Before I start I need to thank my wonderful Betas, without whom, this story would be considerably worse; Lucifer Morningstar, Ajjaxx, x102reddragon, Arnie1701, Liberty1Prime, HonorverseFan and Proctorb_32. Honestly, these are some of the best authors I have been lucky enough to read on here, and some of the best people too, you all have my thanks.
Chapter 2 - A Foolish Fancy
The entrance hall swarmed with people, Harry saw plenty of foreign students chatting around while waiting for whoever. She wasn't among them. Still, his heart pounded, hammering inside his chest. Hermione tugged him along, reminding him that he had to do this. Didn't he?
He wasn't planning on doing anything really, he could just slink away, and miss the opportunity to get to know her. The doors to the great hall were wide open, allowing Harry his first glimpse of the room.
It looked entirely different to how he had ever seen it. At the head of the hall, where the teachers usually sat, was a large table piled up with food and drinks. Professor Sprout swayed in place as the students mingled, her smile jubilant. Harry had to wonder just how much convincing the woman had needed.
Scattered around the hall were small tables, meant for groups up to four. . A large clearing for dancing, no doubt, was lurking in the middle of the room. No one had been brave enough to start that off yet. The music that echoed around the room was slow and intimate, Harry gulped.
A full platter of butterbeer floated by, Harry grabbed one and offered one to Hermione who shook her head. As he swallowed, warmth spread through him, and settled deep into the pit of his stomach. With the queasy feeling quelled the party looked a right side more inviting.
He turned to Hermione, aware of the smile on his face, "Do you want some food?" he asked.
She nodded and led the way towards the head table. As they weaved through the gathered masses a few congratulated Harry, Hermione snickered at his blush, though he couldn't help it.
When they got to the table Harry noticed Viktor Krum chatting to the Head Boy; a tall, sandy blond-haired teen. Viktor seemed to be in good spirits as he snorted over something Harry hadn't heard. Hope bloomed inside him, Fleur would be coming, he just knew it.
Harry hummed to himself as he inspected the food, though his stomach was empty he only just noticed quite how hungry he was. Food piled high on fine-looking trays smelled inviting, from sausage rolls to some dumplings, Harry leaned in to start getting some for himself.
The plates were tucked away behind Viktor, who was smiling past Harry. At Hermione, he realised, once his brain caught up.
"Hello Harry, good to see you," Viktor said. Though his eyes never left Hermione.
Harry held a sigh in, "Hello Viktor, this is my best friend Hermione."
"Pleasure to meet you, Herm…ione," Viktor tested the new name, "Hermione, yes?"
Hermione nodded, a small smile tugged at her mouth, "Exactly. You did very well against your dragon."
"Ah, it was nothing, and I should have done better."
Harry gestured behind Viktor, towards the plates, luckily Viktor noticed and shifted. Away from the Head Boy and closer to Hermione.
"You're from Bulgaria, is it very different there?"
It wasn't long before he set about building his plate, he shied away from the obviously foreign food but still picked up a few pastries that smelled citrusy. Meanwhile, Hermoine and Viktor were chatting about Bulgaria, Harry supposed Hermione had read about it, she read books on just about everything.
Still, it was hard not to be impressed by Viktor's English, it was phenomenal considering it was a second language, Harry had no idea if Bulgaria had much use of English. Somehow he doubted it. He stepped back, trying to subtly remind Hermione about food, while she launched into a discussion of some forest.
He had never seen Viktor Krum so animated, even after the thrilling events earlier in the day he had seemed impassive. Not now, his face moved animatedly as Hermione introduced herself. And Hermione's eyes were alight with joy as words tumbled out of her mouth, Harry had to click his jaw shut to stop gaping.
After a brief silence, Hermione finally glanced at Harry's filled plate, "We are just going to find a seat and eat some food, Harry probably hasn't eaten all day." Her nervous laugh made Harry groan. Viktor nodded with a glance at Harry, he shrugged and smiled at him.
"I will talk to you later."
"Sure," Harry replied, only to realise Hermione had answered too. Well, he wouldn't, couldn't, judge. Fleur filled his head with daydreams and fantasies, and she wasn't exactly a quidditch star. Only the walking image of beauty, he corrected.
Hermione brushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear and took a plate from the pile, her search for food didn't last long before she picked up some quiche. Viktor had been led aside by the Head Boy once more, Harry almost felt bad for him. With her food gathered Hermione led him to a table with Ron, who was sitting talking to Katie Bell.
Harry hated to interrupt but they knew them both, and it would feel slightly less cosy than sitting alone with Hermione. Katie gave them a level look but Ron quickly included them in the conversation.
Ron spun around, eyes slightly wide, "Oh, hey guys, Katie was telling me she was impressed today," Ron began.
"Those dragons were huge, and I thought quidditch was stressful," she laughed, her mood lightening with talking. Harry was glad for it, ruining Ron's chance with Katie would be a bad thanks for his apology.
"Oh it wasn't so bad, I think they had Dragon Handlers nearby." He hoped they did, Charlie would have been among them, and Mrs Weasley would have been panicking herself into fits. He would have to write to her, Sirius too. It was odd thinking that he had people who needed to hear he was safe. "How did the others do? I didn't get to see anyone take on their dragon."
"Oh, right, of course, you didn't," Hermione said. "Well, Viktor used a conjunctivitis curse on the dragon."
"VIKTOR?" Ron burst out, he eyed Hermione suspiciously.
"His name is Viktor," Hermione replied, her voice hardly as firm as it usually was when Ron argued with her.
"Still…"
"Ron has a little crush on him," Harry teased. Katie laughed then gave a deliberate shrug.
"What's he like?" Katie burst in, her eyes alight with the kind of joy quidditch brought out of these maniacs.
"He is very polite, and friendly too. I guess he says what's on his mind, he was very open with me at least." Harry offered.
"He is polite, and his English is incredible," Hermione said.
Ron looked from Hermione to Katie, indecision clear on his face, "He does all his interviews in English ever since he was really young I think," Ron said.
"What's a conjunctivitis curse?" Harry asked. Despite the obvious change of subjects no one seemed annoyed, Hermione as usual, seemed eager to fill in for his lack of knowledge.
"It's a fairly simple spell that makes someone or something's eyes irritated and swell, he hit the dragon right in the eyes. That's their only weak spot. Had a few eggs broken because of it, not to mention a few near misses, but he got to his egg quickly and out safely." Hermione said.
"It was popular in my first year, some of the older students used it whenever they could," Katie added, the grimace of her memories was vivid enough to let Harry know it had been a rough first year. "Though, I'm just glad Fred and George couldn't cast it."
Ron laughed, sharing in her twin induced misery. Harry smiled, having Ron around and happy was a considerable victory considering how bad the last few weeks had been. As if by design his own first year had hardly been easy… or any for that matter, someone or something was always out to get him.
"What about the others?" he asked. The pork he had chosen made for an excellent distraction, a way to hide his burning curiosity. From his seat inside that tent, each champion's method had sounded dangerous and skilful, though he hoped that it had been his imagination running wild.
"Cedric transfigured a rock into a dog, and that's really advanced magic. But his dragon got bored, and I think he got cut. It was pretty slow too. When he reached the judges, he was glaring at his feet the entire time. Which is odd, the transfiguration was really well done." Hermione said.
"And Fleur," Ron said, in almost a sigh, "she did this dance thing."
They waited for Ron to elaborate but he never did, he sat there with a far off dreamy look. Katie sent him a frown but he didn't notice, Hermione too looked less than pleased. Harry took initiative, scooping out a gobstone from his robe pocket, he fiddled with it while he spoke.
"She is a Veela, well, her grandmother is a Veela, she said so when Olivander was inspecting her wand." The gobstone spun in his palm, he always played with them like this, much more often than playing that actual game.
Ron snapped out of it, "I knew it."
"Oh my…" Hermione gasped, she looked around. "I can't believe they let her use her powers in the tournament, that was so dangerous."
"What do you mean?" Katie asked. Harry was glad for her asking, he couldn't trust himself to not sound too interested. They had all leaned in, perhaps to allow Hermione to keep her voice down, Harry just knew he needed to hear this.
"Veela have been documented enchanting people for centuries, they take people's free will away from them. That's why the Ministry has them listed as dark creatures, because of that, not the fire they can make… She is very lucky that no one was hurt with her spell today, it was extremely dangerous to even try what she did."
They enchant people, The words struck him and turned his mouthful of pastry to ash. Harry gently rolled the gobstone around the palm of his free hand, had she enchanted him? Was that why he was so enamoured with her? He could remember the Quidditch World Cup, and how everyone reacted, he had only been a little better than the rest. But still, the desire to show off for them, and get their attention, had been foremost in his mind.
She intrigued him, Harry had known that since the second he had laid eyes on her. Everything about her sucked him in, from the slight smirk she wore when chosen Beauxbaton champion, to the rude way she had addressed him. Even that thought made his heart flutter, he nearly dropped his gobstone, he shook his head trying to clear the fog Fleur made in his mind.
The gobstone he had chosen was a brilliant deep blue, perhaps not a perfect match for Fleur's eyes, that wasn't possible, it was still one of his favourites. Even though he had made it well over a year ago he found himself inspecting it anew, as if he had never seen it. The shapes that spun inside didn't resemble the sea at all, they were shards of ice that melted into flowing tempests.
"No one was hurt though, right?" Katie asked.
"Not that I heard, but that's hardly the point."
Harry didn't want to hear any more, though he couldn't help but drink in every word. As Hermione's voice washed over him, he fiddled with the gobstone, letting it fall just before scooping it up with magic.
"Maybe she can't control it, you know, like she's entrancing people all the time?" Katie glanced at Ron who was frowning at his plate, ears red.
"She should have been more careful, that's all I'm saying, who knows what might have happened. No one really understands Veela, men who try to study them tend to fall in love, and the women never come back. "
The gobstone was warmer than it usually was, the glass layer holding heat he had never expected to find when he first discovered gobstones. Though now, that gentle warmth was a constant companion. Hermione wasn't about to start an argument over this, not tonight. He hoped so at least.
Katie was about to retort, but Harry cut in ahead of her, "It's not like anyone can blame her for what she is, and we can't blame her for using it to her advantage against a dragon, being in that pit wasn't easy. Nothing happened and no one is upset." It was perhaps a low blow, but it was the truth. Hermione knew it too, at least she would remember it when she calmed down.
Clearly, he hit a nerve, "Well of course not, but… I didn't mean it like that, I was just…" her face screwed up in thinking of what to say, Harry nudged her and gave her a smile. She always got worked up over the things she cared about, and she meant well, always.
"So," Ron said, leaning back and regarding Katie. "Did you bet on Harry? In Fred and George's thing?" Ron asked.
"Er… no, sorry Harry, but well… I didn't think…"
Harry couldn't help but laugh, Katie was so uncomfortable, "It's alright, I was sure I'd get eaten myself," he finished with a casual shrug. Eager to assuage her guilt. "Wasn't too far off."
"Well, we certainly had better expectations than that," she replied. Her face was red with embarrassment, Ron laughed and drank the rest of whatever was in his cup. Harry took the moment to glance around. The room was filling up fairly quickly, even a few Slytherins were mingling.
Though not a single strand of silvery hair was visible.
He ignored the twinge that sent through him, it was hardly as if she hadn't come, it was still early. Wasn't it?
The middle of the room had swelled with couples and groups of dancing students, some twirling, some jumping around like crazy. Harry watched for a minute before he tore his eyes away from the smiles, the laughing faces, the sheer joy on display.
The table at the head of the room was swarmed by hungry students, no doubt some were simply here for dinner, probably those Slytherins, he assumed. A few other teachers had appeared, to help keep the peace or enjoy the evening, Harry was sure Professor McGonagall would only be capable of the former. Professor Flitwick swayed to the music, his beard twitched with his eager grin.
Harry heard some commotion, from the doorway. She would cause mutters and chatter, he was sure of it, though he couldn't just turn and stare, could he?
"Let's go dance, Ron," Katie suggested, offering a hand to him. Ron watched the hand for a good few seconds before taking it. Before long they were up in the centre of the room, moving to an emptier area, away from the growing crowd of dancers.
"'Ello 'Arry." a voice rang behind him, like the chime of some otherworldly bell. He turned and felt his mouth go dry.
She stood before him, taller than him by a head. Her arms were bare and pale, long and limber. His eyes drank in the sight of her curves, seemingly squeezed, into a deep blue dress, sculpted to fit her. He tried hard not to let his gaze linger, and before long his eyes met hers.
Her blue eyes shone, clearer than any sky, alight with her obvious pleasure. A smile tugged at her mouth and Harry laughed, knowing he had been caught gaping. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, not in the least worried about making it messier.
"Hello Fleur, you look perfect," his jaw rattled as he slammed his mouth shut. Idiot, think before speaking. "Great, sorry…" he looked around for a distraction. His eyes settled on the assorted foods, "D'you want food?"
She blinked and frowned, then smiled, "I would love some food, though I hope there's something light, I can't eat this heavy English food too much." She waved away a pair of girls, who Harry hadn't noticed before. Fleur waited for him to rise, and looped her arm through his as they walked. Harry felt his heart flutter, her warmth was evident and clearly not his imagination.
The distance to the table was less than ideal, after seemingly three steps they had reached the table, food displayed for all to grab. Harry wished there had been a scenic route to take her on, despite the absurdity. Fleur inspected the food, from his vantage he could easily spot her distaste.
A lock of silvery hair fell over her ear, impairing his view of her face, His breath still caught, no matter the momentary imperfection. His mind was frantic with ideas for conversation, none was anywhere near good enough for this unearthly woman before him. He felt foolish for even considering, dreaming, that he had a hope of success.
Her hand hovered over the plate of salad, though her eyes were lingering on something else, her plate spun in her free hand. Without any comment she avoided the salad and scooped up a helping of some thinly sliced vegetables, then she snuck some bread and a healthy amount of cheese onto her plate. Her grin when meeting his eyes was almost childish.
She handed him the plate as she grabbed a glass of water, Fleur slipped her arm around his. Harry gave her a slight frown and gestured to her plate, she gave him a delicate laugh. Almost a caress from her. "Would you rather I carry both? I thought escorting me to a table would be more enjoyable, non?" Her accent fell into a parody, almost teasing, almost flirting.
They weaved around some tables and tried to find Hermione, without any luck. She must have found someone else to sit with, not that he could blame her, he had sort of drifted off as soon as Fleur had arrived. Though Harry was pleased to see Fleur had opted to walk a little further out than before, reaching the outer ring of tables.
Harry regarded Fleur as they sat down, her smile was polite and genuine, eager if he dared be so bold. The table they chose wasn't large, but it certainly wasn't cosy enough for him. He still hadn't settled on a single topic to discuss with her, nothing he would be happy to share really.
"I haven't had much of a chance to see around the castle, do you have any favourite places?" she asked, as soon as the words were out of her mouth she started to pick at her food. Harry smiled, she wanted to listen to him, and luckily, she had chosen something he could talk about.
"Oh, there's loads, one is the owlery, I don't exactly have many letters to send, but it's nice," he had somewhat neglected Hedwig as of late, she would be mad with him; especially since he had been using other owls recently to send letters to Sirius. Perhaps if he sent Hedwig at night, tonight, with a letter he could curb some of her wroth.
"There's the gobstones clubroom, I'm a member there. The walls are covered in wooden beams, paintings, and these old candelabras. Somehow it feels modern, hidden away in the castle." Fleur nodded, her small smile never left even while she chewed her food. "And there's, the view from the Astronomy Tower, unrivalled… simply stunning."
"And Hagrid's hut," Harry said, any thought of holding back forgotten in the simple act of sharing his loves. "He has always been great to me, looked out for me. His hut is right on the edge of the forest. It's a perfect mix between the wild forest and the solid castle. And you should see it when it snows, it looks like a work of art."
"I think we will see plenty of that one, Madam Maxime is rather taken with this 'Agrid, enough to 'ave us settled in sight of 'is cabin." Fleur giggled as she lifted a slice of white creamy cheese, her tongue slowly licked a remnant of cheese off of a long delicate finger.
Fleur took a sip of her water and smiled at him, "I think the Astronomy Tower… I would like to see, I don't imagine it will rival the sights we saw flying over the mountains on our way here." her voice seemed alive with a passion he hadn't noticed before.
"You like heights?"
"Of course, Veela are avians, essentially, it's a part of us."
"Oh right."
"Ah, you didn't know? Or understand?"
"I did, I just didn't think about it, or know what Veela really are."
"Well, think nothing of it, 'Arry," she said. She reached for her food once more and took a delicate bite, her smile faded slightly.
There seemed to grow a little distance between them, as though the lack of knowledge were an insult Harry scrambled for thought, a way to fix the sudden awful turn, but all he actually knew was what Hermione had said. Of which nothing had been pleasant, really.
Fleur looked around the hall, while she chewed on her food, a small smile tugged at her lips as she gazed at her schoolmates. Harry took a deep breath, his desire to not have the evening end so soon warring with his enforced modesty. He had to search for something to discuss, something good.
"You're from France, right? What's it like there?" he asked, he could only wish it was good enough.
Frost thawed slowly on Fleur's face, it had been hard to locate before but once it was gone her face was completely different. Lines vanished that he hadn't noticed, the smile flowered fully as she turned to regard him.
"It is warm," her giggle melted the last creeper of fear that had remained, "I 'ad been excited to come 'ere, but my Father failed to mention 'ow cold it is." The smile pulled at her face, her cheeks dimpled.
"It's not that cold yet, wait till January comes around," teased Harry.
Fleur's eyes flashed, heat in them that he hadn't expected. "Oh, I 'ave 'eard, some of the students from further north 'ave been unbearable."
"You're not all from France?" Harry blurted out.
Fleur shook her head, her hair rippled as it swung, "Of course not, we take students from all over. I think we have seventeen Scandinavian students, two came here. Niklaus has been unbearable, swimming in the lake with those Durmstrang students like it's normal."
"You wouldn't catch me dead doing that," Harry joked. "That lake is cold even in June." Not that he had ever really given it an honest attempt to swim, he doubted that he even remembered how to. It had been sheer luck that he had, Mrs Figg had broken her shoulder and couldn't keep him, meaning he had to go swimming with Dudley, once, one summer.
"I do not doubt it, back at Beauxbatons, we have a river; Gardon d'Alès, it is perfect. On sunny days we take class out in the river bed, with breaks for swimming." Fleur said. Her voice had gained a hint of longing, Harry couldn't help but be aware that she was seemingly involved in the conversation.
"We are encouraged to enjoy the outside, 'ere it is a little boxed in, though with the weather I cannot blame them." Fleur swirled her glass gently and took a long sip, her fingers held it tilted towards her, as if for another sip.
There had been mockery in that, Harry decided, as if Hogwarts wasn't up to standard. That thought alone made him want to laugh, Beauxbatons might be a nice place but nothing could be so much better than Hogwarts to make it seem drab in comparison. He gave her a smile, though it was forced.
Fleur giggled into her raised hand, "Forgive me, I don't mean to offend, Hogwarts is a distinguished school, and her walls are full of a history few can compare to. Beauxbatons is a palace, much more beautiful and elegant, with grand dining halls and sweeping balconies. They are almost as different as it is possible to be." Her smile fell as her eyes roamed the room, resting finally on the enchanted ceiling.
The black sky above was dotted with brilliant pinpricks of light, a sight he himself had admired from time to time.
"I think I'd like to see Beauxbatons, if it's half as lovely as you claim it must be fantastic." he teased. The corner of Fleur's lips curled upwards, and the look she gave him was certainly amused.
"I am sure when I return the trophy to its rightful 'ome, you will be allowed to witness me, after all 'umility in victory is a noble calling." The playfulness in her voice was evident, not to mention the confidence. Harry thought that last had sounded like a quote, though he hadn't heard it before.
"You've already won? Funny, I must have missed that announcement." he laughed. Her deep smile completed her face, something about it made Harry's stomach do a funny little twist.
"You'll see," a smirk graced her lips. Faint pink coloured her lips, something that he hadn't noticed before, though the effect was obvious. Her lips looked larger, more inviting. Harry had to tear his eyes away, before she thought he had been staring. Her grin haunted him as she finished her glass of wine.
"How come you entered?" he asked. His attempt to clear certain thoughts from his mind worked fairly well, considering Fleur was looking at him without the past casualness.
She leaned back in her chair, her eyes shadowed as she considered him. "I suppose the same reason we all entered, 'eternal glory' and all that noise." Her smile was amused, though something in her face screamed at him to be careful, it was probably the glare, he thought.
"Not all it's cracked up to be," he joked. The thought alone made him cringe inside, as if he could mention that.
Fleur took it in her stride, "Cedric and I are sorely lacking in feats of magnitude, for now…" Her teasing smile was back in full force, as though a switch had been flicked. Dark blue eyes watched him, as though waiting for a response.
He just didn't want to see her frown again, "Somehow I doubt that," his face burned to punctuate his shame. Though her slight shake of the head, her widened eyes, told him that maybe he had won a small victory. If it were a game of gobstones, at least.
"Why did you enter? You certainly don't strike me as competitive as Viktor Krum, and you don't have Cedric's swagger." He tried to stop the anger that rose in him. But Fleur didn't know him, not like other people, he thought. But she had been thinking of him, that alone meant a great deal.
"I didn't, neither the money nor glory mean anything to me," he said looking down at the table. Fleur let out a snort.
"Madame Maxime, she was furious, it wasn't until we got out into the chill that I really thought about things. She thought it was obvious you had cheated your way in, after all, who wouldn't." she trailed off. A new glass of wine appeared before her, which she regarded casually.
"But?" Harry asked, the unspoken word breaking free of him.
"But, I remembered my education. Back in France, we value a different set of skills than here." Her face was glowing, cheeks brushed with pink, "In Beauxbatons, we are taught 'ow to present ourselves, from our 'air to our shoes. That night you walked into the room, eyes wide, hair messy, and clothes shabby. It was hard to convince myself that that boy entered. "
Her eyes slowly traced him, the delicate and obvious movements made him shift in his seat, he had never in his life been so aware of another's gaze. With a curve on those perfectly plump lips, smokey eyes and utter flawlessness, he was trapped under her spell.
"I must say, you certainly made an effort tonight, an exceptional one."
Harry swallowed, his stomach tried to fly out of his mouth.
Fleur picked up where she had left off soon enough, "How could I believe that young man had entered himself? You looked as though someone had stolen your broomstick out from under you." Her slight laugh made him blink. The warmth in her voice settled his nerves, she was teasing him, but good-naturedly. He hoped he was right about that.
"You met that dragon looking anything but a little boy, you faced it with less fear than any of us. That is one thing that everyone watching noticed."
Harry couldn't keep eye contact, not that he tried very hard, his face gave away how embarrassed he was. Fleur's words tickled some deep, shameful, cavern in his being. He sat up a little taller, however.
"For that, you have my apology, I acted out of anger and in doing so insulted a worthy competitor."
"You did nothing wrong, but you're forgiven," he replied with a shrug.
A silence fell over them, Harry hoped it was just the obvious awkwardness of it all. And not his lacklustre response, perhaps she was more used to elaborate gestures, either way it was all that had come to him.
Fleur rose in a swift motion, one hand rested on the table as she stood, Harry couldn't help but admire how soft her skin looked. "I will see you soon enough, I promised those young ladies 'elp finding a 'andsome Englishman." She turned to walk away, but paused and regarded him.
"Please don't warn any of your classmates, they need the practice." With a cheeky wink and a grin, she departed, leaving Harry alone at the table.
The hall had grown crowded since Harry had last checked on it, the students mingled freely between houses and schools. The sight was oddly jarring, as though he had never known the people he was seeing. It took them any issue to turn on him, fickle as they were, but now accepting strangers to a party.
He couldn't blame them, it was a party. A rare chance to let loose… still his teeth ground against themselves.
Had he become the pariah he had been all of a day ago once more, sitting alone on the outskirts of the school's revelry. It was only then he remembered Hermione, he had ditched her the second Fleur had arrived, he would have to make it up to her. If only he could find her.
A pair of redheads plopped down beside him, identical grins loosened the crushing weight in his stomach. "Alright Harry, what's got you lounging around all alone?"
"Anything to do with that blonde beauty leaving?"
Harry glared at them, though the effect was nonexistent, the pair were as frustrating as they were fun. One of the pair shuffled around in his robes, creating an awful cacophony of clinks and clatters. He pulled out a small vial, filled to the brim with a stunning golden brown liquid.
"Firewhiskey," Fred said, casually as he placed it on the table, "little liquid courage…"
"Also, one hell of a celebration for one hell of a champion," George added, giving the vial a gentle prod.
Harry lifted it, the stories he had heard of the stuff sounded both foul and fabulous. It was supposed to burn your mouth as it went down, but leave you full of a warmth that lasted all night. He couldn't feel any warmth from the glass, though perhaps that was because it paled in comparison to the feel of her eyes on him.
That thought made him want to die of embarrassment, he felt like some idiot from a love song. Not exactly what he was used to feeling.
"All in one go," one of the twins added. A pair of grin's watched him.
He uncorked the top and instantly recoiled. The stuff ignited, only a small gout of flame, certainly enough to give him doubt, however. Heat washed over him, the smell of it filled his nostrils and lingered on long enough to make him heady. It almost smelled woody, but the heat made him refrain from inspecting it closer.
The vial lifted towards his lip. With a gulp he brought it closer, the hairs on his upper lips burned as he decided.
An eruption flooded him, he swallowed as fast as he could but the burn never left. He had been lucky, the fire had taken his mind off the awful taste, but before long that taste made him take large gulps of air. He had never drunk anything quite like it, the closest was perhaps skelegrow.
That hadn't hurt until it settled in his stomach at least. This stuck to the inside of his mouth, his teeth protested the feel of that filth, his tongue coated in the boiling agony.
"That's good stuff thank you very much, Harry," one of the gits said, looking affronted. Harry couldn't care less, they should have warned him… but it was Fred and George.
"Want more? Wash down that first taste?"
Harry threw him a glare, wishing for nothing more than to be away from them.
"That was disgusting," he snatched up his glass of water and took a few gulps. The feel of the firewhiskey lessened but never left. A constant nagging reminder.
"Yeah, it takes some getting used to," George laughed. "Should have seen your face though," he scrunched his up in a mockery of Harry's own. The laughter burst out of him, unable to hold it back.
Fred patted him on the back with a wide winning grin, "you see Harry, this is the good part."
"Everything is funnier with a little bit of that."
"Just don't go crazy, McGonagall would go spare if you spew up everywhere." The thought alone made him laugh with the pair.
Fred stood, Harry noticed he seemed a little shaky as he stepped. The stocky boy gave him a flourish and a mock bow, "if you want more, you know where to find it."
George strode off towards a cluster of seventh years, giving Harry a wave as he did, and was soon joining in on the conversation as easily as if it were so easy. Harry shook his head, the twins had never seemed to struggle with anything. Fred joined George, both twins making the group descend into giggles.
His eyes seemed to wander as if they weren't his own, and blinked of their own accord, searching the room he found familiar faces and strange ones with equal ease. The room seemed almost full, Hermione danced with Neville and Ginny. Cormac McLaggen was trying to charm a French witch, who was evidently having none of it.
The walls were occupied by the students who avoided dancing, Harry couldn't blame them. Dancing in front of everyone sounded awful as if he ever wanted to embarrass himself so publicly.
There he saw Fleur; tall, pale, vibrant… perfect. A silvery glow bathed her. No, she was the source of the glow, her beauty radiant.
Chatting with a group of French girls, each as lovely as the other, none even close to matching Fleur's effortless perfection. Fleur swirled a glass in her hand, and slowly took a sip, her lips pouting to sip the water. Harry licked his lips.
Nearby laughter taunted him, the others having so much fun, while he sat alone. Fleur looked so bored with her friends, perhaps she needed him to sweep her off her feet and dance into the night.
He couldn't think of anything else he would rather do, the night was young…
His feet were moving, and his head felt almost dizzy as he walked, he noticed his arms swaying more than he was used to. The entire thing made him laugh, it was as if he were in a dream.
Fleur's flawless eyes fell on his own, a slight widening… her mouth was shaped in an amused smile, her head slightly tilted. Harry felt his own grin break out.
"Hello Fleur," he offered her a hand, "would you care to dance?"
Her face fell, instantaneous. Her eyes flashed dangerous, fierce, Harry came to the conclusion he had made a fretful mistake. Words died on his tongue as he thought, nothing was right.
A giggle burst out beside him, one of Fleur's friends. He didn't glance, but he heard. Fleur didn't move, her face a mix of horror and pity… Her head shook slowly as if she weren't aware of it. Her mouth cracked, he heard the rejection on her lips before she even spoke.
He spun and walked away, fast enough to outrun her denial.
The hall was too small, for the first time, he was aware that it was crowded. People in his way left, right and centre.
The entrance hall was almost empty, a few couples stood way too close for comfort, each face glued to the other…
The staircase spun him around as he fled, the walls moved and the pictures talked… his vision swam. The impact of his knees upon the cold hard stone shook him, his stomach emptied, forcing him further down.
He scrubbed at his mouth, trying to drive the taste of his failure away. No matter, it lingered like a bad memory. Its hooks invaded his mind like a taunting enemy. Mocking him, even as he cleaned his regret and misery off his lips.
He pulled out his wand, the usual wand movement for the vanishing charm came to him before thought did, and the vomit was gone. Cold sweat dripped on his forehead. He fought to catch his breath, every second making it a little more bearable.
A heavy clunking sound echoed around him. Ringing off the stone it was coming closer, Harry had heard the like before, he scrambled up to his feet. He didn't want to know what would happen if he were caught having drank firewhiskey by Moody…
The hallway was long and empty, he pulled himself along feeling a little shaky, if he kept going he would reach the charms corridor. There he could slip into a secret passage and vanish as effectively as a ghost.
"Potter, quit running, I don't like having to chase people with this leg, much easier to just stun you." the retired Auror growled from behind him, Harry sighed and leaned back on the wall. Professor Moody didn't have his wand drawn, regardless he prowled like a half-wild beast. His magic eye quivered in its socket.
"Good, good," Moody muttered, Harry thought he sounded a little out of breath. "Well, I'm not going to ask why you charged out here like a grumpy hippogryph. Or why you smell of firewhiskey…" his scarred face twisted into a rough grin, it always made his magical eye look even more creepy.
"Thanks, professor," Harry muttered, wishing Moody would just walk on but knowing that would never happen.
"So Potter, you kept your cool, knew you had it in you… nerves of steel," his gruff voice sounded proud, though after his rough tutelage Harry was sure the man had no such emotion. "Poor old beast, didn't stand a chance."
Harry scratched at the wound in his side, one that had very much said differently, he found himself nodding to Moody. "Thanks, without your lessons I'd probably have been done for."
"Nonsense Potter, you did everything," he growled. "Still sending a student up against a dragon, what was Albus thinking?"
Harry found himself thinking the same thing, not for the first time. Facing a dragon, even if there were handlers waiting in the wings, was not something he wanted to do ever again. Though with his luck there was little doubt he would be flung headfirst into something worse soon.
Moody clapped him on the shoulder, "keep studying hard and you'll do fine. The next task isn't going to be far off, you'll need another plan, safer too. Come by my office after dinner tomorrow, we can start planning."
Harry nodded, the words struck him back to his senses, it had gone well today, almost too well. There was little he could do, there was no way to learn three years worth of magic in a few months. Moody had been willing to help the last few weeks, but that might not last.
He could well be alone in this once again, Hermione and Ron were little comfort truth be told.
"Don't forget, someone wants you dead, I'd rather not let them. Head up, be strong and you'll do fine Potter." Moody gave him a rough smirk and turned to leave. His wooden leg clattered on the stone far beyond where he had left.
Harry slowly made his way to the common room, eager to escape Fleur's disgusted refusal, unwilling to meet the mocking eyes of his peers. He hadn't been nearly the first refused by Fleur, nor would he be the last.
The portrait of the Fat Lady stood dignified, as usual, her elegant dress more pristine than any other, her eyes amused as they fell on him. He spoke the password and watched her as she swung open before her words could bite. He slipped inside and slammed it behind him, her squawk satisfied him as he darted up the staircase to his dorm.
His dorm was silent, with no one to bother him, Harry smiled. He reached his bed and crouched down, pulling his trunk out and open in a well-practised motion. He twisted the hidden latch, revealing a stone gobstones board; the stone ones were so much easier to clean, tucked in behind the board were sacks of gobstones.
Many hours had been spent on crafting the collection, not many were won from other players, for whatever reason they never felt right to him. A silk bag containing his second favourite set landed on the board, Harry took both off with him as he sought out some private room to waste away the hours.
Cool breezes from some cracked windows dogged him as he slipped by more and more storerooms, ones far too close to the common room, ones no doubt to be used as a goodbye spot for happy couples. He launched himself up the stairs towards the astronomy tower, but stopped at the first exit, finding a large enough room. Not a warm room, but free of the usual dust and rot.
The stone board landed on the table without a sound, covering most of the table; it had been enchanted to be weightless many years ago, a small relief. A set of bags landed in front of the lone chair in the room filled with some of his most prized possessions… it was a sombre sight.
Gobstones spilt out into an organised pattern, one used for play, two sets lined up next to each other. As they often did when he played alone, as he often did.
After a glance, he chose the first one he wanted to throw, a pale yellow gobstone. It pulsed with frantic energy, it had always been erratic when playing, so it became a habit to save it for tight spots. When he needed a little magic. He threw it towards the central circle, not using magic, the rules were strict, he snatched one up from the other set and flicked it towards the first gobstone.
It was a red gobstone one that he had considered adding to his main set, but never quite managed. It crashed into the target, throwing the pale yellow from the highest value ring. It spun in place, still full of some energy.
He grabbed the next one in line, his heaviest gobstone, the darkest green insides bounced around as if solid. This one he slung into the centre where it collided with the red gobstone, which was sent crashing out of the board altogether. Harry grinned.
The sounds of gobstones connecting soon drowned out his thoughts, the feel of the pulsing beads of raw beauty made him lose himself for a time. Lose himself enough to smile in joy when his throw was perfect, or laugh when things spiralled out of control.
It wasn't until the penultimate throw he realised that a gobstone was missing. A cursory glance at the board showed him that it was his first-ever handmade gobstone, a silver one that bubbled when he held it. The very first one he had made himself, he had learned the incendio charm for that. It lay a charred and broken lump in the bag, and he had barely noticed.
His throat clenched. It had been during the summers with the Dursleys spent alone locked in his room, that he had first discovered how he could make the gobstones move with magic. And he had broken one and paid it less mind than the Durselys had him.
He spent too long focused on the memory of the gobstone, idly he moved one around as if he meant to continue playing, though the idea was clearly a lie, a simple fantasy.
Beautiful blue eyes flashed, a shattered and broken mess… Dreams eluded him until light crept under the shutters on the window.
A/N: Thanks for reading, really happy with the reception the first chapter got, hope this one is up to standard. Let me know what you thought, or don't.