Setting the Record Straight

Chapter 2

Having a cold is never easy. It's not unbearable to the point where you cannot handle, but it's not easy as you have to deal with a runny nose, sneezing and coughing.

But when it mutates into a case of influenza, it starts to get more frustrating as you're confined to your room with only the four walls to stare at. Throw in two annoying roommates and you're set to burst into tears.

Of course being of the male sex prevents you from exhibiting any kind of emotional weakness such as crying. All Harry could do was stuff his head under his pillow and curse Dean's passion for heavy metal rock bands. If he had to listen to more of Limp Bizkit, he was going to take the stereo and shove it up Dean's backside.

The cup of tea Ron had made for Harry grew cold on the bedside table. Stupid ginger; when sick, pour some tea. Why couldn't he try his own concoctions for once?

The music from the next room died down. Perhaps Dean had had his fill of music for the day, or better yet, maybe the stereo had broken down again? Smiling to himself, Harry closed his eyes and prepared to get some sleep. The bed was warm, nice. Harry then surrendered himself to Morpheus's embrace.

…

Ding-dong.

The doorbell rang out causing Harry to wake up before he promptly ignored it. He wasn't going to get up and answer the door. Not when he was sick.

Ding-dong.

One of the others was going to get it.

Ding-dong.

Blast it, where were those two when Harry needed them most?

Ding-dong.

Swearing irritably, Harry got out from bed, his hair a mess and fumbling for his glasses as he stumbled out from his room and headed for the front as the doorbell rang for the fifth time.

That's it! No more Mr Nice Guy! There were times you had to be tough, Harry thought to himself. If this was a bloody salesman trying to sell himself, he was gonna have a fit!

Piss. Off!

The words sounded surprisingly good on Harry's tongue. Now all he had to do was fling open the door and say…

Oh. My. God.

Standing at the front door was Fleur Delacour. Yellow sundress. Bare shoulders. All smiles.

"Bonjour, Harry." A dazzlingly sweet smile was on Fleur's full lips as she looked at Harry with those deep blue eyes. Harry could only cough and hack in response. A concerned smile came over Fleur's face as she said, "You really are sick, aren't you?" She then breezed past Harry into the apartment. Harry got a whiff of Fleur's perfume as she walked past him. Mmm, summery. Fresh and clean too.

Clean?! Holy shit! When had the apartment been cleaned?!

Well, it didn't look too bad. All Harry had to do was shove that pile of dirty laundry out of sight, hide the greasy dishes in the sink and dispose all of Dean's dirty magazines before Fleur could spot them. But could Harry do all that without succumbing to the headache that raged inside his head. Clutching his temple, Harry winced. Ouch, not a chance.

Uh-oh, Fleur had spotted the dirty magazines on the coffee table and was picking them up, an amused grin on her lips.

"Oh, what's the matter?" Fleur leafed through the racy pictures of nude posing women. "Three cute boys like you can't get any real women, so you use these for inspiration?" she teased.

"They're not mine!" Harry protested before another coughing fit took hold of him. Fleur's teasing expression quickly changed to one of concern.

"You poor thing. Come here," she said as she took Harry by the hand and led him over to the couch and sat him down on it. "Try to relax while I fix you something."

Harry couldn't help noticing how low cut Fleur's dress was. "Harry? Are you alright? You look pale." Fleur leaned forward to press the back of her hand to his forehead. Harry got a glimpse of paradise as Fleur leaned forward. Thankfully Fleur leaned back once she had felt Harry's temperature and he pulled knees up to his chest so that she wouldn't see how much he liked that little display.

Fleur then went into the kitchen and returned a moment later juggling… an orange?

"Vitamin C is good for you when you have a cold," Fleur said matter-of-factly. In a mere moment, the fruit was peeled and segmented before Harry's eyes. Fleur then held up a piece of the fruit. "Open your mouth," she told him.

"Huh?" came Harry's less than intelligent response.

"How else am I going to feed you?" Fleur said to him.

"Who said-" Too late, Fleur popped the fruit segment into Harry's open mouth. The tangy citrus flavour splashed onto Harry's palette and he chewed deciding to be obedient. "See? That wasn't so bad now, was it?" Fleur said sweetly as she popped the next piece of fruit halfway into Harry's mouth as a wicked look came over her face. Uh-oh. Alarm bells rang in Harry's head as he saw that look on Fleur's face.

"I'd like some of that too," Fleur said sultrily. She then leaned in and took a bite of the other half of the fruit that was halfway into Harry's mouth. For a tantalisingly dangerous second, her lips came close to brushing Harry's before she bit down and pulled away. Harry gulped and swallowed his half whole.

"You have a little juice on your chin." Before Harry could wipe it away, Fleur's tongue flicked out and licked the residue off. Harry fell back panting and red in the face. Fleur licked her lips looking terribly pleased with herself.

"Not bad. Not bad at all." Fleur then rose from the couch and sauntered into the kitchen. But not before stopping to look over her shoulder and sending a casual wink at Harry.

That did it. He wouldn't let her get away this time. Invalid or not, Harry still had a libido.

It was to Fleur's shock that she was suddenly pinned to the dining table by an overly excited Harry. They looked deep into each other's eyes and saw nothing but dark hazy clouds of lust and desire. Harry traced the curves of Fleur's hips beneath her dress. Fleur leaned into him, bringing herself closer. Harry then leaned down to press his lips to Fleur's and then…

He woke up.

…

"Damn stereo!" Dean Thomas cursed as he gave said machine another thump with his fist.

Ron Weasley then walked into the living room. "Dean? I'm worried about Harry. He's acting rather strange," the ginger-haired man said.

"That's because he is strange," Dean dismissed. Ron simply pointed towards Harry's bedroom door in response. Curious, Dean walked over to Harry's bedroom door and opened the door just a fraction to see what was going on.

Harry was smashing his fists into the mattress, cursing loudly. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FFFFUUUUCK!"

Dean shuddered and closed the door quietly as he could. That was the first time he had seen Harry swear so much in one go.

"Okay, Harry's more messed up then usual today," Dean conceded.

"He needs help," Ron said sagely.

"You bet!" Dean picked up the phone. "What's the mental asylum's number?" he asked and received a swat to the head from Ron.

"Not that kind of help!" Ron said. "I just meant that Harry's stressed!"

The sound of something breaking in Harry's room reverberated throughout the apartment. Dean sighed and said, "Seriously, Harry needs to get laid." And Ron sighed and nodded his head in agreement at what Dean said.

…

A/N: There! Second chapter of Setting the Record Straight done and dusted! To be honest, I wasn't even sure I wanted to keep this story going and just keep it as a drabble, but I thought that maybe I should keep it going and see where it leads. Like in the first drabble/chapter, this isn't explicitly set in either the muggle or magical world, I'll leave that up to you guys to decide that.

Next chapter when? Don't know. But maybe for the next chapter, we could see Harry being a gallant gentleman helping Fleur out with something? Maybe during the Yule Ball when Fleur's partner gets a little too… bold shall we say? Nothing as dark as rape or what-have-you, but it gets a little uncomfortable for Fleur and Harry being a gentleman helps out.

Other than that, that's all I have so I'll leave this here and see you all in the next one.

Be kind to one another,

Angry lil' elf.