Chapter 5

Two weeks after what was being politely called, "The Incident", Olympe Maxime was at her wits end. She had been forced to restrict Miss Leroy to the medical wing, due to the girl's frantic attitude and erratic behavior bordering on violent. The worst had been the night before, when she had bitten Healer Beaucomp, attacked several house elves and proceeded to try and jump out a window. The girl's reasoning being, "You don't understand, I need him."

She reached for the crystal decanter of brandy she kept in her desk and debated how unladylike it would be to just drink from the bottle. After speaking with both Marcus and her parents, it was obvious what had happened; too many detentions led to flirting and eventually a relationship. What was worse, was that not only were her parents aware and complacent, they were happily holding their sleeping granddaughter while explaining to her the planned wedding for Colette after she graduated. They even extended an invitation to her. Popping the stopper off the bottle, she couldn't help but say it, "And people wonder why I drink."

Taking a small swallow, she again couldn't help but think about what might've been done to the girl. One diagnostic spell from Healer Beaucomp was enough to verify that Miss Leroy had been cursed and quite violently. The problem with it was that a simple "finite" did nothing but make the symptoms worse. She had consulted every book in her library, looking for anything remotely similar to what the symptoms were and found nothing. So, whenever rare curses and spells were seen, she sought out the resident caster.

"Miss Delacour, I need to know what you did to Miss Leroy." She had waited until the evening, and politely asked the young woman to join her for tea. It was not an uncommon request, every year she would meet with the eldest class and counsel them one on one on what they planned to do after graduation. She realized she was wrong in her suspicions when the girl's face turned pale.

"Madam, it's no secret that Colette and I hate each other with a passion." The girl seemed to relax as she vented about her problems. "And while yes, I have dealt with her in the past," she didn't hear the door open, but didn't miss the slight swagger the animal had in its step as it walked to the center of the room. "I had nothing to do with that."

She didn't miss the way the animal seemed to focus on Fleur when she was speaking. It was more than obvious what He was thinking. She knew He was dangerous the moment He stepped out of her fireplace. Fleur's father was the same exact way. Damien Delacour could appear the perfect gentleman, harmless as a wad of cotton and afraid of his own shadow, until you tried to harm anything he cared about. Any attempt to harm his loved ones would turn him into a killing machine that wouldn't stop until the ground had turned to mud with their attacker's blood. Even as a six-pound cat, this thing, Seven, he called himself, gave her the exact same feelings that Damien did.

"Very well Miss Delacour, I suppose you had nothing to do with this." She locked eyes with the feline as it moved over to Fleur, evidently satisfied with being the center of attention. After that, the conversation moved on to trivial things and she was no closer to an answer. She knew He was responsible, but she couldn't exactly demand for him to undo whatever he had done. Another swallow, and she realized, that along with the alcohol, she would need to choke down her pride as well.

In Scotland, Albus Dumbledore continued to read over the list of incoming students. O'bryant, Parker, Peterson, Petersen, Queen, of course. It had been over sixteen years since he left a young Harry Potter on the front step of a simple two story house in Little Whinging. He had held out hope that the neighborhood would be the proper place for a young man to grow up. It was three days later when on a walk around London that he heard the news. A man, Vernon Dursley, had been found dead in an alleyway not far from his home. The case was strange because there had not been a single sign of injury to his body, and the autopsy suggested that while he could've stood to lose some weight, he was a generally healthy man. Stranger still was that he was found lying next to an open dumpster clutching a baby blue child's blanket stitched with the initials, "H.P."

Immediately, he summoned every person who he could trust and they began their search. He himself had checked the area where Vernon had been found and tasted the tainted air left behind from dark magic. When he spoke with Petunia, he discovered something that truly chilled him. She had said Vernon had found a way for them to be free of Harry. That he had, "Found a place for him." She had thought he was talking about a willing couple or maybe an orphanage, she never imagined him doing that to a child. For all the hate she held for her sister, she could never have done that to her nephew. For weeks they looked to try and find him, to make sure that he was safe, but eventually, they had to stop. But still, he held out hope that one day, the child of two dear friends would be found. That he would walk through the doors of the school alive and happy.

He shook his head and turned to the mantle over his fireplace. Hidden behind several photos, his 1973 inner London 65+ bowling trophy, and a rather simple in his opinion notice-me-not charm, sat a small burning candle. It looked like it was nothing truly special. Six inches of plain white wax resting in a chipped porcelain coffee cup, but it was much more. When he first started working with Nicholas Flammel, the man said they were going to, "do a treat" and he could keep the results. After spending close to a year gathering a dozen of the most pointless, in his opinion, ingredients; ranging from sap gathered from a tree that only grew on the southeast side of the Rocky Mountains in America under a blue moon, to a bottle of Blue Moon beer that had been allowed to cure for sixteen full moons, they started to work.

The result was what Nicholas referred to as a "Light of your Life" candle. The idea was that if you burned the hair of someone in the candle's flame, you would always know the condition of their life. The only time it would go out was when the person had passed on to the next great adventure. The same evening he had said goodbye to Harry Potter, he burned the boy's hair, knowing the child would be safe, but erring on the side of caution. Since then, he had stared at the flame for days during the summer, and shed countless tears over the years as he watched it go down to a glowing ember each day only to burn brightly the following morning. Wherever young Harry was, he prayed that he could escape one day and find peace from what must be an already harsh and unforgiving life.

Thinking about the years made him remember his own recent troubles. He hadn't even wanted to take the stone, but Nicholas had been incredibly stubborn. "Albus, Penny and I are tired. We have buried our children, grandchildren, and God only knows how many great grandchildren. We are ready to move on and we want you to have the stone."

He was insistent, saying that he wanted the stone to be preserved, to show the world anything was possible, and what better place to show them that the impossible was possible than at a school? Sure, the idea seemed perfect, but that doesn't take into account megalomaniacs who had the uncanny ability to avoid dying. It had been a miracle that Halloween night no child had been killed by that troll. Instead, a poor muggleborn girl had suffered quite a fright, and the youngest Weasley boy showed that he bled red and gold.

The next year had been quiet, all things considered, except for young Mr. Malfoy parroting his father's beliefs. It finally came to a head when the boy had screamed out "Mudblood" in the dining hall to the young Miss Granger. He had already been moving when surprisingly, Severus dragged the boy away and somehow stopped the vile language. Whether the change was genuine or the boy was just keeping silent about his beliefs, he didn't know. It was the previous year that brought about a large surprise.

When Sirius Black managed to escape Azkaban prison, Albus would be the first to admit that the man needed to be captured as soon as possible. Why though, Minister Fudge had felt that the stationing of Dementors at Hogwarts was necessary? Everyone knew Harry Potter wasn't at the school, so why did the Ministry insist on letting those monstrosities on the grounds, because some mind rattled convict kept muttering about Hogwarts. However, Sirius was found on the grounds, attempting to strangle a man everyone had assumed he had killed.

After the trial, and subsequent Kiss, of Peter Pettigrew, Sirius began a crusade into finding Harry, leading him to almost every seer, soothsayer, and tarot reader around the world. They all said the same thing, that he lived, but he wasn't alive. Whether that gave the man hope or not, he did not know. What he did know was that when Sirius wasn't hunting for his Godson, he was hounding after him for reasons why Harry wasn't kept in the wizarding world.

"Albus," he was literally dragged from his thoughts when a familiar face sat in his fireplace. Between the three of them, Albus always preferred Olympe over Igor. Yes, he did believe that every person should have a chance at forgiveness, but he remembered seeing the memories of those who had earned the right to be given the dark mark. That was why he never let Severus out of his sight. Keeping one's enemies closer and all that.

"Yes my dear Madam Maxime, what may I do for you this fine evening? You'll still be able to arrive tomorrow evening I hope?" He could not lie, he enjoyed being able to talk to this particular woman, she just had a way about her.

"Of course, however, I find myself in need of your assistance." He couldn't stop the smirk that grew on his face when she grimaced. Like all people, he hated having to swallow his pride and ask for a favor.

"It is one of my students. Something has been done to her. I don't know if it was a spell, or a curse, but I, I just don't know how to make it stop. I was hoping that, if she were to come with us tomorrow, and you aren't too busy, perhaps…"

"As it just so happens, I find it necessary to do a personal check of both yours and Igor's students living quarters when you arrive. Understand that it's just to make sure that nothing harmful has been brought with you." Yes, he was lying, but it was just a white one. After all, the spells placed on the school and grounds by the founders usually negated the strongest of dark magic. But if he made it seem like he was simply checking for anything harmful, perhaps she could still seem proud and he was just being thorough to her students.

"And if this student in question happens to be in the vicinity when I am checking, I may be able to offer a piece of advice. Only if by some miraculous circumstance I run into her of course."

"Of course, and thank you Albus, goodnight."

"Goodnight my dear." He watched the flames go out and felt his eyes rise to the small candle. For almost a month it had glowed steadily bright. Perhaps he had finally found a good life. "Goodnight, Harry Potter."

"Now ladies, when we arrive, I expect you to be on your best behavior. Not only will you be surrounded by strangers and you are representing your school, you will also be representing your home countries. Don't sully yourselves by acting like a group of giggly schoolgirls." They had left France earlier in the day and were less than an hour from landing at Hogwarts School, in other words, it was the perfect time to explain proper conduct. "I expect you all to act respectfully, and never leave the carriage without at least one other student. While I have been assured that nothing bad will happen, I would rather you all be safe than sorry."

Fleur, while she respected her headmistress tuned her out after a few moments, listening only for the key points. Be polite, act like a lady, and don't go anywhere without a buddy. No, instead, her mind had been on her new shadow. Since the little display at breakfast with Leroy, she had kept a closer eye on him. Every day, he would be awake before her. Freshly showered, head shaved clean, smelling like some spicy cologne her mother had purchased him and if she wasn't mistaken, a faint layer of concealer over his eyes. While his behavior was odd, the makeup was what bothered her most. He was covered in scars, she had damn near seen them all when she walked into his room that morning, so why hide that particular one? From what she could understand, he would tell her why he wore it if she asked, but she wanted to figure it out on her own.

He was currently locked inside her room. She was rather proud of herself. When it came time to leave, he willingly walked into the cat carrier and sat down when she latched the lock. When she placed him in her room, she may have conveniently forgotten to open the door, but that was fine. He couldn't get out without breaking the carrier, and she was betting that if he changed inside it, at least a little noise would give her a heads up that he had gotten out.

"Fleur, you are evil," she turned around in her chair, a response ready when she saw him. He still had that permanent smirk the breed wore, and maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed even more smug. Felina held him close, cooing soft words while giving her dirty looks. "I knocked on your door, trying to find you, and I see this poor thing locked up, giving me this sad look, just begging to come out."

You son of a bitch. "I guess I was just so excited to be leaving that I had forgot to let him out?" Even she could tell it was a bad lie. Instead, with a silent groan and fake smile, she held out her arms for him. Instead, Felina just pulled him closer and sat down next to her.

"Oh no, you were so mean to this little thing, he gets to spend some time with me." It didn't surprise her when he started to squirm to get loose. Felina made it no secret that she wanted him to be bred against her cat. In fact, when she spoke to him one night, he even admitted to her that he found Felina's interest in him, troubling.

"Felina, just give her the stupid cat. He may make her crazy, but he is hers." It didn't surprise her that Claire came to her defense. As much as she was a "dog person" she still found him to be tolerable. Seven even said that she was "Kind." With a pout, he was passed over, and Fleur didn't miss the look in his eyes. You can never be taken from me, that was what he had said. They had had several talks since that night, and each one she was fully clothed thank you very much. And it all boiled down to one thing, he was connected to her, and would always be connected to her.

He went on to explain what had happened when she marked him, that chill she had felt when their hands touched, that was his mind. Seven had told her she would always be able to "feel" him, whatever that meant. She still could feel him, or perhaps sense him, when she was truly relaxed. A chill in the back of her mind, not unpleasant, but definitely different. He had explained that it was the same for him. That he could sense her moods, whether she was sad, angry or happy. Either way, it just wasn't right.

Still though, she just didn't know what to make of him. But, she couldn't deny that she enjoyed some of the benefits to having him around. After classes she was, gods help her, starting to look forward to having a hot bath waiting for her. Even her friends were starting to comment that she always seemed to be in a rush to get back to her room. She gave him an absent minded pet and reminded herself to write to her mother. If the woman bought him, she had to have gotten a 'how to' manual or something on how to deal with him.

"Attention, were are nearly there and preparing to land. After the carriage stopped, I want you all to form two lines outside the carriage and then we will enter the castle orderly." She gave him a gentle nudge and he moved to her room. She wasn't sure what to expect, but to see him standing there and holding her robe made her slam the door shut.

"Are you trying to get caught!?" She ripped her robe from his hands and quickly wrapped it around herself. When she tried to step away, his hands grabbed her shoulders and proceeded to straighten the clothing on her properly.

"Miss Fleur, I am whatever you want me to be." She simply held still and let him finish. She had learned quickly that he was like a house elf when he wanted to get something done. It was just easier to go along with it. "Do you want me to come along with you into the school?"

"No, you wait here." Fleur was absolute on that. He might've been forced onto her, but she was going to control him as much as possible.

"Miss Fleur, as much as you would like me to, I'm afraid that isn't possible."

"I don't care what you think, and why did you just do that, I'm going to be sweating out there." She watched him put away his wand and had to resist the urge to curse him. It was seventy in the carriage, and he hits her with a warming charm, how is that helping?

"Miss Fleur, your mother made it clear that I am to protect you. I can only do that if I am around you. As for the charm, I know how cold you get." She didn't get a chance to reply before he was again a feline and winding his way through her legs towards the door.

"Fleur, give him to me," it wasn't so much a request as a demand when Claire ripped him out of her arms the second they stepped off the carriage. She would never say it, but he was right, she hated being cold, and the warming charm took care of the chill in the air. Meanwhile, she couldn't hold in a laugh as she watched Claire attempt to turn her "cat" into an impromptu muff.

"It official, France has spoiled me." At this point, the girl had practically wrapped herself completely around him, the only thing she could see was a pair of wide green eyes sticking out from her friend's arms.

"How so?"

"I grew up in the northern United States. Back where I'm from, its much colder there this time of year."

"And that has to do with France spoiling you how?"

"It's thinned out my blood. I'm probably going to freeze to death in December."

They waited, properly of course, as Madam Maxime spoke with the hosting headmaster. She understood that he was one of the greats, after all, what student wasn't at least acquainted with the name, 'Albus Dumbledore'? But with that being said, how could one of the most powerful wizards in the world look like a stiff breeze could tip him right over? She also didn't miss the assessing looks of the Hogwarts students. It was true, they were the foreigners, and yes, they weren't exactly 'prepared' for such a harsh climate change, but did they need to stare so hard at them? "Where's Felina?"

"She's up front giving Professor Tsiampas a hand unhitching the team. The man isn't getting any younger and you know how she is." It was true, the girl did love her animals. Part of her wanted to actually see the hundred and twenty pound girl work with an animal that when angry, made rouge elephants look like upset puppies.

"-Malt whiskey?" She noticed then that Felina was coming back to the group and Madam Maxime was waving to Professor Tsiampas. The man was currently sitting on his broom giving their lead stallion a rub down. According to Felina, running and flying to exhaustion was common with the breed, especially in the males and he only wanted to be thorough.

"Of course my dear, my groundskeeper, Hagrid, will more than welcome the challenge." She didn't miss it when he gave them a scan with his eyes. It was then she noticed his eyes, no matter how old he appeared, and how much they twinkled, she realized then that he was a fighter. This was a man like her father, and like the cat in her friend's arms. Don't try and fight unless you can win, it'd be suicide otherwise.

"Would you like to wait here for Igor to arrive, or perhaps inside?"

"Inside I should think," Fleur wasn't the only student to sigh in relief when they started the trek towards the castle. Please for the love of God, let it be warmer inside than the cold exterior made it seem. After what seemed like an obscene amount of time, they were inside, and she was trying to pry seven loose from Claire. Apparently, she was still cold, even though it was easily the same temperature inside the castle that the carriage was.

"Just give me a few more minutes with him." Fleur never expected the 'dog person' to want to keep holding a cat, but from the look those eyes were giving her, it wasn't long until he decided to do something to get free. "Besides, if he gets loose in here, who knows where he could get off to?"

Like he'd really be more than five feet from me. Forcefully, she managed to get him back, and after he was on the ground, he seemed to just stare at the room before leaning against her leg. "I told you before, his name is 'Pain in my ass', which means he can't live up to his name if he isn't constantly around. He won't wander off."

When they were finally allowed to enter the main hall, she couldn't help but stare. The floating candles, along with the enchanted ceiling, she couldn't deny the appeal that it had. The amount of spell work and knowledge needed to even attempt a project such as this was astounding. Once they were seated, she found herself examining the students, the room, the food, anything to avoid the slight weight that had appeared on her feet. The students they were seated with seemed friendly enough, if a little strange. But then again maybe using vegetables as fashion accessories was an English thing?

The students from Durmstrang had shed their outer robes, and while they were still quite large, it was obvious that most of their bulk came from solid forms and not winter clothing. She didn't doubt though that if they couldn't finish an enemy with their wands, their fists would be more than adequate. She also didn't miss the way Claire was eyeing a few of them. "Didn't take you as the kind of girl to go chasing after meatheads."

"I'm a proper lady of Beauxbatons," she replied with a sniff. "I don't chase men." The serious expression didn't take anything away from the amusement in her eyes. "But they look like a few of the guys back home."

"You really prefer pale skin, brute force, and the mindset of a caveman?"

"I told you before, I'm from up north. Most of our guys look like that, and besides, you're confusing caveman with, 'down home, yes ma'am, aw shucks' country boy farmer." She turned her head and smirked at their other friend. "Besides, I'm not the one you've got to worry about."

Felina stopped making eyes at the farthest table, where a, handsome she supposed, blonde haired boy wearing yellow was currently blushing bright. "Really Felina, already?"

Giving him a final wink and a wave she turned to Fleur, "I'm going to have so much fun here."

"Attention students, first of all, I would like to again welcome our guests as to what will surely be an exciting year at Hogwarts school, the proud host of the Tri-Wizard Tournament." With a wave of his hand, Albus sent Argus away to bring in the goblet. "Before the judge is presented, I would like to give you all a piece of advice." He couldn't help but scan the new faces along with the old. He recognized several of them immediately. The Delacour girl, he remembered seeing her when she was five years old, stopping by their family's manor to discuss business with her late father. It wouldn't surprise him if she was selected to represent her school.

From Durmstrang, their champion was obvious. Viktor Krum, for all the talk of him being a grunt on a broom, he was anything but. The young man had been raised in a family of fighters. His father proudly served in the fight against Lord Voldemort, his grandfather led the charges in the trenches of Germany against Grindewald during the forties, and countless other family members had given their lives in service to their country. It would be a fool's errand to try and fight against the boy in a life or death struggle. He would keep going long after his body had failed.

As for his students, he was trying to remain unbiased. Each of the professors had a student who they felt would be The One. He would not play favorites among his pupils, each would be the perfect champion if selected, and he would make sure they gave their everything to prove that they were worthy. That's not to say he would assist them with preparing for the tasks, they would have to solve the mysteries on their own. But then again, it wasn't actually helping if he gave them a little nudge in the right direction.

"This competition is not to be taken lightly. There was a reason I had rallied so hard against the reintroduction of this tournament. It isn't just the risk of failure that you face if selected as a champion. There is a real risk of injury and death at each task. Myself, your professors, and our other judges have taken steps to make this competition as safe as possible, but the inherent risk is still there. Eternal glory, remembrance, prize money, these are things to be desired, true, but do not forget that there are more important things in life than a purse and bragging rights." He could see Argus wrestling to bring the casket that held the Goblet forward. Yes, given the death toll surrounding the tournament, a casket seemed to be the perfect container for its selection device.

"And now, for the judge, the goblet of fire." He was sure the students couldn't see how the goblet was lit. It was originally used to dole out judgement against offenders of magic, to call forth the judge, a sacrifice had to be made. While it seemed as if his touch ignited the beacon, it was really the needle in the base extracting his blood that lit the flames.

"Any student wishing to enter themselves must simply submit their name on a piece of parchment and throw it into the flames. However, there is one final rule for the tournament." He didn't miss the stillness forming in his own students. He was sure at least one of his own had figured it out when they saw the delegates arrive, but now they would all know. "Again, for safety concerns, only those of age will be allowed to enter." The yells of protest started before he had even finished speaking. He supposed he could understand. He was young once, a long time ago for sure, but still, he remembered a desire to prove himself, and the money was obviously an appeal as well.

"SILENCE!" His students were immediately cowed. While they fumed in their anger, the students were again listening at least. "This decision is final. I will not speak anymore on it. Remember, any student who wishes to enter will have until the 31st to submit their name. On that night, the champions will be selected. That is all."

Fleur couldn't help but shake her head at the students surrounding her. She supposed she could understand. Waving around words like 'money', 'prestige' and 'eternal glory' and then telling them that only a small percentage may participate; the man was either a tease or a fool. "So, when should we enter?" It was Felina who asked what they all were thinking. Might as well treat it like a bandage.

"After the meal," she didn't miss the way he tensed against her legs. Good, finally something I did that got under his skin. She would do this, and then maybe people would stop treating her like some fragile piece of glass.

He was upset at her, that much was obvious. Since they left the castle, the second they were alone behind closed doors, he began pacing the room, muttering to himself and staring at her. She supposed that she was to blame after all. He didn't want her to enter, and what did she do, she submitted her name and just laughed at him. She also kept forgetting she was mad at him too. But that anger kept turning into embarrassment and mortification.

When they had finished eating, Madam Maxime had produced pieces of parchment that held each student's name if they wished to enter. He kept tangling himself in her legs, causing her to stumble as she approached the goblet. When she finally made it to the stand, she felt his claws against her leg. Not enough to break the skin, just enough to hold her still. She turned to look down at him and saw his eyes, even bigger than normal and glowing brightly. She knew what they were saying, 'please don't'. "Let go." When he gave a loud whine of protest, she simply dragged him along to the cup and smiled as her name disappeared in flames. "What are you going to do now?"

When she and her friends arrived back at the carriage, they headed to her room, why, she did not know. "I want you two to know I love having you around, but why must we always hang out here?" Fleur could only shake her head at Claire, drinking straight from her coffee pot, and Felina, who had taken to trying to calm Seven, and not succeeding.

"Simple, lately, you never want to be anywhere else when we're at school, and," she waved her free hand towards the pot she held. "Your mom sends the best grounds." A slight cry alerted them to Felina. She was up and nearly at the door with Seven struggling hard in her grip. "What are you doing with that damn cat?"

"Oh, nothing," when she reached for the door knob, he managed to slip free and bolted to the bottom of her bed. It was then she started to laugh. It was just too funny. She had watched him fight, fought against him, had stared into those dead-green eyes. Had felt no small amount of panic when he had offered to 'assist' her in bathing. This great fighting machine/killer, someone who she wasn't entirely sure wasn't trying to seduce her, was now hiding under her bed like a five-year-old from the boogeyman.

"You know one of these days, you're going to give my cat a heart attack." It only got worse when the girl started to try and pull him from underneath the mattress. She only stopped laughing when she heard the sound of his claws ripping apart the bottom of the mattress to get away. "I know you just want him in your room, and any other time, I would beg you to take him, but not tonight. I think the traveling has gotten to him."

"All the more reason I should take him for the night, just to make sure he's not sick of course." Anyone else, she might've believed them. But for some reason Fleur felt more than a little jealous at the slight obsession Felina was developing towards her, 'pet'.

"You're both nuts, and I'm calling it a night." With a wave, Claire shut the door, and it was just the two of them, and Fleur wasn't really appreciating the look she was getting from her remaining friend. It was too smug, like she knew a secret.

"What?"

"Oh nothing, I just want to know who he is." Of all the questions, from the millions of topics she could have expected, that wasn't one of them.

"What are you talking about?" She couldn't help but look to her bed where those eyes stared out at her.

"Fleur, we've been friends for a long time, and I like to think that I know you pretty well." Her blood ran cold when Felina pulled a white men's dress shirt from her hamper. Normally, he was more careful, burying his things below hers. "I just never expected you to be the type to sleep in a guy's shirt," the smile she was getting turned wicked. "So, you got a picture of him?"

There was nothing she could say. She could try and deny it, but that would just make it worse. She also couldn't say that he was currently hiding underneath her bed. "It's nothing, it was, my father's?" She didn't mean to make it sound like a question, which just made the other girl smile wider.

"Please, I remember your dad, what was it he wore, Old Spice?" Whatever Fleur expected, it was not her friend smelling the shirt. "That doesn't smell like an old man, spill."

"He is just a friend," the smile just got wider. "We met this summer, it was nothing, I haven't even seen him since." The smile turned wicked.

"Then why does this still smell fresh, and not the freshly laundered kind?"

"Get out!"

"Fine, I won't say anything," Felina was at the door when she threw the shirt at her. "Just answer my question."

"What?"

"You got a picture?"

"We'll talk later, just get out, please?" Fleur knew it sounded pathetic, but finally she left and she turned to the bed. "I hope you're happy." She watched as he walked out and stood before her. Those eyes, dead, locked with hers, and seemed to flash with something. He then started to pace back and forth, he kept muttering her name and apologizing. He only stopped when she told him to.

"I am sorry Miss Fleur," she wasn't sure what he was apologizing for, but she found herself accepting it. What was done was done, now she had to try and salvage this. For god's sake, she never really had a real boyfriend, now she has to play damage control. "What can I do to apologize?" That sounded way too tempting. He was standing in the middle of her room wearing only slacks, and images of Claire's books, with covers of half-dressed men and women, kept popping up in her head. He had to be tempting her, and gods help her if this was him being subtle.

"You can start by learning how to smile," she walked over to her trunk and started to dig. She knew she had packed the stupid thing, for some reason, one of her friends, or her, always wanted to take pictures. When she finally found the camera and turned around, she couldn't help but drop it on the bed. She figured that to him, smiling would be painful. Something foreign and not often done. He might've never done it before and his face could crack. Looking at the small grin on his face, matched with his eyes, oh boy. He could be attractive she supposed, even with the lack of hair. When she remembered what he looked like in nothing but his skin, she automatically placed this smile over the cold look he normally wore. No, bad girl.

Sitting down next to him, she wasn't even thinking when she spoke next. "Put your arm around me." He was warm, very warm, she noticed when he pulled her flush to his side. She had to force her arms to steady the camera when his hand settled across the top of her thigh. She could only think of one thing when she tilted her head against his shoulder, and felt him pull her closer. "Smile," I'm in big trouble.

"Interesting," that was all he could think after spending a few moments in the poor girl's, Colette if he remembered right, company. He couldn't believe such a thing had happened, but it reminded him of only one thing. It had been decades since he had read the book, but it was just one of those things that stuck out in his mind, a case of 'hmm, that's interesting'.

"Well Albus," he turned, having completely forgotten the woman across from him.

"I apologize Olympe, my mind wandered for a moment." They were in her office, and he couldn't help but wish for something, anything really, to drink. He was about to ask when she produced the bottle and two sturdy tumblers.

"I'm afraid I do have an idea of what has happened to that girl, but I truly hope you don't think she is an innocent maiden." He didn't miss his colleague's snort and taking a swallow he continued. "While the incantation has been lost to time, it sounds like something that used to be quite common in this area about five centuries ago. It was actually meant to bring about peace between families."

"How so?" He didn't blame the doubt that Olympe had, the symptoms seemed to be anything but benign.

"It is my guess, but from a book I read, there was a small paragraph describing a spell that was cast on women who fathered a child, but the father would not expose himself or would deny it. It would cause the woman to seek the man out, making her desperate for him. The idea was that by casting this spell, the father could be discovered and the child properly taken care of. It was even used on men to determine if they were 'pure' before undergoing the training to become a druid. I seem remember a line stating, 'Her desires would out the father'. What that means is beyond me, but I think this is what you are looking at."

"Wonderful, I have a student cursed with lust for her baby's father." She was already refilling her glass and taking a second swallow. "I don't suppose that paragraph had any idea how the spell was lifted?"

"No, I am afraid not, but I would hazard a guess that it would eventually leave, after the person had suffered greatly, like the girl has."

"Or…"

"Or when she has, 'sought the father out', and perhaps had some time alone with him."

"Wonderful," she offered to top him off, but he waved her back. He didn't need anymore, the last time he had more than a few drinks, he found himself sobering up to the taste of bertie botts. "Albus, who could've known such a spell if it is as forgotten as you said?"

"I do not know my lady, but I would suggest this." He finished his glass and turned to leave. "The young lady should watch herself. She may have been a random target, or this was retribution. I also shudder to think what else this mysterious spell caster might know."

He knew he should be asleep by now. It had been hours since he wrapped her blankets around her, and laid down on the floor by her side. When she had told him to smile, he didn't miss the surprise on her face. Her eyes also widened, and when she told him to touch her, he didn't miss the way she warmed under his hand.

He thought about what she had done, taken a picture she had said, again blaming him for the need to do this. Normally, he would have dragged his knife over his arm, but he heard it in her voice, she wasn't angry, she was, he didn't know what she was. All he knew was that it had felt, it had felt right, that was it. When he held her close it felt right to have her at his side. He could keep her safe, keep her happy. He would try again tomorrow to make her happy. She had said to let her sleep, that she had nothing to do in the morning and to leave her be. When she woke, he would do as the Goddess often bid him. He would make her happy. Perhaps she would even let him have the picture as a gift?

Again, he felt his mind jump, and he blamed it on the animal in him. The creature took his focus away, made him unpredictable. He should have been able to keep her back from the goblet; he had allowed her to put herself in harm's way. That was inexcusable. He would do what it takes to keep her safe, kill if he had to, nothing was too much to keep her safe. He walked to her bathroom and drew his knife. The shirt may have been excusable; she may have accepted the fact that proof of his existence had been found. But the goblet, there was no reason for why he couldn't have stopped her. "Five, elbow to wrist." He placed the tip against his wrist and drew it back. It didn't feel like it would be enough for this failure, but he didn't know how long it would take for him to clean up the blood from more than that.

Yeah, its been a while, I hope you all enjoyed it. I sure did, -K.