The Problem with Veela
Chapter Three: Dinner with the Delacours
(A/N: French is in italics. Please make sure to review!)
Harry Potter was having a rather interesting day. He had been happily minding his own business at lunchtime when a great big barn owl had landed on the Gryffindor table right in front of him. He had jumped, and spilt his hot soup down his front. That infuriated the boy. Harry had taken the letter and his defaced robes up to his dormitory and had read the letter multiple times over.
It's message was:
Mr Potter,
Could you please meet me outside the Beauxbatons carriage at 6:30pm for dinner.
Sincerely,
Sebastian Delacour
Harry had automatically assumed that it was something about Fleur, judging from the name that signed the note. He racked his brain trying to come up with a possible reason for why Fleur's father wanted to speak with him. He came to the conclusion that it was probably something about what had happened in the lake. Hoping it wouldn't take a while, Harry left Gryffindor Tower at 6 and made his way through the castle. Engrossed in his thoughts, Harry walked straight into Hagrid.
"Oof! Oh hullo Hagrid." Said Harry, as he got back the breath that was knocked out of him.
"Yer alright Harry?" Asked Hagrid, cheerfully.
"Yeah. Not too bad." Harry replied.
"You sure? You look a bit glum." Inquired Hagrid, a more concerned expression on his face.
Harry forced a smile. "I'm sure. I'll see you later Hagrid."
"Right, see yer later then."
Harry walked off rather quickly. Hagrid shrugged and turned back towards Dumbledore's office.
The air was damp. Evening dew was starting to settle on the grass. Harry's shoes squelched in the wet earth. He looked up at the sky. There were large storm clouds heading towards the castle. Harry glanced at his watch. It was stuck. The long dip in the lake had broken it. He groaned quietly and kicked a stone. It bounced a few times before coming to a stop. Harry picked it up and hurled it towards the lake. It made him feel a bit better but his good feelings soon disappeared. He could see a man, who he assumed was Mr Delacour, standing outside the Beauxbatons carriage. He gulped, tried to flatten his hair and straightened his tie. Harry approached the powder blue carriage. Mr Delacour walked over to greet him. Harry held out his hand and gripped Mr Delacour's in a firm handshake.
"Monsieur Potter. I appreciate you coming out all this way to speak with me."
Harry nodded, his throat had closed up and he doubted he could get a sound out if he tried.
Mr Delacour opened the door and stood back to let Harry in first.
"Thanks." Harry managed to croak out.
"My pleasure." Replied Delacour.
The two walked down the corridor towards Mr Delacour's room, one considerably more tense than the other. Harry followed Mr Delacour inside, and sat down in the seat he gestured to.
"Mr Delacour-"
"Sebastian."
"Right, Sebastian. Where is Fleur?" Asked Harry.
"Fleur? Oh she wished for you to hear this news from me."
Harry's heartbeat sped up even faster.
"Oh, o-okay."
"Relax Monsieur Potter, I am not going to eat you." Laughed Sebastian.
Harry managed a weak chuckle.
"Ah! Where are my manners? Dobby!"
The house elf appeared in the room with a loud crack.
"Harry Potter sir!"
Harry grinned at his friend.
"Hey there Dobby." Said Harry, relieved to see a friendly face.
"Mr Delacour went to the kitchens this morning sir! And he asked, who will serve me and Harry Potter later? So I volunteer sir! And here I am sir!" Exclaimed Dobby, beaming with pride.
"That's great Dobby." Said Harry, glad to be no longer alone with Sebastian.
Sebastian looked at the elf.
"Dobby speaks very 'ighly of you Monsieur Potter."
"Please, Harry." Said Harry, who was starting to relax.
"Dobby, could we please 'ave our food now?" Queried Sebastian.
Dobby nodded and trotted out of the room, only to come back laden with plates of mouth-watering food. Harry grabbed some Shepard's pie and dumped it on his plate. He only realised now how hungry he was. But, knowing he needed to make a good impression, Harry waited for Sebastian to load his plate.
"Enjoy sirs!" Dobby squeaked as he left.
"Please Monsieur Potter. Eat." Said Sebastian, gesturing to the plate. "It will get cold."
Harry grabbed a fork and tucked in. Sebastian laughed.
"Hungry?"
Harry nodded and grinned with a mouthful of potato.
After they had both finished, and Dobby had cleared the table, Harry cleared his throat.
"Mr Delacour what is this about?"
Sebastian sighed and ran a hand through his greying hair. He could put it off no longer.
" 'Arry. Are you familiar with a Veela life debt?"
Harry shook his head.
"I'm afraid not sir. My friend Hermione might know."
Sebastian surveyed him, his expression grim. Harry could tell it wasn't good news.
"Well. The life debt is formed when someone saves a Veela's life. Evident from the name. By saving Fleur in the lake, she is now in your debt."
Harry interrupted, "Oh! Mr Delacour, don't worry yourself. It's fine. I don't need the debt paying or something."
Sebastian simply looked at him.
"I am afraid it is not that simple 'Arry. You see, because Fleur is half Veela, she must repay the bond or lose her magic. And being of Veela 'eritage, the loss of her magic would mean death. Now we can both agree that the chances of Fleur saving you in the next five months is very slim."
Harry nodded, a feeling of dread sitting in his stomach.
"So, unfortunately the only way to repay the bond is through marriage."
Harry's jaw dropped. He nearly fell out his chair.
"WHAT!?" He yelled.
"Marriage 'Arry. If Fleur is to survive, you must willingly take her hand in 'oly matrimony." Sebastian replied calmly.
Harry ran a hand through his hair, no longer concerned with how it looked. He stood up and paced across the room before finally letting his frustration get to him and hurling a plate across the room.
"Sorry." He said sheepishly.
"It is no matter." Replied Sebastian. He waved his wand and the shattered remains reassembled and flew back onto the table. Harry's hands were shaking. His breaths were short. He sat down before his legs gave way.
"I understand that this is difficult for you." Said Sebastian.
Harry snorted loudly.
"Difficult?" He asked hotly, "Difficult?! I'm 14, I've got my whole life ahead of me and now I've got this? The amount of shit I've had to deal with in my life, it's too much for anyone." Harry slammed his fist onto the table, rage seeping through every word. He desperately wanted to run. Storm out and just run into the forest.
" 'Arry-" Sebastian began.
"No." Harry interrupted. He stood up and wrenched open the door. It slammed shut behind him with a loud bang. Harry stormed out of the carriage and hurried towards the Quidditch pitch. His pace quickened and he soon found himself sprinting away from the castle, trying to outrun his problems. He burst into the broom sheds, grabbed his Firebolt and kicked off into the evening sky.
Sebastian sat, slumped in his chair, head in his hands. He sighed. He should've known that the news would have caused this sort of reaction from the boy.
"Papa?"
Fleur had come into the room.
"Yes my darling?"
"What did Harry say? Will he accept the bond?"
Sebastian sighed a second time.
"No. He stormed out at the news. Understandable I must say." Sebastian crossed over to his daughter and embraced her. He looked into her tearful eyes.
"Don't worry my darling. I'm not giving up so easily. Perhaps you should go talk to him. I believe he went down to the Quidditch pitch."
Fleur nodded. She walked out of the carriage and towards the pitch, following the same route Harry had taken earlier that evening. Her heart thumped and her stomach churned. What if she didn't like him? What if they weren't a good match? A thousand questions swept through her mind, but she pushed them aside. Fleur continued towards the pitch, confident she could convince Harry Potter to marry her.
(A/N: I've noticed people have said that this story reminds them of Champions by Thor's Shadow. I read that story and was inspired to write my own Harry/Fleur fic. I just really liked their Mr Delacour so I shifted him into my universe. But I can assure you everything I write is from my own hand.)
-A Headful of Ideas