Ingenio ab Artifex (Formerly: Flowers for Your Grave)

by JaimeJabs

There have been many rumours surrounding me and my life—especially my love life. So, after due consideration—and a few well-aimed words from our resident bookworm—I have decided to publish my autobiography. For any questions and questionable charms placed on your copy of my self-updating autobiography, feel free to owl my publisher, Jaime.

10. Episode IX

A/N: Well, hello again. I find myself having to write an Author's Note, once again, to both respond to some reviewers and to clear some air.

First, I'd like to start by saying I've read jbern's The Lie I've Lived over a year ago and quite enjoyed it so you may see a few of his influences. But the decision to write in first-person was to allow me to give a clear view of Harry's psyche and a literary decision not influenced by jbern.

Aimee's first and last name, on the other hand, seems to be a subconscious nod to jbern's story though I was unaware of the connection until I decided to reread the story when a reviewer mentioned the similarities between our stories. Whenever I need a name for an OC, I open a name generator and I selected her name from there; but I guess I felt drawn to that particular name combination because of jbern.

If any of you haven't read it, I strongly suggest you give a shot to jbern's The Lie I've Lived as I very much enjoyed it. Be warned though, the story has very different undertones and characters.

Second, I will touch upon the attempted rape story and the reasons Fleur's mother dismissed Fleur's plight in this chapter and continue to do so whenever the plot requires. Same with potential punishment for the three redheads for their attack on Harry. These are small plot-threads that will be resolved in their own time; have their effects come to light in time. We haven't seen the last of those characters yet.

I know some of my decisions may seem… odd- for the lack of a better word- at first glance but I promise; I have a clear picture in mind for what I want to achieve and if I haven't explained why a character does something or reacts in a certain way, I will do so in future chapters. This story is told from Harry and Fleur's perspectives and even then, doesn't go into every minute detail but I don't plan to leave any plot points, no matter how minor, hanging.

That being said, please, if you think a character acts irrationally or out-of-character, feel free to comment on it. Your reviews help me understand which parts of the story I successfully share and which parts lack clarity; and will help me get better at this craft as I go along.

And once again, thank you for reading my story and I look forward to reading your thoughts on it, whether criticism or praise.

And onward we go...

Chapter 1: A Song of Love and Life

March 6, 1995
"I'm glad to see you took my request seriously."

"A bet is a bet, love, and I'm a girl of my word." Fleur flicks her wavy, silvery hair and gives me a quizzical look. "I do wonder what you have in mind that would require me to dress in such a casual outfit for our date?"

Casual in this case is a combination of skin-tight jeans, a white long-sleeved tank-top and a pink cardigan; and I must say, she pulls it off better than should be reasonable. What a surprise.

"You'll need to be comfortable for what I've planned," I answer enigmatically, enjoying the slight frustration she attempts to hide. There is something to be said about how enticing and dangerous she looks when flustered, and I so enjoy pushing my boundaries.

For all my bluster, what I have planned is nothing special: a dinner, followed by an hour of ice-skating and a live-concert before ending our night-out with a lovely and slightly illegal late-dinner on top of Tower of London accompanied by various singers, courtesy of my charmed transmitter.

I should remember to thank Albus for that delightful birthday gift.

Anyway, tonight is our first real date and I have no intention of wasting it with new experiences that would take away from what is supposed to be a simple night with my girlfriend and a further chance to learn about her without the safety of monotony, the rose-tinted glasses of romance, or the rush of excitement.

So, I came up with this lovely combination. A dinner to ease us into the night and allow us to ask the questions one would ask their significant others. Ice-skating to recharge us and add a few laughs to the night. Followed by a concert by Prince and finishing the night on top of a historic tower, enjoying the view with wine in our hands.

She huffs and takes my hand, letting me drag her to the gates and out of the grounds. I would never admit it out loud, but she and Hermione share a similar disposition when 'slightly' irritated, and I don't know how I feel about that.

"First, we have to eat lunch so we won't starve for the rest of the evening and night," I say before I twirl us on the spot, dragging us miles and miles south to an alley near a small Italian restaurant in London. Grinning at the dangerous look she throws at me as she takes deep breaths, I plant a kiss on her lips, leaving her even more winded, a good kind this time.

"You better hope I enjoy this date or you will lose any right to deciding future dates," she warns, a small smile playing her lips as she throws her head back and drags her ridiculously long fingernails - claws more like - on my neck threateningly.

"Meh," I answer with a nonchalant shrug as I pull her to my body, put my hands around her shoulders and turn her around, leading her towards the bistro. "As long as I am with you, I'm not averse to letting you decide on the activities."

"Then why did you bet for it?" she asks, resting her head against my upper chest after she plants a kiss on my jaw.

"Why, so you would striptease for me, of course," I answer with a grin, enjoying her blush as she looks around the street to ensure no one heard my declaration before slapping me on the chest and dragging her nails lower before hugging me. "The rest is merely to ensure you have a good time before I have my good time," I say the last part in a seductive whisper, or what I hope is seductive. I can never tell with my voice's tendency to crack at inopportune times.

"Pervert."

"Only for you, baby. Only for you."

No matter how much she attempts to hide it, I can see her pleased smile at that as I lead her into the bistro and to empty seats by the window. "Hey, Leo!" I greet the owner with a smile, shaking his hand.

For a whole year after having two weeks of summer in Italy, I was obsessed with Italian cuisine. Sirius and I found this lovely place that summer, a week before I started my third year and we visited every other weekend. It's a small, half-a-dozen-table bistro that serves anything from pizza to panini, to grilled chicken. Plus, it is run by Leo, his wife Bridget, and son Richard; a lovely family with talent for food running in their veins and smiles for every customer.

"James! Welcome. You haven't shown up in a long time, my young friend," Leo greets back, shaking my hand eagerly, a large, friendly smile on his face as usual.

"I know, and I have missed your cooking dearly." I smile at the personable man as I sit down. "But I brought you a French girl for you to corrupt with your talents."

"Bah! French!" he screams, not loud enough to attract any attention but with enough theatrical disdain to irritate Fleur. "But don't worry, my friend, I promise to teach her what real food and wine should taste like before you leave."

I grin at the indignation on Fleur's face as the man leaves, returning a minute later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He gives me a wink. "I trust you'll not mention this to your father?"

A roll of eyes is inevitable as I imagine how that conversation would go, considering Sirius' incessant push for me to rebel against the constraints of society. He may have matured since my parents' death, but he sure as hell likes to pretend otherwise. "It'd only endear you to him further," I reassure the man as he pours us each a glass before leaving again.

Fleur takes a sip of the wine and gives me a grudging nod. "Not bad. But he didn't even ask what we wanted to drink or eat?"

I take a sip before answering with a nod. "This isn't that kind of restaurant, love. There are no fancy wine lists or menus. He brings you whatever he has as a drink and puts together a spread of cheese, meats, slices of various pizzas, panini and whatever else he feels like cooking up."

"No wonder they don't look busy," she sniffs, derision clear in her tone.

Her snobbery with a dash of stubborn pride for her country makes me smile. "Ah, but I can promise you, by the time we leave, you'll be one of Leo's many regulars, in love with his cooking, and enjoying his energy."

Fleur looks doubtful, but that changes as soon as she tastes the first pizza Leo brings, moaning in delight at the explosion of taste as she bites into the cheesy delight, making Leo and I share smug grins. "Okay. I was wrong. Oh, so wrong. Leo, was it? You just became my favourite person among your gender."

"Hey!"

My indignation is lost on both as Leo grins in delight, always happy to win a new customer and share his love of food with them, and Fleur shrugs and gives me an apologetic look. "You should know, dear, the way to the French's heart goes through our stomach," she adds. "Something you should work on. Ability to make breakfast food and find a good restaurant won't do you any favours."

"I shouldn't have brought you here," I grumble good-naturedly, happy that Fleur is enjoying the date so far.

Leo leaves our table when another table fills with his regulars who greet him just as warmly as I did, sharing their own private jokes with the man. I join Fleur in silent enjoyment of our food as talking when there is such a delicious spread in front of us feels sacrilegious.

"We should have gone on a date sooner," Fleur complains once there is a lull in our eating, sipping her wine.

"I asked you out in November," I remind her, grinning when she squirms in her seat. "You could have tasted Leo's cooking months ago if you weren't so bloody stubborn."

She sticks out her tongue at me, making me laugh and feel giddy at her obvious comfort in the family-run establishment, easing a worry from my mind. Even after seeing her at her purest, I was worried she'd let her snobbish nature prevent her from enjoying good things in life without a shiny presentation and a pretentious setting.

"Sure. Make me feel bad; why don't you?" Fleur grouses, pouting at me. "That's what dating is for."

"I'm glad we are in agreement," I concur. A comfortable silence descends on us as we gaze at each other with goofy smiles like two love-sick puppies. But, there are questions I want to ask and stories I want to hear so I break the silence, my smile smaller but no less genuine. "Will you tell me about… Alphonse or whatever his name was?"

She sighs and gives me a long look before nodding, her demeanour screaming reluctance as she crosses her arms, her wine still in her hand. "He's from an old family of French nobles dating back before the establishment of Statute of Secrecy. His great-grandfather was a duke and a prince-in-title though they were forced to give up their titles when the Statute went into effect."

She takes a deep breath and takes a sip of wine as I watch her. Meanwhile, I take another bite of the pizza, risking a stomach explosion but unable to stop myself. "I don't know how much you know about the socio-economic structure of Magical France but there is a small yet somewhat powerful faction who still carries the notion you are who made you. That no commoner can achieve the greatness the highborn is born with."

"Mother and her mother believe in that value system. Mostly because after my maternal grandfather's ardent support of Grindelwald, my grandmother lost everything: even the man she so lovingly married and the fortune she was supposed to inherit with his death. She had to sell most of her valuables - jewellery and deeds- and allow my mother to marry my father, the firstborn of a Veela."

"So, my mother decided I would marry Alphonso and allow her to live in the promised glory of living as a part of the high society." A dark chuckle escapes her mouth as she gives me a wicked grin. "I went through puberty just before reaching thirteen so I was already attracting attention. I was dating Henry who was a year older than me but… well, you know how that turned out. Mother sent a letter to him as if written by my hand, informing him of my decision to accept Alphonse's courting effort."

"Henry and I… Well, the truth came out, but we never could settle our differences after that and frankly, I think he feared Mother. Mother arranged for a dinner with Alphonse's mother and Alphonse and dragged me to their mansion." She stops and tilts her head to a side. "How much do you know about Veela? Or emotion-altering potions?"

I chuckle and shake my head. "About Veela? Next to nothing. I found only one book in the library and it was all bullshit. About emotion-altering potions? Not much other than that they exist. Potions were never a passion for me."

She sighs and nods. "When you drink a so-called love potion, it causes you to produce more of the hormones that would drive you to obsess over someone. The same thing happens with other mood-altering potions, and especially the case with lust potions. But things are different with me, and any other Veela. I have a natural resilience to any mood and mind-altering magic, including the likes of the Imperius because my metabolism reacts faster than normal for a witch. I heal, run and age faster. That's why life expectancy is higher among Veela than witches even though it's statistically impossible for us to see our two-hundreds while it's not rare for a witch without veela heritage to reach such an age."

"But I digress. Alphonse didn't know that when he offered to show me around and gave me a potioned drink." She takes a deep, shaky breath before continuing, her eyes unseeing and ears unhearing as she probably relives that moment, unaware of the slight creaking sound coming from the table because of her fluctuating emotions and magic. "It was awkward, fighting the effects. I got dizzy, my arms felt incredibly heavy while my body produced two opposite sets of hormones at a faster rate. Thankfully, I still was aware enough. When I refused his advances, he got mad and forceful. He said I was his; that Mother," she spits before continuing in the same tight voice as before, "promised me to him."

"I take it you proved to him just why messing with Fleur Delacour is a bad idea?" I ask with a grin, trying to calm her.

Her answering smirk is deliciously evil as she drags her fingernails across her glass, carving a thin line on it and adding credence to my 'claw' theory. "You could say that. You can't imagine my surprise when I heard he could get his wife pregnant."

Ouch.

Now, don't confuse my reflexive wince with sympathy for the arsehole; he got what he deserved. Hell, his suffering should have involved more pain and should have been prolonged. I have no pity to spare for a rapist.

But, I'm a boy, and an offensive move towards where the male ego is normally located is bound to get a reaction out of me.

Did I say 'boy'? I meant man. Manly man.

Meh. That's getting old.

"That's my girl," I congratulate my date, my wince quickly turning to a victorious grin. "What about your father? I can't believe he'd be okay with what almost happened."

"Oh, he wasn't," Fleur answers with a nod. "He and Mother got into a big fight about it even. But with no proof, there wasn't anything he could have done other than conducting raids on the flimsiest excuses and causing as much inconvenience to that wretched family as he could."

"That's something, I guess. I don't know what I would have done, to be honest. I can get a little… overzealous when I am truly mad."

She raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of her wine as her shoulders relax with the clear change of subjects. "Like what happened with Bill and the other two redheads?"

I shake my head furiously, unwilling to accept any blame for the incident. "No way. They attacked me and I responded in kind."

"I'm not saying you were in the wrong," she cuts in before I can continue. "But you must admit, you should have allowed Professors or Aurors to handle it instead of attacking in revenge and stopping any formal process before it could begin."

She has a point. By attacking them after the effects of the potion left my body, I enacted an odd form of justice called Penae ab Victima, otherwise known as Right to Choose Punishment. It only works in civil cases and there are limits to what I could have done to the redheads. If the DMLE deemed my attack insufficient punishment, they would have pressed charges still. Or alternatively, if they deemed my attack to be greater than my injuries, I would have to pay reparations.

Many disputes between families have been resolved through this law in history, and by manipulating this law, the Malfoy family bankrupted the Weasleys when a Malfoy née Weasley gave birth to a redhead when any child born to Malfoy blood is always blonde.

I lean back on my seat, my eyes not leaving hers as I consider before nodding. "Perhaps, I should have, but after what their innocent little prank did, I wasn't inclined to postpone my revenge, and even if I had been, I wasn't exactly in my right mind. I was primed for a fight, and they were convenient targets and were mostly responsible for making me feel like a cornered animal."

"What do you mean?" she asks with a curious tilt to her voice as she circles the rim of her glass with a finger. "I mean, I heard some details of what happened, but no one knew what that potion did to you, and I felt it was better to leave it alone."

I sigh and rub my forehead in irritation, unsure if I should change the subject. I've never been one to open up easily, especially about something with such a deep effect on my psyche but… Well, she's Fleur, and a part of me wants her to know, wants to unload my worries to her so she could understand me better and perhaps even help heal me. I can't deny she makes things better just by being near me, making it easier for me to process life.

"You know I am learning Occlumency?" I ask, surprising Fleur with the sudden change of subject. She nods, watching me curiously as she refills her wine. "That's because I sometimes have visions of what Tom is up to. That's what happened in the Forbidden Forest while I was painting and my scar bled."

I then tell her about my realisations about Occlumency and my fears about Legilimency. I tell her about my fears and just what those bastards' little prank potion showed me… Just who I have the potential of becoming.

It feels good to let everything out, cathartic even. Perhaps this is why we humans always seek companionship? Because life is easier to bear when it is two against the world instead of fighting the waves alone?

Huh. You learn something new every day.

She watches me in silence for a long time when I'm finished with my tale and my worries, processing what I said, and when she understands what goes through my mind, she gives me a grim smile. "I guess we'll just have to work twice as hard to make sure that doesn't happen, won't we?"

I know I said it before, but I don't think I can do it justice, so I'll repeat: Fleur makes me feel like I could do anything I set my mind to, makes me feel invincible, and I fucking love it. Love the thrill of power it gives me.

And I admire that she doesn't say such a thing would never happen because I'm too good to allow for it to happen or some other innately naive shit like that. No, she acknowledges my struggles and tells me we'll work hard to overcome them. And it is the 'we' part of her words that is the real cure.

So, I give her my sweetest smile and most determined nod. "That, we shall," I agree. "But can we put that on hold until after our date?" I add with a grin. "I'd prefer a striptease in the short-run."

As her laughter rings in my ears and the small restaurant, causing Leo to give me a raised eyebrow and a thumbs-up. I can't help think I hit the jackpot with Fleur. She is truly magnificent and I thank whatever gods may be for giving me the courage to walk to her table on my birthday.

Because honestly, how many fourteen-year-old boys could say they spent a night in a goddess' arms, let alone do so regularly? And how many of them could hope to win such a heart and passion.

No, sir. I am all too aware just how lucky a bastard I am.

-HP-

"I really thought that would go differently," I confess as we leave the ice-skating rink, arm in arm and with wide smiles and pink cheeks.

"Oh? And how did you think it would go?"

I stay silent as we return our skates and leave the small compound in central London. "I thought you would fall, allowing me to catch you like the hero I am, then mock you. Not the opposite."

Fleur giggles into my shoulder as she buries her head. "That was stupid of you." I give her a questioning look as she grins. "You forgot I am friends with Aimee and assumed she never dragged me to ice-skating."

I snort at my obvious mistake as I imagine Aimee on an ice rink, gleefully laughing with a childish smile on her face. "Yes, that is obvious in hindsight. Still, can't say I regret it."

We are a few streets away from the Wembley Stadium and with the weather as nice as it is, walking seems like a nice choice though neither of us discusses it before reaching the same conclusion.

As we walk among countless people, she slowly loses her enthusiasm for any conversation and her shoulders tense. It takes me a while to recognise the reason for her change of moods but when a man we pass by leers at Fleur without a shame. Now that I'm aware of the change, I can smell Fleur's Flowery Flavour™. "Your bracelet?" I ask, the message clear.

"Yes," she answers, her tone tight and a little upset. "We should return to Hogwarts."

"Can't you recast the charms on the bracelet?" I ask, unwilling to allow the date to end so quickly.

"Do you know how complex the necessary charm work is? It takes over an hour to complete a simple bracelet and those usually work for two hours at most," she hisses, not in anger but in disappointment if I'm reading her correctly.

I rack my brain for an idea to salvage our date but I don't know how a veela's pull works to figure out a way to counter it. "How does the bracelet work?" I ask as we continue as if we haven't noticed the eyes on Fleur, except the cold look in her face.

"Is now really to time to discuss my physiology, Harry?"

I might be wrong but I think Fleur is upset. I'm pretty sure she is. If she's not, the glare that burns through the left side of my face wouldn't make any sense.

"Humour me while we look for a viable apparition point."

She sighs but does as I ask just after we turn to a less crowded street to give ourselves some breathing room. "Veela release certain pheromones that attract the attention of men and lower their inhibitions. The bracelets I make work by stopping the pheromones' production."

Okay, that does sound complicated and for once again, I am amazed she can charm a bracelet to do such a complex task. I don't even want to even consider the possible side-effects of suppressing parts of her hormonal system. There is one thing that bugs me though. "So, it is your smell that attracts attention right?"

She nods, looking up at me with questioning eyes, wondering where I'm going with this. "And a bubblehead charm works by transfiguring the air inside the bubble to breathable air, and that would include the pheromones you release."

Her eyes widen in comprehension and I can see she's excited about the prospect of an easier-to-charm version of the bracelets. "But a bubblehead charm is very easy to spot, and it surrounds only the head of the target, not the whole body."

I'm far ahead of her on that and have a few ideas on possible solutions already. "So we manipulate it to act like a… thin film covering your entire body and cast either a… Do you think it's possible to cast a disillusionment charm on a piece of magic? Or we could try other illusions."

She's vibrating with excitement on the spot, walking faster and forcing me to adjust to her speed. "Let's return to Hogwarts so we can test if your idea can work."

I shake my head as she pulls us into a tiny alley that would hide any magic we cast. "Let's do it here," I say as my wand slaps into my hand with a flick of my wrist, a muggle-repelling charm follows another flick of a wrist. That should give us enough time to alter a difficult piece of magic and test a brand new theory.

Well, brand new for me. For all I know, there are countless books on it, and I just haven't come across any. Still, it's an undertaking that deserves better than a dirty alley that smells like boiled piss- and why do I care I am underage and about to break the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and Statute of Secrecy? I am young and prone to stupidity. Especially if the other option is a ruined date.

"Are you so desperate to finish our date as you planned to go so far as to break the law?" she asks, grinning at me with both her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Hell yes," I answer with a similar grin as I take off her bracelet and get hit by a heavy blast of her wonderful smell, suddenly reminded of how much I love it. "Do you want to do it, or should I?"

"It's your idea," she says with a shake of her head. "And you are more experienced than me at manipulating spells."

Okay, Potter, it's on you now. Work your magic.

"Indiuere Aspiratus," I whisper, bending the spell to perform to my specifications. A blue flash of light leaves my wand, a sing that I cast a spell though it's impossible to know if it worked until Fleur tries it on. The second part is actually easier as I know my illusion charms and I must have cast the disillusionment charm countless times in last three years to sneak around.

Fleur takes the bracelet with barely contained glee as soon as I'm finished and puts it on, a thin blur, that I can see only because of my focus, spreads from the bracelet, covering her torso and ending just below her neck. The slight pressure in my mind lessens considerably but stays nonetheless, indicating a limited success. I sniff and feel a pang of loss when my nose can barely pick up her Fleur's Flowery Flavour™. Still, I'm ready to make the sacrifice for a nice date with my beau.

How magnanimous of me, I know.

She gives me a large smile and attacks my mouth with a fervour I rarely get from the collected witch, not that I have grounds to complain about any lack of passion. My hands wrap around her waist as hers do the same across my neck, the thin film of the Bubblehead charm protesting against my neck, buckling slightly.

I grumble at the flaw in my design while Fleur smiles against my lips, giving me one last peck before stepping away and fixing her cardigan. "Thank you, Harry."

I wave her thanks away, hiding how pleased I am at her enthusiasm for my success. "It doesn't stop your pull completely but I think it lowers it enough that the looks you'll receive will be mostly because of your beauty."

"Oh? Are you saying you think I'm beautiful?" she says, a coy smile on her face as she's visibly excited.

I grin at her and take her hand, the film covering her skin protesting, again, against my skin, making me feel like I'm holding a basilisk's hand. That image, more than Fleur's words, make me snort, though I am not above maintaining the illusion of otherwise. "Let's just say you are not bad looking," I sort-of compliment with a tilt to my head as I pull her to the street to continue on our way to the concert venue.

She huffs but can't fight the smile on her face. "I'm serious. Thank you. Once we perfect this version of the bracelet, it will work even better than the original design."

I shrug, not sure why she's making such a big deal. "Anything to help."

"You don't get it," she complains petulantly, shaking her head. "Enchanters sell one of these bracelets for five galleons, and they last only a day at most. Depending on how much time I have and the circumstances the bracelet is used in, mine last somewhere between an hour and seven hours. Your version would last longer because it's simpler and the pressure on the magic is much less. If you perfect the design and sell it to an enchanter, I have no doubt you'll earn a respectable sum of money."

It's satisfying to know I can make money instead of relying on the money my parents left me but I am far too young to worry about such things. Besides, I still haven't spent the money I got for the skin and scales of the basilisk. "Meh. I'm fourteen. Not really old enough to care about financially sound decisions."

She giggles but lets the subject drop as we reach the entrance to the stadium and I pull out our tickets. It takes us half an hour to enter the stadium proper and reach the front of the stage with soft drinks in our hands.

We spend the next two hours enjoying a great show during which she reminds me I enjoy dancing when it's with her and just how expressive she can be with her body. As I watch her dance, I can help feel proud of my burst of brilliance that allowed us to continue our night.

If only I could actually touch her from neck below; keeping my hand on her face has become creepy only two minutes in.

Still, it's a perfect night.

-HP-

I spoke too soon.

And I seriously misjudged just how aggressive horny men could get when faced with an utterly gorgeous girl like Fleur.

Either way, my hand hurts like hell and Fleur's fuming expression does nothing to elevate my nervousness as she looks ready to tear me a new one any second. I think asking her to mend my hand wouldn't be my smartest idea.

Still, it isn't my fault a bastard thought he could get away with groping my girlfriend and trying to get in between us with his whale-ish body, speaking more in grunts than in any civilised language. And if I broke his nose and knocked him out after casting a subtle charm on my hand that coated my skin with stone… Well, he deserved it.

If only I remembered my hand would feel like I punched a stone wall because of something silly called Newton's Third Law of Motion.

I sigh as I follow the angry blonde, cradling my hand and wincing at the sudden pain as I stumble after jumping over a broken beer bottle. "Fleur," I call after her as her pace increases though she refuses to acknowledge me. "Fleur! Will you stop?"

She turns with a glare and huffs when her eyes find my bloodied hand, but stays silent, her arms intertwined in front of her.

"I'm sorry, okay? What was I supposed to do? Let him assault you?"

She huffs again, a tuft of hair dropping over her eyes. "I am not a helpless girl you have to protect, Harry. I can very well handle an ogre with ideas above his station."

Yeah, she's right about that.

I sigh and nod, my shoulders dropping. "I know, I'm sorry. I just lost it for a second there."

Her glare softens, turning to one of exasperation and irritation instead of anger. "I am a Triwizard champion, Harry. I will not have you acting like a macho man and belittling me like I'm a weak little girl."

"Okay, okay. I get it," I agree, looking at her like a brainless ape, my expression mirroring the blonde pig's- the one in need of a nose job, courtesy of me- proving I'm not the smartest man on the planet. "Me, moron. You, powerful. Me hurt. You fix."

That earns a snicker from her as she closes the distance between us and drags me to a dark, empty alley before casting the required healing charms on my hand. I stretch my hand to test her work and give her a nod and a smile. "You great."

Throwing that punch with my right hand was an unfortunate and stupid choice because I have trouble casting with my left one, but I can't regret that decision when it taught me this. It's something that would cause problems during a life-threatening situation. And isn't it tragic that I have to consider every little thing in relation to how it would affect me in a life-and-death situation?

Man, life should be simpler.

Once I'm sure my hand works just fine and does not require Skele-Gro,- yikes! - I grab her hips and pull her near. "I really am sorry. My fragile male-ego stopped me from considering how it would seem to you. And please, don't think I consider you anything but one of the most gifted witches I ever met and my equal."

She drapes her hands over my shoulder and nods. "As long as we are clear on that." Her lips curl up in a perfect mischievous smile, giving me the urge to drag her back to our room. "And if you need a reminder, I could always kick your arse in a duel," she jokes with a lift of an eyebrow.

At least, I think she jokes because the self-assured way she says it may very well point to her belief in a victory, in which case it is my duty to teach her the error of her ways. Either way, I look forward to such a duel. "That's not a bad idea, you know."

Her other eyebrow joins the first, her expression morphing into surprise. "Oh?"

"If you plan to hang around me," I start, ignoring her snort at my likening her to a tag along. "You should learn how to defend yourself - not that I don't think you can, but extra help never hurts."

"And who's going to teach me? You?" she asks, her tone challenging.

"Nah. I mean I'm sure I can teach you a trick or two but I was thinking more along the lines of you joining me for my training sessions. Flitwick will join us once or twice a week and Snape once a week, but mostly, it will be Sirius teaching us."

Her heads sway from side to side as she considers before she nods, her eyes never leaving mine. "That may be a good idea. And it would help with the duelling portion of the tournament." She gives me a mock-threatening look, her eyes narrowing. "Speaking of the duelling tournament, if you think just because I let you warm my bed, I will go easy on you, you are dead wrong, boy."

"Man," I whisper reflexively before twirling us around and changing the world around us. Our landing is soft on top of the Tower of London with bright lights, the twinkling stars and a half-moon as our only company. Two fires, fifty feet away on both sides burn bright to stave off the cold.

She looks momentarily surprised before her threatening look returns with a little more heat this time. "Just for that, I will go extra hard on you."

"I look forward to getting my arse kicked then," I say in a quiet, uncaring voice. It is too great a night to care for any duels.

A content sigh escapes her lips and her head finds my chest to rest on as I breathe in her scent, my arms tightening around her, bringing her as close as I can. She whispers the words that never fail to jolt my heart, "I love you."

I have a problem. Sometimes, my mouth works faster than my mind and my wisecracking tendencies get the better of me. So, I'm not too surprised when I quip, "Who wouldn't?" but I am disappointed in myself for ruining a perfect moment. I sigh in relief when she doesn't take offence for my lack of timing, and land a kiss on her hair, the moonlight shining off where I kiss. "I love you too."

"So," she begins, turning around without moving away from me and looking around with her back to my chest. "Why did you bring us here?"

I wrap my hands around her midriff and rest my chin on her shoulder. "I thought we could finish our outing by enjoying the leftovers from Leo's place under the moonlight and with the city of London beneath our feet while jolly-old Frank and his friends sing for us."

"Zappa or Sinatra?"

I answer with only a chuckle as I try to lead us to where Dobby set the table without disengaging. I don't think it's necessary to mention why my attempt ends with me on the floor and Fleur sprawled over me with a flushed face and a surprised expression that just looks adorable. "Sorry," I breathe out, mesmerised by her beauty as her hair, once again, cuts us off from the rest of the world as it drapes all around our faces.

"I can feel your heartbeat," she says, her voice throaty and far too sexy. "It's beating very fast."

"I have a very exciting view."

I don't know if we are a special case or if I am being too sappy, but with Fleur, any moment we spend together has the potential to become a clock stopping, mind-blowing, heart-racing moment where we live in a bubble of our own, and the world could burn to ashes without either of us realising. This is one of those moments that lasts a lifetime in a second. When she stands up and helps me up, I am not sure whether we've stayed on the ground a minute or an hour. It is disorienting and is rapidly becoming my favourite way to spend time.

We eat, talk and dance the night away, two small fires keeping us warm enough, and various artists performing a private concert for us. The small surprise on her face when I ask her to dance with me doesn't take away from my joy as I twirl her around on top of one of the most historic buildings in the world while her laughter only adds to the magic of the night.

And as the night turns into a new day and the extra bottle from Leo's place gets emptier, I have a flashback to the night we met. I am surprised to realise I feel the same excitement I felt that night and even more awe at the sight of her smile as we dance and sing and talk and drink and build a relationship that is worth more to either of us than the other thinks.

So, is it any surprise that my heart never slows down from the time she feels it on top of me to when I fall asleep with a stupid grin on my face, remembering her coy smile as she lost her clothes under the stars with an erotic dance, to my new favourite song that I have a trouble remembering the name of.

It is good to be me and boy, am I glad to have won our bet!

-Flowers for Your Grave-

Chapter 2: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

March 14, 1995
"Oh, I didn't know Miss Delacour would join us, Mr Potter."

"Sorry, Sir? I forgot to mention," I say sheepishly as I rub the back of my neck, cursing the rare instance I forget something other than a potions homework or anything to do with Snape.

I don't trust that guy.

Okay, I am exaggerating, I know, but I can't help blame him for my sudden enlightenment about the possibility of getting a personality transplant. I was happy in my ignorance; he stole that from me. Using Fleur to do that didn't endear him any further and getting cursed by his skinny arse in front of Fleur a few days ago on the first training session he joined made my bitterness even more pronounced.

Whatever. I still trust Albus so I'll play nice. Well, by nice, I mean pranking him whenever he gets the urge to go extra arsehole but showing him just enough grudging respect to maintain an illusion of civility. It's a delicate balance.

This is actually the first lesson Flitwick joins and I am excited. As talented as Sirius and Remus both are - Sirius more so than Remus, but Remus does eclipse Sirius with just how much he knows - Either way, as talented as they are, Flitwick is one of the world's best duellers and knows just about every trick and style there is. He's one of those people who forgot more than I know and can teach me many things. And Fleur, hopefully.

"No, no. The more the merrier," the jolly man answers. "Even better, we'll have an increased chance of an intelligent conversation."

Sirius and I answer at the same time with equally indignant cries of, "Hey!"

Fleur grins as she sweeps past me to stand in the centre of the auditorium on the left side corridor of the third floor per Flitwick's request. "Thank you, Professor. Sadly, I understand what a rare occurrence that has been lately."

The mocking look she throws at me as I stand next to Sirius with both our arms crossed, makes me snort as I turn to Sirius and whisper harshly, "I think we are being mocked, Siri."

Sirius scratches her head, looking at me and the insulting pair alternatively, his head whipping around. "Are you sure?"

I nod vehemently. "Yes, they said we weren't…" I tilt my head to a side and scratch my chin. "What was that word again? Inte- something." I consider for a moment, mimicking Goyle at an exam before I snap my finger in triumph. "Anti-legend! Yes! They think we are against legendary conventions."

"Pfft. We can go to a legendary convention. Why, I hear the West European Veela Congregation will have their harvest celebration next weekend. I'm sure we can join them for a weekend of debauchery?"

At that, Fleur and I turn to the man with equally upset looks. "You can't take Harry-" she begins with an indignant voice before I cut off, "And you are telling me that now?!"

Fleur turns to me in shock before her expression morphs to irritation as she tries to hide a small smile and turns away with an oddly Hermione-like huff. Flitwick snickers, but, being the professional he is, is quick to bring our focus back to our purpose for being in the room. "If you are all done with your legendary conversation," he says in a playful tone, "why don't we start with a mock duel between Miss Delacour and Mr Potter so I can get a sense of your duelling styles. I'm sure Miss Delacour would enjoy a chance to show Mr Potter what she thinks of the idea."

The firm nod Fleur gives Flitwick makes me regret my previous joke for a moment and I gulp. "Why don't we invite Voldemort? I'm sure he won't say no to a mock duel."

Fleur's lips curl up in a smile but she holds in her snort. "Scared, Potter?"

I can't help myself. I just can't. It's a problem, I know but, Morgana be damned, I can't stop myself. "No, aroused," I say, my eyes moving up and down her body hungrily.

She tilts her head to aside and raises an eyebrow. "Do you always think about Voldemort when you are aroused? That doesn't sound healthy."

"Oh, now, I'm angry, Girl." My smile betrays my words but my voice is still challenging. "You know, I'm a chivalrous guy," I begin as I walk across the room and shaking off my outer cloak. I give her a nod, my smile cocky and movements exaggerated. "So I'll let you take the first shot."

Her answer comes in the form of a blasting curse flying at me at a surprising speed though I manage to stop it with a simple shield and start my offensive with 'The Handshake' chain. She stops the first two spells with a shield but has to dodge the stunner and the second disarming spell while I transfigure two of the chairs by the wall to two Roman-style shields. As soon as I charm the shields to be considerably more resistant to magic and transparent to only my eyes, and set them in front of me, two spells hit the centre of both with a gong each.

Fleur's next attack comes as a wave of white, hot fire that doesn't even singe my two shields while passing it by, forcing me to erect a wall of ice-cold water. The hiss of fire meeting water covers any other noise, but the smell of burnt hair proves how close Fleur's attack came to causing serious damage. I can hear the smile in her voice when she begins another incantation.

Taking advantage of the cover of the resulting mist, I conjure eight birds and send them over both sides of the shield before banishing the shields at an incredible speed just as her incantation ends; all the while the mist resulting from our clash blinds me. The mist condenses around my head, making it hard to breathe, but a simple bubblehead charm and a super-sensory charm negates the mist's debilitating effects without giving away my success.

Her defence against my birds is marvellous as she conjures and controls a whip of pure fire expertly, dancing around and destroying my birds with an ease that leaves me speechless. As soon as she's done with the birds, she casts a banishment charm to the ground that rebounds, gently throwing her over the shields that are closing in.

I may be speechless, but I am still on top of my game and my body-bind, followed by a wandless levitation charm finishes the duel and flies my magnificent girlfriend to my arms. I wrap my hands around her hips after taking her wand and dropping the body-bind, a cocky grin on my face. "I win."

I close the distance between our lips and give a triumphant grin when she mirrors the motion before jumping back without kissing her and waving a finger at her mockingly. "I win, you lose. I win, you lose."

Flitwick walks over to us with an excited clap that reminds Fleur of his presence, making her blush. "Indeed, that was a good performance, Mr Potter. You have improved since our duel. You performed well too, Miss Delacour; your movements were much more graceful and natural than what I saw in Spain."

Fleur huffs again at her loss but refrains from commenting as we both turn to the diminutive man.

"Watching both of your performances closer now, I can safely say you are amongst the best students I taught to duel, but both of your styles needs further refining. From what I've seen so far, you, Miss Delacour, should focus on chaining your spells and improving your aim. With how fluid and precise you are as you dodge and with your wand movement, your best weapon is sudden and precise attacks. Your style will allow you to stay fresh even in a prolonged duel. You must also improve your silent-repertoire to keep your opponent on their toes and more likely to give an opening with a larger spread of magic and fewer clues to your intentions."

He turns to me, his serious demeanour while giving Fleur his assessment turning even more so now. "You, Mister Potter, need to learn how to parry an attack and improve your transfiguration and conjuring speed. You have quick reflexes and you show great tactical-thinking as you proved in your duel against me with your use of illusions and counter-tactics; and in this one with your decision to create additional shields to allow you more options, instead of following your chain with another to press your momentary advantage. By learning how to parry, you'll have wider defensive options while you come up with a game-ending scheme without having to rely on shields. And if you can manipulate your environment with nary a thought and create solid shields even without using your environment, you can draw your opponent out easily and catch them off guard when you are ready."

I nod, impressed with just how much he deduced from watching our short duel even while internalising every word out of his mouth. "Professor, the other day, I found out it is possible to disillusion magical constructs. Is the same possible for spells? Can I cast an- I don't know- an invisible stunner?"

Flitwick tilts his head as he considers. "I don't see why not? It depends on the power behind the spell, of course, and it would add to the casting time. The spell trajectory would still be visible but if you slow the spell enough and if the environment is pattern-less, you may surprise your opponent. I doubt many professional duellers would try such a thing because of the limitations and the required time and focus, but if used under the right conditions, it could prove a good tactic."

Taking in every word the experienced man says, I visibly vibrate in place as I consider the potentials. "And it is possible to queue spells without casting or adding the target or a vector by establishing a specialised trigger to cast them simultaneously."

He smiles as he understands where I am going with my questions. "Yes, and if executed well, you could create a single wave of hardly visible spells but you'd have to mount a perfect defence as you charge the spells, all without losing your focus."

"I think we just found what we should be working on, don't you, Professor?" I ask with a wide, eager smile on my face as my excitement rises to new heights, and so does my determination to learn how to split my focus with occlumency.

"You realise a single moment of distraction would ruin all of your efforts with such a tactic, right?" he warns though his smile betrays his eagerness.

My self-assurance is obvious in my confident smile and nod. I have yet to fail in anything I set my mind to and I don't plan to in this one. If I can get good enough at this, I may just surprise Tom. "Against Voldemort, Sir, a single imperfection in my defence would mean death, and forgive me, but I have many dates with my girlfriend to look forward to. Death has no chance of catching me just yet."

Even with my self-assurance at survival, the two duels of Tom I had watched so far showed me a clear picture of what I am up against. Certainly, not the whole picture as it is safe to assume Tom always has a surprise under his sleeve, but so do I and with his casting speed and the power behind his spells, I know my defence has to be my main concern if I ever have to face him. And if I have to play defensive, I have to set traps and cast strategically to have a chance to survive, let alone win.

But like I said, I haven't failed at anything I set my mind to, and I refuse to contemplate the possibility of losing. I just have to play to my strengths and cover my weaknesses. It shouldn't be too hard.

Right?

Right...

-HP-

March 17, 1995
Balzac is always good for a laugh; whether it is with a self-deprecating joke or a well-timed jab at someone which is why he finds himself in the heart of conversation at any group he's in. This one is no different as my three best-friends, Katie, Ginny, Aimee, Gabrielle, and Samantha, Fleur and I listen to his story eagerly, everyone laughing or giggling; except Gabrielle, as she's far too focused on her work.

"I shit you not, I had to go to the bathroom to puke three times I was so nervous. And I didn't even touch alcohol," the ridiculously large boy says, earning laughter from everyone.

Fleur buries her head on my shoulder, her body shaking with mirth as Balzac's words paint a disgustingly funny picture. "I'm sure that endeared you to Dacia's mother, eh?" I comment mockingly, my arms tightening around my girlfriend's shoulder as she laughs even harder as we lay on our bed.

Hermione and Ron are sitting awfully close together lately, copying many mannerisms of Neville and Ginny's relationship. Katie and Aimee form another duo, getting along well due to their equally energetic personalities, causing Samantha to roll her eyes every few minutes. Balzac is on his feet, telling his story with exaggerated motions.

Gabrielle is sitting by our feet, her small hands covered in paint, creating chaos on the paper. She was a surprise to me, as I didn't expect to get attached to her so quickly, but whenever I spend time with her, I feel refreshed.

And can I say; thank god for magic or washing off all that paint off her face and cleaning the sheets would have been a nightmare. Why does she have to cover everywhere with paints?

Shut up. I'm not being hypocritical.

"You are the one to talk, Mr you-will-not-tell-the-mermaid-story," Balzac shoots back, his tone daring.

"Yes! The mermaid story," Ron agrees with a large grin. "Come on, Harry. I'm sure there is nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Fine, Hermione, you tell it." I groan and turn to my love with a smirk "I'm going to distract myself on my girlfriend's lips."

She answers with a shake of her head and a push as she sits up. "No, I want to hear this."

"Traitor," I grumble good-naturedly and crawl away from her with a huff. "Hey, little angel. I guess you are my only friend now." Gabrielle gives me a bright smile and a nod, happy to be my lone confidant.

"This was the spring of last year, a few weeks before the exams. Ron was playing pickup Quidditch and I, somehow, let Harry- who was still James back then, and lord, does it seem like a lifetime ago- Anyway, I let him convince me to study with him by the lake instead of the library like any sane person would do so close to the end-of-the-year exams."

"By so close, she means six weeks before," Ron cuts in, earning snickering from everyone and a huff from Hermione though her lips curl up slightly.

"Well, when you are crazy enough to take every class…" I trail off, not looking away from Gabrielle's masterpiece and helping her create an even a bigger mess.

"I was not crazy," Hermione grumbles, making me turn to her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk at the same time as Ron and Neville; our motions and faces oddly synchronised. "I'm not!"

"Sure, Hermione. And I hate Quidditch, but please continue," Ron quips, causing Hermione's cheeks to redden as she glares at him.

"Whatever. We were by our spot by the lake; Harry was jumping around, acting all hyperactive while I was studying like we were supposed to be doing," Hermione continues. "I guess he was trying to climb a tree or something because when he asked me if I knew who the girl in the lake was, he was hugging a rather large branch in a very sloth-like way." She ignores my indignant huff, rightly so.

"I was frozen for a moment because I was quite surprised to see Harry so accepting of his animal side, and the goofy smile on his blank face was quite a sight. When I turned to the lake, there was, indeed, what looked like a naked girl though I didn't recognise her. Before I could share my observation with Harry..."

She trails off, snickering at remembrance before taking a deep breath and continuing her story. "He fell off the branch and right into a puddle of mud... face first. After he cleaned off - and I'm not ashamed to say I was no help because of my laughter- the mermaid jumped straight up and out of the water, flipped her tail and dived back." She takes another deep breath to stop from laughing before continuing though everyone is already laughing. "Harry then let out a high-pitched shriek and jumped back."

I hide my face, hoping my blush doesn't extend to my neck, as they all laugh uproariously at my embarrassment. "I see you started noticing mermaids long before you noticed girls, Harry," Balzac barks.

I can't help the groan that escapes me as Fleur pulls me to her even as she giggles. "Is that why that Siren attacked? Was it a lovers' quarrel?"

Hermione harrumphs and sniffs at Fleur, not at all shy about making her opinion of the girl known. Not that I can begrudge my best friend her opinion when the beginning of my relationship was so rocky, but her dismissive behaviour of Fleur cannot continue. We've already had clashes with one in-law. I don't need my friends to cause further tension in my relationship and cause problems.

Like I told Aimee about Fleur and Bill; even if Hermione thinks I'm making a mistake by dating Fleur, she should support me. Just like I would support her if she continues whatever her relationship is with Viktor even though I am sure it won't go anywhere as long as a part of Hermione still wishes Ron had asked her to the Yule Ball.

I slap Fleur gently on her shoulder and grin. "My darling was a mermaid, not a siren, though I have to say, she was very presumptuous when she ran into her prince under the lake; flashing me off like she did."

"She did?" Fleur asks, laughing into her hand. "I hope you didn't fall on your face this time?"

"Nah. She was a bit camera shy," I answer with a grin. "I'd like to think we are even in embarrassing each other."

"Anyway," Hermione cuts in as she returns to her story. "When Harry shrieked, the mermaid responded with a shriek of her own for some unfantomable reason, causing Harry to shriek again. They must have conversed in high-pitched shrieks for at least ten minutes until the Giant Squid had enough and threw a fish at Harry's head."

"Cheeky bastard," I grumble as I remember the shock of having a fish smack me on my forehead.

To be honest, I never was as opposed to sharing this story as I acted. But that doesn't mean my cheeks aren't as red as a ripe tomato as I bury my head in my girlfriend's shoulders while my friends laugh at me to their hearts' content.

"Should I be jealous, Harry? Do you have plans to leave me for a mermaid?" Fleur asks as she pushes me back and looms over me with a wicked grin.

I answer with a similar grin, enjoying the brightness in her eyes as my hands travel up her sides. "I'm sure you can convince me to stay."

"Ugh! You two are disgusting," Balzac complains from across the room, his tone teasing.

Fleur blushes prettily and puts a small distance between us as if to ensure we aren't doing anything untoward while I raise myself on my hands. "Yes, we are the disgusting ones. It's not like I was traumatised after watching you try to devour Dacia for Merlin knows how long."

He shrugs, his grin uncaring. "But, of course. I am sexy; you are a runt."

"More like you are a freaking troll," I shoot back. "And I look like a freaking movie star."

"Bah! Dream on, boy. You, a movie star? Maybe the Ugly in 'The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.'"

"I'm not!" I cry indignantly, my hand on my chest. "Am I?" I ask with a faux-offended whisper to Fleur.

Fleur just chuckles and shakes her head as rest of my friends laugh.

I really am not ugly.

Right?

-HP-

March 20, 1995
Ah. Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Sadly, my second best subject. Why sad, you may ask. Transfiguration is my best subject because of my talents and how much I love it. I am the best in charms in my year because I work hard at it, worked hard at it since before I even started Hogwarts, and yet, I am better at DADA than charms without even trying. It shows just how much trouble I get in and out of on a regular basis, I guess.

Those three are actually the only classes I am the best of my year. Somehow, even with my lightened workload, Hermione gets better scores than me on rest of our subjects. And Neville is in a league of his own in Herbology and has the best instincts of our year group when faced with a magical creature.

I think if anyone but Snape was teaching Potions, Neville would rock at that too and complete the Nature's Trifecta. Oh, well.

Either way, three out of ten is great, and I am happy to have the second best student status.

I don't know whether to be happy Remus is teaching Defence now, or to be nervous because three of the last four professors have all tried to hurt me one way or another. Will Remus be the second teacher to abstain from attacking me, or will the supposed 'curse' on the position somehow arrange for him to attack me?

I wouldn't hold it against Remus; not that I think he'd attack me. I think I have a very attackable face.

So, I am excited as I walk to the defence classroom and take my seat at the back of the class with Ron. Hermione and Neville abandon us, choosing to sit at the front instead. Traitors.

I am attending a class other than the odd runes or creatures class for the first time in months, and I'm guessing that's why even my housemates are looking at me puzzled. Maybe I should do a mad cackle to freak them out?

Nah. Today is about Remus. I want to see how he does as a professor and to show my support.

I don't have to wait long to see Remus in action as he walks in a minute after I sat down. "Good afternoon, class." He takes out a book from a drawer of his table and glances over everyone sitting. He smiles when he sees me but otherwise continues what I assume is his routine. "Last week, we started on Protego. Normally, I would like to continue working on that and teach you varieties and just why Protego is considered the best shield charm to know, but I decided to add to your repertoire by teaching you the four main defensive techniques."

"Who can tell me about them?"

Hermione's hand rockets up, followed by Neville's more sedate raise.

"Mr Longbottom."

"Shielding and Dodging. Depending on the situation, either could allow for a stronger defence and a better chance to counter-manoeuvre. If the spell coming at you is too powerful to block with a shield or can pass unaffected, dodging will keep you safe and allow you to cast an offensive spell in the meantime. If your opponent is less powerful than you, you can shield and let them tire themselves out without running the risk of losing your balance. But dodging can be difficult especially if your opponent can chain cast, and shielding works best if you know the kind of spell your opponent uses."

"Take five points, Mr Longbottom, for a good comparative summary. Yes, Protego requires fast reflexes and immense intuition of your attacker. Now, who can tell me about the other two?"

Hermione's hand is the only one to raise this time. "There is physical shields and parrying."

Remus smiles kindly at Hermione's rapid-fire answer and enthusiasm while the rest of the class roll their eyes in sync. There is nothing like exasperation at Hermione's encyclopedic knowledge to bring the crowds together. "Nice and short, Miss Granger. Take two points." Hermione ducks her head a little in embarrassment. "Today, we will try three of the four main techniques to get a feel of their comparative advantages and disadvantages, and we'll see which one works for you best."

He walks to the front of his table and leans back on it, crossing his arms. His words are spoken softly, gently as if he's teaching us not how to defend ourselves but how to paint or some other semi-spiritual subject. "If there any of you considers duelling as a semi-professional or professional career, I suggest you try to learn these methods and come to me or Professor Flitwick for possible training methods so can get better."

He claps suddenly, bringing everyone, including me, out of the spell he put us under with a soft voice. Truly, it is surprising how good he is at controlling the classroom without acting strict, like McGonagall and Snape, or acting hyper-intense, like Flitwick. "Dodging is pretty straightforward in concept but it is difficult against a quicker opponent and on uneven terrains. It requires balance and situational awareness that not many can claim."

His eyes roam the class, making eye contact with everyone but not staying longer than a few seconds on anyone; enough to keep us on our toes and interested but not so much so as to make anyone feel singled out or on stage.

Frankly, Remus acts like he was born to teach.

"Physical shields are long-standing and your best defence against Unforgivables and other spells that cannot be shielded against as far as we know. But it requires a lot of practice and a good understanding of Transfiguration and Conjuration principles. And if you wanted to go really all out on a physical shield, you could charm it to act in a certain way. You could make it so that it lasts long against a magical onslaught or animate it so it could have more range and protect you even as you move. All around, in my opinion, casting physical shields whenever you are able is a good philosophy."

Remus stops talking and scratches his chin in thought before grinning mischievously. "Mr Potter, why don't you come here and help me with a little demonstration?"

I walk over to where he points and ask, "what do you need from me, professor?"

"I will cast simple stinging jinxes at you and I want you to defend yourself in alternating methods."

With a small nod, I take a defensive stand and wait for him to cast. Three small, economic movements allow me to safely dodge the first three jinxes he sends my way but I summon a desk for the next three before banishing the splinters that fall off towards Remus and transfiguring the desk to a large, wooden Roman-shield. As the teacher deals with the splinters, my focus is on charming the desk so it could survive against more powerful attacks.

Dozens of stinging jinxes fly down from Remus' wand but my shield weathers the storm until I banish the desk his way again and conjure dozens of protego shields with a wave of my wand. His next jinx after dodging the shield hits one of my shields before changing direction before the same thing happens again, and again, and a few dozen more times before hitting him in the back after gaining enough speed to confuse him.

Everyone is, understandably, impressed because how quick and precise my movements were; because how fluid and fast my transfiguration was: because of how much focus and mastery my last trick required. I doubt more than a handful of them could replicate any of the feats, let alone all three of them. Maybe Ron and Anthony if they worked hard. Hermione doesn't have the reflexes and fluidity, and Padma doesn't have the Transfiguration skills to achieve all three.

Remus yelps at the pinching sensation at his arse and grins at me before turning to the class once again. "As you can see, all three techniques allow for good defence but has different potential uses. Who can tell me when it is best to dodge an attack instead of employing other two methods and how can you turn an attack against your opponent? Go ahead, Mr Goldstein."

Anthony lowers his hand and takes a breath. "If I wanted to gain the upper hand by attacking, I could dodge my opponent's attack and cast a hex to force him on the defensive."

"Yes, and it allows for a faster counter attack. Mr Potter, please help me with another demonstration." He doesn't wait for me to acknowledge, casting a low powered exploding hex immediately. Without even thinking, I dodge and cast two stunners that he has to shield against.

"As you saw, if you trust your casting speed, you can put your opponent at defence by dodging and attacking simultaneously," he points out. "Are you up for another demonstration, Harry?"

"What do you need me to do?"

"A shielding charm of your choosing. I will cast stinging charms at you again."

I nod, slightly turning my wand to allow me to cast at a moment's notice by keeping the charm at a trigger. Four stinging jinxes fly out of Remus' wand, two seconds pass between the first jinx and the last. Two of the jinxes go few inches wide on each side to stop me from dodging as the other two flies towards my midriff. With barely a thought, a blue hue covers my upper body, stopping the jinxes with a soft puff from each.

Remus doesn't sit idly by as the purpose of this exercise is to show the versatility of a shield and the ease with which they can be cast. A number of jinxes rain down on me, forcing me to manipulate the shield as to cover my whole body but nowhere else. Jinx after jinx is stopped by my shield as I tire of the game and manipulate a small part of the that covers my hand to act as a reflective one and backhand a jinx back to the professor.

He grins at me and stops the easy-to-defend-against jinx with a small shield. "Who can tell me what are the advantages of casting a shielding charm when you'd expend less energy when you dodge and get more protection from a physical shield?" Hermione's hand is, as always, in the air, joined by Ron and Padma this time. "Go ahead, Mr Weasley."

"It is easier and quicker to cast a shielding charm than to transfigure or conjure a solid shield, isn't it? And you could end up on your arse if you lose your balance when you dodge."

"Correct." Remus strolls through the class at a gentle pace, his hands clasped behind his back.

Last year, Sirius was a great teacher; fun, energetic and knowledgeable in the subject. But without a doubt, Remus is the better teacher between the two with his calm and accessible demeanour and easy command of the class.

I think it is time to get rid of the curse on this class.

If only I knew how…

-Flowers for Your Grave-

March 25, 1995
I can't seem to be able to fall a-fucking-sleep.

Tonight is the night before the Earth Challenge and I can't sleep. After tossing and turning in bed for an hour, I throw off the blankets with a yank and plod over to the bathroom to wash my face. A glance at the mirror shows bloodshot eyes and an irritated scar: an all-around tired face, looking older somehow and weary.

Yes, I am weary and nervous, but it has nothing to do with the task ahead. No, I care little about the task. My nine-points lead is safe enough for me to stay ahead no matter how talentless I am in potions, which is likely to be the focus of the task if the rare potions book I found in the bag I took in the previous task, is any clue.

No, it is Tom who is in my head, keeping me awake. This task is the first possible chance for him to strike, whatever his plan may be, and I feel nowhere near ready to face him. Questions and doubts cloud my mind whenever I try to focus on what I should do and what Tom could do.

When my name first came out of the goblet, I had two possible routes to take: face Tom and do my utmost to deliver the most damage I could, or play it safe and stay as far as possible from the bastard with a vengeance.

Now, as I contemplate my immediate future, the only thing I can think of is how good the second option sounds. Because for all my confidence and dedication, all my skills, Tom is on a whole other level. A level that seems unattainable between now and tomorrow. So, it makes sense to postpone our meeting as long as possible, no?

The question is, can I?

Tom had months to plot ways to get to me, and for all our understanding of his game, he has many advantages. We are on the defensive, playing a reactionary game while he sees a near-full picture of the field and what resources each side has. He knows our possible reactions and counter-manoeuvres while we have a limited understanding of his scheme. And what we know, hardly seems enough to see the plot points.

Yes, I am freaking out.

I splash another palmful of water on my face and push myself to my full height, my eyes not leaving my reflection's. "I'll never survive," I whisper, my voice is shaking more than I'd care to admit.

"Nonsense," my reflection disagrees with a cheerful smile. "You are only saying that because no one ever has."

"Talking to your reflection, Harry?" I hear behind me and whirl around to come face to beard with Albus.

A hand on my chest, I wheeze out," You scared me, Sir." The older man merely smiles at me with a shrug. "And he answered back," I say, pointing an accusing finger at my reflection.

"I most certainly did not!" my reflection disagreed, then slaps a hand to his mouth. "Drats!"

"What a delightful enchantment," Albus comments, his eyes shining with interest.

"Yes, Sirius thought I'd enjoy a mirror that always disagrees with me more than a mirror that gives fashion advice."

"Fascinating," he murmurs, eyeing the mirror.

A minute into his silent contemplation of whatever interests him about the mirror, I get enough. "No offence, Sir, but, why are you here?"

"What?" He starts and gives me an over-the-glasses look. "Oh, yes. Come, Harry, walk with this old man to the owlery." He turns around without waiting for an acknowledgement and sets a slow pace out of the room as I scramble to follow after putting on an outer cloak to fend off the cold.

"Sir?" I prod once I catch up to him, walking by his right.

He puts a hand on my shoulder and chuckles at my impatience. "Are you nervous?"

An uneasy chuckle escapes me as I wonder if I am so obvious as to draw Albus to my room. "Nervous? Me? Never. Impossible. I don't get nervous." He squeezes my shoulder, a reassuring gesture. "Scared out of my mind, more like."

"About Tom's possible plans?" he asks as we stroll down the moving stairs, the portraits and paintings in either side waving at us as we pass by. It is a quiet evening, eerily so, and the only sound I hear is grinding of stone underneath me and the quiet whispers between the paintings.

"Yes," I answer without a wait. "I've watched every memory you gave me. I've seen what he's capable of, how powerful he is. It is safe to assume he's twice as powerful as what those memories indicate, and I don't see how I could survive tomorrow if I face him."

"Ah, but you are underestimating yourself, Harry. You are the most resourceful young man I know and I have no doubt, should Tom attempt, you will survive." He sounds so sure.

It must be nice to have so much faith in the future and victory. While I am not pessimistic about the future, I have too many lingering doubts and persistent fears to share his confidence. I have seen what I could be when Twins potioned me and seen what I must be to win against the titan in the memories. And I have realised how much I have to go before either possibility is achievable.

I am better than my peers, even those older than me by a few years, yet compared the likes of Sirius, Snape, McGonagall and Flitwick, I am but a child still. So I know; compared the likes of Albus and Tom, I don't even rate on the same scale. Oh, I can win a duel or two against Sirius and Snape, and I can even put Flitwick on a back foot long enough for victory to be seen achievable, but even those accomplishments don't seem real enough to have any real bearing in a life and death situation where experience carries more weight than anything else.

"No offence, Sir, but that's laughable optimistic," I say with a chuckle. "Tom's casting speed is phenomenal and the magic he wields is awesome. He's chillingly more experienced than I am. And like those weren't frightening enough, he will have the advantage of controlling the plot and superior numbers. Only luck and a few miracles can save me, and I've been incredibly lucky so far. Even luck could favour me so far."

The Headmaster stays silent for a long time, making me wonder if he's done with the conversation as we navigate through the castle, corridors acting as a labyrinth and we as mice for a game Hogwarts likes to play. The castle is truly an entity - though I am clueless as to if it's sentient or not. It has an aura of divinity that humbles those who walk its corridors, an aura of power and security that soothes those who sleep under its roof.

But Tom won't meet me in Hogwarts. He lost me twice here. No, he'll take me away from the protection of the castle and have the home advantage, and it feels daunting to consider facing him without the assurance only Hogwarts can give me. I really don't have a name for the effect Hogwarts has on me.

Even death feels warmer in Hogwarts as I realised two years ago before I realised Hogwarts somehow helps all its children. After all, even Albus said so, 'Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.'

Perhaps I should ask Hogwarts to kill Tom? Nah, that wouldn't work. Would it?

"I think you and I should have a duel, Harry." The sudden offer startles me for a moment before I can process his words.

"Why?" is all I can ask, surprised by the offer. Not only because as my headmaster he's ethically obliged to keep some distance from me to maintain impartiality but also because I seriously doubt I could even cause an inconvenience to the man in a duel. What could I possibly learn if he can defeat me under ten seconds?

He smiles down at me, making me feel like a child. "Because I have a feeling you are further along in your education than you think, and I'd like to see that for myself and remind you I don't raise a fool."

"I'm confused. Did you insult me or compliment me?"

"A little bit of both," he confesses as we step out into chilly spring night on our way to the owlery. He stops me midway to our goal and leans over the railing. "You assume to win in a duel, you need knowledge, experience and speed. If that's the case, how is it that the only people to have a decisive win against Voldemort are your mother, a witch barely out of school, and you, a wizard still in school?"

"I was lucky, and he underestimated me," I argue as I join him on the railing, casting my eyes to the still-snowy mountain peaks around the school and the dark forest surrounding the castle.

"That's true, but more importantly, you were smart enough to find a solution under extreme duress. You proved that when you saved two people even as you were on the verge of dying of blood loss. And when you destroyed Tom's shade while suffering the effects of basilisk venom." He puts a hand on my shoulder, making me turn to him. "I agreed with Sirius' decision to train you in magical combat not because I think you can surpass Tom with a year or two worth of training, but because I want you to have more tools to find a solution out of any situation you may find yourself in."

He gives me a small smile. "Remember, he wants to kill you or recruit you. You just want to stay alive. He will have many hoops to go through to get you in position while all you will need to do is escape. You don't have to beat him. You don't have to hurt him. Just… escape. I think that's within your power thanks to two of your father's gifts."

I let out a huff of irritation at how simplistic he's being but can't stop a small smile from showing. "Yes. Yes. Put on the Cloak of Invisibility, turn into a bird and wing away from the danger."

"Smart boy," he praises with a smile and a pat on the cheek, knowing it would irritate me.

I fight against my natural instincts and keep a pleasant smile on my face. "So, why are we here, Grandpa? Wanted a little adventure, climbing all those stairs?"

"I'll show you what this grandpa can do after the task tomorrow," Albus chuckles, his eyes twinkling away like a pair of Christmas lights.

"Any insights you'd like to share about the task?" I prod, knowing Albus wouldn't say a word.

His eyes turn into full-on blinking lights as his smile turns devilish. "No, but that reminds me, recent intelligence suggests Tom doesn't plan anything for tomorrow."

I close my eyes and count to ten before opening them with a glare aimed at the obnoxious man next to me. "Next time, start with that one instead of making me wallow in my nervous breakdown."

"Where is the fun in that?"

I glare at the man for a long moment while he smiles merrily before but of us collapse into laughter. "Merlin, I missed talking with you."

Albus' smile softens but stays mischievous. "Please, dear boy, call me Albus. No need to invoke ancient legends."

"You are an ancient legend," I point out without shame and with a similar smile.

"Bah! I have decades in me yet," he refuses, pushing me towards the owlery though his hand stays on my shoulder as we walk, a boy and his grandfather.

I really missed this.

-HP-

March 26, 1995
Adults are funny.

I know I sound like a seven-year-old when I say that, but it's true. The Earth Challenge is a pretty straightforward task that tests a variety of skills from potion-making to herbology and care of magical creatures, from navigating through unknown lands in order to find ingredients to ingredient preparation and survival in the wild. Honestly, the idea has a lot of merits and this is the first task to actually test a champion across many disciplines.

The task is to drink a slow acting poison or another detrimental potion, figure out an antidote, find the ingredients and brew a cure. Yes, yes, I suck at potions and am no better in herbology so I don't expect to get good points in this task.

And I know you are dying to know why I think adults are funny. Well, did you know by law, any potion that affects the mind, either detrimentally or beneficially, can only be prescribed by a licensed medical official and never without a just cause?

Not only they are immensely complicated to brew,- you know what? Just consider any magic that affects the mind complicated to perform- they all use one of two ingredients without exception: coca leaves and poppy seed milk. For those of you who don't know, coca leaves, when processed into white powder, create a lovely Class A drug called cocaine. And poppy seed milk is used heavily in a family of Class A drugs known as opiates.

Three guesses on what the potion I just now drunk does.

Here are a few clues: colours around me are more vibrant, swirling in random motions as I try to focus on just what the hell is going on. Honestly, it isn't difficult to understand my mind is affected by the potion but even that thought flies off- not before flipping me off, of course- leaving me grinning like a loony and staring at my hand like...

I wonder why we have five fingers? Why not four or six? Hell, why not ten so we can grip two things with one hand and have an easier time carrying things? I mean, who amongst us hasn't cursed his lack of additional extremity? When carrying more than two bottles, for example?

Well, I didn't but that's because I can do wandless magic, but that's not the point.

Speaking of bottles, why do some types of poisons are considered fun while the others disgusting? Alcohol is a poison, yet we drink it as a pastime activity while I haven't heard anyone toast with poisonous berries or belladonna. Now, that's an idea: 'here's to a psychedelic death.'

A blast sounds from somewhere behind me and I whirl around to clap for the champions. They work so hard, the poor things, and get so little in return. I know for a fact that neither schools' students are satisfied with their champions' efforts, and I can't tell how many times I heard people claiming they could have performed better.

Well, that begs the question of why the goblet didn't choose them? I asked that very question once and all I got were weak excuses and rude gestures. I think people don't like to face reality, preferring to immerse themselves in their delusions. Then again, isn't that always the case with people? We are bitter, hurtful and judgemental creatures who enjoy belittling others without a second thought just so we could feel slightly better about ourselves.

Speaking of feeling better, for the last month, I have been on cloud nine, feeling happier and more content than I have ever felt in my short life; and I have Fleur to thank for that. I don't know what it is about her that makes me feel so good but whatever it is, I am grateful for its existence. How is it that the smallest of smiles by her can make me feel all-powerful?

Fleur. Oh, Fleur. Watching her has become a favourite pastime activity of mine, right after kissing her. Especially when she's doing something she's passionate about like playing music or competing in a deadly tournament or fooling around with her sister.

Gabrielle has become another bright spot in my life with her musical laughter and childish wonder at everything around her. As a boy who always wanted a sibling, she has become an honorary sister to me and I love it. I love spoiling her and making her laugh and reading her stories. And frankly, her innocent perspective on things offers a refreshing change from my cynical one.

She's like a bright sun in my life, shining a light on my fears and allowing me to grow.

Sun is exceptionally bright today for a Scottish spring day, clouds blocking it sparingly and causing sudden chills that excite my nerves. And clouds! Oh, how lovely they look today, all puffy and incorporeal; changing from a smiling dog to a smirking devil in-between blinks, allowing my imagination to run wild with possibilities.

The devil winks at me, pointing at the forest, egging me on. Well, fine then! I accept your challenge, Mr Lucifer Morningstar.

Christian theology is an interesting one. Honestly, every theology is interesting but as both countries I live in are predominantly Christian, I have been exposed to elements from that particular religion more often.

While it depends on the particular set of beliefs, Lucifer has always been described as a favourite son of god. Well, except Christ, of course. And isn't that a sad story? The devil is basically the older brother, jealous of the attention his youngest sibling receives from his father. Does the blame lie with the child when he overreacts just to get his father's attention? Or is it the father's fault for not explaining his love for both children? Does father love all his children equally? Or is Lucy right with his claims of favouritism, no matter how hypocritical?

I always did find how human every theology and mythology is in essence, a wonderful thing.

Oh, yeah. I'm always up for singing some Sympathy for the Devil as I stroll through a dangerous forest. Let me conjure a red hood so you can call me 'little red riding hood.' Now, let's go bust some werewolf guts.

A random amount of time later, I ran across a forest troll in all his green glory. And by green glory, I mean he doesn't have the decency to wear a loincloth, landing a huge blow to my ego without even trying. The bastard.

Well, now, just because he is inconsiderate of my fragile masculinity, doesn't mean I have to be rude so I think introducing myself is in order. "Please, allow me to introduce myself; I'm a man of wealth and taste."

He eyes me like I'm a tasty piece of meat and grunts.

Well, that's just rude. Who does he think he is to dismiss me like that? Doesn't he know who I am?

Apparently, he doesn't because he sees no wrong in swinging the large branch he carries and striking the ground I was occupying not a moment ago, causing dirt to fly off in every which direction. Perhaps he doesn't realise he's the third troll I've faced so far. I should save him from his ignorance. "I've been around for long, long years; stole many a troll's soul and faith."

He tries his luck with his branch again, swiping right this time, aiming to sweep me off my feet.

Why, I'm honoured, Mr Troll, but I have a girlfriend!

A wave of my wand turns his branch into a bouquet, surprising the troll as the stupid creature enough to make him lose his balance and land on his arse. His surprise does not last long as he decides the flowers I was generous enough to gift him looks tasty and eats them. I hope, for his sake, my transfiguration holds otherwise, he'll have a hard time shitting. Yikes!

The troll isn't much of a conversationalist and is quite boring so I think I should dispose of him. Any bright ideas? Well, I don't want to actually hurt the creature so I should just knock him out, right? How to accomplish that? There is always good old blunt force trauma but that's so 91'. I want to try something new and excited, not relive the glory old days. To stun him with a charm or a hex, I'd need to hit him somewhere unprotected and with the way my vision swirls whenever I try to concentrate on one spot, that doesn't sound plausible. Besides, with his low level of brain functions, it might actually hurt the poor thing.

A sleeping agent then? Hm.

A loud snoring sound has me give an incredulous glare at the sleeping troll, feeling oddly offended by such a nonchalant behaviour against an apex predator like me. He should be shaking in his fur with fear, not sleeping!

Oh, who am I kidding? He looks adorable with the drool hanging off his mouth, refusing to bow to the gravity, and his light green fur. A giant teddy bear, he is. Well, he looks more like a giant Grinch but cute nonetheless.

I shrug and skip off further into the forest, whistling a jaunty tune and freaking out animals all around me. As I walk, I consider my predicament. I have enough presence of mind to realise the concoction I drank has jeopardised my thought process and while my skill in occlumency is improving by leaps and bounds, fighting the external influence is difficult as my willingness to drink it works against my desire to fight its effects.

Magic is funky like that.

I need a cure because… Well, I'm sure there are reasons to want such a thing but mainly, the idea of a thought impairment is freaking me out and I know there is a reason for that. I just have a hard time remembering what that reason was.

Okay, Blatter, think!

Well, first of all, Blatter, really?

It's a combination of Black and Potter. I thought it was genius.

It's not.

Let's see you find a better nickname for us then?

There is always Mr Tweety.

Oh, right. Mr Tweety, think!

Okay, we are up against an unknown poison and like most poisons, it is somewhat poisonous. What are the easiest ways to fight a poison?

Not drinking it?

We'll try that next time. Now, focus! What are the easiest ways to fight a poison?

Oh, child, things are gonna get easier. Oh, child, things'll get brighter.

What? How does that help?

How does anything help?

What?

Who?

Sigh. Were you singing a song?

Eh. No?

You were!

But-

Just focus, you dunderheaded moron!

Heh, you sound like Snivellus.

Yes, Snape. What did Snape say about poisons?

That they are bad?

Ugh. You are a moron.

Hey! I'm you. If I am a moron that means you are a moron as well.

Do you want to die?

Why? Are you planning to kill me?

Hey, guys! Can you two stop bickering like Hermione and Ron and focus on the most pressing issue?

And what issue is that?!

Hey, now. No need to gang up on me. I was talking about how long it has been since we last pulled a nice little prank on Snape.

I AM SURROUNDED BY MORONS!

You don't exist. How can you be surrounded by anything?

Now, that's a prank idea: make Snape not exist.

You mean kill him?

No, like… Oh. Never mind.

"Greetings, Harry Potter."

My head snaps towards the voice with enough force to add intense vertigo to my list of complaints but seeing the blurry shape of a horse, I concur I am talking to either a hippogriff or a gryffin. There no other options. "Hello, there. Who are you?"

The horse-like creature tilts his head and stomps closer to me. "Firenze."

I scratch my head, trying to make sense of things. "Oh. I didn't know cities could become animagi."

"What?"

We stare at each other, I in bewilderment and he with swirly blues that turn and turn and turn and turn without a stop, making me dizzy. In a cartoonish manner, I realise the truth. "You mean you are Firenze the Centaur!"

The centaur snorts, the blue colour bobbing up and down. "Indeed. You know how dangerous it is for you to wander into our territory with my kin's dislike of your kind and you in particular."

"They don't like me?" I ask, unable to fight a pout from forming on my face. "How come?" The friendly centaur doesn't answer or move as I wait for an answer for a long time. "Well, I don't like them either then."

"I'll be sure to lend them a shoulder to cry on," he says dryly. "Why aren't you working on your task?"

"Task? What task?"

The centaur suddenly leaps into motion, crossing the distance - I can't even attempt to calculate how far - quickly. "Are you ill, child?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm pretty good. I feel like I'm flying and the gravity is an annoyance of the past, not worth my consideration now."

He opens his mouth but I suddenly have the brightest idea about how I can fight the poison's effects: bezoar! A summoning charm leaves my wand with nary a thought, surprising Firenze back a few steps as he watches me curiously. For a few minutes, nothing happens until a chorus of bleating reaches my ears. And yes, I said a chorus because, in my excitement at finding a possible cure, I cast a very loose spell that summoned more than a dozen goats that now surround us like an avenging army.

My eyes narrow and find on one of the goats as I raise my wand to do what's necessary to get the stone in its stomach. My target turns to me and begs for mercy, "Baa!"

I can't help it. He just looks so cute with his little beard and bright blue eyes; he reminds me of Albus. "Fine, you cute little bastard. You and your friends can live." I conjure leashes for all the goats and spend the next twenty minutes running after the fluffy creatures with wicked sharp horns while Firenze laughs at my antics. "If you would stop laughing and help me, I'd appreciate it, Firenze!"

Firenze just laughs harder.

But his laughter turns to a warning cry, making me whirl around to see a small army of giant spiders coming at my direction at an astonishing speed. Fucking acromantula! I hate these bloodthirsty creatures and have no compunction against hurting them. Proving my dislike is easy after spending the most of the year training my reflexes in combat situations, and countless, albeit weak and random, hexes and curses leave my wand.

The results of my attack are… different than one would expect: a dozen of acromantulas turn into plush of various colours while various invisible musical instruments one would usually find in a parade, starts playing with no pattern or sense, large chunks of earth fly around, hitting trees. Still, my attack pays off, making the small army of arachnoids freak out and run in random directions.

Firenze and I watch, fascinated, as they run head-first into each other, into trees, into rocks and continue to run without stopping. It is an illogical and totally unexpected reaction as acromantula have no known trouble with loud noises. There must be another reason for their reaction but for the life of me, I can't figure it out as my new friends steal my focus by running around me, tying me with the leashes I put on them.

I don't know how long the craziness goes on but hearing Firenze snicker at me brings me out of my shock and makes me realise just how tight and restricting my silky prison is becoming. I huff and yank my right hand every which way to give me enough room before casting an untying charm.

"Thank you for your invaluable help, Firenze," I grouse as I try to calm down my frantic friends, countless spiders still running around us with no sense to their actions. "I don't know what I would do if not for your assistance, really," I add just before goats attempt an uprising by yanking me in a single direction with a collective pull, bringing me to my knees. Firenze pauses and looks around before falling victim to his laughter again, pointing an accusing finger at me.

With a conjured stake buried deep into the ground to keep my new Albus-look-alike friends in check, I stand up and dust the dirt off me before joining Firenze in his enjoyment of the Acromantula circus. I still have no idea what set them off or how I could replicate such a feat again. After a few minutes of pointless guessing, I cancel my spells, turning the plush spiders back to normal and stopping the unorganised mess of sounds that is in no shape or form can be called music.

As soon as the magic dissipates, the large spiders run off like a basilisk is on their tail, not even attempting to look back. "So, that just happened," I say into the silence when Firenze's laughter stops.

My four-legged-and-two-armed friend sighs and nods. "The eight-legs never venture this far into our territory."

"Why do you think they decided to visit now?"

He shakes his head, his mane whipping around. "That's a question you should ask yourself, young Potter."

"I'll be sure to do that as soon as I finish what I came here for…" I trail off, scratching my head in an attempt to jolt my memory. Why am I here?

"The task?"

"Oh, right. I wonder how the champions are doing. It's a shame I missed out on watching them… I can't seem to remember why though? Why would I come to forest instead of watching the task like everyone else is doing?"

Firenze opens his mouth but I don't let him speak as the memory returns to me. "Right! The devil challenged me."

The centaur sighs, yet again, making me wonder if I'm boring him. "Perhaps you should return to your people."

I huff, offended. "Maybe I should, seeing as you are bored of me."

A half hour trek and a cure administered by Poppy later, I let out a groan as I relive the task, wondering how long it will take for me to live this one down.

"Don't worry, Potter. I'm sure Aberforth isn't mad at you for stealing his goats," Poppy says, a wicked smirk on her lips. "Not at all. He's not one to hold a grudge." She leaves the tent after one last chuckle, leaving me wondering just how angry Aberforth really is.

I did steal younger Dumbledore's goats but in my defence, I wasn't in my right mind and I didn't even hurt the cute little bastards. I hope he gives me a chance to explain myself before whatever clever punishment he comes up with. I really don't need a vengeful Dumbledore on my tail.

The tent flap opens and Fleur walks in with dirt-covered clothes, her face white and sweaty. I would worry if not for the small, pleased smile on her face. Her smile widens when she sees me, walking to where I'm lying with uneasy steps, barely able to keep her balance until she sprawls next to me on the small bed. "I can't believe you finished before me," she complains, her voice tired and spent though not at all displeased with my perceived accomplishment.

"I didn't, actually," I correct her. "I failed the task quite spectacularly. Aimee is the only one to finish ahead of you."

She raises her head to rest her chin on my shoulder, "What do you mean you failed?"

I shrug, careful not to jostle her much. "They gave me a psychedelic concoction that melted my brain. I remember Lucifer giving me the finger, a troll trying to bed me and an army of spiders dancing while a number of goats tied me up for a sacrifice."

She giggles before a yawn escapes her. "You sound like you at least had some fun."

"What was your poison?"

"I'm not sure," she answers with a sleepy shrug as she buries her head on my shoulder. "But whatever it was made my body feel like a ton. I'm still surprised I even managed to walk more than a few steps, let alone complete the task."

"Hey, now. Don't fall asleep on me," I say, nudging her awake when she drifts off and her breathing evens out. "You still need to get checked by Poppy."

"Surprisingly, you are correct, Mr Potter," Poppy says as she walks into the tent in an eerily timely manner. "I guess there is a first time for everything."

I occupy myself with tidying Fleur's hair, my movements more jarring than necessary to keep her awake. "Geez, Louise, stop trying to become a comedian. It's not happening."

"Seeing as you managed to make nursing a nightmare for me, I think you don't get a say in my potential occupation," the matron argues, walking over to the Fleur's side of the bed before drawing her wand. After a few diagnostic charms, she nods, pleased with the results before taking out a vial of potion from one of her many pockets.

I give into my curiosity as Poppy tilts Fleur's head to help her drink the rejuvenation potion. "Just how many pockets do you have and how big are your pockets? There is no way you can carry all those potions around with you all the time."

Poppy straightens up once Fleur seems responsive to the potion, blinking owlishly as she sits up. "Each of my pockets is connected to a different subspace in the infirmary's stores with a trigger for summoning charms worked into the pocket."

"Huh. How often do you have to recast the enchantments?"

Poppy walks to an armchair and sits before giving me an appreciative but indulging smile. "Every month or so, depending on how often I have to restock the stores."

Fleur, now awake and always interested in enchantment related subjects, chooses to join our conversation. "Because of the Krugen effect?"

Poppy nods. "Indeed. I haven't been able to find a way to tie the spatial enchantments to anything but the vials, and whenever I use the integrated summoning charm and indexing field, it causes degradation in the spatial enchantments."

"Have you read about Markus' law of three chains?" My brilliant bed-mate asks, changing positions to sit with her legs crossed under her. "When you use the summoning enchantment, it triggers a change in the indexing field, and by casting the spatial enchantments depended on the indexes instead of specific vials, they will stay stable even with the anchor change."

The matron tilts her head in consideration and a bit of confusion. "Are there any books you can suggest? I get the basics but I want to know what I'm doing exactly before trying anything."

Fleur considers only about five seconds before answering. "Laws of Three and How It Applies to Enchantments by Eleonore Markus. It's has a detailed chapter on the concept and some known examples of applications in modern enchantments."

I make a note of asking Fleur to explain some of these concepts to better at a later time. While my interest in enchantments took a backstage lately, I haven't given up on learning more. And perhaps it could be a nice way for Fleur and me to spend time together. I'd get to learn about interesting magic, watch Fleur as she shares her passion with me and most importantly, I am very curious about what her style of discipline would be. Would she spank me if I am naughty?

Oh, yes. This idea has some merits.

Hmm. Perhaps I can teach her how to be an animagus? Can veela even be an animagus, or is the 'avian-form' rumour is true?

Man, it's awesome being in a relationship. No matter how intimately I know her, I am often surprised by the things I don't know about her. I recently found out she only eats bouillabaisse and no other seafood, and by Merlin, she loves that. It's an odd little quirk and you can't imagine her joy whenever the house-elf serve the food.

Then there is this thing she does with ice that…

Well, never mind. It's not fit for polite company.

-HP-

"I must say, I was surprised to learn you were dating my daughter, Mr Potter."

I tilt my head a little and acknowledge his surprise. Frankly, ours is an odd relationship with the difference in age and character. "I've always been a bit of an overachiever."

"And humble too," Sebastian Delacour jokes with a small smile that reminds me of Aunt Minerva. Truth be told, the man across me reminds me of the strict Transfiguration Mistress in many ways: from his posture to his reactions. I like that. He's sitting with a straight back, his intertwined hands resting on his crossed legs.

"That's a lesson for the old men, Sir. I am not that overachiever," I shoot back, grinning.

"Speaking of overachieving," the blonde man begins, giving his older daughter a wink. "Do you also consider your… unique performance today an overachievement?"

Fleur gives me a challenging smile, egging me on to give a cocky response. Well, so be it. "I'd like to think I gave my competitor's false hope of winning. If I performed as well as I had performed in first two tasks, the point difference would have made the final task boring."

"If that's what helps you sleep at night," Fleur quips from next to me, oddly relaxed in front of his father. "I wish I could have watched this new dance method you discovered today. What do you call it? The 'Tied-up Monkey?'"

"I thought it was funny," Gabrielle peeps in, giving me a wide smile.

I grin at my small ally and nod. "See. Gabrielle knows talent when she sees it."

"I said funny, not good," my ally betrays me, wrinkling her nose. "You looked silly."

"I'll take silly," I answer sagely, ignoring the snickers of two girls, pointedly looking away from Papa Delacour.

"I'm curious how your publicist will spin this one," Mr Delacour comments off-handedly, staying oddly polite for the implication.

"I honestly don't care," I answer without preamble. "Rita is a schemer. I know she'll change her tune when it gets more lucrative, I have no delusions about that. But for the moment, especially considering what the future holds, I'd rather have her as a reluctant ally than an enemy."

Mr Delacour turns serious, and I have to say, it is impressing how he can change the mood with almost imperceivable movements. He's still sitting with his legs crossed, but now, slightly leaning forward. "Ah, yes. I wonder if you can enlighten me about this trouble you hinted at in our previous meeting."

I chuckle nervously and take a sip of beer and look around in Three Broomsticks as I consider what I can say. Truly, this is a conversation Albus should lead, not me. Mr Delacour can be an invaluable ally in the upcoming conflict or a troublesome hindrance, and I have no idea how to gain his support without giving away too much information that could complicate things. "Right, that," I sigh and sit up straighter, leaning over the table slightly and when I talk, my voice is lower but serious. "Frankly, I don't know how much I could tell you without Albus' approval. Trouble is coming and trust comes harder because of that."

The man gives me a small nod, acknowledging my words. "But if you are as well informed as your behaviour indicates, whatever this trouble is, it must involve you. I don't believe Albus Dumbledore would burden you with such a knowledge needlessly."

"There is truth to that. Albus is a secretive man, more so than probably any of us thinks, and you are right in that if it didn't involve me personally at a such a large degree, he wouldn't risk his plans by telling a teenager."

The man sighs and scratches his chin that has no sign of a beard, not even stubble, before throwing a pointed look at his daughter. "I assume my daughter has some idea about what you think is coming, otherwise she wouldn't be so tense right now."

Indeed, Fleur is tense. Her back is ramrod straight and trying to stay out of focus, as out of character as that sounds. She looks up from her wine glass when Mr Delacour says her name, taking a deep breath.

"She does, and before you assume wrong, I would never ask her to put a strain on her relationship by keeping a secret from you," I say, giving Fleur a soft look. "And don't misunderstand me, I think you should know more. You could be an important ally, and even if you don't work with us, the knowledge could potentially save lives and I think that's more important than anything else. I discussed this with Albus and as far as I know, he is receptive to the idea."

The man gives me half a smile but his demeanour doesn't change. "That's certainly good to hear but not really what concerns me in the short-term. I am a lawman but my duty to my country comes second to my duty to my children. No, what I want to know, Mr Potter, is how much danger my daughter is in? By being in this tournament and by being involved with you."

Oh, Morgana be damned. Why does it feel like everyone is against my relationship with Fleur? "I doubt she's in any added danger for being in the tournament. Whatever the plot is with my selection, it is aimed at me and me alone."

"But you can't say the same about her involvement with you," Mr Delacour says, hearing the words I didn't say. "So, can you honestly expect me to approve your relationship?" he asks, to both of us this time. "No offence, Mr Potter, but you are a trouble magnet. You have been attacked personally two times in the last two months."

"Three times," I correct reflexively. "It's a bit too curious for my tastes that I was given a potion that played with my mind when all the other champions received potions that affected their bodies," I explain when he looks at me inquisitively before straightening up and looking the man in the eye. "But that's beside the point. With all due respect, Sir, your approval has no bearing in my relationship with Fleur. I want your approval, yes, not only because you are Fleur's father but I also respect you, as little as I know you. Even so, I can live with your disapproval as long as Fleur doesn't think it is a deal breaker."

The Statesman stays silent, measuring me with curious eyes. It is Fleur who breaks the silence, even Gabrielle knowing not to interrupt the moment. "I'd like to hope you'll be supportive of my decisions and my relationship, Father, instead of making me choose between the boy I love and the father I adore."

Sebastian Delacour honestly surprises me, chuckling and raising his hand in a calming motion. "I didn't say I disapproved. I asked why Mr Potter thinks I should approve." He smiles at his elder daughter before giving me a pointed look. "I'd like to think I am smart enough to know not to incur my daughter's ire."

I grin at the man, then at her daughter. "I think she looks cute when she's irritated." When Fleur glares, I nod at her and turn to her father. "See, doesn't she look adorable."

"She looks like she did when I drew on her parchment rolls," Gabrielle says, gulping when her sister's glare turns to her. "Sister Danger," she squeaks.

"She had the same look before our first duel," I supply. "It was quite entertaining to earn that look."

"Did my daughter win her duel, perchance?" Mr Delacour asks with only a small twitch of his lips. His control is impressive.

I make a zipping motion over my lips, giving my girlfriend an innocent smile.

"I. Lost," Fleur grits out when her father turns to her with a mockingly raised eyebrow.

"Tut, tut, tut. How am I going to show my face at the office now?" the man complains, with a slight whine to his voice.

Fleur takes a deep breath and smiles serenely at her father, the calmness on her face a threatening prospect. "I'll not repeat my mistake, Father dear. Would you like to test my newfound dedication?"

Mr Delacour considers for a moment before nodding though with less levity. "Indeed, I would. I have never seen you duel and I'd like to."

That's an opportunity I can't miss, especially as Albus will also join our next session. "Why don't you stay the night here, in Britain, and join us tomorrow?" I offer enthusiastically. "You'll get to see what Professor Flitwick is teaching us, watch me duel Dumbledore, duel your daughter, and perhaps have a little conversation with the old man with the beard."

He's silent for a long moment, probably considering the advantages of doing so, but he agrees with a nod. "I'll take you up on your offer."

I think- and I say this as I knock on wood- this dinner has been a success, unlike the one with Fleur's other parent.