Unknown Prophecy (Ch. 73) (Patreon)

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

Unknown Prophecy 

Chapter 73

The Daily Prophet was quick to capitalize on Harry’s fame, and the very next morning, Harry’s face was splashed across the front page, under a dramatic headline in bold type. POTTER THE PRODIGY: DEATH RACE MIRACLE LEAVES CROWD IN AWE! The photograph beneath showed Harry standing battered and filthy on the victor’s platform with a handsome smile on his face. He gripped his Firebolt in one hand and clutched both Fleur and Apolline around the waist with the other. The two gorgeous Veela giggled and posed sexily for the camera. The camera had caught the moment just as several champagne bottles were popped, giving the whole scene an extra sense of triumph.

The byline credited Rita Skeeter, who had apparently snuck her way past the event’s security cordon. She described the race in breathless, sometimes exaggerated fashion, painting Harry as a cross between an ancient Greek hero and a daredevil. “With nerves of steel and the reflexes of a Hippogriff, the Boy Who Lived risked it all in the harrowing final leg of the annual Death Race. Eyewitnesses report that Potter survived not one, not two, but five near-fatal cave-ins, and each one was deadlier than the last.”

She went on to talk about the dragons and how he outflew and bamboozled the snarling, fire-breathing beasts. Rita did so in great detail. Some of it was true, but much of it was exaggerated or completely made up. Harry, of course, didn’t mind, since it made him look even better. 

“By the time he emerged from the Shadow Chasm, he was alone, the sole survivor of a race so dangerous that the Ministry of Magic is already demanding a formal inquiry into race safety protocols.”

The article included eyewitness accounts … all anonymous, of course, and testimony from the Healers who’d treated Harry afterward. “He refused all pain potions, insisting that the only thing he needed was another bottle of champagne!” A sidebar featured Fleur and Apolline’s reaction. It quoted Fleur as saying, “My ‘Arry is simply the best. I knew he would win, even if he has to break every bone in his body to do it!” Apolline’s quote was more understated but no less effective. “We are so proud of his bravery and daring. There is not a man in the whole world who could match up to him.” The Prophet had even managed to procure an exclusive series of photos of Harry and his two Veela supporters mugging for the cameras. One showed Apolline and Fleur kissing each cheek at the same time. 

By the time Harry woke up late that morning, he was still exhausted and slightly hungover. News had already spread through every magical community in Europe.

Unknown Prophecy

Ginny lay in the center of her narrow bed with the Prophet open on her chest. Harry’s photo was right there near her face, looking cocky and triumphant. She stared at it, unable to blink. Her heart was thumping loudly, and her breath was quick and uneven. Her hand hovered over the page, unable to look away from the image of Harry. The paper trembled in her grip, and she blinked hard, her cheeks hot and flushed, then she let a soft, desperate noise slip from her lips.

Her pajama bottoms were hanging over the side of the bed, and her panties had long since been tossed to the floor. Her smooth, shapely legs were slightly open, giving her hand room to work. Her fingers worked furiously as she moved them up and down between her bald, soaked pussy lips. She pressed her thighs together, then spread them apart, greedy for more pleasure. She imagined what it would feel like if her Harry was here now, climbing into her bed and pushing her knees apart so he could see how wet she was for him. Ginny knew he would smile handsomely and kiss her as if she was the only girl in the world.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured him just as he looked in the photo, battered and victorious. She imagined his skin marked with dirty streaks while he slung his arm around her waist. He’d laugh warmly and tease her about being caught alone in her room. Then he’d lean in and tell her she was beautiful, that he’d dreamed about her every night in the hospital, and that he’d thought about her while flying through dragonfire and nearly dying. Ginny lifted her hips and cried out. She was desperate for release, and her fingers sped up until slick squishing sounds filled the little room.

Harry’s voice echoed in her mind as she gasped, and her whole body trembled as she imagined him laying his head between her legs and kissing her sensitive clit. She pictured him on top of her, thrusting inside her, and holding her close. He would make her feel like she was everything. The thought was enough to send her over the edge, and her body quivered uncontrollably as she came. Ginny bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out and alerting the whole house.

She lay still for a moment, breathing hard. She then opened her eyes and reached for the Prophet again. Harry’s handsome face was the only thing Ginny could see as she closed her eyes. “Ginny Potter …” she sighed happily. 

Unknown Prophecy

Meanwhile, while Ginny was fantasizing about Harry being in her bed, a certain Veela was waking up very much in Harry’s bed. Fleur’s eyes fluttered open, and she rolled onto her side, squinting at the bright window. For one confusing moment, she felt like she was still in the world of dreams, because the mattress beneath her was rippling and rocking in a way that no ordinary bed really should. She pressed the heel of her palm into her eye and yawned. Then she noticed the noises. She heard pleasured moans mixed with the smacking of bare skin. The sounds weren’t coming from an adjacent room. They were right there, next to her ear.

Fleur peeked over the mass of pillows and rumpled sheets and found herself inches from Harry’s shoulder. He was on his back, and on top of him, straddling him with perfect Veela poise, was Apolline. Fleur blinked a few times, making sure she wasn’t hallucinating. Apolline’s long, silvery blonde hair cascaded down her back and rippled with every jerk of her hips. Her flawless hips bounced up and down and rolled with a sensual rhythm that made the bed creak beneath them.

Apolline had her head back and her eyes shut in deep pleasure, and her hands were in her hair, showing off the elegant curve of her neck and the full, round shape of her breasts. Harry’s hands were exploring every inch of her gorgeous body. One gripped Apolline’s waist, and the other greedily kneaded and squeezed her breasts with open delight. Even groggy from sleepiness, Fleur could see he was absolutely and shamelessly enjoying himself.

The realization dawned on her, and she remembered last night. She remembered the victory celebration, the champagne, the press blitz, and the afterparty that had migrated to their hotel suite. She remembered Harry’s commanding voice coaxing her into bed. Fleur thought about how his arms had pinned both women down as he took them both at once. She remembered Apolline’s laughter, her warm lips, and the way she’d playfully teased Harry about being a “strong, virile young man.” They had all fallen asleep together in a sweaty, exhausted heap.

Now, it seemed, Fleur was the only one left out of the morning’s fun. She watched as Apolline bounced faster and moaned as his slippery cock hit all the best spots. Harry’s hands caressed up and down Apolline’s body like she was the world’s softest, most exciting toy. For a second, Fleur’s heart clenched with something. It wasn’t quite jealousy, but more like competitive pride. She knew Apolline would make a show of it and go over the top, cooing, whimpering, and moaning so that Fleur would have to pay attention.

Apolline opened her eyes on the next upswing and caught Fleur’s glare. She smiled with mocking innocence and, without breaking stride, leaned in and kissed Harry deeply. Her tongue flashed between their parted lips, and she moaned deeply when Harry sucked on it. She broke the kiss, then ran her hand down Harry’s cheek with a gentle touch. “Mon amour, you are a force of nature,” Apolline purred. Her accent was thick with arousal, but Fleur knew a lot of that was just for show. She knew how much Harry loved their sexy, French accents, especially during lovemaking. She smirked at Fleur, then bounced herself even harder. As her slutty pussy squelched loudly, she threw her head back with an over-the-top “ahhh!” Her body trembled, which did incredible things to her breasts. Her big tits jiggled, quivered, and captured Harry’s full attention.

Fleur couldn’t help herself. “You did not even let me wake up before starting without me,” she complained while pulling the comforter up so it covered her breasts, even though everyone in the room had seen her bare more times than she could count. Harry, still grinning and panting, craned his head towards her and gave Fleur a wink.

“You snooze, you lose,” Harry quipped in a satisfied voice. He reached out, caught Fleur’s ankle beneath the covers, and dragged her foot toward him with playful force. “We tried to wake you, but you were dead to the world,” he said.

Apolline chimed in next, “I even shook you, but you only rolled over and snored!” She giggled and bounced a little slower now, using Harry’s chest for a brace as she shifted her weight forward and back, as if she was riding the world’s naughtiest carousel.

Fleur rolled her eyes, but underneath she was a little pleased to be the center of attention. Still, she was not about to let Apolline win this round. She dropped the comforter, slid out of bed, and stomped to the bathroom, making sure her bare backside was very much visible as she walked away.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Apolline burst into giggles. Harry groaned as she squeezed her pussy tight around his cock, “She’s going to make me pay for that later, isn’t she?”

“Oh, without a doubt,” Apolline replied, then kissed Harry again. This kiss was slower and more intimate. She pressed her body down hard and rolled her hips, and the bed started rocking again, even harder than before.

Harry held her hips and thrust up, and Apolline moaned and collapsed on his chest, gasping out little French endearments as he moved inside her. Their bodies slapped together, and sweat beaded on their skin. “You are so much better than my ex-’usband ever was, do you know that?” 

Harry moaned while grabbing her hair and thrusting up into her. Apolline started to giggle, half-crazed with lust and delight. At one point, Apolline sat upright and shivered all over, and her breasts bounced wildly as she ground herself down hard. “Fleur is so jealous, she will be back any second,” Apolline gasped. 

“She’s probably listening from the other side of the door,” Harry said, barely able to get the words out.

Apolline smiled cheekily. “Then we should put on a show for ‘er, no?” She clenched around him and began bouncing again. Her thick ass clapped against his groin, and the sound echoed into the hotel corridor. Harry groaned and wrapped his arms around her, feeling himself getting closer.

Apolline leaned forward and nipped at his jaw. “Fill me up, ‘arry. Give me what I want and make Fleur come running back.”

Harry slammed his hips up repeatedly, and Apolline shrieked, threw her head back, and orgasmed so hard she almost blacked out. She shuddered on top of him as Harry spilled inside her with a loud, guttural moan.

Apolline rested on top of him, breathing hard. Her pussy still quivering as it milked every last drop of cum from him. After catching her breath, she rolled off and curled up at Harry’s side, kissing his chest. “Now that is ‘ow you reward a champion,” she purred, licking the sweat off his skin.

Harry grinned, still catching his breath. “I one hundred percent agree with you,” he said, palming her ass and gently toying with her puckering asshole. 

Apolline giggled cutely as she basked in the pleasure of having her asshole stimulated. After a few minutes, the bathroom door cracked open, and Fleur’s head poked out. She glared at the pair in bed. Her cheeks were bright pink, but her eyes shined with interest. “Are you done being disgusting?” she demanded.

Harry looked over at her and smiled. “Not even close. Now get your sexy ass over here,” he commanded while gripping his hard, slippery cock. Fleur scampered over, still fully nude. Her perky tits bounced around as she hurried over, and she wasted no time in straddling his lap. She shuddered and sighed in relief as his cock slipped inside. Apolline giggled and kissed his chest as she watched Fleur work her hips back and forth. 

Unknown Prophecy

Harry hit the main street of Diagon Alley with his broom tucked under his arm. He suddenly felt dozens of pairs of eyes on him before he’d made it ten meters. Clusters of witches and wizards bristled with excitement the moment they spotted him. Voices squealed his name. “Harry! Harry Potter!” Harry just smiled and waved. The Death Race had added to his already inflated notoriety, and he could barely make it ten paces without someone stopping to say something. 

“Congrats on the win!” 

“You were brilliant out there!”

“Is it true that you got both of those Veela pregnant?!”

He shot them a polite smile as he slipped into the familiar confines of Quality Quidditch Supplies. The bell above the door gave a loud trill, and the noise outside gave way to the cozy, quiet atmosphere of the shop. All around him, brooms hung suspended from invisible threads, glinting with polished lacquer. Display cases boasted the latest league-issued gloves and enchanted snitches. Harry stopped and took it all in before heading straight for the long, scarred counter at the back.

The shopkeeper eyed him with a mixture of awe and amusement. “Mr. Potter,” he greeted him. “I was hoping you’d stop in today. I heard you took quite the beating at the race.”

Harry laughed. “You could say that.” He slid the Firebolt across the counter, and the shopkeeper turned it in his hands, scrutinizing the damage. He found chipped and bent twigs, flecks of dragonfire soot, many light scratches, and a deep gouge down the handle. Each scar told its own story. The shopkeeper’s fingers glided down the handle as he cataloged the injuries. “The race was brutal,” Harry admitted. “I’m hoping I didn’t do any permanent damage.”

The shopkeeper shook his head, smiling. “They’re built to take a beating.” He opened a drawer, produced a small jeweler’s lens, and peered down the shaft of the broom. “You know, Mr. Spudmore himself floo-called me this morning. He attended the race after I told him that you had purchased one of his brooms to compete with.” He set down the broom and grinned. “He said he’d never seen anyone push a Firebolt like that. He wants to meet you to possibly sign some sort of endorsement contract or ad campaign. I told him you’d likely come by my shop this week and that you’d probably be interested.”

A surge of pride ran up Harry’s spine. “Absolutely! I’d love that,” he said, barely keeping his voice from cracking like an idiot.

The shopkeeper nodded. “I’ll pass the message along. In the meantime, I can get your broom back in top shape. It should be ready for pick-up in two days, tops.”

Harry thanked him and left the broom in his capable hands. As soon as he exited the shop, he was hit by a wall of sound.

The crowd outside Quality Quidditch Supplies had swelled from a handful of onlookers to a teeming mass that spilled into the street and nearly blocked foot traffic entirely. Harry quickly realized that perhaps half the Alley’s witches of a certain age had abandoned whatever errands or shopping they’d been doing and now jostled for a chance to interact, however briefly, with him. The crowd had an energy that bordered on manic, with giggles, shrieks, and excited calls of his name echoing between the buildings. It was almost entirely female, and Harry relished every bit of the attention.

He played the part of the conquering hero beautifully. He posed for photos, signed slips of parchment, and gave autographs on everything from Quidditch jerseys to notebook covers to a girl’s bare cleavage. She tugged down her crop top with a bashful grin, and Harry couldn’t resist adding a little lightning bolt under his signature, just above the edge of her pale pink areola. The girl giggled and blushed, then hurried away to show her friends.

“Harry, over here!” called another, and he turned to find a group of three witches, all in their early twenties. They crowded in close and sandwiched him between them for a group picture. “You’re even hotter in person,” one whispered in his ear, though it wasn’t nearly as quiet as she probably thought. The other two nodded, and Harry grinned for the camera. The moment the flash went off, one of the girls slipped her arm around his waist and squeezed, holding on for a second longer than strictly necessary.

He moved through the crowd, always smiling and always charming the asses. The girls got bolder as the line thinned. One older witch that Harry guessed was in her forties asked him to sign her cleavage as well. She fished a marker from her bag and pulled down the neckline of her blouse, exposing an impressive expanse of pale, freckled skin. “Right there, Mr. Potter,” she said with a wink. Harry smiled and scrawled his name in the valley between her breasts. The crowd whistled and laughed.

A pair of younger women approached next, each holding a magazine. The covers featured Harry on his broom, zoomed in on his windswept hair and intense green eyes. “Will you sign our Witch Weekly?” one asked, biting her lip. “You’re my absolute favorite.” He scrawled his signature across the glossy cover, and the girls squealed, thanked him, and ran off, already planning to make their friends jealous. 

The next girl meant business. She wore a skirt that barely covered her hips and a tank top that left nothing to the imagination. She elbowed her competition aside and all but climbed into Harry’s lap as she demanded a photo. “My boyfriend will never believe I met you!” she exclaimed.

However, Harry thought that her boyfriend wouldn’t be too pleased by the way she pressed against him. Her perky tits were mashed into his side, and her pouty lips were millimeters from his face. Her friend snapped the photo, then handed it off so she could get one too. He pulled her against him and wrapped an arm around her. He felt her squirm with excitement against him.

The autographs, the photos, and the flirty banter continued. Harry found himself genuinely enjoying the difference in personalities. Some were bold with what they wanted. Some were shy and cute, and some were outright flirty. He gave them all what they wanted, and by the end, he left many starry-eyed and lovestruck. 

Unknown Prophecy

After leaving the chaos of Diagon Alley, Harry apparated directly to the Granger residence. He knew Emma was at work, so the house was empty except for Hermione. Harry could hear faint music coming from upstairs. He didn’t bother knocking as he entered and made his way up the stairs.

Hermione’s door was slightly ajar, and he caught sight of her from the hallway. She stood by her desk, completely absorbed in a thick, yellowed tome. The morning sunlight filtered in and made her pale skin glimmer. Her taut body was mostly bare. She only wore a tiny pair of white cotton panties and a T-shirt that hung off her shoulders and didn’t reach her belly button. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and one leg was bent while her back was slightly bowed. 

Harry grinned and pushed the door open. Hermione didn’t look up, but she did glance over the top of her book and smile when she saw him. She closed the book and set it aside. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago,” she said.

Harry shrugged as he stepped into her room. “I got mobbed in Diagon Alley. You wouldn’t believe how many witches wanted an autograph … or more.” He sat at the edge of her bed, spreading his knees and patting his lap. “I missed you.”

“It’s only been a few days,” Hermione said, but it was obvious she was pleased with his words. She didn’t hesitate to step between his knees. The T-shirt slipped further down, exposing a bit of cleavage. Harry slid his hands up her thighs, and his thumbs grazed the crease where her legs met her hips. He then hooked his fingers under the waistband of her panties and tugged them down. Hermione gasped, but she lifted one foot, then the other, letting him take the panties off.

Harry pressed his lips to her belly and kissed a trail down her belly button to just above her mound. “You’re so sexy,” he told her, then ran his tongue along the sensitive skin. Hermione giggled and squirmed in place while toying with his hair. She always liked when he kissed her there, and Harry loved making her tremble.

He gently pulled her onto the bed and flipped her so she landed on her back. Hermione pulled out her bun and let her curls spill onto the pillow. She made a little squeak of protest, but Harry silenced her by kissing down her body. He nudged her knees apart and settled between them. He held her thighs open and breathed in the womanly scent of her fresh pussy. 

By now, Hermione was already flushed from embarrassment and excitement. She never got used to how direct Harry could be, but she had to admit, she liked it a lot. He started slowly tickling her inner thigh with his tongue, then teased her folds with the tip. Hermione moaned softly and grabbed at the bedsheets. Her hips instinctively bucked to meet his mouth. The more he sucked and licked, the more her breath escaped in little, ragged gasps. She felt him latch onto one of her plump lips and suck. He pulled back a little, causing the taut flesh to stretch. 

Between desperate breaths, Hermione tried to sound in control. “You … you haven’t even said hello,” she managed to say, but then Harry flicked his tongue right over her clit and she lost her train of thought. She arched her back and covered her face in her hands, though she peeked through her fingers to watch him. Harry grinned up at her with glistening lips, satisfied at how quickly he’d reduced her to a gasping, moaning mess.

He didn’t stop licking and sucking until her thighs clamped tight around his head, and her voice hitched in that desperate way he loved so much. Only then did he pull up, crawl up her body, and kiss her full on the mouth. Hermione didn’t care that she could taste herself on his tongue. She pulled him down, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him until they were both out of breath.

Harry’s hands roamed her body as they kissed. One slid under the T-shirt to cup her bare breast and tease her nipple while the other caressed the dip of her waist. When he finally broke the kiss, Hermione gave him a look that was both annoyance and adoration. “You’re such a bastard,” she said, but it came out as a happy sigh.

“I do believe I’ve been called that once or twice in my life,” he chuckled. 

“Was there ever any doubt?” Hermione snorted as she untangled her hair. 

He flopped onto the bed next to her and just watched her catch her breath. Her hair was a mess, her lips were swollen, and her cheeks were flushed. She finally sat up, crossed her legs, and pulled the T-shirt back into place. With her usual, pragmatic efficiency, Hermione reached for her wand on the nightstand and performed a quick cleaning charm on herself. She then flicked it at Harry’s mouth for good measure. He smirked at her.

“So …” Hermione said as she stretched her back. “ … are you staying for lunch, or did you just want to snack on me?”

Harry grinned, rolled over, and pinned her to the bed. “Both,” he said, and Hermione burst out laughing. He kissed her again, and her laughter was muffled between their lips.