Fleur at the Second Task

Edit 18/04/23: I went back and did a second draft of this image. I was never quite happy with the face and hair before, but I didn't have time to redo it. Hope you like it. 

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Here's a fun little image and an imagined scene of Harry and his mates seeing Fleur in her swimsuit in the second task of the Tournament. I felt like I was writing an episode of Entourage! I hope you like it. New chapter tomorrow, as always.

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“Harry, those five galleons? You don’t owe me anymore.” Dean said breathlessly.

“You are a man amongst men, Harry Potter. Bringing us here is your greatest achievement.” Seamus muttered.

Ron’s ears were red-tipped. “I will never forget this. Never.”

Neville just squeaked.

Harry shook his head in amusement. “Dean, I never owed you any money. And Seamus, not to toot my own horn, but I also, y’know, defeated the Dark Lord as a baby.”

He’d brought the boys to the official portrait photographs ahead of the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament, knowing that Fleur Delacour had to be in a swimsuit. While the rest of the crowds filled the bleachers, waiting for the task to begin, Harry and his friends had a front row seat.

At the edge of the lake, Fleur posed in front of the Triwizard Cup, turning for the camera, trying out pose after pose. Her swimsuit dug into her prominent netherlips, the fabric so tight that it outlined every inch of her pussy. How had she fit into the ludicrous swimsuit? It looked like it was painted on, the metallic blue gleaming in the sunlight. Her sizable breasts spilled from either side of of it, framed by the cut-out window as the swimsuit rose toward her graceful neck and tied itself around it. A gold pendant settled in her cleavage.

The French flag was stamped onto her torso— she was always so prideful.

“I want to be French, suddenly.” Ron said.

“I want to be that pendant so bad.” Dean muttered.

Seamus grinned. “Lads, I think Nev is going to cum in his pants.”

“Or start singing La Marseillaise.” Harry chipped in.

“What’s that?” Ron frowned.

“Honestly, I’m lost on you guys. Hermione would get it.”

The guys jerked their heads round frantically. “Merlin, Harry, don’t say Hermione or she’ll appear.” Ron griped. “Where is she, anyway? I need to go guys, Dumbledore wants to see me about something. I think they’ve realized I cheated on my History homework for the whole of last year.”

“You will want a shot from behind, non?” Fleur put a finger to her lips coquettishly.

“Oh, fuck. Nevermind, I’m not going anywhere.” Ron bit his lip.

Rita Skeeter’s photographer Bozo nodded enthusiastically, red-faced, sweating and, Harry thought, unable to believe his luck. Rita, perhaps knowing when she’d struck gold, stayed silent.

Fleur swished her silvery-golden hair behind her, and perhaps she’d used her magic, because it settled perfectly as always. It was like the sun shone just for her.

She turned slowly.

“Oh, granny.” Neville clenched his hands, knuckles white.

“It’s so beautiful.” Dean whispered. Harry didn’t need to ask what he was talking about — they were all looking at Fleur’s perfect ass, two sides of a thick peach, endless fields of creamy skin, covered in a thin layer of sweat glowing under the sun. Her ass devoured the thin back strap of her swimsuit, just a flash of blue between her cheeks.

Bozo himself let out an audible groan.

“For ze photo, I shall take my boots off? I won’t wear them in ze task.” Fleur wondered out loud.

“Leave them on!” Neville called out, and then brought his hand to his mouth, red with embarrassment.

Fleur giggled, her asscheeks jiggling as she looked over her shoulder.

“Harry, I want to say sorry again about the first task.” Ron clapped his shoulder heavily, not turning his head. “I will never forget what you’ve done for me today.”

“That’s okay, Ron.” Harry snickered.

“Lads, before you ask, it’s my wand in my pocket.” Dean grinned.

“I would sit through quintuple Potions every day for a month, just for a sniff and a lick of that ass.” Seamus drawled.

“Seamus!” Harry guffawed.

“I would ask Hermione about SPEW at breakfast, lunch and dinner, for a year.” Dean countered.

“I’d volunteer as test subject for all of Fred and George’s inventions.” Ron added.

“I’d fuck Millicent.” Seamus decided.

“She’s not even that bad, guys—” Harry tried.

“I would kiss Professor Snape with tongue.” Neville volunteered.

The guys all paused to look at Neville, who shrank under their collective gazes. “What?” He said, red-faced.

Harry just grinned, throwing his arms around the shoulders of his friends, glorying in the breathtaking view.

“I can’t even be nervous, looking at that.” He admitted. “It’s like I’ve already won.”

“Just think,” sighed Dean. “One day, there will be one lucky fuck that gets to smash that, day and night.”

“Could be us.” Ron stood up straighter.

Harry drank her in. The future seemed as bright as the sun. He could win the task. He could win the tournament. He could get the girl.

Harry smiled. "Could be me."