Author's Note: You are welcome to join the Harry/Fleur Discord, a lively and inspiring place: discord．gg/CpzggZbfyU
I'd like to thank Brock and Liberty1Prime for their help as Beta Readers.
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Captain Harry Potter sighed and looked at the decorated dagger-like focus that symbolised the trouble he found himself in.
Earlier that day he had taken it from a pompous-looking blonde lickspittle who was using it to threaten several patrons in a bar. And now, an older version of said lickspittle was marching towards him, his eyes promising a painful demise.
"You ambushed my son and stole an artefact of House Malfoy," the older ponce almost hissed.
Fortunately, Harry was not alone. He was accompanied by one of his comrades from his previous service, Battlemage Tonks. Her silhouette, clad in heavy armour, gave him a sense of certainty. The familiar weight of the defence focus on his shoulder too was reassuring.
"Your son must have misinformed you. He was drunk and threatening the owner of the tavern," Harry retorted.
"Are you calling my son a liar?" Malfoy Senior came even closer.
Harry knew that even should the man close the distance to lunge at him with a hidden dagger, the armour beneath his overcoat would protect him.
"I am calling him a liar and a coward." He stood his ground, looking Malfoy senior in the eyes.
"You robbed my son of his honour." Malfoy was almost spitting.
"You cannot take away what someone does not have."
Malfoy bared his teeth. "That insult to House Malfoy cannot go unanswered. It must be washed away with blood. As my son's champion, I will see you tomorrow in the duelling pit. I hope you at least own a proper duelling blade." With his last piece said, Lord Malfoy spat on the ground and strode away.
"Well, Captain," Tonks spoke up, "you certainly know how to keep life interesting."
"And potentially short."
"Says the man that charged three ogres at once and took them down." Tonks snorted. "Even that dragon thought you were so crazy that you needed a bond to keep you grounded. A damn black dragon!"
"What can I say? It needed doing, they needed killing." Harry shrugged.
"Anyway, Captain." Tonks looked him straight in the eyes. "Since he chose himself as a champion for his son, you also can choose a champion." Her smile was now unsettling. "So I have a question for you. Do you want that man crippled, or dead?"
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There were only two people in the room, Harry, and the somewhat notorious Battlemage going by Tonks, now out of her armour, only in a light shirt and tight pants. Her hair was bound in its usual long plait, now swinging around while she took several practice swings with the slim duelling blade, getting a feeling for its balance and reach.
It was a curious weapon, used primarily in duelling pits. It was a thin blade with a short and curved hilt, so as to easily fit in her palm. The sword's crossguard was decorated with a small shell. It was quite unlike what the soldiers wielded in the field.
Harry meanwhile stood behind a desk, gripping its edges, watching his friend.
"Are you really certain about this?" he asked.
"No worries, Captain." Tonks's grin showed far too many teeth. "I got a feel for this pigsticker. Only a limited number of ways to swing it." The red jewels of her combat foci on her wristguards glinted in the sunlight.
"You are more used to those." Harry pointed at her wrists.
"Please, Captain, I can tear that ponce a new one, whether by blade, magic, or hands, for all I care." And to illustrate her point, her left hand grew impressive claws. "I'll be a proper champion for you."
Harry snorted in derision. "Pox on that and any miserable bastard that complains. I'm worried about you."
"Aww, Captain, you're so sweet." Tonks cackled. "Don't you worry, I'll win that duel, preserve your honour and then you can fill my room with flowers and properly woo me. We'll have five kids, all dragonriders." She batted her suddenly elongated eyelashes at him.
"Piss off." Harry chuckled.
While they talked, he was keenly aware of the location of his new dragon. His dragon, it would take some getting used to.
The rather cantankerous female lay curled in a warm spot that was prepared for her in the dragon quarters of the city, basking in sunlight and contentedly digesting her latest meal.
He felt her satisfaction and the somewhat sluggish stream of thought and impressions from her mind. With each day, their connection grew in strength.
'Do you not trust your flightmate?' came her exasperated query.
'I certainly do.' His reply came with a bit of effort, this mode of communication still unfamiliar to him.
'Then stop worrying and support her.' His new companion was certainly opinionated. He sighed. Another one among many.
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Tonks noticed the duelling pit was cleaned properly. The marble floor of the circular arena gleamed white in the afternoon light. The stands were filled with spectators, common people, lesser noblemen, and a few dragonriders.
Many of those were barely able to hide their disdain at the group occupying the stands on her side of the arena. Loudly joking and laughing, Captain Potter's Boys were as irrepressible as always. Their clothing was patchy, their hygiene left something to be desired, and their jokes were barely fit for polite company. She wouldn't want them any other way. "Old Dependable" Weasley, "Bridge-Burner" Finnegan, even little Creevey earned a nickname, "Deadeye" they called him, and rightfully so. The lad was now downright scary with a crossbow.
But it wasn't just them, the entire unit came to see her defend their captain's honour. No, they came to see her kick ass, she corrected herself with a snort, her plait twitching in agitation.
Her captain stood with her in the arena, holding the sheathed duelling blade she would be using. She herself was currently unarmed. At least to the untrained eye. The combat foci on her forearms were ready to be used, should the need arise. For this occasion she wore a simple white tunic, a pair of pants and her favourite boots, looking quite unassuming.
Many pairs of eyes watched her in suspicion, however, knowing of her reputation. It did not help matters that she now worked without a proper Battlemage team, much like her infamous aunt Bellatrix, the "Walking Catastrophe". Pox on what those bastards thought! She was here to deal with a pretentious git that tried to bully her captain.
And said git was now entering the arena on the other side, accompanied by an unknown man carrying his duelling blade. Both groups stood facing each other now as the officiator spoke from the stands, her voice resonating throughout the arena.
"We are here today to see to the settling of a dispute between House Malfoy and Dragonrider Potter. The head of House Malfoy called for this duel to restore the honour of House Malfoy. I need to ask you, is there no way to settle this without violence? Is there no way for you to resolve this dispute with words?"
Lucius sneered and shook his head while Tonks bared her teeth in a hideous smile.
"So be it. This duel shall be fought with blades until one side surrenders or is unable to continue or dies. Champions, present your blades."
Lucius drew the richly decorated blade from the scabbard his companion offered him and raised it in the air. The golden vines and leaves enveloping the blade near the hilt glimmered. He looked like a victorious warrior posing in the moment of his triumph. His cape made him a striking figure, but Tonks mainly noticed the jewelled brooch keeping his cloak in place.
She drew the plain blade her captain offered her and raised it lazily in the air. A few of the noblemen booed while she enjoyed the laughter coming from her side of the audience.
"Do you intend to make a mockery of this?" Lucius demanded.
"Oh, my intentions are quite different." She eyed his jugular rather pointedly.
"So confident. Yet you could not even keep your team alive."
"So self-assured, yet you could not even give my aunt a proper son, only that weakling." She smirked.
"I will make you regret those words," He hissed, pointing the blade at her. "Before making you eat your own tongue."
"Nice plan." She chuckled. "I plan to open you head to crotch and see if I can find at least a speck of honour inside of you."
Their exchange was interrupted by the officiator sending all other people out of the arena. It was time to fight.
He assumed a proper guard stance. It looked right out of a swordsmanship manual, with his blade pointing forward and gently upward, aiming right at her face. She stood opposed to him, relaxed and ready to move. Mirroring his gesture, she raised her blade almost lazily in the air. Laughter and booing came from the audience at the sight.
And then, as if reacting to an unseen signal, they both burst into motion.
His blade knocked hers aside and went straight at her, before changing direction, Lucius having started with a feint.
Tonks was undeterred by the feint and intercepted his incoming cut with her own blade. The contact made his blade slide alongside hers.
She sidestepped to the left and immediately went on the attack with her left hand closed into a fist. The crunch as her fist met his nose was most satisfying. The hit sent Lucius to the ground clutching his face.
She waited on him, enjoying his teary glare as he tried to stem the bleeding. With a smirk, she nodded at his blade lying on the ground, bidding him to pick it up.
He was much more cautious in his approach now and they exchanged a few cuts and parries. He was testing her defences with precise cuts, feints, and lunges, but whatever direction of attack he chose, she deflected his blade and quickly lashed out with attacks of her own.
For each of his feints, she managed two direct stabs or cuts, and only his excellent technique allowed him to defend himself effectively
Lucius' lack of progress seemed to anger him, Tonks thought, judging by the tight frown he wore. But it seemed to sharpen his focus and drive him to higher speeds.
It had to come eventually. He scored a hit on her, cutting her left side. The pain was nothing new to her and she kept going without wincing, but when they next crossed blades, he feinted again and he sent her tumbling with a kick.
She tasted blood. Her tongue hurt. Lucius was coming at her, blade raised.
She hit him right between the eyes with a bloody spit, stopping him in his tracks. Then she noticed the brooch of his cloak glowing.
Her feet started sinking into the ground.
She quickly jumped away and then the officiator and audience noticed how deformed the ground was.
"That was an unsanctioned use of magical energy!" The officiator exclaimed. "Battlemage Tonks, you have the right to claim victory in this duel."
"Oh no." Tonks wiped the blood from her chin. "Let's continue. I don't mind adding magic to the mix."
Throwing all pretences aside, Lucius used his earth focus to its full potential, sending several spears of stone at her while simultaneously trying to catch her feet. She danced through his attempts and her own foci glowed, crimson, bloody red.
She held her arms out and clenched her fists. Lucius stiffened, unable to move, only his eyes moving to her foci. Realisation dawned on him.
Blood, her speciality was blood. The one he spilled, the one she spat into his face.
And due to that close contact, control of his body was hers.
"I told you I would open you head to crotch, Lucius." Her grin showed far too many teeth.
She quickly jerked her hands apart. And Lucius' body tried to follow the motion of both of her hands. Blood stained the marble.
The arena was quiet for a moment, and then, like a peal of thunder following lightning, the noise came back. Shocked gasps from the nobles, the sound of vomiting, but they were drowned out by the cheers and whooping coming from the other side of the audience.
"Battlemage Tonks is the victor." The officiator's voice drowned out the noise.
"As if there was any other option," Tonks muttered to herself, and swished her blade in a salute towards the nobles.
Then she turned around and headed back towards her captain who was waiting near the edge of the arena. When she stood in front of him, she winked, clearly in view of the entire unit, and gave a deep, exaggerated bow.
"Your champion returns, good sir, having discharged her duty."
"And I thank you." Harry approached her, and took the sword from her. "It's good to see you return."
While Harry spoke, trying to maintain a neutral face, his boys behind him did no such thing, and Tonks counted at least four offers of free drinks being thrown her way.
Unwashed, uncouth, and rowdy they may be, but with them, she was home.