Before I start today's chapter, I want to thank everyone for the incredible response this experiment of mine has received. In the last 10 days, I've received more reviews than all of my other works combined, more follows than all of my other stories combined, and almost more favorites than any other of my works. In fact, the response has been so overwhelming that I have barely been able to keep up with all of the reviews and PMs. I do read them all and try to respond to as many as I can, but I'm already spending over an hour a day doing just that and time doing that is time I'm not writing. Thank you again, for the incredible show of support.
Fleur is a tenacious sort.
December 1994
Fleur Isabelle Delacour was not one to give up easily. Her marks in school, her prowess on a broom, her selection as the Beauxbatons champion as their Triwizard Tournament representative, the example her little sister Gabrielle followed, everything she did proved that fact. When she was first properly introduced to Harry Potter - he was somehow entered as the fourth champion for the tournament - she wanted to squeal in glee at the opportunity presented to her.
The night that the brunette witch first tried to scare away Fleur had stuck with her. It drove her. If someone was willing to go so far to dissuade others from pursuing Harry Potter, he had to be worth it. The fact that he showed every sign of being resistant to her Allure was almost a negligible factor. He was handsome, one look at his green eyes and any witch would melt into a warm puddle of goo. He was brave, his actions during the first task stood as testament. He was intelligent, his class ranking, second only to the brunette witch, was testament to that. He might be a few years younger than Fleur herself but he was every bit a man and, moreover, every bit a man she could see herself with. A little bit of moulding and she could see him as a man she could spend the rest of her life with.
Thinking back to the gorgeous silvery gown on her bed, Fleur started daydreaming about twirling around the dance floor at the Yule Ball with Harry. He would be so very handsome in his black dress robes. The English and their silly obsession with colored dress robes only proved their general stupidity in Fleur's mind. He would be a powerful dance partner, leading her around the floor, whisking her about, making her bow to his every whim.
Fleur shifted uncomfortably. She might have needed to head back to her room in the carriage if her mind wandered too much further.
Looking around the corner, she saw him standing with his brunette witch friend. The girl was proving to be a constant source of vexation. Every effort Fleur made to get close to him backfired spectacularly somehow. That first night in the darkened room was only the beginning. Tripping hexes, shock wards, vanishing clothes, confundus charms, all things that were just short of the level that might make the Goblet, or the judges, take notice of the interfering little witch and her cheating ways. That foolish girl used them all but Fleur Delacour would not yield! And yet, Fleur had not got any closer to her goal either.
Indeed, Fleur was glad that other witches seemed to be drawing the brunette's ire in the week since the Yule Ball was announced. The two girls from Hufflepuff who had been horribly embarrassed in the Great Hall just the day before were only the latest victims of her ire. However, thanks to those other witches, Fleur was having more success getting close to Harry.
Not that she had actually gotten close enough outside of the Weighing of the Wands and the tent before the first task to have any form of conversation with him.
Putting her mind back on the task at hand, Fleur looked back down the corridor only to see Harry and the brunette walking her way, arm in arm. Resisting the urge to scowl, Fleur kept a pleasant smile on her face. She wanted to lure Harry away from the brunette, not scare him toward her.
"Monsieur Potter," Fleur greeting as politely as she could.
Harry gave her a smile in return. "Miss Delacour."
"May I 'ave a moment of your time?"
Harry's smile grew. Fleur smiled brightly in return.
"I was wondering if you would escort me to ze Yule Ball."
Harry's smile grew even more. Fleur waited for him to answer. Long seconds passed and he had yet to answer her. "Monsieur Potter?"
He remained silent, unmoving. "Monsieur Potter?"
Fleur felt someone nudge her shoulder.
"Monsieur Potter?"
Someone nudged her shoulder again. Fleur swatted the offender's hand away. Finally, the offender grabbed Fleur's shoulders and turned her around.
"What?" Fleur nearly screeched.
It was one of her best friends, Sylvie. "Are you alright, Fleur?"
"Yes I am, I was just . . ." Fleur turned back to Harry only to find him gone. "Wha- Where did he go?"
"Where did who go?"
Fleur frantically looked about. " 'Arry Potter. 'E was standing right 'ere. I was just asking him to escort me to ze Yule Ball."
Sylvie gave her an odd look. "Fleur, you've been standing 'ere for the last half hour. Everyone was getting concerned so one of the witches came and found me. Apparently some boys were talking about 'checking to see if you were alright.' "
Fleur heard the concern in her friend's voice. Veela who were "helped" like that often ended up having to revert to throwing fireballs and emitting ear-splitting screeches, if they regained their senses in time. A crestfallen look came over Fleur's face.
"Zen zat means . . ."
At the end of the corridor, Fleur saw the brunette witch. She had a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth smile on her face and gave a mocking wave.
"Oh, she's good," Fleur muttered. With a dark smile, Fleur met the brunette's eyes. "Ze gloves are coming off, leetle witch. Zey are coming off and you will reap what you 'ave sown."
"Fleur, are you alright? There is no one there." Sylvie asked.
Blinking, Fleur turned to her friend. Quickly turning back, she saw that the brunette witch was not at the end of the corridor.
Fleur began a slow clap. "A double layered illusion? Very Impressive. You are even better zan I zought. I must, how do you say, step up my game. I will prove I am ze better witch. 'E will be mine."
Fleur marched off towards the Beauxbatons carriage, ignoring the calls of her best friend behind her. She had plans to make, letters to write, and a Harry Potter to seduce. If the brunette was willing to show off so much to keep him, he was obviously even better than Fleur had thought.
A tamer seeming Hermione. Don't let that fool you. Fleur is a Triwizard Tournament champion. There are rules, unstated, that protect her from the Adorably Violent Hermione's usual actions.
Once again, please pass along any ideas you might have for the Adorably Violent Hermione to me via review or PM. Personally, I'm failing in coming up with a sufficient amount of ideas for first, third, and sixth years. I have several, but some of the ideas you readers come up with are pure gold, so I'd like to see what you all can think up.