

Gabrielle turned her attention to the window. The garden outside was wet with dew, and the greenhouse roof glistened in the morning sunlight. She chewed her bread in silence, pretending to be absorbed by the sight of a bird picking its way along the stone path.

Apolline poured herself more coffee. She said softly, “It’s alright to like him. Fleur does.”

Fleur wrinkled her nose at her, but said nothing. There was a gentle knock at the back door, and then Harry’s tousled head appeared around the frame. He was carrying a large, square parcel, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string. His face was flushed, and his hair looked even messier than usual … if that was even possible. 

“Sorry, I’m late,” he said, stepping inside. He smiled sheepishly at the tableful of women. Gabrielle’s eyes moved to the package and quickly looked away. She instinctively wiped her hands on her tiny shorts.

“You brought something?” Fleur called out. 

Harry nodded and set the parcel on the table. “It’s for Gabrielle.” He wobbled the box, then slid it across to her.

Gabrielle stared at the package as if it might be a trick. “For me?”

“Open it,” Harry said. He was grinning now, but there was a nervous energy behind his smile.

Gabrielle picked up the box. Her fingers trembled as she worked at the knot of string. She angled herself away from the others, shielding the unwrapping from their view. She peeled away the brown paper to reveal a simple wooden crate with slats spaced wide enough to see the green inside.

She lifted the lid. A small, cactus-like plant sat in a nest of straw. It was bristling with bluish-gray nodules. The plant pulsated slightly, as though it were breathing. Gabrielle gasped. “No … is this …?” She looked up at Harry with huge, blue eyes.

He nodded, proud but bashful. “A Mimbulus mimbletonia. My friend Neville grows them. I thought you’d like it.”

Gabrielle’s hands hovered over the plant, careful not to touch the spines. “It is so rare,” she whispered. “And so … beautiful.” Her voice was reverent.

Fleur blinked in surprise. “You know about this plant?” She sounded almost skeptical.

Gabrielle nodded. “Of course. They are fascinating.” She glanced at Harry, her cheeks flushed. “Thank you. I ‘ave never seen one except in books.”

Harry shrugged, but he was pleased to have made her happy. “Neville’s got a greenhouse with a few of them. He’s the only person in the UK who has one. Apparently, they’re very hard to grow. He said they’re fussy, but if anyone could keep one alive, it’d be you.”

Gabrielle smiled at him, and her expression was shy and genuine. It was nothing like her usual coolness. She cradled the plant in her arms and gave him a look that was almost tender. “I should re-pot it right away,” she mumbled, blushing madly. She gathered up the crate and hurried out of the kitchen, holding the Mimbulus mimbletonia like a newborn child.

Fleur watched her go before turning to Harry. “I did not know you could be so thoughtful,” she teased. “Now she will never stop thinking about you. You ‘ave created a monster.”

Apolline smiled over the lip of her coffee cup. “It was very sweet, ‘Arry … and smart. If you want to win a woman’s ‘eart, you must give ‘er something to care for.” She reached across and squeezed his hand. Her nails were painted the same pale blue as her robe. “You are a charmer.”

Harry laughed, but his ears turned a bit pink. He sank into a chair and reached for a croissant. “It wasn’t a big deal. I just thought she’d like it, that’s all.”

Fleur leaned over and kissed his cheek. She then nuzzled his cheek with her cute nose and nipped at his earlobe. “You are adorable,” she said. “But also very, very clever. That plant will keep ‘er busy for weeks.”

Apolline glanced at the kitchen clock. “You ‘ave a talent for making women ‘appy, ‘Arry,” she said. “I ‘ope you realize this.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I think you’re both exaggerating.”

Fleur shook her head. She moved to his lap and straddled him. She slid her arms around his neck. “You should be proud,” she told him. “It is a good thing.”

Harry was about to respond when Apolline stood. She glided across the tile, refilled her coffee, and returned to the table. She sat very close to him, and her thigh pressed against Harry’s under the table. “You are good for both of them,” she said quietly. “You make this ‘ouse feel alive.”

Harry glanced at the back door, where Gabrielle’s silhouette was visible through the glass of the greenhouse. She was already kneeling as she gently worked the plant from its crate. He watched as she spoke to it, though he obviously couldn’t hear what she was saying.

Fleur kissed his neck. “You are not jealous?” she teased Apolline.

Apolline smiled, but her eyes were deep and mysterious. “Jealous? Never. There is enough of ‘Arry to go around.” She lightly ran a finger along Harry’s jaw, tracing the stubble. “Besides, it is fun to share.”

Fleur giggled and pressed her lips to Harry’s again. He felt the weight of both women’s attention and affection, and he had the strange sense that he was at the center of some crazy plan he didn’t fully understand. He sat there for a while, basking in their warmth.

A sudden shout made the three of them jump. In the garden, the Mimbulus mimbletonia had apparently ejected a glob of Stinksap, and Gabrielle was clutching her wrist and cursing in rapid French. Harry bolted for the door, followed closely by Fleur and Apolline. They were all laughing.

Out in the greenhouse, Gabrielle’s hand was coated with the viscous, foul-smelling sap. She looked mortified, but also secretly delighted. Harry didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the watering can and started rinsing her hand. The cold water sluiced away the goo. Fleur doubled over with laughter, and even Apolline was giggling.

Gabrielle shot them a glare, but underneath it, she was clearly touched that Harry had come to her rescue so quickly. “Thank you,” she muttered. Her cheeks were red, but she didn’t let go of his hand.

Fleur wiped a tear from her eye. “You see? She already trusts you.”

Apolline put an arm around both girls, pulling them close. “We should ‘ave more breakfasts like this,” she declared. Harry rolled his eyes, smiled, and squeezed Gabrielle’s hand, ignoring the stench of Stinksap.