The Lust of Gryffindors
Chapter 15: Slytherins and Second Tasks
As January bled into February, the relaxed atmosphere that Harry had enjoyed after the Yule Ball was slowly replaced by tension. The Second Task was less than three weeks away, and he and Hermione were still compiling lists of potentially useful spells and speculating on what he would have to do. For the moment they ignored Cedric's offer to work together, purely as a matter of pride. But Harry would go to him if they didn't find something soon. He wasn't going to risk his life over pride.
There were just too many different things he could encounter in an underwater environment. They were fairly certain the task would take place in the Black Lake. Beyond that, there was no telling who or what it might involve. They could easily import external creatures or obstacles, just as they had done with the dragon.
Harry and Hermione spent ridiculous amounts of time in the library, much to his chagrin, while also using their little training room to expand their repertoire of spells. He was feeling confident that he could outduel most of the school at this point, and was increasingly tempted to challenge Cedric.
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He frowned at the rows of books as he searched for the proper one. Why couldn't Hogwarts just use the Dewey Decimal System, for Merlin's sake? Hermione had sent him to fetch a particular book on runes that could function underwater, and he was having a difficult time finding it.
He reached the end of one row and turned the corner to start on a new one. There was a little table between them, and he almost bumped into it. It was occupied by Daphne Greengrass.
"Potter," she said, her face a polite mask.
"Daphne," he replied cordially.
She narrowed her eyes. "I didn't realize we were on such familiar terms."
A few months ago, that glare would have had him either seeking a hasty exit or glaring in return. Now it just made him roll his eyes.
"We're students, Daphne, not dueling opponents. I know you're a proper pureblood and all that, but the way you say 'Potter' makes it sound like an insult."
"On the contrary, I am being polite. It is you who are insulting me."
He smiled, and then bowed low in mock contrition. "Am I? I apologize unreservedly for the grave offense I have committed against you, milady. Your humble servant begs forgiveness for addressing you by your name."
"And you do not call that an insult?" she bristled.
"No, I don't. No more than you calling me 'Potter' like it's a kind of cockroach. It's not my fault you don't have a sense of humor."
She lifted her chin. "If I express disdain for someone, they have earned it. And I do have a sense of humor."
"Really?"
"Yes. It's just too refined for a Gryffindor to understand."
He shook his head, too amused by her to be properly irritated. "And what have I done to earn your disdain?"
"Is there some reason you are speaking to me, Potter?"
"Is there some reason I shouldn't? I'm just looking for a bloody book and I happened upon you."
When she didn't respond, he shrugged and continued down the row. He was growing less patient with people who ostracized or doubted him as the year went on. Most of the hostile glares had stopped, but many Slytherins were still wearing those stupid badges, and he didn't think Greengrass had any reason to be annoyed with him.
He paused to examine a group of books bound in green. Ah. There it was, in the weather-based ritual section for some reason. He grabbed the book from the shelf, but Daphne called out before he could return to his own table.
"Potter."
He turned with a raised eyebrow.
"Come back for a moment."
"I remember hearing those words from a Slytherin not so very long ago. It's becoming a theme."
"Not from me, you didn't," she said as he approached. "Did you speak of that evening to anyone?"
He looked around, making sure they had no eavesdroppers, and lowered his voice. "I assume you're talking about me and Tracey?"
She nodded curtly.
"I told no one, not even Hermione. She wouldn't tell anyone anyway, just like you wouldn't."
Her eyes bored into his before her expression finally softened. "Well, it seems you are not without honor. Thank you."
He snorted. Even when complimenting someone, she was condescending. "You're welcome, and so is Tracey. Do you honestly think I would do something like that? Try to humiliate her?"
"You have no reason not to."
"I'm not an evil bastard, Daphne."
She inclined her head. "My apologies."
"Apology accepted," he said, inclining his own in imitation. "And I apologize for once again failing to address you in a manner that befits your station."
The ghost of a smile crossed her face. "I only wish to be certain you understand how important it is that you be discreet."
Harry took a breath. Again she assumed that he was either stupid or dishonorable or both. "I understand. She's a half-blood in Slytherin surrounded by arseholes like Malfoy. I am not a Malfoy."
"Good. Neither am I."
"Didn't think you were. You're a lot prettier, for one thing, and he probably spends more time on his hair."
She snorted inelegantly and rushed to cover her mouth.
"So you do have a sense of humor after all."
She narrowed her eyes, but couldn't contain a blush.
"Well, I'll be going," he said, holding up his book. "There are people trying to kill me in this stupid tournament, and I'd rather they didn't succeed. Give Tracey my best and tell her she has nothing to worry about."
Harry silently marveled at the interaction. The Pride was changing him. He had never lacked for boldness, but a conversation with an intimidating girl was different than facing a basilisk. Greengrass would have once left him flat-footed and eager to be out of her presence. Now she just amused him. It was a heady feeling to know that people like her could no longer get the better of him.
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A few days later, he found a note on his four-poster. It read:
Want to meet again? 9PM tomorrow night in the room across from the One-Eyed Witch. I won't be drunk this time.
-Your serpentine friend
He read it several times. Huh. Tracey hadn't acknowledged him at all since they returned to school. She seemed keen to pretend their little encounter had never happened. Perhaps he had made a good impression on her after all.
The next day at breakfast, he cast his eyes subtly across the Slytherin table. He picked out the back of Daphne's head. Tracey sat across from her. Her eyes caught Harry's for the briefest of moments and then flitted away. She reached for her goblet and leaned back to drink from it, allowing her eyes to meet his more directly. He gave her a little nod and she was smiling when she put the drink down.
Later that night, he stared at the Marauder's Map, watching her feet as they approached the appointed meeting place. No one else was around, so it didn't appear to be an ambush. He contemplated telling Hermione where he was going, but decided against it. She was busy again in the library, and he thought it unlikely that Tracey was setting him up.
He donned his invisibility cloak and exited the dorms. He felt no particular need to hook up with her again. She was an attractive witch, but she could only make his life more complicated. Still, he was curious.
Why was she meeting him if it represented such a danger to her? Did she want something from him aside from the obvious?
Checking the map one final time from beneath his cloak, he whipped it off and stowed it in his robes. He entered the appointed room palming his wand. She was sitting on an old desk and looking out a window onto the moonlit grounds. He locked the door with every locking charm he knew and faced her.
She greeted him with a polite smile. "Hello, Potter. Wasn't sure you'd turn up."
"You dared a Gryffindor to do something dangerous and expected him not to show?"
"Sometimes it's easy to forget how dumb you all are."
"Is that your idea of buttering me up?"
She shrugged. "Everybody's got a different idea of fun. Daphne told me about your little talk with her."
"Did she explain that I mortally offended her by using her name? I can never tell if I'm impressing her or pissing her off."
She laughed, a mirthful sound that felt out of place in the drab grey room. "Sometimes I can't tell either. But she was mostly impressed, I think. She didn't even try to stop me from coming. She just told me to be careful."
"Well, you've got me here, and I admit I'm curious."
"About what?"
"I was under the impression that you were pretending I didn't exist. You called our little drunken escapade a mistake."
"Mistakes can be fun sometimes."
He nodded slowly, trying to get a read on her. Tracey was more open than Daphne, but she was still guarded compared to a Gryffindor.
"So you're looking to make another one? Why me?"
"Why not you?"
He rolled his eyes. "Do they teach everyone in your house how to be evasive? I'm a Gryffindor. I'm Harry Potter. You're a half-blood in Slytherin. You might take some serious heat if you get caught. Plus, you seem to think I'm an idiot. Do I need to go on?"
"There's no need to get snippy."
"I'm not being snippy. I just want you to be direct with me."
She sighed. "You are such a Gryffindor."
"How shocking then that I should be sorted there."
"Potter…"
"No. I'm Harry, and you're Tracey. When we're alone, at least."
"Already planning on being alone with me again?" she asked coyly.
"I'm not planning anything just yet. You're the one who sent the note."
She observed him for a moment, her own curiosity evident. "Why did you come?"
"Why wouldn't I come?" he returned with a mocking grin. He was almost sure of it now. Slytherins taught each other how to play little word games to avoid saying anything meaningful.
"Because you don't really know me, for one. You don't know if you can trust me. And I'm willing to bet you're not exactly hard up for female attention."
"Maybe I'm just curious. I hardly ever meet a Slytherin who doesn't want to curse me. And I asked you first—why me?"
She smirked. "Well, if someone really is trying to kill you with this tournament, this might be my last chance to score a memory from The-Boy-Who-Lived."
"Not interested then," he said flatly, and turned to leave.
"Potter—wait! That was a joke."
He turned around and walked closer to her, a serious expression on his face. "Then I need you to tell me why. No evasions, no jokes. Did you just want to have some fun together? Why have it with me, especially when it's dangerous for you? Are you setting me up?"
Her eyes went wide for moment. "No! I'm the one taking the risk here."
"Then you need to answer my question. Why me?"
He knew he was pressing her a little hard, especially given how silly their broom closet encounter had been, but this was an unusual situation, and she was right: he wasn't lacking for female attention.
She deflated. "For fuck's sake, Potter. Must you make everything so complicated?"
"Harry."
"Fine. Harry. I'll be as blunt as possible for your little Gryffindor brain. Can I trust that this will remain just between us?"
He nodded.
"Most of the guys in my House are awful. I don't want anything to do with them. You may be an idiot and a Gryffindor, but I trust you not to take advantage of me. I just want to have a little fun with someone who isn't going to hold it over my head, or blackmail me, or try to pass me around to his disgusting friends!"
He blinked at the fierceness of her words. "Are things really that bad in Slytherin?"
"For me? Yes."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I just wanted an honest answer. But it would help your cause if you didn't keep calling me an idiot."
She smirked. "I humbly beg your forgiveness."
"You know, you were much more fun when you were drunk."
"So were you."
They just stared at each other for a moment. He shrugged mentally. If nothing else came of it, it would be an interesting way to spend an evening, and he might actually learn more about Slytherin house. But he intended to remain firmly in charge of the situation.
"Fine. I'm in. Just the once. After that, no promises. And it stays totally between us."
"And Daphne," she added.
"And Daphne, then, but I'm telling Hermione."
"You tell Granger every time you hook up with a girl?"
"You tell Greengrass? She's my best friend. We watch each other's backs. She could have a wand pointed at you right now, and you'd never know."
She glanced warily behind her and then sulked. "I didn't mean for this to get weird. I'm sorry. I'm kind of new to this."
He smiled at the little moment of vulnerability. Slytherins were just teenagers like everyone else, he supposed, but they were taught to live like they were hiding state secrets. It was absurd.
He closed the distance between them and cupped her cheek in his palm. She blinked at his closeness. "If you want to do this," he said, "let's just pretend we're two regular people. Not Slytherins or Gryffindors."
"I like the sound of that."
He leaned in to kiss her, and their uniforms slowly came off. She helped him out of his and he did the same for her.
He stepped back to take in the sight of her naked body. They had been mostly clothed during their broom closet encounter. She seemed a little uncomfortable with him examining her, but it didn't stop her from checking him out too.
Her breasts were on the large side, teardrop shaped with light pink nipples. Her hips were wide but alluring. She had a triangle of downy hair between her legs, more untamed than he was used to.
"Do I earn an Acceptable?" she asked, her voice strained. Her haughty demeanor had almost disappeared.
"Nobody gets graded tonight, and you're beautiful, Tracey."
She glanced between his legs. "Well, I'd give your cock an O. It's bigger than I remember."
"You were a little drunk last time."
"I was hammered. I'd like to remember it this time."
He smiled and cupped one of her breasts. It easily filled his hand. She shivered at his caress.
"That feels good," she whispered.
He leaned in and kissed her softly, teasing a nipple between his fingers until it grew hard.
"What do you want to do?" he asked.
"Do you go down?"
"Of course."
"Not many guys will, from what I hear."
"You don't know the right people. Lay down."
She obeyed, laying down on the robes she had been wearing. She hesitantly spread her legs. She was hairy underneath too, but not compared to the Beauxbatons girl who had molested him. He could see her lips through her curls, and she was clearly wet and ready.
He went to his knees. "Just relax," he said with a grin. "I'm good at this."
He tried to prove he was. He spread her furry lips with his fingers, exposing the oasis of smooth pink flesh between them. He lowered her face and kissed her clit. It didn't take long for her to squirm beneath him.
"Fuck," she breathed.
Encouraged by her squirming, he slipped two fingers inside her and stroked backwards and forwards. His tongue teased her clit in small circles. She arched her back when he pressed his fingers into a particularly sensitive spot.
"Potter, I want to feel you. Please."
"You don't want to finish first?"
"No. Put it in, for the love of Merlin!"
He smiled at her desperation and slowly mounted her. A Slytherin was begging for his cock. It was a feeling he could get used to. He leaned in for another kiss and she pushed her tongue into his mouth fiercely, her breath coming quicker as he rubbed the head of his cock along her slick lips.
She groaned when it slipped inside her. She was incredibly warm and tight, more so than any girl he had been with. He slowly pressed forward, and could feel himself stretching her. She squeezed every inch of him exquisitely. He almost would have believed she was a virgin, except for her attitude.
"God, you're big."
"Not too big, I hope?"
"No. It's perfect. Keep going," she breathed, closing her eyes until he was fully sheathed.
He began moving inside her. Tracey was too lost in bliss to resume kissing him. She grew even wetter, and his slow thrusts became longer and deeper. She exhaled with every one, trying to grind her clit against him each time he filled her. Not an ounce of composure remained on her face, and he loved it.
"Fucking Salazar," she moaned. "Faster."
He picked up his pace, and she spread her legs and raised her knees for him. She panted and pulled his hips closer with each penetration. His thrusts grew harder and deeper, until she was whimpering beneath him. It felt like a matter of House pride to make her lose her mind.
She made an odd, strangled noise, and her hand moved to her clit. For a few brief moments he pounded her as hard as he could. She gasped and her head fell back against the stone floor. Her whole body trembled at the force of his thrusts, and soon she cried out as her walls began to spasm around his cock.
Her climax spurred his own. Her pussy gripped and released him so tightly it was more than he could bear. He closed his eyes and savored the sensation of spurting deep within her, knowing that he was coating her walls and filling her with his release. There was nothing quite like it. Knowing she was a Slytherin only made the experience more satisfying.
He pulled out of her and rolled to the side. She remained on her back, staring at the ceiling, her breasts heaving.
"Merlin, Potter. You really know what you're doing."
He smiled. "It's Harry. And thank you."
"Harry. That just sounds weird coming from my lips."
"Well, it's what my parents named me, Tracey."
She took a deep breath and blew it out. "I can't fucking believe I'm doing this. It doesn't feel real."
"I hope that wasn't an insult. I tried to make every inch feel real."
"Oh, you did," she said, and giggled in a way that reminded him of the drunk version of her. "Daphne is going to be jealous."
He stared at her in surprise. "Is that so?"
"Er, not like that. She'll just be curious. Let's forget I said that."
"Right."
It seemed that a good orgasm had brought her walls crashing down. Merlin, could Greengrass actually be interested in him too? He wished he could be privy to their conversation. It was hard to imagine Daphne gossiping about anything. The idea that she might find him attractive, though, was thrilling. If he got a chance to wipe that condescending expression off her face—to make her lose her mind with lust—he was going to grab it with both hands. Just like Hermione, he couldn't quite imagine it without seeing it first.
"So, er, do you have a lot of lovers?" Tracey asked awkwardly.
He laughed and cupped her pussy. He liked the feel of her bush in his hand. It was soft and thick and made him wonder what Hermione's would be like if she left it untended.
"That's a rather personal question, isn't it? Do you?"
"No. You're the second. Or third, depending on how you count. Both were terrible."
"Ah," he said, surprised by her candor. "I'm sorry to hear that. Slytherins?"
"Of course. And I'm not saying who."
"I didn't want to know anyway."
She sighed and rolled toward him. Her fingers played with the sparse hair on his chest as his played with the thicker hair between her legs.
"It's not easy to be in Slytherin sometimes," she said, not meeting his eyes. "I would be in deep shit without Daphne's protection."
"I didn't realize how bad it was there. I'm glad you have her."
She shrugged. "It's not all bad. There are some nice people, and all the scheming can be fun. You make important connections for the future. Daphne has it worse than I do in some ways."
"I thought she was some sort of untouchable heiress."
"She is. That's the problem. She always has to be on guard, because everything affects her family's reputation."
"That sounds awful."
"That's all that matters to some of the old families her parents socialize with. She can't just have a regular boyfriend or a fling with whoever she wants."
"Why not?"
"Because she's a girl," she said, looking at him as if he were stupid. "The boys can have as much fun as they want. They can fuck everything in sight. It's even expected. But if she were to join—I mean, if she even hooked up with someone, it would get all over the house. People would blackmail her in exchange for not telling her parents."
"What in the ever-loving fuck is wrong with Slytherin?"
"That's just the way it is. I've heard Ravenclaw can be like that too. It's not the same in Gryffindor?"
"Not even close. We look out for each other and have fun."
He didn't feel the need to tell her about Ron or Seamus, or that some of his classmates weren't exactly predictable in their behavior toward him. But the Pride had shown him just how lucky he was to be a Gryffindor. Slytherin House sounded like a breeding ground for arseholes stuck in the 17th century.
"That's why I'm here with you right now and not with one of them," she said, squeezing his chest.
"Is there not, er, another option in the house? You and Greengrass could make people sign a contract, for instance."
Tracey raised her head to look him in the eye, her expression wary. "A contract?"
"I've heard rumors that it happens."
"I probably should have asked you to sign one, now that I think on it."
"Tough luck. You'll just have to trust me."
She snorted. "Hypothetically speaking, if such an option existed for us, it still wouldn't be very desirable."
"Why not?"
She pulled on one of his chest hairs roughly. "You can't repeat any of this."
"I won't."
"Again—hypothetically speaking—if there were some convenient way for a girl to receive the attention she wants, she would be outnumbered and basically used. The guys would sort of enforce a code. Do you think that's a good option if you're a girl from a respected family, who will one day seek a husband in the same social circles? Or for a social-climbing half-blood looking for respect?"
He breathed out softly. "I really fucking hate the way your house works." He had to quash a sudden desire to storm Slytherin house with his wand blazing.
There was a long silence as they contemplated what had just been said. His hand between her legs shifted lower. She opened them for him and reached for his cock.
"So you're a member of Gryffindor's little social club, huh?" she said, fondling him casually. "I wouldn't have pegged you for it until recently. I've heard some crazy rumors about what goes on in your house."
"No idea what you're talking about."
She laughed and squeezed his cock as it grew harder in her hand. "Sure you don't. What's it like there? What can you tell me without breaking your contract?"
Harry closed his eyes and thought, trying to ignore her increasingly vigorous caresses. There was probably no point in denying it. She had already deduced the truth. He couldn't reveal anything scandalous to her anyway, and she had been unexpectedly candid with him.
"I can neither confirm nor deny signing any magical contracts," he said carefully, paying attention to the feel of his magic, "but if Gryffindor had a 'social club,' my guess is that it would be as different from Slytherin's as you could possibly get."
She sighed wistfully. "I wish I was in Gryffindor for the first time. And if you tell anyone I said that, I will hurt you."
"My lips are sealed."
"So is Granger in your club? Does she even know about it? Merlin, I bet she'd leave her clothes on if she let anybody shag her."
Harry blinked in surprise at her words, and then couldn't contain his laughter. She looked up at him with a confused expression, and he laughed even harder.
"What's so funny, Potter?"
"My name is Harry," he said, almost giggling with mirth, "and I can only say that you have no idea what you're talking about."
He realized he had said too much the moment the words left his mouth, but oddly, his oath didn't even ping. They really weren't very rigorous, he realized. He would have to be more careful going forward, especially in the presence of Slytherins.
"So Granger…"
"Is my best friend," he said shortly. "And whatever happens in Gryffindor, or whatever you might suspect happens, is not something to be gossiped about, even with Daphne. I'm dead serious. Understood?"
"Understood," she said, but the grin on her face irritated him. She could probably deduce quite a lot of information based on his little slip. Damned post-coital bliss.
"I don't care what she does anyway," she said. "Right now I only care about what you can do with this."
She squeezed his hard cock and leaned in for another kiss.
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The final two weeks leading up to the Second Task passed in a haze of activity. He had wanted to bail on quidditch practice, but Angelina wouldn't let him. Not with the Hufflepuff match coming up soon. Tracey didn't attempt to meet with him again, but he wouldn't have had time anyway. When not in classes, all of Harry's free time was spent figuring out which spells he could cast underwater, and, more importantly, how to survive being there.
Cedric, he had learned, intended to use the Bubblehead Charm. Harry learned it alongside Hermione, but decided to use it only as a last resort. The charm took considerable focus, and he didn't trust it to last for an entire hour. Though it was difficult to puncture, it was very risky to recast while underwater. A miscast spell could result in water remaining trapped inside the bubble.
He decided to use gillyweed instead. He had asked a few of the seventh years in the Pride if they knew of ways to breathe underwater, and it was Saoirse Manson who suggested gillyweed. She knew of it because her cousins owned several large greenhouses. They didn't grow it themselves, as it was a Mediterranean plant, but it put him on the right track.
He barely had to put in any effort to find some, much to his delight. He had only begun discussing the issue with Hermione when Dobby popped into their little training room with a jar full of the stuff. The elf, it turned out, had been in the castle for several months, watching over Harry and waiting to be of use.
He welcomed Dobby's help with open arms. It seemed his actions in second year had earned him a very loyal friend. He didn't ask where Dobby had gotten the gillyweed, knowing he probably wouldn't like the answer.
Professor Moody had again inquired into his preparations, and seemed satisfied that he had the situation under control.
And so on a freezing morning in February, Harry found himself shivering in front of the lake, surrounded by the other champions. Krum and Fleur wore swimsuits, but he and Cedric remained in robes charmed to remain warm. It was just stupid to dive into a lake in February without some kind of protection.
He almost drew his wand on Bagman when the man revealed there were hostages at the bottom of the lake. They had realized it was a possibility, but Harry was still shocked that they would put other people at risk in a deadly tournament. He wasn't even certain who he would be rescuing. Hermione was the obvious choice, and he desperately hoped she would be okay. If something went wrong, he intended to curse first and ask questions later.
He reached for the gillyweed in his pocket just as Bagman sounded his horn. He dove into the lake with the other champions, and the cold took his breath away. He surfaced just long enough to swallow the spinach-like weed, then dove underwater as gills appeared on his neck. It took him almost a minute of staying perfectly still to learn how to breathe through gills.
When he started moving, he realized with horror that he could barely see in front of him. His glasses were charmed to stay on, but the lake was so dark and murky that his wand only lit up an area of five feet around him. Everything was dark green or black. He felt almost like an astronaut floating in space.
Thanking God for his webbed hands and feet, Harry sped forward as quickly as possible, wanting to leave the creepy underwater abyss. He soon realized how easy it was to get disoriented. If he stayed in the middle of the lake, he lost all sense of up and down, backwards and forwards. He dove to the bottom, hopeful that he could use the rocks and plants to navigate.
He couldn't tell how much time had passed. He only knew that he was making slow progress. So far he hadn't been attacked by anything, the dark water revealing only a few fish and a glimpse of the giant squid.
The lake floor was distressingly uniform. It was covered with sand and mossy green rocks and long, swaying weeds, but everything looked similar. He pressed forward, hoping to find something he could use as a landmark.
A disturbance in some thrushes nearby caught his attention. He squinted, but couldn't quite make out what was happening. Bright spell fire shown forth suddenly, and he swam forward to see what was happening.
As he drew closer, he was shocked to see little pools of red suspended in the water. He flared the light of his wand and discovered the bodies of two grindylows, horribly maimed, floating and spilling their blood everywhere.
They were suspended near a bed of thick weeds at least a meter tall, and Harry's mouth fell open when a human leg shot out of them, covered in little gashes and kicking furiously.
His heart pounding, he swam closer and found almost a dozen grindylows hovering above the thick vegetation. They were attacking whoever was trapped within it. Three more of their fellows floated nearby in the water, clearly dead.
He blasted off a series of stunning spells, taking out four of their number before they even realized he was there. Another two fell soon after, and those remaining hissed angrily at him but retreated to find shelter. He cautiously parted the thrushes and discovered Fleur Delacour looking around wildly, her wand still grasped in her hand, but her body covered in little bleeding cuts and bruises.
He blinked in shock at her state before realizing she was staring at him with wide and panicked eyes. She made a motion to her neck and he realized that her bubble-head charm was gone. She was slowly turning blue.
Not wanting to risk flubbing the charm underwater, he grabbed her by the arm and pushed off hard from the ground. The journey to the surface felt like an eternity. They crashed through into the cold air, and Fleur gasped and choked, breathing in precious, life-giving air. Harry couldn't breathe above water, but he supported her as she clung to him, injured and exhausted.
"Gabrielle!" Fleur cried hysterically when she could speak. "Gabrielle! You must 'elp 'er! S'il vous plait! I beg of you!"
Harry nodded, trying to reassure her, but he was unable to speak because of his gills. He gestured toward the shore a hundred meters away and gave her a questioning look.
"I weel be fine!" Fleur panted. "Go! Please!"
He let go of her, hoping she would be able to return to the shore in her panicked, bleeding state. This was getting out of hand now. He was fairly certain he had just saved her life. If he encountered anything else remotely dangerous, it was going to die before it got anywhere near him. Fucking dragons, and now this.
He dove down, trying to control his rising panic. He was disoriented and unsure where to go. After a few minutes of floundering, a bright light appeared to his right, and he was relieved to see Moaning Myrtle hovering in the water beside him.
She smiled and pointed down and to his left, mouthing something he couldn't hear. Oh Merlin, did he owe her for this. He said thank you as best he could and sped off in that direction. His anger and desperation grew with every passing second, but finally he located what appeared to be an underwater village.
It was filled with merpeople. The women looked at him curiously, but the men watched him with hostile gazes, each of them holding tridents or wicked-looking spears. He swam toward the center of the village, a shield spell on his lips, hoping they wouldn't attack him from behind.
His heart nearly seized in panic when he reached the center of the village. There, bound with ropes to a huge totem, were Parvati Patil and a silver-haired little girl, looking for all the world like they were dead. They were surrounded by spear-wielding mermen whose black eyes glittered with something that he could only call malice.
Harry raised his wand and inched forward, but the mermen didn't move aside. One pointed his spear directly at him, smiling with awful green teeth. Fuck.
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Harry hissed as Madam Pomfrey applied something cold and oily to his side. She had petrified him below the neck so he wouldn't flinch, but he could still feel pain. The trident wound was deep. He had nearly been eviscerated when he twisted away from it, leaving a trail of blood and gore in the water. There was now an ugly red gash along his entire flank that she was working to seal. Half a dozen potions had already been shoved down his throat.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. I know it hurts, but you must remain awake while I finish."
"I'll be fine," he said through gritted teeth. "Just don't poke it anymore."
"I'm almost done and then we can sedate you. You are going to be very sore for at least a week as your intestines heal, but you will recover." She glanced at Dumbledore and tutted. "If you hadn't received treatment immediately, you might have bled out."
Harry had stumbled out of the water bleeding profusely and exposing his torn flesh to the crowd of spectators. His robes were in tatters. Hermione had screamed and a few people had fainted at the sight of him covered in so much blood. There were multiple wounds on his legs as well, but thankfully they were less serious and would heal within a day or two.
A few of the weapons the merpeople had tossed at him would have impaled him without the aid of his webbed hands and feet. Parvati had escaped injury, but a spear had struck the little French girl in a glancing blow. The merman who threw it had died immediately thereafter, his head removed from his shoulders. Only Harry's most powerful shields and an unrelenting stream of cutting curses had allowed them to reach the shore safely.
Dumbledore watched his nurse work and looked at him with a frown of disapproval.
"I am grateful that you will recover, Harry, but was it absolutely necessary to kill the merpeople? They were not going to seriously harm you."
"Yeah, well, I didn't know that, did I? Everything else down there was trying to kill me, and they bloody well threw a spear at me when I tried to take the French girl."
"It was merely to add some dramatic flair, dear boy."
"Screw your dramatic flair!" Harry hissed, absolutely incensed at the Headmaster's attitude. He had never spoken to the man like this, but he was in severe pain and Dumbledore's blasé attitude toward the near deaths of several students was insufferable.
"Someone is trying to murder me, Headmaster, and you don't seem particularly bothered. Those water demons almost killed Delacour. How was I supposed to know what the mermen would or wouldn't do? Your clue suggested that everyone was going to die if we didn't get them out of there in time. Was that just dramatic flair?"
Dumbledore pursed his lips but didn't answer. "We shall discuss this later when you are more collected. I'm afraid it will take quite some time to rebuild any bridges with the merpeople. They are quite angry at their losses."
"I don't care. They attacked me first, and they're lucky I didn't kill more of them. I certainly tried to."
Dumbledore gave him a dark look and left the medical tent without another word.
He might feel guilty about his actions later, but he doubted it. If you throw a deadly projectile at someone, you should expect to get attacked in return. He hadn't started using lethal spells until one of them had poked him with a spear and drawn blood. Then the gloves had come off.
"Easy, Mr. Potter," Pomfrey said. "You need to stay calm or the pain will worsen."
"Sorry, ma'am. I just don't like getting lectured by people who don't seem to care whether I live or die. Every year something tries to kill me and he just watches."
"Well put," said a melodic female voice. "I have half a mind to boil that entire lake into steam."
Harry looked up to see an incredibly beautiful woman entering the tent. Her skin seemed to glow. Her silver hair was braided elegantly and he couldn't tell her age. He would have believed anything from 30 to 50.
"Er, hello," he said, realizing he was staring at her with his mouth hanging open.
"Bonjour, Monsieur Potter. I am Apolline Delacour, Fleur and Gabrielle's mother."
"Oh, it's, er, nice to meet you, ma'am," he said, trying to stay composed in the presence of an adult veela. He could feel her allure, but it felt soothing rather than seductive. All awareness of his pain fled. "Are they okay?"
"They will be in a few days, thanks to you. Fleur tells me she would have died had you not intervened."
"I don't know about that. I was just trying to help. Nobody should get hurt in this stupid thing."
She glanced at the nasty open wound on his side. "I agree. I must nevertheless thank you. My daughters are precious to me, and it seems you rescued both of them today, at great risk to yourself."
"You're welcome," he said, not sure what else to say. He barely even knew Fleur, and she had treated him dismissively from the start. He hadn't even known she had a sister, but he wasn't going to leave a little girl at the bottom of a lake surrounded by monsters.
Pomfrey huffed. "Mr. Potter here is quite used to having adventures that terrify the rest of us, Madame Delacour. He doesn't realize how it looks from the outside."
Apolline Delacour observed him closely, her eyes flicking to his scar. "I see. Well, I shall not bother you while you are recovering, young man. Just know that you have my family's gratitude for your actions today. Fleur will wish to speak with you when you are both well."
"It was my pleasure. Please give her my best."
The beautiful woman inclined her head and smiled. He tried not to stare as she walked gracefully out of the tent.
"Be careful around veela, Harry," Pomfrey whispered to him. "There's a reason the Ministry considers them dark creatures, and it's not because they can turn into birds."
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Author's Note: Two tasks down, one to go. Hope you enjoyed the tryst with Tracey. Next chapter, Cho asks a favor of Hermione, and Harry gets a personal tour of the Beauxbatons carriage. Shenanigans might ensue.