Sunsets, a harry potter fanfic

For Emily!

Special thanks to ArmsofAtlas and MJBooklover for looking this over for me. Couldn't do it without you guys.

The starry night sky shone brightly.

Creatures of the Forest rejoiced, for they got to bathe in the soft moonbeams of the night. Birds sang, and the equidae leisurely trotted along the clearings hidden by greenery and choice. The winds blew gently, faintly brushing by all under its purview; a serene and joyful night. The surrounding castle's path remained open only for those looking for sanctuary.

A minute change, a slight err in the cogs that ran the universe bore heavy on the actions of a single person. A person that was meant to be inside, mourning the night that had taken everything, only to usher in a new beginning instead.

And so came along a sharply-dressed boy, no older than fourteen. His cheeks were red, one more so than the other. The cold bothered him, far more than he'd ever be willing to admit.

Green glinted under the gentle moonlight.

The boy swayed absentmindedly, no destination in mind. He noticed the eyes on him - the distrust of nature - as he moved through the forest in the hopes of finding somewhere to belong to for the night. Hands held up, he relaxed ever so slightly as he attempted to assure the forest-dwellers that he meant no harm.

A few moments were all it took for the air to warm up around him, as the land embraced him with open arms.

And so, he was led to a clearing. A gap in the forestry, a reprieve.

He was led to what he was looking for.

Sitting down on a log, he put his arms around himself to preserve the warmth that he so desperately required. The cold had seeped deep into his bones, making them brittle. It made him brittle.

A wave of warm air washed over him, enveloping him in a hug.

The Forest beckoned, and the Forest comforted.

He was held so gently and intimately as he let himself be lulled into a sense of security and familiarity. It felt like home, he felt like he was home. The night wore him down alongside his defences and he crumbled with each minute. It was not long before he started mumbling about what ailed him, what made him seek solace where no other soul would.

The boy spoke to his parents as if they were there, asked them whether they'd be proud of him and what they'd do in his situation. He orated his troubles to the wind in the hopes of eventually reaching the ears of his kin. And he kept asking for help.

Until the moment wore off, and so did his self-imposed delusion.

He sighed.

The winds around him tightened ever so slightly, but even their warm embrace wasn't enough to lighten the load on his shoulders.

He still felt safe, it still felt like home.
It was just difficult to let himself rest.

II.

Scorched by flames, torched by draconic fury - the day had burned into his memory with a ferocity hitherto undreamt of.

Reality and illusions, differentiated and separated through arduous ordeals and the resulting damages. The sensation of fire lingered across his body: a disconcerting cross between pain and contentment. Hatred and joy. A stark contrast, he mused.

He came out unscathed, but not unaltered. It was an instantaneous change, a major alteration. Youthful innocence and joy sapped away, tainted by an acrimonious reality.

Never had he felt as weak as he did in front of those that ruled the skies of yonder, never had he felt so naked or afraid. Piercing, slitted eyes would plague his dreams for weeks to come, to remind him of what was there for him to face. Even then, he smiled.

A fire burned in his eyes hidden underneath layers of glass, green, and desire.

Rest was not written in his future, for his body was scalding hot, filled with exuberance and energy. A need to survive, a fire in his eyes.

And so he worked on himself: each action, each motion filled with desperation. His friends attempted to intervene and interfere, to help take some of his burden. They were declined through forced smiles and pointless platitudes.

His professors complimented his work ethic, drawing similarities and comparisons to his mother. They offered help and resources, to regale him with the stories of their youth. Though hesitant, he accepted the latter for there are always lessons to be learnt from the past. History is bound to repeat itself.

A pair of blue eyes take notice of him from afar.

III

Gone were the quiet moments filled with intimacy and care, the slow dances and ballads. Loud and upbeat tracks played, and music wailed in the back of his mind as his peers jauntily danced along to it.

He excused himself from the festivities, and took up a spot in the corner of the room, sipping on some juice. The boy watched couples dancing and jumping with boundless energy, lighting up the floor with their smiles and joyous laughter. He longed for the relaxation that they felt, however it was not meant to be.

Be it through his questionable behaviour, or through miscommunication, he'd found himself alone on the night of the ball. No matter, he thought, for it was inconsequential to his goals. Even as he sat there, admiring those that had the capability to enjoy the evening, his mind was off contemplating the mysteries of what was to come.

Shrill screeches and loud wails dominated his headspace, until he was tapped on the shoulder by a girl. The French champion, Fleur Delacour.

She asked for a dance, and the boy stumbled his way to declining her. It should be known that all his training amounted to nothing in front of her. Not just any pretty woman, but her.

"Erm...I'm not much of a dancer," He said, his words jumbling together ever-so-slightly. "Your toes would probably be out for blood after a minute or so."

He instantly backpedalled and apologised, so as to not offend her, but all she did was chuckle.

"You're probably right, but still, I could use some company,"

His eyebrows raised at her imploring tone, but he acceded to her request.

And so they talked.

She regaled him with stories and sights of her country, talked to him about her family and the expectations on her shoulders. He could see how she adored her younger sister, how she missed her family.

Time flew by as he listened to her talk, only to separate as the last bells of the night tolled. They parted on amicable terms, with a promise to meet again - to keep in touch.

The boy moved up to a dorm mate of his and asked him to let the others know that they needn't wait up, while the girl moved back towards her carriage.

It was after a few minutes that he hoped for shelter and went into the forest.

He was welcomed back with open arms.

On a familiar log, through a cold night, sat the boy who was trying to live. This time, he spoke to the creatures as though they were old friends.

Maybe, he thought, just maybe he'd be able to rest someday.

And so he drifted off to sleep surrounded by the Forest, sleeping wholly for the first time in months. He dreamed of blue eyes and acceptance.

The boy followed a wispy crimson trail through the depths of the lake. Though it led him astray, the morbid curiosity he felt was enough for him to justify the alteration in course. He bobbed and weaved and swam from point to point.

And it kept getting darker.

He kept going down further and further in pursuit of trouble he never knew, passing aquatic greenery and life alike. The water submerged him wholly.

And it kept getting darker.

And darker.

Each lumen of light lost added to the growing sense of suffocation he felt, it drove him back to times best forgotten. Back when all he knew was a cupboard, nearly one by two metres big. Back when the only company he had was lint and arachnids.

Though the lake continued to try robbing him of his ability to breathe, he carried on the path he chose.

"You saved my sister," The girl said, her accent heavy, as she forced the words out with what was almost desperation. She was shaking intensely, be it from the cold, numbing lake, or some cocktail of self-loathing and gratitude, he didn't know. "I- I don't know how I could ever repay you."

The boy shrugs it off, and starts trying to convince her that it was alright - he'd done it not for payment, but for the sake of a child's life.

He would be cut off mid-sentence, as Fleur barrelled into his arms - encircling him with her own as well. She buried her head in his chest, as she mumbled an endless chain of gratitude and debt.

He held her close as well, for he knew the importance of a hug. The champion sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, thankful to the boy and the higher deity whose purview they were under. Her baby sister was safe.

And so a boy and a girl found comfort in each other's arms on a cold February morning, if only for a moment.

Avoidance.

That was a word the boy was innately familiar with. He was adept at avoiding situations that were unfavourable or stressful, such were the consequences of living the Dursley's.

So, for obvious reasons, he had been avoiding Fleur.

She had clearly been attempting to have an emotionally complex conversation with him.

Ducking through and maneuvering the crowds to make sure she didn't spot him, altering his meal timings, never being outside of the dorms unless he needed to be. He had even tried a 'stop, drop, and roll' tactic after initiating eye contact with her on accident. Bumping into her after all that would require the universe to actively go against him, he mused.

(The boy hadn't learnt not to challenge fate, for it was perpetually looking to fuck with him.)

It was as he tied a letter to Hedwig at an unearthly hour of night that he met her again. Her footsteps were light, and her approach was slow.

But oh, was she upset.

"You save my sister, you save me," She began, and the boy knew he was in for it. "And then you proceed to avoid me in the most extreme of ways for an entire week afterwards?"

"Erm… I- I'm extremely focused and diligently working towards performing well in the next task?"

"Ah yes, the task that's in June?"

He was silent for a minute, as he thought of a way to best approach this situation - try and placate her a bit, defuse things.

"...You can never be too prepared?"

And he fucked up.

The girl scoffed in anger, and turned around, ready to leave. That was when he spoke up.

"I just.. didn't want you to feel that you owed me anything."

When she stilled, he saw that as a sign to continue.

"I did what I did because it was the right thing to do, and because I didn't want to see you suffer," The boy paused as if to think about what to say next, "We both have things to do, Fleur, things we need to prove to both ourselves and others. I can't get distracted."

Fleur stood there for a moment, her back to him.

"That's the biggest load of bullshit I've heard."

She turned around with an incredulous expression, the barest hints of fury still visible in her eyes.

"Do you think this tournament matters enough for me to forgo thanking the boy that saved my life? My sister's life?" Fleur asked, not at all mollified by the explanation she had received. "I can't, for the life of me, tell whether you're self-centred or fighting through something the rest of us can't see."

He opened his mouth to speak but… nothing. The boy just ducked his head as he had no answer for her. He looked at the ground, waiting for her to shout, scream, or just leave, only to startle when a hand was gently placed on his shoulder.

She asked him to sit down with her. Just for a while, she said.

"Huh?" Was his intelligible response.

Fleur rolled her eyes.

"It's not as if I get an opportunity to talk with you that often, Harry, sit with me while you have the time."

He agreed.

And so, they spent the night talking about anything and everything under the starry night sky. Their hands would brush by each other as they sat close to one another. (And if a few of the touches lingered, well nobody had to know.)

Harry orbited her as though she was a star. His face brightened and his back straightened whenever she walked into a room alongside him. The pair ate meals together, frequently trading quips about the other's palettes.

("Who in their right mind would want to eat snails," he asked with a queasy frown, drawing the ire of his companion.

"At least it's salted, which is more than can be said about your country's food.")

On a few rare days they'd sit out by the Lake for hours at end and just talk.

Both of them still had to prepare, and Harry still had to rest someday, but those thoughts were far out of his mind when he was with her.

The rest of the months till the final task floated by with ease, the youngest Hogwarts Champion had gotten into a steady rhythm with his preparations. He was ready to get it over with, to face what lay ahead of him. Suspicions had been building about the true nature of the tournament in his mind for months and-

"You alright, mate?"

His friends never knew when to shut up.

"I know that the tournament is a big deal - like a life threatening, injury beckoning kinda big deal - just be sure not to stress too much," said his best friend of four years. "You're gonna rock it, Harry!"

The boy in question tried to hide a grimace, he couldn't fault Ron's intentions but his mate was rather socially inept in terms of comforting or encouraging someone. The poor chap didn't understand social niceties or when to say what. He tried, though.

"Cheers, Ron. Love the uh… support?" He got back a wide grin in response.

He tried to eat something so as to at least have something in the tank before the task, but found his appetite severely lacking. All he wanted to do was get the year done with, get the tournament done with.

And as fate would have it, they ended up in the final stretch. Together. Facing an acromantula hoard.

"Alright there, Harry?" She asked casually, batting away an acromantula with a spell with no difficulty at all. Fleur's robes were pristine as could be for the most part, barring the singed corners of her left sleeve, showing how good of a witch she really was.

Now, Harry on the other hand was in a pretty bad condition. Slight burns were scattered across his body, and he struggled to catch his breath. His outer-robe was in tatters thanks to the Sphinx he'd encountered earlier. The mythological creature was surprisingly very trigger-happy.

"Perfectly pleasant, and you?"

"Doing just fine,"

A reductor curse found its way to an arachnid's head, splattering blue goo everywhere.

"...Yep, just fine."

Needless to say, they were doing just fine.

They fought through waves and waves of identical enlarged spiders, making light conversation through it all. Eventually, they reached a circular clearing, its surrounding hedges a bit lower than the norm. That wasn't the most noticeable part of the area though. That accolade belonged to the enormous trophy that sat at it's centre.

Suddenly, the pair stopped.

The atmosphere was tense, as the two of them remained silent for a solid few minutes. That was until Harry spoke up.

"Take it," He said, emotion brimming in his voice as he turned to look at her. "You obviously deserve it much more than me."

Fleur snorted in response.

"You're fourtee-"

"Yeah, yeah, a 'little boy', I know." Harry interjected, obviously touchy about the subject.

"-No, fuck all of that for a minute," She said, taking none of his words to heed. "You're fourteen and competing at a global stage against adults, and that too, you're winning."

Fleur exhaled slightly before continuing.

"You're not a little boy, not in any sense of the word, Harry. Nor should you ever feel that way… Take it."

And with that, she gave him a gentle nudge towards the trophy, only to be pulled by his arm at the same time. Harry halted and gave her a disapproving stare due to her actions.

"I'm not in it to win it, Fleur. I trained my ass off this past year to survive, and that's because I had to. I can't, I don't-" His voice trailed off, though he kept gesturing to the air in hopes that she'd understand what he was trying to tell her.

"You've worked so hard, and for so long. You deserve to win, for your prize not to be snubbed by someone else. You have it, Fleur, don't squander it."

He turned around when he heard the sound of flesh meeting flesh in the form of Fleur's hand and her forehead. The French champion just stood there for a moment, until she perked up - almost as if she had a eureka moment - she quickly grabbed one of his forearms and began dragging him to the centre. Harry was just confused.

"You- You! You're incorrigible! Don't say things like that, come along." She said, not really knowing what to say but not sounding that upset either.

"Huh? I'm not taking the trophy," He replied, willing to take a stance.

"Of course you aren't," At this she gained a slightly mischievous glint in her eye, "we both are."

Fleur knew it was the only way to get him to both accept the trophy and stop with his dramaticism. So, before he could get another word in, she took the hand of his that she'd grabbed on to, and forced it onto the trophy alongside her own.

A tugging sensation at her navel told her she was successful.

And so the duo stood in front of a crowd that contained hundreds, maybe thousands, as they changed history for the (better.) rest of time. Harry looked at Fleur in shock, awe, and dare he say it, absolute admiration. The witch had hoisted their hands up in the air as a symbol of victory, undaunted, undefeated.

He couldn't find any grounds to complain.

They split their winnings evenly, though he tried to let Fleur keep it all.

("Keep it, it's supposed to be yours."

She gave him a look.

"Don't you get tired of constantly spewing such dramatic bullshit, Harry?")

The award ceremony is when it settled in:

He'd done it, he survived.

Now what?

VII.

Turns out that his opinion held very little weight in terms of what he was to do after the tournament, for he was quickly found by his fellow winner.

Harry was walking down the hallway to go to breakfast, when he felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned around to see Fleur, and gave her a grin, but before he could greet her, she spoke.

"I'm here for another two weeks, it'd be awfully rude of you to not spend that time with me, no?"

All he could do was nod and agree.

The pair started walking towards breakfast.
Unbeknownst to him, Harry started walking to some of the best weeks of his life.

"Uh… Harry?"

"Yes, Fleur?" His tone of voice was completely normal, which shocked even her, considering the situation they'd found themselves in.

"Is that a cerberus?" She asked, not quite believing what she was seeing.

"...Yes?"

"...Why is it rolling on the floor in excitement?"

"Fluffy likes cuddles and pats."

For the sake of her sanity, she chose not to ask.

Harry was in one of his moods, so to speak, as they walked around the lake before supper.

"-eed to spend time with me out of obligation, as I've told you before."

Later in his life, he'd blame it on hormones and a bad hand dealt to him, but that was him having lived through all of it.

Fleur, on the other hand, snorted. "Bold of you to assume something as insignificant as 'obligation' can make me do things I don't want to do."

"But still, why would you even want to hang out with me? I'm a certified ne'er-do-well."

"Right, you say that like life itself isn't a waste of time. I mean honestly? Nothing I do matters because I peaked as a two year old." She said casually, paying no heed to how her words threw her companion into an existential crisis.

Fleur continued walking.

VIII.

They were a scandal, the two inseparable Triwizard Champions, and the press had a field day with their story. Newspaper articles were published about the evil nature of the Veela, how Fleur enveloped Harry with her allure and forced him to do her bidding. Subsequently, there were also articles and letters that were antagonistic towards Harry and his character: they called him a Dark Lord, a gigolo, a disgrace.

Said Dark Lord and Evil Veela, however, were spending their free time eating ice cream and sitting by the lake, and thus weren't all that affected.

The two weeks passed by rather quickly, and whenever Fleur and Harry weren't out exploring every nook and cranny of the castle, they were having quiet moments that they would come to appreciate and cherish not so far off in the future.

Harry introduced Fleur to Hagrid, she'd asked to meet his first friend. They didn't start off on the right foot, but he liked to think that they reached an understanding of sorts.

("Skrewts doing alright, Hagrid?" He asked when they went to meet him, only to notice him glaring at Fleur. "Uh… is everything okay, Professor?"

"Can't say it is, Harry, not when she is around." said Hagrid, venom on his tongue. Fleur just looked confused.

"I'm sorry? What'd I do?" She asked.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to ask.

"What'd yeh do?! Oh, I'll tell yeh wha' yeh did! Yeh murdered me baby hatchlings!" He roared at her. The half-giant was upset, and Harry Did Not Like That. He stepped in to mitigate the situation.

"Erm, which baby hatchlings of yours in particular, Hagrid?"

"Ma' baby skrewts, o' course! Slaughtered! In cold blood, tha' too!"

Hagrid's words were met with disbelief and slight shock.

Discreetly, Fleur stepped just a little closer to Harry and leaned in towards his ear. "I- Is he talking about those giant fire-crab monstrosities that nearly killed us in the maze?"

His grim nod furthered her belief that life was just a giant joke. Actually, their life was just a giant joke.)

The two had kind of made up by the end of their visit, with Hagrid's hostilities limited to the occasional glare and refusal to offer rock cakes when she visited his hut. The latter, they both agreed, was more of a gift than a punishment.

That was how they spent their two weeks: having fun and doing outlandish things on the castle grounds. And if Harry were to be honest? He wouldn't have had it any other way.

But life goes on, and nothing really lasts. (Or at least, that's what they thought.)

"Will you write?" Harry asked, his eyes (not at all) dry. The two of them had moved a fair distance away from the crowded carriage where others were also saying their goodbyes, and were enjoying their own moment of privacy.

"Only if you say what I taught you," She said, smiling coyly in response. Fleur had made him memorize a dialogue specifically for her departure, and she loved to hear him stumble over the line every time. As expected, his face went red and his volume cut in half.

"Erm… I hate to see you go, but I love to see you leave?" He mumbled out as he avoided looking at her anywhere but the eyes. There was no noise for a moment until Fleur started laughing and after a second, so did he.

"I'm gonna miss you, y'know?" Fleur said after the laughter tapered off, looking pensive. Her eyes were shining slightly, courtesy of unshed tears. The two of them were facing forward, looking at the setting sun. "I'll write, I promise."

Harry nudged her slightly. "I know, I will too."

He took a breath to calm himself down, not that he'd been crying or anything.

"I- uh, thank you." He said, his voice shaking, and heavy with emotion.

"For what?"

She always did look exceptionally pretty when confused, he mused, as she'd scrunch up her nose and tilt her head slightly to the left.

"For being you."

The dazzling smile he got in response was worth every tear that he'd shed.

Soon, it was time for the carriage to leave, for the Abraxans to take flight. Once more, Harry and Fleur found comfort in each other's arms during a beautiful sunset in July. The French Champion disengaged from his embrace, and bid him au revoir.

Until they meet again.

XI. i.

Sunsets are the evident proof that there's beauty to an end, yet they also signify hope.

Hope for better days, for a better tomorrow.

IX.

So, just in case the letter is too simple for your liking, I attached a short poem containing the crux of it for you.

Hath thy fame reach'th your noggin?
Dost thou care to remember mine name?
Regrettably, I misseth thee dearly!
Writeth backeth whenev'r thee can!

Regards,
Harry
Number 4, Privet Drive

28th July 1995

Dear Harry,

First of all, please learn your own language rather than butchering it in a letter to a friend.

In response to your question, no: the rabid fans have not yet mobbed me outside of my house. It is a work in progress though. Gabbi has been going ballistic since she heard that you wrote me a letter, now she's demanding to be included and I don't know what to tell her. Still, as long as she's okay.

How have you been? How's the summer treating you so far?

Funnily enough, I had this really stupid classmate that…

Okay, I know you're tired of me by now (You're 5 pages deep into a letter I sent you, how could you not be) but I HAVE to know - are you part-bird?

Please answer at your earliest convenience,
Harry
Number 4, Privet Drive

6th August 1995

Harry,

I sometimes worry for your health, for your brain. You come up with such strange ideas that I do not know what to do with, it concerns me.

To answer your question, no I'm NOT part-bird! Veela have their roots in the ancient mythos, commonly misconstrued as Sirens or Enchantresses. Each pantheon has their own interpretation of Veela, and their own names for us.

Anyways, I'd really like to talk about literally ANYTHING other than this, god knows I already get it enough from my classmates.

You wrote to me about your cousin's diet for the past year and a half, that's awful! Are you getting enough food?

Also, I had an idea… if you're willing to go along with it that is.

7th August 1995

Dear Fleur,

That… actually sounds kinda doable. Believe it or not, I have missed spending time with you. Just owl me a day in advance, alright? I know it's gonna be a fair way off, what with your trip abroad, but I'm looking forward to it already.

I miss you, Wishing you the best,
Harry,
Number 4, Privet Drive

PS: Still believe you're part bird, my mind shall not be changed of the fact.

Arrgh! I'm not half-birb half-bird, damnit! Honestly, I wonder if it's you projecting some kind of disturbing fetish or something on me. Huh. What a headline that'd make, right?

Anything you're hiding from me, Harry?

13th August 1995

Dear 'Birb'-Lady,

Fuck off.

Regards,
Harry,
Number 4, Privet Drive

13th August 1995

Dear Fleur,

...Please don't actually fuck off, I look forward to seeing you again soon. Write back whenever possible, you're my only source of entertainment in this hellhole.

Regards and thanks,
Harry,
Number 4, Privet Drive

14th August 1995

Dear Harry,

I won't, I look forward to meeting you too :)

Love,
Fleur
34 Avenue des Pr'es

XI. ii.

Because every time the sun sets, it's bound to rise again the next day.

If Harry were to put his mental state in a sentence, it'd be 'freaking the fuck out'.

'Am I wearing too much cologne? Or is it too little cologne.'

Sure, he'd spent weeks with Fleur in Hogwarts, but that was in Hogwarts. Popular culture and literature had imprinted the importance of a good first impression in an informal setting into him. (Plus, he might have developed a slight crush on her. But those were mere semantics.)

'Fuck, I knew I should have brought a flower or something. Was I supposed to wear makeup? Is that a thing boys do?'

He tapped his left foot on the ground nervously, as he looked from side-to-side hoping to catch a glimpse of his friend. But like always, he was greeted with a tap on his shoulder from behind.

"Have you been waiting for too long?" She asked, and his heart leapt up into his throat.

He turned around and completely enveloped Fleur with a hug, squeezing the life out of her - or trying to, at the very least.

"Not at all," He said, pulling away after about two to three minutes of holding her. "I missed you, birb-lady."

A half-hearted smack to the shoulder was what he got in response to his moniker for her.

"You go away for a month or two, and suddenly the guy grows a spine," She grumbles good-naturedly, cracking a smile at his antics.

And all was well.

Fleur landed a job in the British Ministry, and they made it a thing to spend as much time together as her schedule allowed. That translated into an abundance of evening walks and ice-cream shared between the two. She considered Harry her closest friend, he always listened, he always cared.

"That, that- imbecile!" She said on a particular day, quite upset with a co-worker of hers that had asked her out. Harry, having expected something of the sort, had a cup of ice cream ready in one hand while he used the other to pat her back.

"I know!"

"I swear, he just sees me as a pair of legs, I mean how could he say such a thing?!" She was Pissed Off at the man, and rightfully so. He'd called her a bunch of nasty things after she declined his request to go on a date. Honestly, Harry had some choice words to throw in his face too, but it wasn't the right time for it. He was there to listen.

"Here, take some ice cream to get your mind off that jackass." And provide ice cream, of course. Vanilla, specifically.

"And on the other hand, there's that Weasley fellow. Bill, was it?" Fleur scoffs slightly, "He thinks he's just so charming and such a delight. Well, he can go charm himself out of his own pants, because I'm not becoming another notch on his bedpost." She mumbled something after the fact that he didn't quite catch.

"Oh, uh, Bill's not that bad actually," Harry said, having met and interacted with the eldest Weasley sibling. A look from Fleur shut that down pretty quickly though. "Never mind, he probably strangles puppies in his sleep."

Fleur giggled, and leaned in a bit closer to him. They walked in silence for a few minutes while she started on her ice cream.

"That's the thing right, I don't know why but I don't want or like any of these people. And I don't think they want me either," She said, gesturing at herself with the cup of ice cream in hand. "They want Fleur the Veela, not Fleur Delacour: loser at heart."

"Oi! If you're a loser at heart, what does that make me for spending so much time with you?" He jokingly asked, fully sympathizing with her plight. But then she looked at him weirdly.

"Huh…"

"What?"

"Nothing, I just- Huh."

"You're kinda scaring me, Fleur."

She shook her head and started waving her ice cream spoon in small circles while looking at him. It was like Fleur was trying to find something, and when Harry tried to grab her attention and initiate eye contact, it looked like she found what she was looking for.

And she stopped walking.

"Do you like spending time with me, Harry?" There was an uncharacteristic tinge of vulnerability to her voice when she asked the question. Not the usual confidence that Fleur Delacour embodies.

"Of course I do," Harry responded with no hesitation at all, picking up on the fact that something was wrong. "You're a joy to be around, birb-lady!"

"And you're free tomorrow?"

"Erm… yes?"

"I'll pick you up at 5, dress casually."

And with that, she started walking again. Harry stood still for a moment, confused, before he realised he was going to be left behind. He jogged up to catch up with Fleur.

"Uh… for what?" He asked,

She looked at him like he was stupid. (He's not stupid.)

"For our date. Try and keep up?"

Huh.

To say Harry was nervous was equivalent to saying that Michael Jordan was pretty decent at basketball. The teenager was nearly dry-heaving out of panic and nervousness. He'd darted to his neighborhood library as soon as Fleur left, intent on researching everything about romance he possibly could.

"25 ways to tell your crush is into you? Seems useful enough."

Needless to say, he progressed only when the librarian - a lady as old as Mrs. Figg - took pity on him. She redirected him to better resources, while fielding some of his questions herself.

("So, how do I find out if the girl I kinda like is into me?" He asked her with a completely straight face.

"Has she given any signs that she might be interested? Research suggests that a person's pupils dilate when looking at something or someone they like" The librarian, Betsy, responded.

"Uh, I don't think so? I mean she did look me over once today and told me to be ready tomorrow at 5."

Betsy groaned as she brought her hand to her face. It was going to be a long night.)

At the end of his highly informational trip to the library, he'd ended up with a checklist for the following day:

- Dress up, but not up enough to overdo it, but don't dress too casually?

- Buy a bouquet. (Betsy's note: a single rose would do just as well.)

- Be polite and courteous, but remember to be yourself.

- Open the door, pull out a chair for her whenever given the chance. (Underlined by Betsy. Intensely underlined by Betsy.)

- Have fun?

Prepared for the many outcomes of the date he might have been, but Harry was not prepared for the sheer beauty that his date would be radiating. Not that she didn't look pretty all the time - she did - but she took it to a different level.

She had her hair tied back with two bangs loose that framed the sides of her face and wore a simple black button-up shirt atop a plaid skirt. A fine outfit on any day and on any woman, he realised, but on Fleur? It looked downright heavenly.

Harry gulped as he realised he was in for a long night.

Somehow, from somewhere deep within him he found his voice and tried to greet her. Harry thought of saying something deep, an intellectual saying perhaps? Something that'd make her think he's calm and composed and really fun to talk to. But somewhere down the line, his 'eloquent' greeting turned into a series of half-coherent rambling.

"H- Hi! Fleur! Hello! I missed you! I mean, uh, I missed talking to you? Not that we've been apart for a long time or anything! I just, uh-"

"You know, I'd expected something like this but wow," She snorted good-naturedly, "You really outdid yourself, Harry."

He flushed, but was thankful for the interruption.

Fleur, on the other hand, pressed on by twirling in front of him once. His eyes - his treacherous eyes - couldn't help but follow the swaying movements of her skirt, and the seemingly infinite expanse of legs that they hid.

"So, how do I look?" She asked, breaking him out of his trance. "I really had to find something to throw together, finding a first date aesthetic is pretty hard, y'know?"

"You look, uh," Harry gulped, his throat in a paradoxical state of 'too dry, but not dry enough'. "Y- You look absolutely stunning, Fleur."

He said it with such sincerity that his date couldn't help but blush as she noticed his trailing, yet fully cognizant, eyes on her form.

"Shall we?" She prompted.

Harry tried to keep the checklist he'd made in mind, so to start things off, he brought forth the bouquet he'd been holding behind his back. Seventeen pristine white lilies that he'd procured for her. He fumbled a bit in giving it to them, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Oh, they're lovely!" Fleur said, eyes slightly wide. "Thank you, Harry!"

At that moment, their date had truly begun.

To Harry's credit… he tried.

He started off strong and opened the door for Fleur without incident. However, as he pulled out her chair, he somehow tripped over a plant that was a full five feet away. He crashed to the ground, drawing the attention of the rest of the restaurant.

The pair had gone to a quaint Italian bistro about twenty-five minutes away from his house that was known for its kind and relaxing atmosphere. That, however, was only until Harry Potter showed up with all of his nerves and clumsiness.

And well, it wasn't going so well for him.

Fleur, on the other hand, was thriving. Not just because of how funny it was to see Harry try and fail at being chivalrous, rather because of the fact that he cared enough about her to try. Each moment, each action of his endeared him to her further.

Coming into the date, she, at least somewhere deep down in her mind, knew that there was an attraction there. She'd known since the night they'd spent in the Owlery together, but that was what it was meant to be for her: a night spent, nothing more.

But then, the idiot had somehow gotten out of his shell enough to get close to her, to make her like spending time with him even more. He had his moments. Those were really annoying to witness, if she were to be honest, but would it really be a deal-breaker?

In the first few minutes of the date, he'd shown her that it wouldn't.

He stumbled and he bumbled, and he was awkward in his mannerisms. Not all that sure in himself as a person, not all that confident in his value. But that was alright, she thought, Rome wasn't built in a day. He'd have time to grow, they would have time to grow.

"-nd I've lost you completely. Great." And apparently, she'd zoned out while contemplating what they were to each other. That just won't do.

"No, no, I'm sorry. I was just thinking about something."

"Anything in particular?"

"Yeah, about how adorable you are."

By then, the waiter had arrived and the couple were left to make some important dietary discussions. Harry milked the opportunity for all its worth, as he buried his bright-red face in the menu, reading it as if it were a holy scripture.

Surprisingly, the 'incidents' Harry was accidentally causing were kept to a minimum after that. He may have spilt some milk on a different couple ten tables away, but that was a story of its own. They ate, and the atmosphere lightened up to the point where they both were as comfortable as they normally were.

Still, Harry blushed at every compliment or smile Fleur gave him, and she did the same.

They ended their date with how they usually spend time together: a walk in the park paired with ice cream.

"I had a really nice time today," Fleur said, in between ice cream licks. "Thank you for putting in so much effort, Harry. I appreciate you."

"So did I. Barring all the fuck-ups, that is." He joked, though she could hear hints of insecurity behind the humour. "But spending time with you is always fun, so there's that."

They walked a large part of the path in silence as they always did, but something remained amiss between them. Until…

"I figured out why I didn't want any of those idiots." Fleur said abruptly, drawing Harry's attention immediately.

"Oh? Mind sharing with the class, birb-lady?" He asked, an eyebrow raised out of curiosity.

"They were pretty, they were hot, but…" She trailed off slightly, as if contemplating whether to continue. "They lacked something."

"Right, uh, I get that. Wink, wink."

Her hand found its way to his shoulder. Repeatedly.

"Oka- Ouch! Okay, I'm sorry!" He choked out as he tried to avoid his date's wrath. She stopped banging on his shoulder after a few more hits.

"Dumbass. As crude as the rest of his country, I swear." She grumbled underneath her breath, not actually that upset.

"Can I finish what I was saying, or do you have some other inappropriate comment to make, Harry?"

"No, no, you can go on."

"Thank you."

The two of them just kept walking. Quietly.

"...Y'know if you ask to continue then that usually means that you have to speak."

"Shush, let me think in peace."

It was after a few minutes of intense internal debate and a lot of reluctance that Fleur spoke up again.

"None of them were you."

"Erm… pardon?"

She stopped walking and clutched his right hand with her left.

"For all that you put yourself down, you truly don't seem to realize the effect you have on me," She said in a pensive manner. "I mean yes, you're downright intolerable when you try and wax poetic about how fucked up your life is b-"

"Gee, thanks. Really feeling appreciated right now." Harry interjected.

"-But you're also a very kind and caring person by default." That shut Harry up.

"Whenever we spend time together, I can count on you to make me laugh," Fleur started with a gentle smile on her face. "If I'm having a bad day, you always make it a point to listen to me and help me try and feel better."

"Well, yeah, you deserve to be happy, Fleur."

"And you do make me happy, Harry." She said, her voice filled with complete sincerity.

"Uh, does that mean you'd be up to this again, sometime? Maybe not, uh, quite what we did today, but something along the lines?"

"That depends," Fleur said, a playful smirk finding its way to her face.

"Erm, on what?"

She moved in closer to him, turning her body so that they'd be facing each other. And they were, their faces inches apart.

"On this."

She brought her right hand up to his face, cupping it ever so gently, as Fleur reached forward to press her mouth against his. Her lips were soft and supple, while his were a bit rougher and dry. An oxymoronic pair, yet one that fit together as if they were pieces of a puzzle. He was warm, inviting, and oh so full of love.

It was an innocent peck, to test the waters so to speak, but Fleur did not expect to get lost in the affection she felt emanating from his very being while they kissed. It felt like he bore his heart and opened up his soul for her in that moment, making up for what he couldn't get across with words in his actions, asking her a very important question.

There was no attempt to deepen the kiss, nor were there any impure intentions from either party, just a display of affection and intent.

A lot of intent from Fleur's side.

The kiss lasted for but a few moments, yet it felt like an eternity to the pair. Both of their expressions were a sight to see as they pulled away slightly.

"Was that your first?" Fleur breathed, her face still inches away from his. He could feel her warmth on his skin still, a pleasant sensation to say the least.

Harry nodded dumbly, not having the ability to vocalise especially well at that moment.

"Mine too," She said softly, giving him a small, sinfully delicious smile. One that was reserved for him from that moment onwards. "I think we need a little bit more practice, don't you? Some room for improvement there."

"Y- Yeah, erm, definitely." There was a certain shyness in his voice, it spoke of his inexperience in matters related to the heart as well as his adoration for her as a person.

And she captured his lips again.

Once again, Harry lost himself in her lips, all the while bearing his soul for her to see.

It seemed he got the answer he was looking for, and so did she.

XI. iii.

And a sunrise holds the potential to take your breath away.

fin.