Author's Note:

Welcome to the second chapter. My muse really helped me along with this one as it clocks in at nearly 7.7K words. I was genuinely amazed by how well I was able to write the interactions between the characters. I hope I was able to properly bring the characters to life as the conversation played out. Again, don't expect a chapter for a month after this, but if the universe wills it into existence by influencing me to write, then it will be done.

Just for reference, all chapters will be in the following format:

"Henry Devereaux" - Spoken Dialogue

'Henry Devereaux' - Internal Dialogue

"Henry Devereaux" - Spoken Spellcasting

'Henry Devereaux' - Non-Verbal Spellcasting

Regarding foreign words smattered throughout the text, I'm just leaving them as is for the time being. They're not at all difficult to understand and I feel they seem more natural and less disjointed from the rest of the conversation than if they had some special formatting.

Fleur Delacour was irritated. Which registered as angry when converted to the Veela scale of emotions. Her father had hired bodyguards. Bodyguards.

She huffed. To think that he would trust her so little and still treat her like a child. As if she needed some incompetent monkey in a suit to protect her. She was the top student of her year at Beauxbatons and undefeated in the Dueling Club. Even a few of the younger professors couldn't compare themselves to her when it came to wand-based magic.

That was why she stood glaring at the teenage boy her father had signed a contract with. He looked tall, more than 6 feet at least. He wasn't all that handsome, though she could see how girls might be attracted to him. The tailored suit definitely brought out some of his well-toned muscles, so at best he could be good arm candy.

She could forgive his flaws, but what she absolutely couldn't forgive was the smirk on his face. From where this oaf got such confidence when facing her was something she couldn't quite understand. If they dueled, she would undoubtedly win. If he couldn't even beat her, what kind of protection would he offer? Being a human shield. Perhaps she could save her father some of his hard-earned money.

"Papa. Please reconsider your decision. There is no need to hire some outsiders when your Aurors are doing an excellent job. Besides, this boy doesn't even look that strong. I could outduel him with my eyes closed."

Her father's eyes widened and looked over to the boy in alarm. As if insulting him might have some consequences. The boy didn't react at all, still maintaining that insufferable smirk.

"Why Mademoiselle Delacour, that is quite the boast. Would you care to 'put your money where your mouth is' as the Americans say?"

She smirked. 'I have him now!'

"But of course, Monsieur…" she waited to get his name.

"Devereaux" he obliged. "Henri Devereaux".

Her father gave him an inscrutable look at his introduction. Was that not his name? Why would he lie?

"Well, Monsieur Devereaux. I would be happy to show you your protection is unnecessary. Not as if you would be able to protect me in the first place."

Devereaux stood up languidly from the chair. His every action was graceful, like a feline predator. He walked over slowly, and yet she felt absolutely nothing. His footfalls were silent and everything about him was almost non-existent.

Her father had taught her to read body language due to its usefulness in dueling. It was something she was very good at. Her Veela lineage boosted those talents to the point that she could see through most people with ease.

She didn't know what it was about this boy, but no matter how much she tried to read him, she simply couldn't. That sent warning bells ringing in her mind. Anyone who she couldn't read was someone to watch out for. Of course, this was only speculation, just because he didn't show his emotions didn't mean he was skilled. Anyone skilled enough in the Mind Arts could do the same.

"Well then, it seems that I must accept this challenge to prove my capabilities. I usually would never bother with such childish games. However, I understand that giving you a small demonstration of my skills will no doubt make you more receptive to taking orders, as you most likely might have to during the course of the contract."

Turning to her father, he asked "Monsieur Delacour. I understand you have a professional dueling piste in the basement? Perhaps we might make use of it?"

"Of course, Monsieur Devereaux. Fleur, lead the way."

She was miffed at how dismissive her father was. As if she would lose to some boy out of nowhere. Vowing to show both him and her supposed bodyguard just how good she was, she made her way to the room. Behind her, there were a few soft footfalls. Taking a quick peek behind, she saw they were her father's. The boy was not making any sound at all, just like before in the room.

Upon reaching the room, she shed her robe and donned one of the spare dueling robes that hung from the wall rack. Securing the straps, she saw the boy, Devereaux, making his way to the piste. No matter how much she wanted to prove herself, she didn't want him to get hurt. Only humiliated.

"Monsieur Devereaux. There are dueling robes over here that you can wear. I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

Devereaux paused and turned back. If anything, the smirk on his face had become even more pronounced. "Do not worry, Mademoiselle Delacour. You will not have to worry about hurting me. In fact, if you are even able to get a scratch on me, it will be considered your win."

Her brain nearly shut down as she tried to process the stupidity that came from his mouth. "You won't be wearing armor? That fancy suit isn't going to save your life, Monsieur Devereaux. Your arrogance will be your undoing. Please wear one of the robes. I would hate to be the cause of damage to your person."

"On the contrary, Mademoiselle. My suit will work just fine, and I wouldn't worry about my health if I were you. I am more than capable of handling myself against a schoolchild." His smirk turned into a cocky half grin as he spoke.

That comment drove any feelings of sympathy or forgiveness out of her.

'How dare he treat me like some vapid schoolgirl!' she fumed as she yanked the connecting cords to fasten the dueling robes onto her slender frame. Thoughts of mercy were thrown out and replaced with fury and bloodlust.

Swiftly making her way up the stairs on the opposite side of the piste, she could feel her magic bubbling in rage, waiting to be unleashed upon the arrogant fool across from her. She wouldn't just knock him unconscious and be done with it. No. Boys like him needed to be taught a harsh lesson so they would never make the same mistake again.

She gripped her wand even harder when she noticed that he hadn't even drawn his. That was one of the highest insults one could give another duelist. Not drawing the wand until the start of the match. Her father looked worried, and the frequent looks he was giving her meant that he wasn't worried about Devereaux.

Clearing his throat, he laid out the rules. "Alright, this is a simple duel. Objective is to incapacitate without causing any permanent harm. Both duelists will be restricted to Class-II spells. Absolutely no Dark or Family Magic allowed as defined by ICW Dueling League guidelines. Is this acceptable?"

She nodded absentmindedly. Her father seemed intent on protecting the boy from her. Oh well, the Exploding Charm was considered a Class-II spell. He would be feeling the hurt well into the next week by the time she was done.

Devereaux nodded, still looking as casual as he had been seated in her father's study. He didn't look worried at all, which either spoke to his foolishness, or his skills. She sincerely doubted that he would be a challenge, but at the very least, she knew that this duel was hers from the get go. All she had to do was seize the initiative and her victory would be a foregone conclusion.

"Duelists, take your place. Bow."

She gave a light tilt of her head, a sign of near non-existent respect towards the opponent. He returned her gesture to her irritation. Her father conjured a handkerchief and held it aloft.

"Once this handkerchief touches the ground, the duel starts. Are both duelists ready?"

Again, two nods from both sides of the piste.

Throwing it in the air, he retreated as it floated gently towards the floor. Neither of them looked at the piece of cloth as it fluttered around, choosing to keep their focus on each other. She had her wand poised to strike the moment the duel started, but he had still yet to draw his. It grated on her how nonchalant he was about their duel.

Using her peripheral vision, she tracked the kerchief and the moment it hit the ground, she jabbed her wand violently, a non-verbal Bombarda about to fly towards her opponent. That was when she saw a streak of bright crimson barreling towards her. Swiftly abandoning her attack, she reverted to defending with a Protego shield.

A shimmering wall of blue appeared in front of her, just in time, as the red spell splashed onto the shield and dissipated. Smirking behind safety, she attempted to return fire when she was caught completely off guard. A silver ball of energy struck her shield and shattered it like glass, the concussive force behind it knocking her back in the process.

With her stance disrupted and wand forced to the side, she had absolutely no chance as a precisely aimed Expelliarmus hit her wand, ripping it out of her hand. It was followed immediately by an Incarcerous that wrapped her body tightly in steel chains and a red spell she recognized all too well a moment before it impacted. The Stunning Spell, Stupefy.

"Fleur? Mon Cherie? Are you alright?"

She blinked. Her vision hazily fading back into clarity as she reoriented herself. Looking down at her was the face of her father. His blue eyes twinkling as his face bore a barely hidden smile. Recalling her defeat, she closed her eyes in frustration.

She hadn't had a chance at all. The moment the match started it was like trying to face off against an avalanche of spells. Damn near impossible.

Opening her eyes and looking around, she spotted Devereaux looking at her in amusement. Not only had she failed in teaching the boy a lesson in humility, she had been knocked on her ass without any effort on his part. It was a bit too much for her pride to bear.

"I refuse to accept your win. This format was not the traditional French style. I demand a rematch."

"Fleur! That is enough. You lost on an even playing field. Trying to change the format to give yourself an advantage is a kind of shamelessness I did not expect from my daughter." Her father scolded her, his harsh words hurting her already bruised ego.

"I refuse to concede to this oaf. If he truly has any skill as a bodyguard, it will not matter what format we duel in, non? After all, he can't expect people out there trying to harm me to play fair. If he is not a coward, he will take up my challenge."

She threw in that last barb to goad him into agreeing. Boys always hated their bravery being called into question. Especially when the one doing it was a beautiful girl like herself. It just made them all the more eager to prove themselves in her eyes.

"It is no problem, Monsieur Delacour. It is of no concern to me how the duel is conducted. The outcome will remain the same regardless, and if I have to prove that to the young Mademoiselle, then so be it."

Fleur grinned. Her ploy worked like a charm. Now he was going to be in for a shock. She was much better at this format, seeing as it was the style she had trained in since the beginning of her dueling education.

Collecting herself and standing up, she made her way back to the piste, this time stopping in the center. Devereaux followed with an amused smile. Apparently, her excitement must have shown. She couldn't help herself when he walked up and stood next to her.

"You may have caught me off guard in our first match, Devereaux, but you won't win this one. This is my specialty. It's not too late for you though. You can take that lucky win and be on your way, knowing you beat one of the best duelists of your generation. Not many would get such a generous offer from me."

He chuckled. "One of the best duelists in my generation? I look forward to seeing this skill you boast of. I certainly didn't see any of it in our first duel."

Her lips twitched momentarily. 'He's trying to make me angry on purpose. Shows how worried he truly is!'

Her father joined them as he stood just below the piste. "This second duel will be conducted in the Traditional French format. Both duelists will stand back-to-back and will walk a set number of paces from each other. Upon taking the final step, the duel will commence. Spell rules are the same as last time. Are both duelists ready?"

They both nodded and took their positions back-to-back at the center.

"For this duel, the number of paces will be 10. You will only take steps upon my count, and my count only. On my mark. 1!"

They both took one step away from each other. The anticipation slowly built as the pattern continued and the numbers got incrementally closer to 10. He seemed to prefer sending barrages of spells, so she would not shield and give him time to build momentum. The best plan of action would be to go in hard and fast, give him no respite and restrict herself to dodging only.

"9!" her father called out.

It was now or never. Her magic was buzzing, waiting to be unleashed.

"10!" The shout came and she burst into action.

Wheeling around to send a devastating set of Cutting Curses at Devereaux, only to slip on the slick floor. Just like last time, before she knew it, the duel was already finished. This time, he at least spared her a Stupefy to the chest. Though the tight steel chains were still uncomfortable.

"How?" That was the only question she had. How the hell had he managed to cast so quickly? More importantly, what spell did he use?

The baritone chuckle she got in response grated on her nerves. "The Polishing Charm is a very versatile charm. If cast on a surface, it smoothens and makes it slick, like ice. In a duel it is a wonderful way to destabilize an opponent's footing and make them vulnerable to attack."

Her eyes narrowed. "I've heard of it. The incantation is Expolitio, non? That Charm affects an entire surface, how could you possibly cast it and keep your footing as well? There's no way you would have the time to cast a Sticking Charm to yourself as well."

His eyes twinkled. "Ah, but Mademoiselle Delacour, you are assuming I cast it at the piste."

Her eyebrows furrowed in frustration, even if the boy was more skilled, that didn't make him any less irritating. "Where in Morgana's name did you cast it then if not the floor? Are you lying to me?"

He wagged his finger, as if chastising a child. "Ah ah ah. The duel has not yet been called. So, I must ask, do you forfeit this match?"

The sound of grinding teeth filled the silence as she glared at him. Her next words were measured and she tried her best to not infect them with the rage she was feeling. "This duel is your win. I concede. Now get me out of these chains or else!"

The surrounding magic trembled as the air heated up around them. She had a connection to fire, like all Veela, but hers was much more potent than most, according to her Grand'Mere. The moment she felt the dryness, she closed her eyes and delved into the meditation exercise her mother had taught her. Little by little, the temperature dropped until it was no longer scorching like a desert.

Satisfied, she felt the chains disappear and experimentally stretched her limbs. They really did constrict her a bit too much. Standing up, she gave Henri Devereaux a scathing look. "I'm still waiting for an answer, Monsieur Devereaux."

"I guess I have teased you enough, Mademoiselle. Very well. The answer is that I am not lying when I say I cast the Polishing Charm. The reason you slipped is because I did not cast at the platform, but at the soles of your shoes."

That sounded completely outlandish. "My shoes? How could you have cast at my shoes when the count just reached 10? There was barely a second of difference."

"Ah, that is simple enough to answer. You slipped because the charm was affecting your shoe before you turned around."

"Then that means you cheated! You cannot cast spells before the final count!" she furiously declared.

"Actually, I cast exactly at the count of 10 as you took the final step. Usually, a French-style duelist uses the last step as a pivot into their preferred dueling stance. All I needed to do was target the sole of the foot you would pivot with and your balance would be disrupted quite easily. You can confirm this with your father if you have any doubts."

She looked at her father questioningly. He nodded back firmly. That meant the boy was telling the truth. That hurt all the more, knowing that even in her preferred style she was still no match for him.

"Okay. I may have lost to you, but that was only because we were limited to Class-II spells. If we ever faced off with no limits, then my Family magic would decimate you. You may be a skilled duelist, but that doesn't mean you will be a good bodyguard." She shot back at him, hoping to rain on his victory parade.

It was at this point that the smirk disappeared from Devereaux's face and his entire posture changed. A stifling pressure assaulted her from all sides, nearly forcing her to her knees. "Listen to me well, Mademoiselle Delacour. I have tolerated your childish pride and even entertained your little tantrum for long enough. These two exhibition matches were a courtesy to gain your trust, as I am the only one in my organization capable of directly guarding you while you attend school this coming year."

He walked forward, the pressure increasing with each step, slowly choking the air out of her lungs as she bent over, struggling to breathe. "I am far more powerful and more skilled than you. I did not even need to try in our little play fight. Understand that when faced with an opponent far beyond your level, the appropriate response is to always run and defend only when necessary. Your insignificant pride will get you killed when facing an experienced fighter."

As suddenly as the pressure came, it dissipated. Daring to look up, she saw a bright smile on her new bodyguard's face. "I hope that you understood the purpose of our little lesson. I look forward to guarding you this year, Mademoiselle Delacour."

He grasped her limp hand and gave it a light kiss. She didn't know what to say or how to react. Her senses were overloaded and her mind was completely blank at the power her mysterious protector had. Blinking several times, she muttered an excuse before running out of the room.

Antoine sighed loudly at his daughter's rushed exit. It didn't feel good watching her get put down so harshly. Unfortunately, he knew that it was high past time that she curtailed her arrogance. The lesson would most likely stick even better seeing as her opponent was her peer and not an elder.

"I must thank you for your lenience, Monsieur Devereaux. Hopefully my daughter will have learned her lesson and reflect upon her mistakes."

His statement was met with a slightly raised eyebrow. "There is no need to thank me, as I am currently in charge of protecting her. Purposefully injuring a principal is not something that I would ever engage in, even if it's only to get their cooperation. Then again, given how protective you usually are in regards to your daughters, I was surprised that you did not intervene earlier."

He chuckled. "You seem to know me very well. Yes, I would undoubtedly go out of my way to defend my daughters from the slander of others. Merlin knows that they will face enough and more prejudice due to their lineage. The least I could do is make their childhood as accommodating as I can while preparing them for the bigotry they will undoubtedly face later on in life.

No, the reason I am thanking you is more so that you have given her a painless lesson in not being arrogant in her skills. Fleur was a very bright child when growing up. After she started attending Beauxbatons, she gained many friends and was very happy. However, that all changed once her friends started maturing and she was still stuck in the body of a child.

Her mother often relayed all her struggles and frustrations to me, and I read every letter she sent back home. It saddened me to see the innocent and joyful girl I knew get shunned by those who she considered her friends. Honestly, I felt a little responsible for it, knowing that my marriage to her mother would affect the way my children grew up and going ahead with it anyway.

One day, she woke up in a different body. One shapelier and far more matured than the one she went to sleep in last night. That was the beginning of her nightmare."

He had a cynical smile on his face at this point.

"Her changes caused huge waves in Beauxbatons. Boys were falling over themselves, trying to be with her. Girls were jealous beyond measure, thinking she would steal their beloved's affections. It didn't help that her Allure was so powerful for her age.

I taught her how to duel after one of the older boys tried to assault her. She was a natural. I like to think she inherited that talent from me. My advanced training caused her skills to skyrocket and she was able to beat back anyone that sought to prove their alleged superiority.

The arrogance that she showed can be attributed to me. I only wanted my daughter to be safe, and did not think of the long-term consequences of giving a schoolchild access to advanced offensive spells straight from the Auror Academy. Her defeat at your hand has proved to her that there is always someone better out there. Hopefully, she will take this into consideration and be more careful in the future."

Devereaux nodded. "It was my pleasure, Monsieur Delacour. If she requires any assistance, do I have your permission to teach her a few tricks? Purely for self-defense purposes, of course."

He grinned. With how skilled the boy was, he would no doubt have some amazing things to teach his daughter. "Please Monsieur Devereaux, it's Antoine. We will be working together for the next few months at least. I am entrusting you and your men with the lives of my family. There is no need for such formality between us."

The boy smiled. "Alright then, Antoine. I will henceforth address you with less formality in a private setting. I extend the same courtesy to you. You can call me Henri in private, and Devereaux or Arthur when in the field. However, be aware that my team is rather strict when it comes to such things. Do not take offense if they do not acquiesce to your request."

He gave a nod in response. "I just had a question. You went from Henry Devereaux to Henri Devereaux when my daughter asked your name. Why?"

"The reason I changed my name is because that is the name that will be used when my team and I interface with the French Aurors. French names are easier to blend in when operating in France. It is a principal we follow whenever dealing with Ministries that require us to operate alongside any of their law enforcement units.

In the next couple of days, as my team starts arriving, they will need official clearance from the French Ministry to gain access to information regarding protection plans and protocols. Essentially highly classified, top secret information relating to national security. In that vein, we formally request that you submit our applications to get credentials showing us as members of RAID 7."

Antoine stopped dead. "RAID 7?! How the hell could you possibly know about them?!"

"You could say our organizations have crossed paths before. Sometimes not in the friendliest of manners. You know the fickleness of politics. Though I can attest that we have never killed a member of any magical law enforcement organization, secret or otherwise."

Antoine took a deep breath, trying to calm down. RAID 7 was the most secret magical task force in all of France. They received highly specialized training in counter-terrorism, hostage crisis management, and a whole host of other fields from both magical and non-magical sources. Only 5 people in the entire French Ministry were even aware of their existence, and of that handful only 2 could actually give them orders and be read in on their missions and personnel files.

To think a foreigner running an agency he had never heard of knew exactly who they were, had faced off against them, and lived to tell the tale. It was a testament to the caliber of the people he had hired. In a way, he felt happy that his family was being protected by men that were the equals of the best fighters magical France had to offer.

"That is definitely a story that I must hear later, if you are willing, of course. I am aware of RAID 7, but getting credentials, even if I'm the favorite to win the position of Minister, it will be quite difficult. I will see what I can do."

Devereaux nodded. "You don't have to worry about the regular bureaucratic red tape. Ask Patrice directly, and hand him my card. He can have the identification drawn up and ready within 48 hours."

Antoine couldn't help himself. "You want me to go directly to the Minister, and ask for credentials that would give members of a foreign agency access to classified information regarding national security? Are you mad?! That could be seen as treason!"

Devereaux waved his hand in an attempt to calm him down.

"I assure you, Monsieur Delacour, Patrice will help you with this. The French Ministry owes us a few favors. Seeing as we are now in charge of guarding his successor as the administration transitions, I doubt he would say anything.

Besides, he is not exactly the cleanest of fellows and he knows that we know where his skeletons are buried. If it comes to it, I will personally ensure his cooperation. None of it will affect you or your family."

"You are saying that the French Minister, a man who has been one of my closest friends for going on 2 decades is a criminal? Forgive me for not taking you at your word."

He honestly didn't know what else to say. Patrice had stood by him despite all the false scandals and his decision to marry Apolline. Hell, he had been given the honor of being Fleur's godfather. There was no way a man like that could ever be some sort of insidious criminal mastermind.

A sly smile was on Devereaux's face, and the shadows in the room seemed to vaguely flicker. "It is often those that are closest to us that can fool us the easiest. I'll admit, the man certainly hid his proclivities rather well, but they were eventually unearthed when we had a dedicated team observe him."

He gulped. That certainly didn't sound very good. "Proclivities? Can you elaborate?"

Devereaux walked slowly towards him and the air became foreboding. "I wouldn't, in most cases. While the information was interesting and valuable blackmail material, we never really bothered looking into it any further. We were content to simply have it on hand, for the off chance that Minister Blanchard or the French Ministry decided to mess with us.

We didn't see any connection, until we started looking into you and your family. Then it became rather obvious. Before I tell you, I must ask a question. Are you sure you are ready to hear what I have to say?"

"Of course, why else would I bother asking?"

The boy hummed. "Hmm. Are you really? A wise man once told me that all knowledge comes with a price. Sometimes that price might be blood and death. Other times it might just be sweat or patience. However, the knowledge I have will incur a heavy cost to you, Monsieur Delacour."

He huffed, miffed at the implication. "You yourself know that I can very well afford whatever price this information costs."

The smile on Devereaux's face became almost terrifyingly sinister. "Oh no no, Monsieur Delacour. The price you pay for this knowledge will not be monetary. Not something so simple as that. The price you pay will be the utter destruction of a close friendship you have cherished and fostered for going on two decades.

It will forever change the way you see the man who you were loyal to, and defended so passionately against his detractors. It might just scar you for life, knowing what could have possibly happened. So, I ask again, are you sure you are ready to hear what I have to say?"

The way the boy was speaking made him think. Whatever information they had on Patrice was potent and most likely politically and personally damaging. Otherwise, there was no reason for him to be so dramatic about telling him.

A part of him was loath to learn about Patrice's dirty laundry, preferring to stay away from the complicated personal and political situation that knowing about it would bring. Still, despite whatever reservations he had, the Auror within him needed, no, demanded to know. If only to satisfy his curiosity.

He gathered his nerves and gave Devereaux a solemn look. "I'm ready. Please tell me."

There was silence as the boy said nothing, but examined him. He met his gaze evenly, not betraying his inner anxiety at learning devastating information about a close friend. Whatever Devereaux saw, it apparently satisfied him as he dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"This conversation would best be conducted in a private setting. It is quite damaging, and should not be made known to outsiders."

They made their way back to his office as the tension built up. He badly wanted to know now. Devereaux was clearly a skilled politician as well, knowing just how to build up drama with a few vague sentences. He was eating out of the boy's hand right now, desperate to obtain the information he alluded to.

Reaching his office, he immediately sat behind the desk and activated the Privacy Wards. At the same time, Devereaux took out his wand and sent out a few spells around them.

"Personal privacy wards I created. This way, absolutely no one will be able to eavesdrop on our conversation even with various spying charms." He put his wand back into the holster before explaining.

Satisfied with the explanation, he immediately got to the point. "Now, Monsieur Devereaux, please tell me about Patrice."

Devereaux leaned forward. "Let me preface the conversation by saying that Patrice Blanchard is not a criminal. His actions make him a reprehensible human being, but he is not actually guilty of committing a legally defined crime. The following information has all been verified from different sources and all concur with each other in many instances.

Blanchard has had more than 30 mistresses over the course of his 40-year career in politics. He married his wife Elaine Duchamp, Heiress to House Duchamp, barely two years after he graduated from Beauxbatons. The first records of him having a mistress date back to the seventh month of his wife's pregnancy.

His preference was slightly older women, which didn't really stand out much as it's a common occurrence given his age at the time. As he grew older, his preferences mostly stayed the same, though he switched to slightly younger women. All in line with average behavior, seeking younger, more sexually adventurous women as an older man in a traditional Pureblood marriage.

Interestingly, somewhere in the last few years, there was a major change. The women he fooled around with on the side became younger, almost dangerously so. None were ever below the age of 17, but you could imagine the rather aberrant trend that was beginning to develop.

Coincidentally, this shift occurred right around 1991. Where at one point he slept with women, he started sleeping with girls. Specifically, girls with platinum blonde hair and blue eyes. We didn't make the connection until recently, care to take a guess why he had such a radical shift in his preferences?"

Antoine felt cold and numb from shock. Hearing his friend had committed adultery so regularly. They had bonded on the fact that they were both highly family-oriented men. The loving relationship Patrice shared with his wife and son was something he always aspired to replicate with his own wife and children. To think it was all a lie and he was engaging in such debauchery for as long as they had known each other.

The second revelation made him feel sick. His friend had started seeing woman that resembled his daughter after she went through her Veela maturation. He didn't know what to think. His breathing became disturbed and heavy. He had babysat Fleur several times in the past. Did anything happen then?

How could he have been so blind? He had left his young, impressionable daughter with a monster who preyed on young women that looked like her. He almost lost control of his stomach at the dark thoughts burgeoning in his head.

He managed to slightly calm down, but his breathing was erratic as he looked up at the nonchalant look on Devereaux's face. He was coldly observing with not a single noticeable emotion.

"Please. Tell me that he did not…harm my daughter." He begged, hoping to all the deities he could think of that his worst fears would not be confirmed.

To his immense relief, the boy shook his head before answering. "From our extensive research, we can definitely say that the young Mademoiselle Delacour was not harmed by him in any way. He may like young women, but even he has not crossed that line…yet. However, we can confirm that one of his paramours, so to speak, was tasked with securing a few hairs from your daughter.

I'm sure you can correctly assume why he might seek such things. After all, one of his favorite opportunities to scout for new mistresses is at the annual Beauxbatons Spring Feast, when he gives his traditional speech to the graduating class before N.E.W.T. season."

Antoine couldn't help himself as he immediately summoned the garbage bin underneath his desk and vomited into it. Of course, he knew what the hairs were for. To think that Patrice had fulfilled his sickening fantasies of Fleur through the use of Polyjuice. It was beyond anything he could have imagined, and he had been a career Auror for more than 20 years.

It took him a few heaves as he lost his lunch in the aluminum container. When he lifted his head up with teary eyes, he saw a couple of items placed in front of him. A moist towelette and a vial filled with an amber colored liquid. Wiping his eyes with his cuffs, he recognized it as Pepper-Up Potion.

"Thank you" he muttered as he unrolled the towelette and wiped his face and goatee. Depositing the stained cloth into the same garbage bin, he vanished the contents with a flick of his wand and cast a few cleaning charms on his clothes. Once he was finished, he picked up the vial and downed the contents in one go. Steam blew out his ears and he felt energized within seconds of swallowing the potion.

"I sincerely apologize for showing you that. Thank you for the towel and Pepper-Up." He nodded gratefully.

"No thanks necessary, Monsieur Delacour. You are a client who heard some disturbing news. I have heard and seen much worse. I only hope that this exchange of information proved worthwhile for you."

Antoine buried his head in his hands. "You weren't joking, you know? When you said that all knowledge came with a price. I don't even know what to do. The shock still hasn't left me. Part of me is cursing my stubbornness and wishes to forget what I heard. Sadly, that isn't an option given that Fleur and Gabrielle require my protection from him."

Devereaux nodded. "Knowledge can be both a blessing and curse. All we can do is make our decisions and live with the consequences."

Antoine snorted. "Very philosophical and wise. Not something one expects from a man as young as you. What exactly is your age, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I will be 16 this coming July, Monsieur."

Antoine gaped as he lifted his head. "16?! Incroyable! To think you have accomplished so much before you can even be considered of age in the magical world. You must be a prodigy that comes once in a century, Monsieur Devereaux."

Devereaux smiled. "I don't believe such a claim is overrated, but I know I still have a long way to go before I can truly be considered the best. The Kingsman Agency is merely a profitable side-project for me. Before this, I was a mercenary that operated solo as part of my training."

"Can you go into who trained you? Or where you trained?" Antoine questioned.

"I cannot go into any specific details, but I have received formal training in Warding, Curse-breaking, Dueling, and several other obscure magical fields. I can confidently say only two active mercenaries can currently match me in an all-out fight.

I know both of them personally, and they have a code of honor that does not tolerate any harm to women and children. This means your enemies cannot hire them for any job regarding your family. Though, you yourself are fair game. Your round the clock Auror protection makes you a very difficult target, and most wouldn't accept it to avoid getting redlisted by a major European Ministry.

Though, if a couple of stronger ones formed a team, then it would be possible to delay me or push towards a stalemate. However, with even one of my team members backing me up, no other ragtag group could ever hope to best us." He confidently stated.

"Indeed. So, what is our action plan once your men start arriving?"

"We will first shore up your internal security to ensure that no one can infiltrate your chateau without us knowing. The next step would be to sit down together with your family and create an actionable protocol that we can all follow to the letter.

Once we finish with that, we will need to sit down and create a threat matrix to identify key individuals that have the motive and resources to either assassinate or kidnap members of your family. Information is key, so I will have my people work with Bureau Intelligence to stay updated on the movements of these individuals. If any show signs of suspicious activity, we will work to subvert or sabotage all efforts to threaten the safety of you and your family."

Antoine smiled. "Well then, we can get started on identifying threats right now. Pierre!" He called out to the empty room.

Almost instantly, a small, squat figure appeared in their midst. It had a humanoid shape and features, with bulbous eyes, floppy ears, and dressed in a toga. It was a house-elf, one that was well-cared for from the quality of the uniform and overall desire to serve. "Oui Monsieur Dellycor?" It asked in a squeaky voice.

"Could you please bring the letters that were sent from the Bureau as part of the mail scanning protocol?" Antoine requested his house-elf.

With a snap of its fingers, a small mountain of letters appeared on the far end of the room. "Anything else, Monsieur Dellycor?"

Antoine shook his head. "That will be all, Pierre. Thank you."

The elf lit up at his thanks. "You are most welcome Monsieur Dellycor! If you need anything else, please call." It excitedly squealed and disappeared with a light pop.

"That was one excitable house-elf."

Chuckling, Antoine replied "He has served us for almost 50 years now. He became a part of my family a long time ago."

"Those are a lot of letters."

"After I put forth my candidacy, the Bureau was insistent that they check any and all mail that was sent to me and members of my family. While a little invasive, it has paid off. These are all copies of any correspondence that was sent with any sort of chemicals, curses, jinxes, and other nasty little surprises. Several of them have been marked as credible threats, and can be recognized by the red circle on the top right corner."

They both got up and walked over to the pile. At closer glance, there seemed to be hundreds of letters. Taking one from the top, a small avalanche fell down. It looked like they had their work cut out for them.

Fleur sat on her bed hugging her knees to her chest. She had immediately run to her bedroom following the disastrous duels she had initiated and promptly lost. Tears came unbidden to her eyes as she reflected on them.

What Devereaux had said was accurate, he had hardly tried to win. It was her that had lacked the skills to fight back. How that could possibly be the case was something she was still unsure of. Her father had taught her so many maneuvers and spells that had helped her win all those matches in Beauxbatons. Why couldn't she win against a boy who was her age?

It was not like he used any difficult or complex spells. No, they had been ridiculously simple, and yet, she had fallen to them all the same. When she first arrived to her room, she had screamed in frustration and nearly set fire to her bed. Raw, burning anger had coursed through her veins as she recalled the humiliation she had suffered at the hands of that boy.

After a few choice expletives and 20 minutes of tossing the worst curses she knew at her training dummy, she had finally settled back down. Only this time, a feeling of shame threatened to overwhelm her. Shame at her weakness, her arrogance, the fact that she had been at a boy's mercy. Granted he hadn't done anything untoward, but the fact that she had been reduced to a pathetic little girl in front of him made her want to sob.

The last time that had happened to her, she had barely been able to fight back. If it were not for a couple of professors passing by that heard her cry for help, Remy Chastain would have violated her in that abandoned classroom. It had taken so many visits to a Mind-Healer to help her, as she suffered constant nightmares after the attack.

She had been tempted to forego going back to Beauxbatons and complete her education through home tutoring. Preferably with exclusively female tutors. She chose to not do so for two reasons.

Firstly, the professors at Beauxbatons were all world-renowned experts in their fields and no tutor could ever help her grow like a Beauxbatons professor could. Secondly, she didn't want to be seen as a scared little girl. She was a woman grown. If she ran, then it would confirm the vicious rumors that were spread about her. No, she would face her enemies head on, and if need be, subdue them with her own power.

Her father had asked two of the Aurors under him to talk to their daughters and get them to look after her when she went back. While it was definitely embarrassing to know that her father had requested people to befriend her, the results were better than she had expected. Aubrey and Claire had become a mainstay in her life and she couldn't imagine going to school without them.

The three of them became exceptionally close, and it was them that introduced her to the Dueling Club. At first it was only to hone her Defence skills, as they wanted to follow their fathers into the ranks of the Aurors. For her, it quickly transformed into a passion that gave her true enjoyment.

The adrenaline rush that hit when a duel started, the thrill of dodging spells and fighting against skilled opponents. Most importantly for her, the sense of purpose she gained by showing the arrogant boys who flounced around the halls and leered at her, that she was not some delicate wallflower. That she was better than them and could hold her own.

She had defended her title of Top Duelist several times already. Each time she found the opponents becoming less of a challenge. They all boasted about their martial prowess, and yet, they couldn't hold a candle to her. She was never stagnant, constantly improving herself at home dueling against a former Head Auror.

The wins brought her great satisfaction and at the same time, were a disappointment. She craved strong opponents, and by Merlin, today she had gotten one. Only now she found out how scary losing was. After all those wins, she had become complacent, never having to acknowledge a loss for 3 years straight.

She felt like Icarus. The boy who flew too close to the Sun, and died for his arrogance. Devereaux's power and skill was much like the Sun. He far surpassed some of the strongest people she knew in terms of raw power, including her father.

In skill, she couldn't be sure as he hadn't shown anything extraordinary. From what she experienced, he was easily leagues ahead of any Beauxbatons student or professor save her Defence professor. And even that was only a guess on her part. He was definitely more skilled than she initially thought.

As she drifted off into a fitful sleep, she dreamt of the shining sapphire orbs that pierced through her very soul. He was going to be guarding her.

She would find out how strong he really was, train hard, and then beat him. It was the only way she could recover her pride after today. She would never let a man get the last laugh.

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I just want to make it clear that rape, attempted or realized is a heinous crime and not one to be made light of. I had to do a lot of research on the psychological aspects and how it affects survivors after the events. That being said, it is going to play a crucial part of Fleur's character development and how she will eventually learn to trust men/boys again.

I hope to give a sense of realism as she deals with deep-seated and complex issues of her attack as well as her lineage and how it changes societies perspective on her and her family. and while it will not be expanded upon too much, it will be there so if that's something that makes you uncomfortable, then my story won't be for you. It will be a long, drawn out process, so don't expect her to be hopping on little Harry anytime soon, lest you horny sumbiches get bonked by the holy doge.

I'll be giving a bit more back ground to Harry and the Kingsman in the next chapter. I'll be playing fast and loose with his background on purpose, as I don't want to put him in a box this early on in the story. Nonetheless, there will be some slightly unrealistic encounters/interactions as Harry grows up. Please refer to my extended Author's Note in Chapter 1 and you will see my opinion on this.

Have a great day and I hope you're all staying safe.