He clenched his teeth as the potion wore off and the pain coursed through his body. It was always worse than he remembered, how was that possible? He tried not to think about it, but he could feel the bones shifting in his body, his skin morphing around them. He held his breath to keep from crying out, until he had to put a clenched fist between his teeth to muffle his scream.
Finally, the pain subsided and he looked at his hands with satisfaction; the stubby, scarred fingers had been replaced by his own, long and delicate. At least the dementors hadn't taken that away from him. He was always shocked by how young he looked. After the years in Azkaban and the endless days in his father's home, he felt as old as Mad-Eye Moody. Though there was a part of him, a small part, that still expected his eighteen year-old self to look back at him in the mirror. The self that had looked out at him before going to Azkaban. It was almost easier to see himself as Mad-Eye Moody than as the recognizable but unmistakably older version of himself.
He didn't have a class the rest of the day, so he could afford to wait a while before taking more polyjuice potion. At first, he had been more diligent, taking it every eight hours, just to be safe. But with supplies starting to dwindle, he had started to ration it.
He sank into his chair and contemplated what to do next. He had lesson plans–of all the mundane things–to work on, but there were so many better things to–
"Hello? Professor?"
Merlin's Beard, he had made an appointment. It was an unusual request, but the Beauxbatons teacher had seemed so helpless when she asked him to help her star student. After all, it wasn't fair to the other students if she only focused on Fleur. And who better than the legendary Mad-Eye Moody to help someone prepare for the Triwizard Tournament.
Frantic, he ruffled his hair and threw on a colorful robe–he had to look as little like Mad-Eye as possible.
"Hiya!" he stuck his head out of the doorway.
"Oh" she smiled. She smiled. Not the way students usually smiled, with that mixture of fear and awe. She was smiling in a way he hadn't seen since he was at Hogwarts, a smile that was appraising and friendly at the same time.
"I'm sorry, I was looking for Professor Moody."
"Yeah?" he'd had a cover story planned in case of such a contingency. "Me too." he crossed the room and launched himself onto one of the desks.
"Are you a friend of his?"
"Sort of. I'm an alum; just visiting some of my favorite professors. But" he looked at his watch "Moody was always a bit dodgy. Not surprised he's late."
"Sorry… 'dodgy'?"
"Oh, erm, weird."
"Ah, oui. He is 'dodgy'" she smiled again.
Part veela? Merlin's Beard, he'd jump out a window for her. "I'm Barty, by the way. Short for Bartholomew". It was still a lie, but an easy lie to stick to. "And" he gestured towards her "no need to tell me who you are."
She smiled, unable to hide her satisfaction. "Oh, you have been watching the games, then?"
"Well, obviously" he spluttered "who hasn't? Charming that dragon–brilliant!" He'd planned a backstory already, and it would be ideal. "I can't wait to tell everyone I've met you. I'm a tutor, and you can imagine how all the little girls love you."
"Not the boys?"
"Well, they're a bit young; they're all rooting for Krum."
"And who are you rooting for, Barty?" Merlin, his name sounded good in a French accent.
"Well, under normal circumstances, it'd have to be you. But I'm a Hufflepuff man, so house pride dictates I need to cheer on Cedric."
"Hufflepuff, that is the yellow and black?" Her facial expression indicated her distaste for that particular color combination. "Well, that was not your fault. But if you are a tutor, I shall have to sign photos for you to give to your students."
"That'd be fantastic, thank you!"
She looked at her dainty wristwatch. "I don't think Professor Moody is coming."
"Yeah, doesn't seem like it."
"Well, come with me to the Beauxbatons Chateau."
"Yeah, alright." He followed her outside the castle and into the fresh air. He had to stop for a moment in the sunshine. He hadn't yet been outside in his true form, and it was incredible. The warm breeze ruffling his hair, the pure air filling his newly healthy lungs. He felt the youth in his limbs and grabbed onto the nearest tree branch, letting it catch him as he leaned forward.
"You seem very giddy, Barty"
"Yeah, well, it's good to be back. I've been away too long." He waved to a group of gaping girls, and, giggling, they waved back. "So, how are you finding it here?"
"Umm'' she made a face that told him everything he needed to know. "It is much too" she drew a diagonal line with her finger "'tall' is not the word."
"Steep?"
"Oui, it is too steep. At Beauxbatons, everything is level, and it is so much more elegant. Even the stairs are wide, not so steep. And besides, I am still forced to wear these shoes" she gestured toward the delicate kitten heels and her even more delicate ankles.
"Oh, I hadn't even thought of that. Yeah, having to wear a uniform is one thing I don't miss about school. And you strike me as a bit of a clotheshorse yourself, so I bet you feel the same."
"Excuse me? A horse?"
"Oh, Merlin, sorry–it just…it means you love clothes. It's not a bad thing; I'm a clotheshorse myself."
"Oui, I could tell" she eyed his suit with a quirk of her eyebrow.
"What, you don't like it?" he ran his hands over the lapels.
"It is a very English style."
He shrugged. "All right, I can live with that."
They reached the small chateau the Beauxbatons students lived in. She bit her lip in concentration as she broke down the layers of protective charms surrounding the building.
"Are you sure I'm allowed in here?"
She tossed an outraged glance over her shoulder as the door opened. "Of course not; a man and a girl alone? Imagine what could happen."
"Right, then" he bit his lower lip as he followed her upstairs. They reached her room, and she opened the door for him, following swiftly behind. She locked the door, and cast a few protective spells for good measure.
He stayed close to the door, and when she turned around, he put his hands lightly on the doorframe, pinning her against the door. She responded by putting her hands on his shoulders and kissing his lips.
When their liplock broke, he said the first dimwitted thing that popped into his head. "You're really pretty."
"Mmm, thank you Barty." she purred. "You're very handsome."
"How do your teachers stand it?" he let himself stare openly at her silky, clinging dress.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do." He turned her around, and smacked her rear. She giggled, and, emboldened by the sound, he pulled up her skirt.
He stared at her lacy lingerie. "Please tell me that's part of your uniform."
"Non, why should it be?"
"I just like imagining a school full of girls in lacy black knickers."
Her body stiffened. "You are thinking about other girls when you are with me?"
"What? No, of course not. I was just" she started kissing him again. "You know…imagining." He turned her around and unzipped her dress. He slid it off her shoulders and it cascaded into a silky puddle on the floor.
She turned around again and stood before him, blonde and lovely, her black lingerie contrasting beautifully against her skin.
"Wow."
"What?"
"Nothing, just…God, you're so fucking French"
She giggled and fell into his arms.
They lay in bed a few moments, exhausted. He knew he had to say something. She was too beautiful to go to waste.
"Fleur, I'm going to tell you something and you must listen to me."
"Oh?" She got up and began gathering her discarded clothes. "Well, I think it's too early to say the same."
"Excuse me?"
"You were going to say you love me, non?"
"Um, well, non, but" she turned to look at him again "I mean, I'm just not in a place to… You're wonderful, but I just can't let myself think of that."
Satisfied, she continued picking up her clothes, apparently satisfied. "All right. Then what?"
"Fleur, during the tournament, you can't win" He knew how awful that sounded the second he said it. "I mean, obviously you could if you wanted, but the cup…"
"You have money on Cedric, then?"
"No, it's not like that. It's" he took a deep breath "the cup. It will kill you if you touch it."
She whirled around again, obviously struck by his tone. "How do you know this? Why are you telling me this?"
"I can't…I can't tell you. You just have to trust me."
"That sounds ridiculous. Who-who are you?"
Before she could ask any more questions he couldn't answer, he stood up and made his way to the door. Before he walked out, he cupped her face in his hands.
"Fluer. Darling. I can't tell you any more than that. But if you want to live, don't touch the cup. Do you understand?"
She nodded and he kissed her forehead and left the chateau.
