Since when did I get so addicted to Harry Potter? I've got no idea. I probably have a bajillion story ideas running loose in my brain. Luna, my personal favorite character, would probably say I have Wrackspurts, but considering she's fictional, I'll just tell myself that.

Anywho, this randomly popped into my head when I thought about DH and Harry's birthday present from Ginny. Tsk, tsk. Redheads, psh! So over rated..

I'm a blonde, and darn proud of it! (even though I do get the occasional dumb blonde moment)

I never thought I'd be here, asking Phlegm for help with my ex-boyfriend—who, might I add, I have fallen head over heels for. But it was a better option than writing my good friend Luna (bless her soul; she's too caught up with Nargles to notice how frustrating boys are) or asking Hermione, or worse, Mum, for advice.

I mean, come on. Phlegm's beautiful. She must have some experience with boys. I'm actually surprised she didn't go out with Harry, even if he is three years younger. I mean, Harry's bloody gorgeous. Always has been, always will be. How could Phlegm not have noticed such a sweet, sexy boy?

Sweet, thoughtful, polite, brave, handsome, rockin' bod', famous, wealthy; Harry was everything a girl could ever ask for. Well duh, he has his flaws, but he's irreplaceable. And cute with those glasses of his. I don't know why I keep thinking about that boy. He brings nothing but trouble.

Of course, I sound like a little old lady whacking one of those doggone whipper-snappers with my cane. "You get back here, young man," I exclaim as I chase him in my slippers with rollers in my hair, "Let grandma teach you a lesson!"

Oh good Lord, horrifying mental image alert. Hate those.

Then again, Harry always gives me this total Dumbledork look that says "My dear, sweet, innocent child, I would rather not trouble you with the insanity and violence of war. Poor young grasshopper. You deserve to have a happy childhood. Now, please, run along and play with your friends, and I sincerely hope you don't have to deal with such mature mishaps that I and other grown-ups deal with. Shoo; run along, I say, run along."

He's such a...a...butthead! Exactly! A real tiresome, stubborn butthead! He has nerve, I tell you! Going around, breaking up with his girlfriend for some unnecessary, noble reason like being used by his enemies even though I already have been used. I remember that tired look on his face at Dumbledork's funeral. I freaked out because I could have sworn we had just brought on another Dumbledork to take on his duty of 'doing things for the greater good.'

And he's doing pretty well, already! He's keeping the 'Horcrux Hunt' away from me, but let me tell you something. Do not mess with the sister of Fred and George Weasley. Or someone will end up hurt. And it won't be me.

Oh, there I go again! Make a big deal out of something as simple as Harry's cute bum! I might as well sit down before the old lady inside me goes into cardiac arrest.

"Gee-nerva, are you alreeght?" Oh, no. Not Phlegm! Not the dreaded mispronunciation of my full name! Not that horrid French accent of hers that sweeps every guy off their feet! And, worst and most horrific of them all...

The bridesmaid dresses she insists on getting my opinion on even though we both know she'll never pick my choices.

Also known as Operation Annoy 'Gee-nerva' With My French Accent And Openly Flirt With Her Sexy Ex-Boyfriend Who Has A Cute Bum And See How Long It Takes Until She Gets Mad.

So far, it was working.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Fleur," I muttered, wrinkling my nose at her Thierry Mugler's Angel perfume. She told me which perfume it is and even had the nerve to soak me with the stuff. It was horrible; Harry avoided me until I managed to scrub it off.

"Really, Gee-nerva, you 'ave to buy zees perfume," Phlegm gushed with a squeal, probably misinterpreting my disgust for wonder.

"Well, I don't think Harry liked it much, Fleur," I mumbled, rubbing my arm self-consciously. Please, God, if you're real. Do not let her spray that horrid stuff in my eyes again. You do realize how embarrassing it was to have red eyes for the rest of the day, right?

Phlegm immediately dragged me upstairs and into my room, shutting and locking the door behind her. Damn, now even my room, my ex-sanctuary, will remind me of her. Stupid perfume. She pushed me down onto my bed with surprising strength (she's thin, okay!) and flopped down, legs crossed in the air and her chin set on top of her folded hands, giving me a look of pure expectation, "Boy troubles?"

Wow, she saved me of the humility of asking her for advice.

I swallowed and smiled sheepishly. What was I supposed to say? Pfft, why would you think that? It's not like Harry broke up with me for some stupid, prat-like, noble reason when we both know he's being stupid. Also, I wanted to ask you, how did you not notice how hot he was in your seventh year?

She raised a delicate eyebrow, as though asking, Vell, zen? Stupeed geerl. Fell een love vith 'Arry Potter.

Bitch. He's impossible to not 'fall een love vith.'

I sighed in defeat (might as well, yeah?) and asked weakly, "Could you put up some charms for privacy? This is personal, and will take a long time, and I don't want...anyone listening." I nearly slipped up, about to say that I didn't want Harry listening. He'd feel so guilty if he heard how I really feel, and he doesn't need that right now. She nodded and muttered about, waving her wand lazily and impatiently. When that was done, she cleared her throat and nodded with a smile, "Continuez, petite sœur."

Damn French of hers. Probably the first thing that caught Bill.

Anywho, I all but spilled my life story to her, telling her, embarrassingly, about the bedtime stories of Harry that I insisted on hearing, when I saw Harry on the platform, my brothers' letters about Harry, seeing him at the end of his first year, my humiliating moment of nightdresses, porridge, and butter dishes, and the like. She listened in horror as I explained why I nearly died in first year; how Harry saved me, and basically the years after, up to now. This all took two hours, and luckily Phlegm repeatedly conjured water bottles for me when my throat got dry.

When I finally finished ranting about Harry's stupid reason for breaking up with me and how I'd probably feel better if we'd actually had things to break up for (we snogged, we confided, we played pranks—none of those were problems), she studied me for a few moments, then sighed.

"Vous n'avez aucune idée de comment vous êtes chanceux d'avoir un tel soin garçon étonnant pour vous tant qu'il veut vous protéger de tout mal," she told me with the shake of her blond head.(1)

"Fleur, I have no iea what you're talking about."

She grabbed my hands, " 'Arry usually loses the people he loves,non ?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"There are very few people who manage to understand 'im; 'ermione, you, Remus, and I am not very sure about your brother, seence 'e ees so..."

"Repulsive?" I offered, thinking of how he'd gawped at Phlegm.

"Vell..."

"Don't worry, you don't have to admit it. It's a commonly known fact whenever someone meets him," I reassured smugly.

She raised an eyebrow, but let it go, "Anyvey, 'Arry ees obviously afraid to lose you, because you are ze first geerl 'e 'as ever loved, oui?"

"Well, I wouldn't say he loves me," I sighed.

" 'Arry loves everyone who doesn't betray 'im," she said firmly. "Now, 'Arry nearly lost all but one of zose people 'e trusts veeth 'is entire live. Ze var ees comeeng! 'Arry ees mos' defeeneetely avreed to lose you, Gee-nerva Molly Veasley!"

I blinked, noticing her English and grammar got worse the more she talked about it.

"Vat eev 'Arry die een ze var, Gee-nerva? Vat vill you do?" She shouted, all but shaking me by the shoulders. I thought about her question. What if Harry really did die? I looked her in the eye in what I hoped was an emotionless way, but apparently I looked like I was about to run out and shag Harry like there was no tomorrow because she grimaced.

"Now zink of 'Arry. 'E 'as been verbally and physeecally abused ever zince 'e was dropped off at ze Dursleys." I must have looked like I was about to cry, now. Harry had admitted his treatment at the Dursleys, but hearing it again was just horrible. I could clearly remember my first time eating breakfast with Harry at the Burrow, how I'd been worried about the bruises all over his frail body.

" 'Arry vants to spend 'is live vith you, Geeny. And 'e also doesn't vant you to know vat 'e 'as 'ad to go through all 'is live. 'E vants to protect you vrom ze vorld's dangers, but 'e knows 'e can't do zat, so 'e 'is try-eeng to do vat 'e can to protect you. And break-eeng up vith you vas vat 'e came up vith," Fleur explained quietly.

I stared at her, rubbing furiously at my eyes. No, no crying. Crying is not allowed! No...Weasley! Suck it up and take it like a man!

After very unrelated pep talks to myself, I fell into sobs, Fleur and I hugging tightly.

"I guess I'm only upset about it because, well, it hurt. I used to be in love with the Boy Who Lived, and then it was like I couldn't make up my mind about which Harry Potter I fancied more; Harry, the boy who was a true hero, or Harry, the boy who defeated Voldemort when he was one. Slowly, I realized that he was niether.

"Harry's just a normal teenager who doesn't want people to suffer like he did. He's not a hero, he's not some invincible god, he's just a kid who was forced to grow up. What I love the most about him is how he's so...innocent and helpless and wanting affection. He wishes he had a family and that he could be naïve like kids should be, believing whatever he was told. But he can't do that. He's like a homeless, adorable puppy dog that you can't help but love."

I laughed, sitting up, "And he's romantic and a very appealing sight to poor eyes, but that's just a bonus."

She laughed, too, and got up, " 'E vill come back, Geeny. 'E just vants to protect you."

I smiled up at her happily, "Thanks for listening, Fleur."

She shrugged, "Je suis toujours là pour écouter, petite sœur. Aussi, faites attention lors du mariage. Gabrielle a obtenu ses pouvoirs Veela quand elle a tourné douze ans et elle pourrait tenter de séduire Harry." (2)

I just nodded and grinned at her as if I knew what she was saying, giving her the thumbs up. You learn how to act after awhile.

Satisfied that her message had gotten through to me(ha! Yeah, not!) she skipped out the door.

And I woke up.

I groaned as I looked out the window to see it was mid day. I must have slept in again. Weird dream, though. I can't believe I dreamt that up.

Well, I'm gonna see what the real Phlegm has to say.

I stumbled around the room, pulling on jeans and a shirt after shedding my nightgown and I then stumbled down the stairs some more.

Fleur was there, looking at dresses. She grinned at me, "Gee-nerva!Vous êtes juste qui je voulais voir!" (3)

I cleared my throat, "Fleur, I know that Harry's up to something and he's probably going to leave pretty soon, but I don't want him to forget me or aything, and I don't know what to—"

"Just kees 'im," she shrugged, "I do not know, I 'ave no experience vith boys, Gee-nerva."

You're kidding me, right? That's it? Just...No deep, philosophical advice? No telling me that Harry only wants to protect me from the war? No terrifyingly bad grammar? This is what the real Fleur Delacour has to say?

She read my expression and smiled, "Every boy I met vas only after my beauty. I nearly asked 'Arry out because 'e treats me normally."

Well, that answers two of my questions.

She flipped her long hair over her shoulder as she casually went back to the magazine, "I say kees 'im. 'Ard."

"Kiss him hard," I whispered, eyebrows furrowing. Then I slapped my palm to my forehead, "Oh—duh! Merlin, I am so stupid! It's so easy! I'll just snog the sense out of him! Thanks Fleur."

I can't believe Ron interrupted us. That had to be the best kiss Harry and I had ever shared. Best kiss ever, probably. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to snog him senseless, but that was Ron's fault.

I stood there by my window, lips tingling, remembering the dream I had about Fleur giving me advice.

Just then, it hit me.

"How the bloody hell did I know those French words?" I muttered, thinking about all the French she had spoken in my dream.

A giggle interrupted my thoughts and I looked over my shoulder to see Fleur standing in my doorway. She winked, probably knowing what happened between Harry and I just a couple minutes ago, and left, skipping down the hallway.

I heard her snicker, "Elle ne sera jamais le découvrir." (4)

Whatever that means. I shrugged and flopped down on my bed to continue my daily daydreams of a certain black haired boy that I had fallen completely head over heels for.

French translations:

(1): you have no idea how lucky you are to have such an amazing boy care for you and he just wants to protect you from all evil.

(2):I am always there to listen, little sister. Also, pay attention at the marriage. Gabrielle recieved her Veela powers when she turned twelve and she might try and seduce Harry.

(3): You are just who I wanted to see!

(4): She will never find out.

Of course, if the translations are wrong or cryptic or whatever else you'd like to add, I apologize. Google Translate has never been trustworthy. :/