Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. That honour belongs to J.K. Rowling. I'm making no profit off of this fic.

AN: Rated K+ for teenage hilarity and mild language. This is from a meme where you write a story using fifteen words or less about the prompt in question. After I completed the prompt I decided to expand the scenario a bit.

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Beauty by luvsanime02

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Prompt: 9 and 1 battle each other on DDR (Fleur Delacour and Harry Potter).

They're both light and fast on their feet, but in the end she's more graceful.

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Harry walks into the arcade, bored and not really expecting to find anything interesting to do, but not wanting to meet up with his relatives for lunch until the last possible second. He finds himself walking around aimlessly, sometimes watching someone play and then moving on.

He hears cheering and walks over to the DDR area, where the most beautiful girl he's ever seen is beating the pants off of her opponent. He doesn't look too happy about it, if the scowl on his face is any indication, yet he clearly can't quite bring himself to complain. Not when his opponent looks that good kicking his arse.

She bows to the audience when she wins, blows a playful kiss, and Harry is completely won over. Before he can even think much about it, he finds himself walking forward. "Want to try and beat me?" he asks her.

Why is he talking to this girl, who's so far out of his league it isn't even funny? But she looks him up and down, smiles, and flips her hair back over her shoulders jauntily. "Sure."

So, they play. Harry's actually quite good at this game, but he realises only a few minutes in that so is she. They're both light and fast on their feet, but in the end she's more graceful.

When he loses, he's the one who bows to her. She laughs in response, and the sound fills up Harry's chest. She's got the prettiest laugh, and her eyes are very blue, and Harry feels both terrified and elated to actually be speaking to her.

"That was fun," she admits. "Most of the time, boys are angry with me for beating them."

Harry shrugs. He doesn't see how anyone could possibly stay mad at her, but knows better than to say so out loud. "Nothing wrong with a decent challenge," he replies, instead, though he's still being honest.

She dazzles him with another smile. "Fleur Delacour." She holds out one slim hand, and Harry eagerly grasps it. Fleur? She's French, isn't she? Harry is doomed.

"Harry Potter," he introduces, and wishes he had a fancier name, like Edmond or Louis or something. Fleur doesn't seem to mind, though, and shakes his hand warmly. His fingers tingle.

Fleur tilts her head to the side. "Maybe we could play again, sometime?"

Is she asking him out? Harry doesn't know, but his heart rate still speeds up. Either way, it's not like he'll say no. "Sure. I'd really love that." He pulls out his phone, hardly daring to hope, but she mentioned them keeping in contact first. "Um, do you want to exchange numbers?"

She nods at him, and pulls her own phone out. "Yes." Holy crap, a hot girl is going to give him her phone number. Harry has to remind himself to breathe. Is this really happening to him? Maybe he's dreaming.

She even sends him a text right away, so that they can both store each other's info. Harry tries to pretend that his hands are shaking from the leftover adrenaline.

"Well," he admits, glancing at the time in disappointment, "I think I'm supposed to get to the food court now to meet up with my relatives." He pauses, but can't just leave it at that. "I'll talk to you later?" He hopes.

Fleur raises an eyebrow, smiles again, and leans over close enough to put her hand on his arm. She is flirting with him! "Or," she says, voice low enough that Harry moves closer to hear, "you could text your family and let them know that you're taking me out on a date."

Harry doesn't even hesitate. He's pulling up his cousin's info and texting him almost before she's done speaking. "I could do that," he agrees, smiling back at her and trying to type while his brain feels fizzy. He sends the message without looking. Good enough. Dudley will get the point, or not. Harry doesn't really care at the moment.

"So, lunch?" he asks, and dares to take Fleur's hand as they leave the arcade. Her answering grin is blinding.