The Mediterranean sun beat down mercilessly on the pristine beaches of Cannes, painting everything in shades of gold and azure. Harry adjusted his designer sunglasses and took another sip of his mojito, letting the cool mint and rum wash away the lingering taste of the morning's croissant. Three days in the French Riviera had been exactly what he needed after dealing with wizarding politics in the ICW Conference and privately with Gabrielle.
From his spot on the terrace of the Hotel Martinez, he had an unobstructed view of the Croisette. Couples strolled hand in hand along the palm-lined boulevard while street performers entertained clusters of tourists. The whole scene screamed wealth and leisure, a far cry from the war-torn land it would've become had Voldemort won.
'And yet not a word of thanks from these lot,' he thought with a sneer.
"Excusez-moi, monsieur," a sultry voice interrupted his thoughts.
Harry glanced up to find a striking brunette standing beside his table. She wore a flowing white sundress that accentuated her tanned skin, and her dark hair cascaded over one shoulder in carefully arranged waves. Everything about her screamed sultriness, from her red lipstick to the way she stood confidently in front of him, an inviting smile on her pretty face.
"Yes?"
"Oh, l'anglais. D'accord. You are sitting alone on such a beautiful day," she continued in accented English. "Per'aps you would like some company?"
Before Harry could respond, she'd already slid into the chair across from him, crossing her long legs slowly under the table. Her fingers traced the rim of his glass as she leaned forward, giving him an excellent view down her cleavage.
'Well, she's got a nice set, I'll give her that,' Harry thought.
"I am Isabelle," she purred in that sexy accent. "And you look like a man who knows 'ow to show a woman a good time."
Harry couldn't help but be amused by her directness. In his experience, French women had a certain flair for the dramatic that he always found refreshing after dealing with uptight British purebloods for so long.
"Harry," he replied, raising his glass in a mock toast. "And I'm not sure what gave you that impression."
Isabelle let out a throaty laugh that drew appreciative glances from nearby tables. "Call eet feminine intuition. Plus, you 'ave been sitting 'ere for two 'ours watching everyone else 'ave fun. A man like you should not be alone in a place like zis."
Well, she had a point. The Riviera was designed for pleasure, for living in the moment and indulging in life's finer things. He'd mostly spent his days here relaxing and trying to get some intel, but mostly relaxing. Enjoying himself in the pleasures this place had to offer had taken a backseat.
He gave her a once over, seeing how her eyes lit up at the attention he gave her. Maybe it was time he indulged himself a bit. It'd been a few days since he'd gotten some action, after all.
"Well then, mademoiselle. What did you have in mind?" he asked, leaning forward and matching her daring.
Isabelle's eyes lit up with mischief. "Zere's a yacht party tonight. Very exclusive, very..." she paused, searching for the right word, "liberating. Ze kind of party where anyzing can 'appen. And I mean anyzing."
She leaned back in her chair, letting her dress ride up slightly as she stretched like a cat in the sun. Everything about her movements was calculated to entice, from the way she bit her lower lip to how she played with the delicate gold chain around her neck. However, his eyes and those of every other onlooker were fixated on her large tits straining against the white fabric. This one was a seductress, and she knew how to play.
"I could get you an invitation," she continued, smirking, and her feet darted out, her toes tracing sensual patterns on his legs. Harry gave her an amused look.
"Is that so?"
"Oui," she said sensually. "Believe me, you will not regret your time zere."
Harry stared at her for a long moment. She was beautiful, confident, and clearly interested. She struck him as someone who knew she was sexy enough to get any man who caught her fancy.
"Well, I didn't have anything planned for the night. Eh, why not?"
"Magnifique!" She beamed, before adding teasingly, "but I would expect you to be a proper gentleman and escort moi."
"Any dress code I should know about?"
Isabelle stared at him meaningfully, looking him up and down in tandem with how her toes moved on his legs. She stood gracefully, smoothing down her dress.
"Make sure eet is easy to take off," she said finally, a look of pure lust in her eyes. "I will meet you at ze Carlton bar at midnight. Au revoir, 'Arry."
She sauntered away with an exaggerated sway of her hips, clearly putting on a show for his pleasure and Harry allowed himself to drink in the sight like several others around him. As she rounded the corner, but not before throwing him a meaningful wink over her shoulder, Harry shook his head with amusement and returned his attention to his drink.
The rest of the afternoon wore on pleasantly enough. He moved from the hotel terrace to a beach club in Juan-les-Pins, where the atmosphere was more relaxed and the crowd younger. College students from across Europe mixed with trust fund kids and yacht crew members on their days off. The music was louder, the drinks stronger, and the conversation more carefree.
Harry found himself at the bar beside two blonde women who were clearly sisters, judging by their identical blue eyes and matching dolphin tattoos. They spoke in rapid Swedish between themselves before the taller one turned to him with a bright smile.
"You are English, yes?" she asked. "We heard you ordering. I am Valentina, and this is my sister Nadia."
Nadia giggled and waved, clearly several drinks ahead of her sister. Her bikini top was barely containing what it was supposed to, and she seemed completely oblivious to the attention she was drawing from every male within a fifty-foot radius.
"Guilty as charged," Harry replied. "Harry."
"We are backpacking across Europe," Valentina explained. "This is our first time in France. Is it always so... how do you say... intoxicating?"
She gestured around at the scene before them. Half-naked bodies lounged on pristine white furniture while servers in skimpy bikinis delivered overpriced cocktails with picture-perfect smiles. The Mediterranean stretched endlessly toward the horizon, its surface broken only by the occasional yacht or jet ski.
"Only if you let it be," Harry said as he took a sip of his drink. "Though I'll say, there's some fun in that."
Valentina nodded with a grin when Nadia suddenly perked up, grabbing her sister's arm excitedly. "Valentina! The cute bartender is looking at you again!"
Sure enough, the dark-haired bartender was stealing glances at Valentina while mixing drinks. He was all Mediterranean good looks and charm, probably used to having his pick of the international tourists who flowed through the beach clubs.
"You should go talk to him," Harry suggested with a grin. "Life's too short not to flirt with attractive bartenders in exotic locations."
Valentina blushed prettily. "You think so?"
"Absolutely. Just remember to pace yourself with the drinks."
The sisters exchanged a look before Valentina straightened her shoulders and marched toward the bar with newfound determination. Nadia stumbled after her, leaving Harry alone once again.
He finished his drink and decided to take a walk along the beach. The sand was still warm beneath his feet despite the late afternoon hour. Beach volleyball games were wrapping up while couples claimed prime spots to watch the sunset. Street artists hawked their wares to passing tourists, and the smell of grilled seafood drifted from the beachside restaurants.
As he walked, Harry's mind drifted back to his real purpose for being here. Finding the Greengrass sisters had not been easy so far. They had hidden themselves very well, refraining from using magic in any sense. Perhaps that was the reason why Vinda Rosier and her henchmen had not found them either. They must be finding it much more challenging than him, given the fact that they had little knowledge of the muggle world.
The French Riviera was a big place, stretching from Saint-Tropez to Monaco, with dozens of cities and towns in between. They could be anywhere.
His contemplation was interrupted by a light cough from behind him. He turned to find a middle-aged man with kind eyes and graying temples standing there. The man wore the crisp white uniform of hotel staff, with a name tag that read "Philippe" in elegant script.
"Monsieur?" the man asked in heavily accented English. "I am sorry to disturb your evening walk."
Harry's stance was relaxed, but he was ready to draw his concealed wand at a moment's notice. However, Philippe's demeanor was completely unthreatening. Still, it was odd for hotel staff to approach guests on the beach.
"Yes? Can I help you?"
Philippe smiled and shook his head. "Non, non, Monsieur. I am from ze 'Ermitage in Monaco. Your... friend... he suggested I might find you here."
The friend could only be Jonathan. He was a muggle Bella had tasked right when he'd arrived in France with finding information on where the Greengrass sisters could be. Harry kept his expression neutral, but internally he was very impressed. She'd done well for herself here in France, having contacts everywhere, even in the muggle world.
It made him wonder what would happen when she returned with him to Britain. The affairs in France would surely take a hit, no matter how easy and quick it was to travel to and from the country. However, it was something they could think about later.
"I see," Harry said carefully. "And what can I do for you, Philippe?"
The older man glanced around to ensure they weren't being overheard before continuing, "Ze monsieur, he thought you might be interested in attending ze Grand Prix zis weekend. Monaco, it is very exciting zis time of year."
"I'm sure it is."
"Oui, but ze best experience, eet is not where everyone thinks. Ze grandstands, they are crowded, expensive. But if you sit at ze Rascasse corner, section B, you will see ze last lap drama. Eet is ze end of ze circuit, so if zere's a late-race showdown, you will see eet. Ze crashes, ze overtakes, ze real drama of ze race. Ze monsieur recommends eet."
'Talk about being oddly specific,' Harry thought as he nodded. "That's very helpful. Thank you. I'll definitely look into it."
Philippe smiled warmly and extended his hand. "Magnifique! I hope you enjoy ze rest of your stay in our beautiful region. And if you do visit Monaco, perhaps we will see you at ze 'Ermitage."
They shook hands, and Philippe melted back into the crowd of evening beachgoers as smoothly as he'd appeared. Harry had to admire the man's professionalism. To any observer, they'd simply looked like a hotel employee offering tourist recommendations to a guest.
Harry continued his walk, but his mind was now focused. Monaco Grand Prix, Rascasse corner, section B. A couple more days to go, but for tonight, he had a yacht party to look forward to and a hot French beauty to enjoy.
-Break-
Harry adjusted his black silk shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone as he waited near the Carlton. He'd taken Isabelle's advice to heart. The clothes were easy to take off.
At exactly midnight, she appeared.
Isabelle had traded her afternoon sundress for something that could barely be called a dress at all. The midnight blue fabric clung to every curve, held up by the thinnest of straps and ending well above mid-thigh. Her cleavage was on display, her dark hair was swept up in an elegant chignon that exposed the graceful line of her neck, and her lips were painted the color of fresh blood. She looked like a woman out to murder.
"Bonsoir, 'Arry," she purred, sliding up to him gracefully. "You clean up very nicely."
Her hand found his chest immediately, fingers tracing the edge of his shirt's opening. The touch was electric on his skin, intended to make his pulse quicken.
"Would need help taking care of the bodies you leave behind looking like that," he replied, letting his eyes travel appreciatively over her form. "I have to ask though. Is there actually a dress under all that confidence?"
She let out a melodious laugh.
"Per'aps you will find out later, non?" She said suggestively, and her hand slid down to his belt, fingers hooking briefly as she gazed at him with lust before trailing away. "But first, ze party. Are you ready for a night you will never forget?"
"Lead the way."
The yacht was a floating palace, easily two hundred feet of gleaming white luxury anchored in the bay. Music pounded from multiple decks while colored lights danced across the water. Even from the tender that ferried them out, Harry could see the party was already in full swing.
Isabelle pressed against him as they climbed aboard, her curvaceous body warm and enticing against his side.
"Zis is ze Paradis," she murmured in his ear. "Tonight, she lives up to 'er name."
The main deck was a writhing mass of beautiful people in expensive clothes that were rapidly becoming fewer and more revealing. Champagne flowed freely while a DJ spun music that seemed to pulse through the very boards of the ship. Bodies moved together in ways that would have been scandalous in polite society, but here, under the stars and far from shore, different rules applied.
"Drink?" Isabelle asked, but she was already pressing a crystal flute into his hand. The champagne was perfect, crisp and cold with just the right amount of bubbles. But Harry noticed she didn't take one herself.
"Not drinking?"
"Later, per'aps. First, I want to dance."
Harry shrugged as he chugged the champagne down, and she pulled him into the crowd. In no time, they were moving together to the hypnotic beat.
Isabelle's body rolled against his, her hands roaming freely over his chest and shoulders before they wound up around his neck as she pressed herself flush against him. Harry smirked down at her and grabbed her lower back, his fingers teasing the small opening that revealed her bare skin there, and he rolled his fingers over it, pulling her close.
All she did was smirk up at him as she rubbed her body all over his front. There was no hesitation on her part, and Harry decided to up the ante. His hands drifted lower and he boldly grabbed two handfuls of her rear, making her hiss. The sound was drowned by the music, however, but the lust in her eyes increased.
Harry smirked as he slammed her against his hard-on, and her arms around his neck tightened. She leaned forward, burying her face in the crook of neck and began to suck on his skin while he kneaded her supple ass cheeks over her thin dress. All the while, Isabelle rubbed herself against his erection.
Other couples around them were doing much the same, the boundaries of public propriety dissolving in the debauchery of the night.
"Harry?"
His hands paused, and Isabelle leaned back with a small frown. Harry turned his head to find Valentina approaching, looking stunning in a short red dress that hugged her curvy frame. The bartender from the beach club was right behind her, his arm possessively around her waist.
"Valentina! Fancy meeting you here."
"I know, right? Marco here got us invitations." She gestured to her companion, who nodded with a confident smile. He looked completely in his element, and Harry gave him an amused look. "This is incredible. Nadia's around somewhere. Probably getting into trouble as usual."
Isabelle's grip on Harry's shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly as she shifted closer. "You know zese people?" She asked with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Met them this afternoon at the beach club. Valentina, Isabelle. Isabelle, Valentina."
Harry looked on in amusement as the two women sized each other up without being the slightest bit subtle about it. Valentina's gaze lingered on how closely Isabelle was pressed against Harry, while Isabelle seemed to be cataloguing every detail of the younger woman's appearance.
"Well, we should let you get back to your evening," Marco said with a grin. "Come on, Tina. I think I saw your sister by the upper deck bar."
As they melted back into the crowd, Isabelle firmly pulled Harry closer, practically fusing their bodies aggressively. "Small world, non?" she said, but there was something sharp in her voice now. Harry gave her an amused look.
The party grew wilder as the night wore on. The music shifted to something more primal, more intense, and the dancing became more of an exhibition for some. Harry found himself pressed against Isabelle as bodies moved around them like ocean waves. Her hands were everywhere now—trailing down his spine, gripping his shoulders, fingers tangling briefly in his hair. And so were his, caressing her curves, kneading her rear, stroking her sides, and she even sported a visible mark on her neck where he'd sucked harshly just a minute ago.
"You are very... responsive," she whispered against his neck where she'd been nibbling, her breath hot on his skin. "I like zat in a man."
Her lips found the sensitive spot just below his ear, and he let out a soft groan of pleasure. She smiled against his skin, clearly pleased with his reaction.
"The night is still young, 'Arry. Would you like to see ze rest of ze yacht?"
"Show me."
She led him through the crowd, past couples who had given up any pretense of propriety. Dozens of bodies were tangled in a mess of naked flesh, hands and lips moving all over. The lower decks were quieter but no less filled with sexual energy. Isabelle was pressed against his side, her arms wrapped around his and her hand warm as she traced circles on his palm.
They found a stateroom near the stern, elegantly filled with soft lighting. The moment the door closed behind them, Isabelle was on him, her mouth hot and demanding against his.
Her hands worked frantically at his shirt buttons while his found the zipper of her dress.
As she threw his shirt away, Harry grabbed her dress and pulled it over her head, letting it join his shirt.
"Fuck, you're hot," he breathed, grabbing hold of both her tits and clamping his mouth over her nipple, sucking hard. Isabelle giggled, pulling him closer by the hair as Harry mauled her tits, feasting eagerly. He was eager, and he was harsh, but she loved the treatment, her moans encouraging him to keep at it.
Harry alternated between her tits, sucking and nibbling on her nipples before gently biting and pulling on them. His hands reached down to feel the wetness between her legs and he was not disappointed when he found her dripping already.
"Good thing you decided to wear something that's easy to take off," Harry murmured against her neck, clamping his lips on her soft skin and sucking hard. Isabelle moaned hotly, her hands roaming all over his bare back before she reached down, palming his hard cock over his trousers. Her fingers made a quick work of his belt and in no time, he stood naked before her.
Isabelle stepped back and took a moment to stare at him, and the lust in her eyes skyrocketed. Harry walked toward her briskly and grabbed her hair in a fist, slamming his lips against hers once again, swallowing her moans. He grabbed her tits once again, fondling them to his heart's content, and Isabelle was confident that they would be decorated with marks by the time he was done. His fingers once again slipped between her legs and she parted them wide, eagerly pressing into his touch as he inserted two of his digits inside her.
Without wasting even a moment, he began to pump his fingers in and out, his thumb clamping on her clit and rubbing simultaneously. Isabelle's moans were uncontrollable as she reveled in the pleasure coursing through her body, and her hand automatically wrapped around his cock, pumping hard and fast.
Harry seemed to have decided they'd spent enough time getting each other worked up. He lifted her in his arms, making her yelp, and unceremoniously threw her on the bed. Isabelle bounced, giggling madly at the way he was handling her, and slid back, sitting against the headrest. She gave him a look full of lust and slowly spread her legs wide, one finger drifting down to tease her inflamed and dripping pussy while the other beckoned him toward her.
He pounced, grabbing her thighs roughly and dragging her toward him. He straightened her right leg so that it was dangling vertically before he rested it against his shoulder. He held it against himself and grabbed his length, pressing hotly against her entrance.
"You want it?" He growled, making her breath hitch.
"Give it to me," she grinned.
Harry smirked and rubbed the head all over her folds, coating it with her love juices and teasing her. She moaned and writhed under him, before crying out in pleasure as he thrust hard into her sweltering depths, burying himself to the hilt inside her with a wet clap.
He set the pace of their fucking, entirely on his terms, using her like her body belonged to him. He hammered away into her gushing pussy like he owned it.
He pressed her firmly into the bed, pushing forward until her knee was pressing into her breast. She was mighty flexible, bending so wonderfully for him, and Harry took full advantage, grabbing her other breast roughly as he kissed her.
Isabelle moaned hotly, loving the way he was thrusting into her with wild abandon as he mauled her breast and played with her nipple, pinching and rolling it around. She kissed him hard, their tongues battling for domination inside her mouth. She could already feel her climax building rapidly and she tapped his shoulder twice.
Harry pulled back and looked at her questioningly, making her smirk.
"I want to be on top now."
His lips curved upward and he nodded, but he didn't pull out of her. Instead, he allowed her to move her right leg away from his body before rolling them around so that she was now straddling him. His cock plunged deep into her and Isabelle sighed in pleasure, allowing herself to enjoy the sensation of it lodged deep inside her.
With a wild grin, she began to move, her hands tangled in her hair as she bounced on his cock, moaning filthily. The sight was heavenly from Harry's perspective, and he watched those large tits, covered in marks from both his hands and his mouth flopping about wildly, slamming against each other.
He allowed her to dictate the pace for a little while before deciding to get involved once again. He reached over and grabbed two handfuls of her supple rear, and Isabelle dropped over his body with a grin, her hands coming to hold onto his shoulders and her breath hot against his mouth.
The moment she slammed her lips against his, Harry planted his feet on the bed and began to mercilessly thrust upward inside her. Isabelle pulled away from the kiss abruptly, letting out a loud wail of pleasure as she felt him push past her cervix.
Harry was treated to the sight of her large tits bouncing just above his face, and he clamped his mouth around one of her hard nipples once again. He kept a firm grasp on her round globes as he kept pounding his entire length inside her pussy.
Isabelle started to shake on top of him, and the moment her inner walls tightened around his member, Harry knew. He held her tightly to himself as she wailed, her climax crashing through her, drowning her in waves of pure pleasure that left her shaking. Her mouth clamped on his shoulder and she bit hard, sending a stinging pain through him.
He grabbed her hair roughly and pulled her mouth to his in a searing kiss, tasting blood on her lips. His blood.
Isabelle kept shaking on top of him as Harry slowly stilled, her breathing heavy and labored as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. His hands lay at his sides as he heaved deep breaths, and Isabelle smiled to herself, peppering his neck with featherlight kisses and soft licks.
A few minutes passed in relative silence, broken only by her breathing that slowly returned to normal. He had truly fucked the living daylights out of her, and Isabelle knew it was the best fuck of her life. She leaned back, still lying on top of him, her hands on either side of his body as she stared at him.
Harry lay completely still under her, his manhood having already softened and slithered out of her well-fucked hole. Her orgasmic juices kept dripping out of her, but she paid no heed to anything else but him.
His chest rose and fell slowly, and his face had gone pale and slack. A satisfied smile curved her lips, and Isabelle stretched like a satisfied cat before sliding gracefully off him. Her naked form moved with predatory grace as climbed off the bed and bent over, picking up her small dress.
"Ah, mon pauvre 'Arry," she sighed, though there was no real sadness in her voice. "Such a shame zat zis 'ad to end so soon. You really were magnifique in bed. Ze best lover I've ever had."
She pulled out a small chunk of metal from somewhere inside her dress, and there was a rune inscribed on it emitting a soft blue glow.
"But business is business, non? And ze Widow pays very, very well for jobs like zis. And zis was you. I won't 'ave to work a day in my life now, you know? Merci beaucoup, mon chéri. I almost regret 'aving to kill you."
Harry's breathing became more labored, a thin line of foam appearing at the corner of his mouth. Isabelle touched herself between the legs, feeling her release dripping down her legs. Smirking, she coated her fingers with her juices and leaned over him, smearing the fluids on his lips.
"Zis is ze least you deserve after giving me so much pleasure. Ze first poison in your champagne, it made you so... 'ow you say... eager? So willing to come with me, to trust me. And ze second..." she gestured to a small puncture mark on his shoulder where she'd stung him at the end, barely visible beneath the small streak of blood. "Ze second is much more permanent. Zey will find you in ze morning, anozzer rich tourist who partied too 'ard and 'ad a 'eart attack during sex. Zese things, zey 'appen all ze time."
She gently caressed his cheek, feeling his rapidly cooling skin under her touch, her face full of remorse. "You know, if circumstances were different, I might 'ave kept you around. Such a beautiful body, such skill... But ze Widow, she wants ze great 'Arry Potter dead, and I couldn't deny, could I? It is ze 'Arry Potter! I get to be ze one to claim zat prize!"
Harry's eyes fluttered open briefly, unfocused and glassy. "I... I can't..."
"Shh, mon chéri. Do not fight eet. Ze end, it comes for all of us eventually. At least you got to spend your last night in paradise with a woman who appreciated your... talents. You gave me so much pleasure. And I'm not just saying zat. I really loved ze zings you did to me, you know?"
She smiled lovingly, caressing his cheek one last time before making her way over to the large mirror. She stood there, taking in the state of her body with fascination. Her tits bore marks of both his hands and his mouth, her neck had multiple hickeys spread all over, and there was such a pleasurable tingle between her legs even now. She was still dripping, still aching for more of him. Alas…
Harry's apparent death throes continued behind her.
"Ze others, zey will be so jealous. Zey always said ze famous Boy Who Lived would be impossible to kill. But 'ere you are, brought low by a woman's kiss and a drop of poison. C'est ironique, non?"
Harry's movements stilled completely, and Isabelle stared at his reflection in the mirror. She waited a full minute, watching for any sign of life, before nodding with satisfaction. Satisfied, she put the small dress on and moved over to the door, already counting the galleons that'd soon live happily in her vault.
"Au revoir, 'Arry Potter," she whispered, her hand on the door handle. "It 'as been—"
"Actually," came a perfectly clear voice from the bed, "it's been quite educational. And fun."
Her eyes shot open, and Isabelle spun around to find Harry sitting up, very much alive and looking remarkably healthy for a man who should have been dead twice over. The foam was gone from his mouth, replaced by an amused smirk. He licked off her orgasmic fluids almost mockingly, and she stood frozen in disbelief.
"Though I have to say, your acting needs work. All that purring and cooing… it was a bit much, don't you think?"
"Impossible," she breathed, shakily backing toward the door. "Ze poison—"
"Oh, I felt it. Both of them, actually. Nice work on the timing, by the way. Most people would have gotten impatient and used the lethal dose first, but you showed real artistry." Harry swung his legs out of bed, completely unbothered by his nudity. "The problem is, I'm immune to poisons. All of them. Phoenix tears in the blood. Long story, but the short version is that your little Black Widow trick doesn't work on me."
"You... you knew?"
"From the moment you sat down at my table this afternoon. Did you really think I wouldn't recognize an assassination attempt? I've had a lot of practice." He slowly began moving toward her with the grace of a predator stalking its prey.
"But I let things play out. Why, you might think," he smirked when he saw her gulp involuntarily. "Well, it's really simple. I was bored."
"B-Bored?"
"Yeah. This has been much more fun," Harry stopped. "Now, for you, the real question is whether you're going to make this easy or difficult."
Isabelle answered by touching the rune on her device, and immediately Harry felt the familiar tingle of anti-apparition wards slamming into place around them. Anti-portkey charms followed, along with a dozen other containment spells designed to prevent magical escape.
Instead of looking concerned, Harry's grin turned feral.
"Really? You think trapping me here is going to help?" He let out a low laugh, and Isabelle shuddered at the sheer level of danger she could feel. "Oh, you poor, deluded little assassin. You have no idea what you've just done, do you?"
Isabelle had her wand out now, backing toward the door as Harry continued to advance. "Stay back! I'll—"
"You'll what? Curse me? Please, by all means, try."
Her hand shaking, she fired a stunner at him.
"Really?" Harry said, almost disappointed as he casually batted it aside with his bare hand, the red light dissipating harmlessly in the air. Isabelle's eyes widened at the casual display. A cutting curse followed, then a bone-breaker, and then the Killing Curse itself. Harry dealt with each one effortlessly, conjuring a shield from thin air, simply deflecting the spell with wandless magic, or leaning out of the way.
"You know what the difference is between you and me?" he asked conversationally, still stalking toward her. "You think magic requires a wand. I think magic requires intent."
Isabelle flung another Killing Curse toward him. Harry sighed and conjured a small rock that exploded into gray powder, nullifying the green light completely. "Careful now. Keep throwing those around and we might damage the yacht. These people paid good money for their floating bordello. Be a shame to sink it because you couldn't accept defeat gracefully."
Isabelle's face had gone white with terror. This wasn't supposed to happen. Harry Potter was supposed to be dead, not advancing on her like some unstoppable force of nature while casually blocking or swerving around Unforgivables.
She fired one more desperate curse before throwing up a wall of thick, choking smoke and bolting for the door.
Harry made no move to follow her immediately. Instead, he stretched and summoned his clothes.
"Run along then," he called out cheerfully. "But don't go too far. We're not finished yet."
TBC.
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