Disclaimer: The rights to the Harry Potter series go to J.K. Rowling. All original ideas present in this belong to me.
Chapter Thirty-Five | Shaved Ice
I smile widely as I sip from my coffee, sending a cheeky look Fleur's way as I read the newest edition of the Daily Prophet. The bastards are practically groveling in their apology, the article so heart-felt as to feel clichéd.
I absolutely love it.
Hermione sighs quietly next to me, looking down at the paper with an exasperated look on her face. She whispers for me to put up a silencing charm, so I quickly remove my wand and flick it through the air, a curtain of quiet settling over us.
She puts her hands on her hips, sending a disappointed look my way. "Did you threaten the Daily Prophet?"
I put my hand over my heart, feigning shock. "Why, I did nothing of the sort!" I deny, unable to hide my grin. "Although I did mention the fact that I own a good portion of the paper, along with my links to the more… politically savvy members of my family. There may have been talk of a complete and total blacklist on the editor-in-chief as well."
She jerks her head to the side, nodding in approval. "Well, at least you didn't physically threaten them," she sighs, relieved. "I thought you were going to go in there guns blazing."
"Er- I may be slightly deranged, but I'm not about to murder someone over a newspaper article," I say, slightly perturbed that Hermione immediately expects me to just set fire to the building with everyone inside.
At least, that's what I imagine she's expected.
"No, no, I know that," she concedes, putting her hand on her cheek. "I just thought there'd be more threats of bodily violence."
"Oh"
I turn away from her, looking at the table dumbly as I remove the silencing charm.
I've really become quite a violent person, haven't I? Or at least… I think I am? I honestly haven't a clue, but I think I'm doing the best I can given the constant supernatural danger that is my life.
"Helene?"
I turn up to see Lisa, a question on her face.
"Yeah? What is it?"
"What are you wearing to the ball?"
I blink a few times, turning to Fleur, before turning back to Lisa and blinking a bit more.
"Fuck."
I completely and utterly forgot to buy clothes for the ball. Christ, I don't even have half a clue of what to wear to a semi-formal occasion, let alone something so elaborate like the Yule Ball.
"I'm guessing you've forgotten to buy a dress?" she says, something terrifying in her eyes. I don't know what it is, but I don't like it. Not one bit.
I scratch my neck, before nervously tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "Er- yeah, I have."
She smiles the most horrific smile I've ever seen in my entire life, and I saw a giant sized dementor with rotten teeth, quite literally, grin from ear to ear. No. I do not like where this is going.
"That means we're going to need to go to Gladrags, aren't we?" she asks, eyes passing over the other girls. I feel a shiver through my spine as the same look spreads over to the rest of them, Hermione included.
Good God, what have I gotten myself into?
"I believe I'll have to come along, to make sure we match," Fleur pipes up, that same gleam in her eyes. "We're both champions, are we not? We must make sure we set a good example."
"Oh God, not you too," I whisper, eyes wide as my head spins frantically, looking to anyone, anyone for support.
Not a peep.
"Understand that I am doing this under duress," I say, finger wagging angrily at each and every one of them. "I could have just as easily done this on my own."
"But where's the fun in that?" Ginny gasps, looking terribly offended that I wouldn't want to go on a group wide shopping trip.
I look at her, askance. "How can shopping be in any way fun? It's an errand! It's something that you have to very reluctantly take time out of your schedule for, not something that you excitedly make time for."
Fleur pats me on the back consolingly. "Sorry Helene, but you're outnumbered. Also, you're definitely not allowed to complain when you have more shoes than even I do."
"That's because shoes are easy," I grumble, putting my head in my hands. "There's only so many different kinds out there, and a good pair of shoes is very important, I'll have you know!" I add, poking her shoulder half-heartedly. "You can ignore an uncomfortable shirt, but you can't ignore uncomfortable shoes."
"You keep telling yourself that," she smiles, rubbing my shoulder before returning to her own cup of coffee, stalwart as she does everything she can to ignore my pleading look.
I sip at my own mug, already dreading the coming trip to Hogsmeade.
-::-
I grimace at my reflection, spinning to see the way the glimmering green dress clings to my hips, tapering off at an angle, revealing a touch more of my right leg than my left. It's perfect, how it supports everything just right, accenting my body in ways that I didn't know it could be accented.
And since it's so perfect, I absolutely detest it.
"No," I mutter, the gaggle of teen girls behind me groaning in frustration. I believe this may be the eighteenth dress that I've tried on, and in my mind, that's eighteen too many.
"Why?" Luna asks, a blank, yet curious look on her face, lips parted ever so slightly. "I believe you look quite stunning in it… have you been affected by wrackspurts yet again?"
I shrug, blowing a lock of hair out of my face in exasperation. "I don't know. I really don't know, but something about this isn't working for me," I say, wearing a mildly apologetic look.
Mildly, since I was forced into this.
Fleur walks up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder, meeting my eyes in the mirror ahead. "What's wrong? I agree with Luna, you do look ravishing in that dress."
I smile faintly, confused by my hatred of the dress, or dresses in particular.
"I like skirts. Skirts I can do in the summer, maybe late spring and early autumn depending on the weather… but a dress? I just feel so out of sorts in it." I puff out my lips, staring my reflection down, as if I'll force myself to give in to the girls and purchase the damned thing already.
Fleur cocks her head to the side. "So, why don't you wear dress robes instead? Maybe a suit, like a tuxedo? It would definitely… suit you." She chuckles quietly at her quite frankly awful little pun.
Dress robes? I wore those last time, and they just got in the way. Too flowy, just way too much fabric. It felt like wearing a very elaborate tent.
But a tuxedo?
"Huh, I think a tuxedo could work," I say, Fleur clapping her hands excitedly.
"A tuxedo?" Padma says, looking a bit disgruntled. "Why would you wear a tuxedo?"
"Well, I like the idea of it. Why can't I wear a tuxedo?" I ask, confused.
She sighs loudly, crossing her arms. "It's just not proper!" she exclaims, one hand waving in annoyance. "You'd look like a-"
Padma shuts her mouth very suddenly, turning away. It doesn't stop me from catching her tone of voice.
"Like a what, exactly?"
She turns her head to the ceiling, mouthing a sort of silent prayer. "You'd look like a dyke."
Everyone falls silent, Lisa shuffling awkwardly next to her best friend, looking very conflicted. Ginny and Hermione both look quite pissed off, while Luna just stands there tapping her finger on her chin thoughtfully. Fleur puts her hand on my back protectively, a blank look on her face.
"I think you'd make a lovely dyke Helene."
I snort loudly, Luna smiling her quaint little smile, knowing full well that she's broken the tension quite effectively.
"Why thank you, Luna," I say, an odd, stressed laugh creeping out of me.
I guess Padma is as old fashioned as I thought she was. I decide to ignore her little outburst, instead coming to the decision that I should own who I am. I'm not going to flaunt it, but I'm not going to hide it either.
"I think a tuxedo sounds wonderful, I'm going to go ask the tailor if they have any more feminine cuts," I announce, quickly striding past the brooding group of girls towards the lady who's been helping us.
I knock on the counter, a shock of bright gray hair announcing the tailor popping her head out of the back room. "Yes miss? Is that one to your liking?" she asks, gesturing towards the green dress.
I shake my head, the woman looking a bit disappointed by my refusal of yet another dress. "I'm sorry for being such a terrible customer, but I just don't think a dress is for me. I had something else in mind though."
She lights up, excited at the prospect of a different sort of challenge, hoping to narrow down the field and direct me to something that I'd like. "Well, what would you be interested in? We've got a large selection of dress robes."
"Well, I'd actually like to see what sort of tuxedo's you have. Something simple. No ruffles, nothing baggy." I stop for a moment, suddenly remembering Amelia Bones' absolutely fantastic little suit and skirt that she wore, having a good idea of the type of cut I'd like. "Do you actually have something more on the minimal side? Light texture on the fabric, and a pocket square and bowtie in the same colour as this dress?"
The lady nods excitedly, quickly pulling me through the women's section and out to the men's, a cluster of flustered teenage boys awkwardly attempting to decide on dress robes for the upcoming ball, having forgot them as well.
Almost in unison, their heads snap up, eyes widening as they set sights on me, a few smiling awkwardly and attempting to make small talk as I'm tugged past them towards a slightly empty section.
"Over here we have our tuxedos and suits. While muggle fashion is big in the workplace, it hasn't really caught on in formal settings," she explains, gesturing towards a somewhat garish three-piece, the tuxedo looking as if someone had just bought a mountain of rhinestones from Poundland and went on a decorative bender.
"Er… I don't think that one is for me," I say, eyeing the suit with distaste.
The tailor nods hurriedly, quickly directing me towards a fantastic sight. A very dark gray, two-piece, and with just the right amount of texture and gloss to the fabric so as to be more interesting, while not looking like someone's wrapped me in tweed clingfilm.
I point to it excitedly, already knowing that that's what I want. "I think that's the one," I say, the lady looking at me questioningly.
"Are you sure you don't want to try it on?"
I shake my head. "No, but if I could get it tailored to fit, that would be fantastic."
She quickly removes the suit from the headless mannequin it adorns, laying it over her forearm delicately and directing me to go and change back into my regular clothes while she adjusts the outfit.
With a skip in my step, I make my way back to the girls, who are now awkwardly standing around, completely silent.
Good job Padma, you made things weird.
"I already got everything figured out!" I say happily, Fleur smiling at me.
"That was quick! What did you decide on?"
"Dark gray, two-piece tux, with a bowtie and pocket square in the same colour as this dress," I answer, gesturing towards myself.
Fleur lights up, her smile widening. "I'm sure you'll look fantastic in it," she effuses, before ushering me back into the changing room. "Now go get back into your regular clothes, before you start complaining about dresses even more."
I laugh as I head back to get changed, hiding the fact that I'm a touch worried about Padma.
I know that people can be… uncomfortable, with gay couples. It doesn't make their bigotry acceptable in any way, but I get it. I don't like it, but I get it. People are odd creatures, and they form biases like nobody's business. Just look at Britain, the people here are so caught up about nonsensical blood status, and there've been wars fought over it. Racism, sexism, and prejudice in any form is a terribly unfortunate, natural thing.
But, for a friend to act that way?
I don't really know what to do about that.
I quickly slip out of the green dress, tossing on my regular clothes as quick as I can in the hopes that I can get as far away as possible from the much too breathable outfit.
"So, Padma," I say as I walk out from the dressing room. She doesn't make eye contact as she looks towards me, keeping her head cast downward and gaze sweeping across the floor.
"Yes?"
I sigh, scratching the back of my head. "So, I'm gonna' be honest. I'm not exactly pleased that you're acting the way you are." She clenches her hand into a fist, blushing from her neck to her ears, obviously mortified. "I'd think that after four years of friendship, something like who I date wouldn't really cause issues, but it seems that I'm wrong."
"It's not that! It's just…"
She stumbles with her words, looking very unsure of herself.
"It's just what?"
"It's just… I don't get it! I don't… Gods, let's just forget about it, alright? I'm sorry," she pleads, jaw set defiantly as she shakes her head.
I nod reluctantly, placing my hand on her shoulder. Padma flinches as I make contact with her, sheepishly glancing upwards. "Just never do it again, alright? I can forgive you this once… but again? I can't do that."
She returns with a nod of her own. "Let's just get your tuxedo and get out of here, okay?"
I watch as she walks away, a knot in my stomach. I don't think this is going to end too well.
-::-
We return to the school in silence after having retrieved my outfit, not a peep of conversation dancing between us as it normally does. I find that our little entourage is often boisterous, bordering on deeply annoying in terms of the amount of verbal energy tossed about. It's… uncomfortable, to see everyone so quiet.
I know they're unsettled by Padma's continual displays of… is bigotry too harsh a word? Prejudice? Uncomfortableness? Is that even a word?
I don't really know, but what I do know, is that something is changing between all of us, and I don't think it's for the better.
Hermione and Ginny both have their mouths shut tight as we climb into the carriage. They're probably pissed off as well, either that, or not at all sure of how to come to terms with the fact that one of their closest friends doesn't like them on principle.
Not that they're out, of course. But it doesn't change the fact that they know.
Funny how two people I never expected to swing that way, do. Ginny I could see. Not that I believed she was, but I could see her dating a woman, if that makes sense. Hermione? Now that was a shocker. Hermione Jean Granger, interested in women… who'da thunk it? Certainly not me, judging by how I reacted last year when she confessed her feelings.
Just goes to show that you can't judge a book by its cover.
The carriage shudders to a halt, and we begin to pile out, Fleur taking my hand and helping me down the steep array of wooden steps, not letting go as we walk towards the castle.
I look up at her, head tilted up ever so slightly to meet her taller figure. I can't help but wonder at the fact that she's the Albumancer. That she's the only other person on this Earth who knows exactly what I've gone through, and will go through, and she has the heart and temerity to join me in that, knowing full well that the world will decry us for who we are come the Yule Ball.
God, she's amazing.
I don't know what I feel for her. I don't know what I feel half the time. Comes with the territory of being emotionally stunted, what with my lovely little upbringing and the fact that I've seen and done things that would leave most adults catatonic.
I might be a bit detached, deranged, and just a smidge psychotic, judging by my incredible ability to kill scores of people with but a few flicks of my wand, but I'm doing my best. I just hope that I have the capacity to feel, and to love someone the way I want to. They way I hope I'll one day love Fleur.
My cheeks heat up, blushing at my own little mental tangent. I smile, knowing that I'm getting ahead of myself.
But who wouldn't in my situation? After going through what I have. I know I'm starved of affection, and I'm used to it. So, doesn't it make sense that I would latch on to the first ray of light in my life? The way I did with Sirius? The way I did with the Greengrasses? Hell, I'd just be following the trend if I ended up falling for Fleur.
"Something on your mind?" she asks, raising an eyebrow and squeezing my hand lightly.
"You," I reply, meeting her gaze.
"Hmm? What about me are you thinking about?" she continues, her lips curled up just the slightest.
"Well… I was thinking about how… what's a good word for this? Coincidental? Yeah- how coincidental everything is in terms of… well- us."
She frowns, not a thing of frustration or anger, but a want to know more. "What do you mean?"
I snap my fingers, trying to figure out how to put my thoughts into words. "Just, that you and I are a rare two people. We both… well, you know," I say, looking pointedly at the other girls nearby. I realize I'm being silly, and quickly put up a silencing charm over the two of us. "We're both time-travelers, very specific types of time-travelers considering our method of dying and pissing off the wrong God. We're together, and I was just thinking over that. How, of all the people available in the world for us to date, we chose each other?"
I shake my head, a happy smile on my face. "I'm not complaining, far from it. Hell, I'm ecstatic about it all. I think it's just so perfect, you know? How the two of us, warriors out of time… we end up seeking each other out."
Fleur grins back at me, squeezing my hand once more. "Very poetic, don't you think?"
"Very much so," I reply, turning my attention back to our little walk, having come up upon the massive studded doors that cover the entrance to Hogwarts. I remove the silencing charm as we push on through, and before I can bring my purchase back to the common room, I'm confronted by a familiar sight.
"Miss Potter," Dumbledore says, a blank look on his face, hands clasped in front of him over pastel blue robes, dotted with different futhark runes that swim absently over the fabric's surface.
I blink a few times, wondering why he would come out to speak to me. I detest the man, he detests me, simple as that. There's no need to speak unless there's been an emergency.
"Yes Headmaster?" I ask, letting go of Fleur's hand. "What is it?"
He looks at me, then at Fleur, an odd look settling over him. He frowns, but it's not a concerned expression, more confused than anything. "Would you be able to come with me up to my office for a discussion?"
I nod. "Sorry Fleur, looks like I have to get going. I'll see you later, alright?"
"I look forward to it," she says, stooping down to kiss my forehead, her hand trailing over my cheek as she turns to walk away, headed back to the carriage.
"Well?" I ask, eyebrow raised as I redirect my gaze back to Dumbledore. "Shall we be off?"
He inclines his head, quiet as he leads me to his office, his robes trailing across the ground yet not picking up a speck of dust as they glide over the stone. Must be enchanted in some way.
We quickly arrive at Dumbledore's office, the man whispering into the gargoyle's ear and allowing us entrance. We ascend the winding steps, and I go to take my usual seat in front of Dumbledore's desk, transfiguring it into something much more comfortable.
"So… what did you want to speak with me about? Has there been an emergency?" I ask, Dumbledore shaking his head.
"Nothing of the sort," he replies, cocking his head to the side inquisitively. "You're awful close to the Beauxbatons champion. Fleur Delacour, is it?"
I clench my fist, glaring daggers at the old man in front of me. "Are you making threats, Dumbledore?"
His brow raises, a confused expression on his face. "Threats? No, I find that's more your line of expertise," he quips, hands laid out on his desk lazily, palms down. "I was just wondering what your relationship with her was. I'd hate to see a lovely girl like that be hurt."
"You say you're not making threats, but then you infer that Fleur will be hurt?" I ask, incredulous. "You will never hurt her, be it physically, mentally, or magically. You will not hire someone to hurt her or go out of your way to have her be hurt through extraneous means. If you learn that someone intends to hurt her, you will do what you can to prevent it, as well as relay that information to me as soon as possible."
Dumbledore flinches as the magic of the slave bond washes over him, his eyes closed for but a moment before they reopen, a furious look on his face. "How dare you. To believe that I would bring harm to a girl who has done no wrong, all in an attempt to get to you? Do you believe me so simple, Potter?" He clenches his jaw angrily, moustache bristling as he reigns in his temper. "I would never commit such an atrocity. In fact, I was compelled to warn you, and her in turn, of the events of the second and third tasks, considering the first was changed from what you originally recalled it to be."
I open my mouth to speak but find that I can't. Looks like Dumbledore has struck me speechless. I did not expect that to happen, not at all.
"I… apologize," I muster, the words feeling unfamiliar on my tongue, like they shouldn't be directed towards the man who's wronged me so.
He looks absolutely bewildered to hear that, blinking sharply at the unbidden apology.
"I care for Fleur… deeply. If she was hurt… I don't know what I would do." I scoff quietly, knowing that I would most likely rain down an unholy fire upon those who harmed her. I just don't know what I would do after that. If she died… God. I don't even want to think about it. I know I could resurrect her, but would it be wise? Would she want that?
Thoughts for another time.
"So," I say, clapping my hands together. "What are the details of the second and third tasks?"
"Have you solved your egg yet?" I shake my head, ashamed to realize that I haven't yet put the egg under water, or whatever I need to do to figure out the clue on the damned thing. For all I know, the next task is going to involve me trying to magically defuse a nuclear bomb in the heart of London.
Dumbledore frowns, but carries on. "The second task will take place in the Black Lake, and you will be required to retrieve a hostage."
"Huh? That's identical to the last one."
"Did they ship in numerous magical creatures for your second task? A Beisht-Kione among them, as well as a slew of Kelpies, a Hydra, and a Lusca?"
I pale at the mention of a Hydra, and while I have no knowledge of what a Beisht-Kione or a Lusca is, I'm sure I'm not going to be pleased to find out.
"Please… elaborate, on what a Beisht-Kione, as well a Lusca is," I say, a pit of fear bubbling up within me at Dumbledore's expression. He looks haggard just mentioning the creatures, so I have no doubt that they're just as bad, if not worse than a chimera, considering I'll have to fight them underwater.
Dumbledore steeples his hands in front of him. "A Beisht-Kione is a sea monster, quite large in size, nearly twenty feet in length. It looks like a nightmare, to say the least. You could compare it to a seahorse, if a seahorse was covered in teeth-bearing tentacles, had a mouth like a plesiosaur, and could tear a ship in two with it's bite alone." He shakes his head sadly, a far away look on his face. "Those fools at the ministry thought it would be more 'entertaining' to bring in these creatures," he says, spitting out the word entertaining as if it was filth in his mouth.
"So… is a Lusca any worse than a Beisht-Kione?" I ask with trepidation. Not sure if I want to know whether or not the next creature on the list is just as terrifying as the last.
"No, thankfully, it's not quite as bad as that." I sigh in relief, Dumbledore running his fingers through his beard. "A Lusca is a magical hybrid of a goblin shark and octopus, although it could be compared to an incredibly small kraken. It's normally only found within the Caribbean, but the Ministry deemed it acceptable to ship one over. The monster has three heads, each of which has a mouth that can… snap forward, for lack of a better description. It has a mass of tentacles that it uses to snatch up it's prey, and it has a weak form of electrical magic, magic that can stun one if caught unawares."
I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling softly. "Well, it looks like I'm going to be spending the whole task keeping the others alive," I muse, not mentioning the fact that Fleur can hold her own just as well as I can. At least, I imagine she killed her manticore. I really should ask her about that.
Dumbledore once more eyes me strangely, an odd light in his eyes. Of course, the man still can't wrap his head around the fact that I'm not some sort of unearthly destroyer of worlds.
"Well… thank you very much for telling me of this," I say kindly. "I'll do my best to make sure the task doesn't turn into the bloodbath that the first should have been."
"You don't wish to know of the third task?" Dumbledore queries.
I shake my head. "Is it an everchanging maze full of terrible, unholy creatures?" I ask, Dumbledore nodding in reply. "Well, that's about all I need to know. As long as those idiots don't bring a nundu in, I think I'm going to be alright."
I pause, remembering the question that I wanted to ask him. "Why haven't you expelled me? I don't think that was covered under my mass of commands."
Dumbledore narrows his eyes in thought. "I actually never thought of it, to be quite honest."
I snort, an odd smile stretching over my face. "Well, as much as I hate to do this, I command you to not expel me."
He sighs as the magic washes over him again, shaking his head. "I wouldn't have expelled you even if I had thought of it," he concedes. I raise my eyebrows at that. "It's easier to keep an eye on someone dangerous when they're close to you, is it not?"
"Makes sense," I admit. "But, I don't know how many times I have to tell you, I have no interest in death, destruction, or domination of any kind. I just want to make sure that everyone comes out of the coming war with Voldemort in one piece, and if I can avoid it all together by killing him come June, that would be even better."
Dumbledore inclines his head silently, a conflicted look in his eyes. I nod thankfully at him as I leave, my head swimming as I try to run through strategies that I can use to survive the upcoming task. Well, I know I'll survive, and I'm quite sure Fleur will, but I'll be damned if I let Cedric or Viktor get slaughtered in this gladiatorial blood sport. What a fucking nightmare this is all turning out to be.
Here, I thought it was going to be a walk in the park. Dragons, a couple of Grindylow, and a chat with a sphinx. Instead, I get these ancient fucking monsters that the Ministry must have drudged up from the depths of Hell itself. Seahorse nightmares, and the psychotic blend of a shark and an octopus? Not to mention the fucking Hydra they've brought in just to spice things up?
Fuck my life.
-::-
I study myself in the mirror, adjusting the thin lapels on the tuxedo. I smooth out the already perfect fabric, smirking at my, dare I say it, dapper reflection.
The tuxedo fits me like a glove, kind of a funny saying, but quite apt. Snug on the shoulders, yet there's just enough room in the chest to accommodate me. The trousers come down straight legged, but not so tight as to be uncomfortable when I dance. I adjust the bowtie, quite happy with how well I've managed to do up the remarkably difficult knot.
Magic is- well, it's magic. I don't think I'd have been able to tie the damned thing otherwise.
My hair sits right at my chin, tight, controlled curls framing my face pleasantly, bringing attention to the thin sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of my nose. I refused Daphne and Tracey's efforts to cover me in makeup, having no love for the feeling of the product on my skin. It makes my face feel heavy, like I've just rolled around in dirt and forgot to wash.
Not that I've ever done that, of course.
With one last look, I head off, both anxious and excited to bare myself to the world today.
I've been vilified before, what with the train-wreck that was my fifth year, along with the constant flip flopping of the students. One minute I'm a hero, the next I'm a deranged psychopath. But after tonight? I don't know what they're going to think. If things are as bad in Britain as I've been lead to believe, I may have to set up my own mail wards this evening before I get to bed.
I cut down the stairs, a few younger students, as well as older ones who've decided not to attend the ball watching me as I descend, either frowning, or their eyes widening in amusement at the tuxedo I wear. I notice that most of the students who are muggleborn look to be friendly, while the purebloods, and even some of the halfbloods look on with disdain.
That's about what I expected.
I quickly find myself in the entrance hall, serenely making my way down the stairs, my shoes clicking lightly against the stone with each and every step. The other champions, as well as McGonagall look up, but I don't pay any attention to their reactions. Instead, all I can focus on is Fleur.
She's wearing a pale, teal dress, quite alike the one she wore to the previous Yule Ball. Simple, yet flowing in long curtained rivulets down towards her feet, stopping short just below the knee. I notice that this dress balances out against her porcelain complexion perfectly and won't look garish next the sharp, rich green of my bowtie and pocket square.
She's planned ahead, as she said she would.
Fleur is absolutely radiant, her hair tidily knotted into an elaborate braid, curling down across her bare shoulders and laying flat over her collarbones. Her eyes are practically sparkling as they set upon mine, their calm depths pulling me in as I walk ever forward, pulling her into an embrace.
"You look absolutely incredible," I whisper, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
She smiles, a brilliant thing, all shining and joyful. "The same to you," she mutters, running her eyes over me as if I'm a present to be opened at her discretion. "That tuxedo is… magnifique, you look amazing in it."
I turn back to the gawking champions, Cedric blushing furiously, Cho latched onto his arm, her eyes dancing between Fleur and I, apparently having a hard time recognizing that we're a couple. Viktor looks as stoic as always, but his eyes are kind, something that nearly causes me to sigh in relief. Hermione is with him once again, wearing that familiar periwinkle dress, her normally untameable curls pulled into tidy braids, trailing down the back of her neck and just over the cusp of her shoulder.
"Hello everyone!" I effuse, taking Fleur's hand and smiling happily at my fellow contenders and their dates. "Sorry if I'm a bit late, took me forever to figure out this thing," I add, gesturing at my bowtie.
McGonagall clears her throat loudly, a disappointed look on her face. "Miss Potter," she drawls, casting a surreptitious glance Fleur's way. "Are we still waiting for your date?"
I let the question hang in the air for a moment, enjoying her confusion. I mean, I might as well, considering it will probably turn into disdain in five seconds. McGonagall already seems to hate me because of my little display at the first task, so I imagine she's not going to react too well to my dating Fleur.
God, and for a long time I thought she was gay.
"My date is right here, Professor," I say, lifting Fleur's hand with mine and smiling at her.
She inhales sharply, looking quite annoyed with me. "On your head be it," she declares, huffing quietly. "I will announce each couple one at a time, you will make your way into the Hall and find a seat at the head table. After the meal, you will open the dance." She pauses, looking at me once more. "I expect you all to be on the best of behaviour, and to act as Champions, the most prestigious members of your schools. Do I make myself clear?"
Very subtle. Translation: I really don't like you, Potter.
What a shame that is. She used to be my favourite Professor.
McGonagall slips into the Great Hall, and after a moment her booming voice announces, "The Durmstrang champion, Viktor Krum! With his date, Hermione Granger of Hogwarts!"
Viktor gives me a clipped nod, Hermione grinning at me as the two of them stride excitedly forward, or Hermione does, Viktor is as aloof as always, into the Great Hall, the heavy din of cheering and clapping students meeting my ears.
"So… Helene, er- Fleur's your date?" Cedric asks awkwardly, Cho glaring at him from the corner of her eye.
I squeeze Fleur's hand. "I'd say I'm more her date, considering I'm the younger one here, but yes, she is."
Fleur shakes her head, a smirk on her face. "You were the one that asked me to the ball. I'd say that I'm your date."
"You two look lovely together," Cho interjects, smiling stiffly. It's not unkind, she just looks unsure of herself. "Good luck with the rest of the school," she offers, suddenly looking quite annoyed. "The Slytherin's are going to give you no end of trouble over your… preferences."
"I assumed as much. It's not like any of them can outduel me or anything, not that they'd ever try after I made half the school piss themselves in fear just a couple of weeks ago."
Fleur and Cedric laugh loudly, him and Cho inclining their heads in goodbye as they're called through to the Great Hall.
"Very eloquent, Helene," Fleur jibes, watching as the two leave. "Piss themselves? I thought you were more posh than that."
I put one hand on my hips in faux annoyance. "Hey! I'll have you know that I'm the opposite of posh. Just because I'm wearing a tuxedo doesn't mean that I'm some sort of anal-retentive pureblood heiress."
"I never went into that much depth, are you sure you're not projecting?" she asks, one eyebrow raised.
I shake my head. "I don't think I'll ever be able to win a battle of words with you."
She chuckles, squeezing my hand once more. "I'm glad you've figured that out so soon- "
The roaring voice of McGonagall cuts through our conversation. Fleur's eyes brighten up, excitement dancing within. "…and I do believe we've been called. Are you ready?"
"Ready as you are," I say with a grin.
I lace my arm through hers, the two of us taking a deep breath before we march confidently through the doors, the cheering crowd quieting as they see the two of us together.
"Look at them," I say, scanning the Hall. Many of the students look like they're about to have an aneurysm, faces pinched and eyes bugging out of their head. Of course, a few of them, both men and women, stare with no small amount of lust in their eyes. The combination of Fleur's aura, and the thought that she dates women… Hell, that gets me flustered, and I'm lucky enough to be the object of her attention. "I think they can't decide whether or not they want to drool or throw a fit."
She laughs, like tinkling bells ringing out across the Hall. "We make a beautiful couple, you the most."
I smack her arm playfully as we continue on. "Hush, you. You're the looker here."
"If you insist," she states, a wry smile on her face. "I still think you're the most beautiful woman here. No one in this school can hold a candle to you."
I can feel myself blushing, and I attempt to shrug off her compliment, directing us as quickly as possible towards the staff table, unfortunate enough to find ourselves once more next to Percy Weasley. Well, I am, Fleur never had to sit next to the brown-nosing prick.
How on Earth could the Weasley's produce such a bureaucratic asshole?
I pull out Fleur's seat for her, and she thanks me as she sits down. I pull in next to her, having to prevent myself from giggling at the still awestruck expression of the students.
"Miss Potter," Percy intones, looking down on the two of us, nose raised highly in the air. "I had assumed the champions would be arriving with their dates, and not a friend."
I smile at him, pretending not to be bothered by his attitude. "Fleur is my date, Mister…"
"Weasley."
"Mister Weasley," I say, knowing full well by his annoyed expression that he's none too pleased to have not been recognized. "What do you do, Mister Weasley?" I ask, redirecting the conversation towards something I know he won't be able to shut up about.
"I'm Mister Crouches assistant, and since he's been under the weather as of late, I'm here in his place as the Ministries representative for the Yule Ball, and may be a judge in the coming tasks depending on his health," he boasts proudly, puffing out his chest.
"A secretary then? I've heard the ministry pays quite well, it must be good work," I jibe, watching in glee as his face melts into an expression of deep annoyance.
"I do much more than any secretary would, I assure you. I've had to take on all of Mister Crouches tasks for the tournament, and it's quite a busy job."
I nod placatingly. "That's very impressive, considering you just graduated this last year, correct?" He nods. "Good luck with climbing the ladder, I've heard it's difficult, but rewarding in its own."
I turn away before he can respond, listening as Dumbledore calls out, "Pork chops," his plate being magically filled with the simple dish. I notice as he looks over at me, once more looking a touch conflicted. I wonder what's gotten into the man.
Shrugging, I stare at my plate, wondering what in the hell I should have for dinner.
Ooh, I've got an idea.
"Beef wellington, mash, gravy, and seasonal vegetables," I announce, eyes widening as the meal appears in front of me.
God, that's impressive. I really need to learn house elf magic. How easy would cooking be, if I could do that on a daily basis?
I'd eat like a bloody queen.
"Coq au vin, et confit de canard," Fleur says, eyes widening as the dishes she's ordered appear without fuss. "Incredible," she whispers, taking a tentative bite of the marinated duck, humming in pleasure as she methodically chews it. "Incredible. You have to try this." She daintily cuts a slice of the duck away, pushing her fork towards me. "Eat."
I blush, reaching forward and biting down on the golden fowl, eyes closing as it washes over my mouth. A perfectly rich, yet subtle blend of garlic and thyme, amongst other spices. The skin is crisp, crackling ever so slightly as I bite into it, letting the food suffuse my palate.
"That is… yeah, that's something else," I mutter, looking at the duck with raised eyebrows. "I didn't even know food could taste that good!"
Fleur laughs, cutting another bit of duck away, the meat poised on the end of her fork. "The Hogwarts elves are in a class of their own, it seems."
"No kidding," I reply, turning back to my very dense looking meal with a gleam of anticipation in my eyes.
If the duck was that good, I can't imagine how delicious the wellington will be. I grab my fork and knife, the heavy, serrated cutlery cutting through the thick mix of beef and pastry with ease, flakes of crust scattering over the plate.
My mouth practically explodes as I place the incredible bit of magic, for that's all it could be, into it, everything in the incredibly arduous dish coming together perfectly.
"Yeah, I'm really going to have to figure out how they do this."
"Do what?" Fleur asks.
I point towards the food with my fork. "Make this food so quickly and so well. We both ordered very specific dishes, so I imagine it's done from scratch. I'm going to ask the house elves how they cook some time."
Fleur smiles brightly. "An excellent idea. If your cooking is already as good as you say it is, I can't imagine how amazing it would be if you managed to learn how to cook like an elf."
I laugh, returning to my meal and relishing in every bite, the mashed potatoes smooth, roast brussels sprouts crisp with just the right tinge of bitter, along with perfectly seasoned carrots, giving the slightest amount of yield in each bite.
Soon enough, and sadly enough, I'm finished with the delectable food, the tables across the Hall beginning to clear up as people wrap up with their meals.
Dumbledore stands up, clapping his hands loudly and causing the rest of the plates to disappear, some of the students grumbling in annoyance at having their dinner cut short. "Thank you everyone for coming," he announces loudly, his voice echoing across the Hall. "Now that we are finished with our delightful dinner, I would like our lovely champions to come out and begin the dance," he continues, gesturing broadly with one arm and directing us towards the centre of the Hall.
Fleur takes my hand as we stand, all of us slowly but surely making our way to our places. I don't even notice the other champions as she sets one hand on my waist, the other holding my hand up and off to the side. I set my own remaining hand on her shoulder, leaning up to get a good look at her.
She grins at me, her smile dazzling in its purity. Her eyes nearly twinkle, yet they don't remind me of Dumbledore, instead bearing a shine of their own. They glint like raw sapphire, untempered and chipped. Flawed, yet perfect.
The steady beat of the waltz begins, Fleur stepping to the side and drawing me with her, hands clasped snugly together as we begin to whirl and twist slowly to the driving tempo. Her dress flows around her knees, an unseen wind picking it up and setting it down with every spin, like it has a life of its own and has joined us in our dance.
The song continues to pick up, the strings becoming more urgent, yet never driving over into what could be considered frantic. I grin, holding eye contact with Fleur as we dance about the Hall, unable to tear myself away from her.
She returns the gesture, lips pulled back and baring her ecstatic smile to the world, cheeks flushed and a strand of hair tickling over her nose. She blows it away, shrugging with her eyebrows and garnering a laugh out of me, the noise only discernable to the two of us.
The song begins to reach its crescendo, the roaring of the horns blaring over the sharp strikes across the violas and cellos, the steady din of a double bass plucking away in the background and holding everything together. With each and every step the music drives us forward, each thud of our foot to the ground being echoed by a shot from a trumpet, or a trill from a French-horn.
I squeal as Fleur lifts me up, twirling me around her and setting me down gently, unable to hide the blush on my features as we continue in our effervescent dance. If my heart could beat, it would be thundering against my rib cage, a constant thumping that I imagine would reach out towards the alluring woman in front of me, binding us together in some unspoken way.
Before I know it, the timpani crash loudly, before simmering down to a light roll, the bass note bursting out across the Hall and echoing in my bones. A few trills from a flute, and a haunting high note pulling off a clarinet signals the end of the waltz, and Fleur and I step back, still holding each others' hands.
"That was…"
"Incroyable," Fleur whispers, a dazed look on her face.
I nod shakily. "Agreed."
"And now… the Weird Sisters!" Dumbledore bellows, the hordes of students pouring out onto the dance floor halting our breathy conversation.
I shrug my shoulders. "Would you like a drink?"
"That sounds wonderful. I'll come with you," Fleur says, once more lacing her arm through mine and directing the two of us towards the punch table, where we see the Weasley twins leaning lazily against the bit of furniture.
"George, I tell you, that Helene is a different breed."
"Quite right my brother, quite right. Why, she's making us all look bad, with that lovely bird on her arm."
They both grin at us, laughing to themselves. "Long time no see, our fellow red-headed devil," Fred says, George smacking him on the arm.
"She'll burn your eyebrows off if you call her that, you dolt. Don't you remember the beast slayers display? Helene Potter, bane of both women and monsters?"
I chuckle loudly, laughing even harder at Fleur's confused, yet amused expression. I guess she never really met the twins before. They must not have been allowed to take part in the Order even after my death.
"Oi you two, calm down," I say, placing my hand out in front of me. "I could never hurt my two brothers in arms."
George turns to Fred, eyebrows raised. "Brothers in arms she says? Why, I haven't heard a peep from you since you were but an ickle firstie!"
"That's correct my brother. Why, I would even go as far as to say she's been avoiding us. Us! What does she take us for? Craven fools?"
"Not a chance in the world. I've just been insanely busy. You know, slaying monsters and women. That's tiring, and thirsty work," I say, pushing past them and grabbing two glasses, filling them with punch and handing one towards Fleur.
"Ooh, looks like she's grabbed the special punch George."
"Aha! You two are interested in a boisterous evening, are you?"
I look down at the punch in hand, downing it in one quick gulp, flinching at the sting of alcohol. I'm not really affected by it, but I may as well make an attempt anyways.
Fred slaps his knee, laughing loudly. "We've got a real dangerous one here! Watch out for Helene Potter! Slayer of beasts, women, and fine drink!"
Fleur looks at me worriedly as I pour myself another glass. I pull her close, standing on my toes and whispering in her ear, causing her to shudder. "I'm immune to the affects of alcohol. It's something to do with my more peculiar traits."
She nods understandingly, looking much more comfortable as she sips at her own, looking down at the drink in surprise. "My, this is strong!" she declares, clapping her hand over her mouth and looking around to make sure she hasn't been caught.
"No worries my dear, no worries at all," Fred says, setting his hand on her shoulder. "Silencing charm around the table, so none of us perfect little students get in trouble with the big bad professors."
"You guys have thought of everything." I salute them with my glass, the two bowing deeply in return, their noses nearly sweeping across the floor.
"Well, we're off to go dance- "
"You mean shake our beautiful arses all over the school," George interrupts, grabbing his brother and dragging him towards the dance floor. "Beautiful quidditch girls await us! I wish you luck in your endeavours Miss Potter. Don't be a stranger," he finishes, inclining his head as he and his brother disappear into the energetic throng of dancing students.
"Those two are…"
"Different? Hilarious? Absolutely and utterly insane?" I ask, Fleur nodding in reply. "Now you know why I want to work with them."
"I'd met them a few times, back when, but we never really sat down and talked. Too much going on all the time, and they weren't as… playful, as they are now."
I shake my head plaintively. "War changes people. I just hope that it doesn't get to them this time."
Hermione stumbles out of the crowd, an implacable grin on her face. "Hey! You two look amazing!" she sings, pulling me into a hug.
I pat her back awkwardly, unused to the sudden affection. "You having fun?"
She pulls back and nods happily. "Viktor is an absolute gentleman," she boasts proudly. "And a hell of a dancer."
She goes to reach for some punch, but I stop her hand. "Careful there, the second bowl is spiked."
She blanches, nodding at me thankfully as she moves over to the leftmost bowl, pouring herself a glass of punch as Viktor strides forward.
"That one is spiked," I repeat, pointing towards the bowl. Viktor nods as well, moving directly for the spiked bowl and helping himself to quite a large drink.
I guess Bulgarians are better drinkers than the English.
I finish my second drink, setting the empty glass aside and watching as Fleur downs the rest of hers.
"Would you like to dance?" she asks, extending her hand.
"Why yes, I would love to," I reply, taking the offered hand, waving goodbye to Viktor and Hermione and following her onto the floor.
She brings me in to the heaving mass of students, some leaping and punching their fists into the air, others awkwardly swaying to the beat, while a few grind on each other suggestively, close enough to leave no doubt in mind what they're emulating.
"That's… that's straight up sex!" I gasp, looking around and wondering why people aren't as shocked as I am at the lascivious dance.
Fleur chuckles in my ear, and I feel a chill run down my back. "That is dancing, like you would see in clubs," she explains, placing her hand on the small of my back and pushing me deeper into the sea, many of the students clearing out with disgusted looks on their faces.
I ignore them as Fleur brings me in close, resting both her hands in the dip in my back, pressing me up and under her chin, her breasts squashed against my upper chest.
I try not to focus too much on that… particular sensation.
"This… this is how some of us dance in France," she whispers, her hands running over me, fingertips trailing across my spine and causing me to flinch, driving myself into her, pressing our bodies even more tightly together.
"I thought- I thought you hadn't dated before," I croak, mind foggy and swimming with thoughts better left unspoken.
She chuckles, low and throaty- seductively. "Just because I haven't dated, doesn't mean I haven't danced."
I close my eyes, feeling as our bodies press together, ignoring the fact that we're both dressed to the nines and dancing in a way that doesn't lend itself to a formal occasion. The dance feels like more of a promise, of moans, sweat, and grinding flesh.
I lose myself in the sensation, song after song threading together with no sense of change in between, the few rock songs interlaced with steady beats and heavy bass, coursing through my body and thudding in my empty veins, blurring my mind.
I catch glimpses of the other girls in the throng, Daphne and Tracey having gone stag, giggling loudly as they shuffle past, sending knowing smiles my way. Luna twirls absurdly off on her own, her technicolour dress sparkling garishly, yet in a way that is so perfectly Luna. I spot Ginny and Neville, the two of them awkwardly stumbling about each other. Very cute.
My body grows hotter as we dance on. It's almost imperceptible, but it does, Fleur pressing soft kisses to my neck, tugging my ear with perfect teeth. I gasp as she nips at my neck, a low growl emanating from her.
She pulls me aside, dragging me through the crowd of now intoxicated students, many of them too far gone to even cast an annoyed glance in our direction. "Let's get some fresh air," she whispers, directing us towards the rose garden. Unfortunately, one of the drunken students has set eyes on us, apparently taking offense at our very existence.
"You! Potter!"
I turn, still somewhat dazed from Fleur's affections, frowning when I set sights on Malfoy, his cheeks tinted with the red blush of liquor, eyelids drooping and the flesh within foggy and unfocused. Crabbe and Goyle flank him, the two of them looking a bit tipsy, but not as pissed as Draco.
I sigh quietly, knowing that this probably won't end well. "What is it Malfoy?"
He sneers, lip curled up in extreme distaste as he wobbles on his feet. "You disgust me," he grunts, his words slurred and stressed in all the wrong places, the drink coming through in his laborious enunciation.
"I do? Can't imagine why."
Draco jabs a finger in my direction, tottering slightly. "You… you fucking dyke… bloody poofter. I knew there was something wrong with you, knew there'd be a reason you were such a stuck-up cunt." He swallows heavily, looking around and grinning at the forming crowd. "See! Everyone sees it! You're not just a fucking mudblood, you're a rug muncher!" He laughs loudly at his own joke, a few bystanders joining him, while most of the others just look uncomfortable.
I can't help but notice Padma put a hand over her mouth, completely unaware that I've caught her laughing at his vitriol.
Fleur hisses next to me, and I pinch the bridge of my nose lazily. "You're drunk, Draco. Go back to your common room, get some rest, and we can all forget this ever happened."
"Foul little pig," Fleur mutters, a much more impressive sneer on her face. Her pupils narrow slightly, looking more animal, her Veela blood coming out to play.
I'm going to have to stop this before it turns bloody.
Draco hiccups, leering at her. "Hey there lovely. Let's say you get away from fire-crotch over here and spend your time with a real wizard. Bit of cock'd do you good."
Before he can even react, she's slapped him so hard that he's toppled over, collapsing to the ground in a heap. He shouts something unintelligible, yet most likely incredibly vile, a dangerous look in his eyes as he staggers, pulling himself back to his feet with the help of Crabbe and Goyle. The two trolls, for that's all they could be, grunt menacingly, shoulders rolling as they take a single step towards us threateningly.
"Fleur, would you like to handle this, or should I?" I ask, turning up to look at her, some people in the crowd cheering for a fight.
Where the fuck are the professors when you need them?
She grits her teeth, spitting on the ground in front of Malfoy. "Be my guest."
I whip my wand out of my jacket sleeve, lazily pointing it at Draco and binding him, as well as his cohorts. He roars angrily as magical ropes twist and dance around him, knotting and pulling tight, Draco once more toppling over, resembling a falling tree as he careens into Goyle.
Like dominoes, all three of them tumble to the ground, squirming and shouting.
I sigh, looking over the commotion and casting a curious glance over the bystanders. "So, is that what everyone here thinks of me?" I ask, a rhetorical question, but one I want to get out all the same.
"I get that you're scared of me over the chimera. I understand that completely, but for me to be hated for this?" I shake my head, disappointment in my eyes as they sweep over the students, some having the decency to look ashamed, while others direct their revolted gaze elsewards. "Shame that you'd hate someone for something so simple." I look back down at Draco, who's still struggling feebly against his bonds. "Someone find a professor and get this prick back to his common room to sober up. He's had way too much to drink."
With that, I take Fleur's hand and lead her out of the Hall, pushing past students and teachers alike as I drag us outside.
I march a warpath, wand sweeping ahead of me as I clear out piles of snow, blazing a trail in front of me as I unconsciously work myself towards the tree by the lake, where Hermione and I sometimes come to chat.
Flicking my wand, I summon a few bluebell flames, setting them around us for light before casting a sweeping heating charm over the small clearing I've made, followed up by halting the freezing wind that cuts out across the grounds.
"Well, that was unpleasant," I say, leaning back against the tree and settling my head against the tough, dry bark.
"I nearly killed the pig," she growls, jaw still clenched tightly as she stares out across the lake, her fury nearly tangible.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. "Well, I think we'd have a bit of a mess on our hands if that happened."
Fleur laughs quietly, her head pressed against my chest, tucked neatly underneath my chin. "How can someone be so hateful?" she wonders aloud. "I know that you've had problems with him, with those stupid badges in our last life. That was just the tip of the iceberg, wasn't it?"
I nod sadly. "He's a product of his environment. His dad is a murderous prick, his mum is a posh bitch, so in turn, he's a spoiled, inbred bastard." I pause, remembering Fleur's incredible slap. "You sure gave him a good smack though, it was really quite impressive."
"Ah, it is one of my many talents." Her eyes widen. "I just slapped a fourteen-year-old… a fourteen-year-old! Merde! I'm in my twenties and I slapped a child!"
"Hey, he was practically begging to be slapped," I say, before going back a moment. "Talents? What are your other talents?"
She smiles wryly at me, her worries quickly forgotten, eyes narrowed. "What kind of talents?"
I swallow heavily, eyes widening as I realize where the conversation has gone. "Fleur… I- uh… hmm," I stammer, suddenly very cognizant of the fact that I'm in a relationship. A relationship, in which sex will probably one day be involved.
That's something that scares the piss out of me.
I blink a few times, breathing heavily as I remember flashes of coiffed blond hair, leering smiles, and a puddle of my own vomit soaking through my messy school robes.
"Helene? Helene, are you alright?" Fleur asks, pressing her hand against my cheek.
I flinch reflexively, turning my head away from her as I continue to inhale and exhale, my breaths becoming more frantic. I close my eyes, trying to quell my sudden fear and revulsion, feeling much too warm, much too claustrophobic.
"I… I have something to tell you," I mutter, forcing myself to speak, so quiet that I can barely hear it myself.
Fleur sits back, giving me some space as she places her hand on my knee comfortingly. "What's wrong?"
I take a deep, shuddering breath, a sickening shiver running down my spine. Almost on reflex, I put up a suite of silencing charms, Fleur pursing her lips at the sudden quiet that falls over us.
"In second year… I was- I… fuck, I don't know how to say this."
I feel something on my hands, looking down to see Fleur lifting them, pressing a chaste kiss to my knuckles. "You don't need to tell me if you don't want to."
I shake my head. "No, you need to know this," I argue, grinding my teeth together anxiously. I let go of Fleur's hands, clenching mine into fists and laying them on my lap, head bowed.
With one last, deep breath, I steel myself. "In second year… in second year, I was assaulted. I was raped, by Gilderoy Lockhart."
Fleur gasps, a hand over her mouth. She looks like she doesn't know whether she should cry, stare into space, or crush something with her bare hands. "I… mon dieu, I am so sorry Helene. I- good God, that's awful."
I nod shakily, having a hard time controlling my muscles, the gesture stuttered and robotic. "I cut his head off… he was my first real kill, amongst other things."
An odd croak escapes me as Fleur grasps my shoulders, not tightly, but not softly either. "Listen to me," she says, tipping my chin up with one finger and looking me in the eyes, her own despondent, almost sorrowful. "What happened to you doesn't count. It is a monstrous thing for someone to do, and you're not at fault. I don't know what is expected of me in a situation like this, but know that I'm here for you, oui?"
I nod once more, more steadily than before.
"I adore you, Helene Potter, and I will take things as slow as they need to be, yes?"
"Th- thank you," I muster, smiling weakly at her. "It's just all so confusing. I know that I… well, for lack of a better word, want you. But it's so damn terrifying, you know? Just thinking about it makes me want to hide my head in the sand."
Fleur cups my cheek, and I lean into it, her touch warm and reassuring. "There's no need to thank me. Just… let me know if I ever take things too far, alright? Sometimes we Veela… we can lose ourselves in the moment."
"Like when you're 'dancing?'" I say, making air quotes with my fingers.
Fleur laughs, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. "Yes, like when we're dancing, as you so put it."
I sigh, slouching down and pressing myself into Fleur, letting her wrap her arms around me and hold me close.
Funny, how that doesn't bother me.
Maybe it's because I know there's nothing overtly sexual about it? It's just… I don't know, an expression of affection. It can be sexual, but right now, it's not.
Yeah, that's probably why.
"Padma was laughing with Draco."
"The girl from the shop?"
"Yeah, that one." I run my hand over Fleur's side, a little voice in the back of my head shouting at me that I've ruined her dress and my tuxedo by laying on the grass. Really weird that I get thoughts like that at times like this.
"I don't like her," Fleur states honestly. "I don't trust her not to ruin everything in your little group. I could see how uncomfortable your other friends were, Hermione especially, when she had her moment."
"Well, Hermione's a muggleborn, she has good reason to be uncomfortable with it. Someone of her heritage, in this country, who plays both teams?" I pause for a moment, knowing how poorly things would go for Hermione if her preferences got out. "She's a hate crime waiting to happen, and it scares me. I'm worried for her."
"Could she not get out of the country?"
I nod. "She could, but I think she's so damned stubborn that she'd stick around hoping that she could personally make a difference." I look out across the lake, just able to make out the calm shimmer of the moon across its inky surface. "She's my best friend… I've already had one die, I won't let the other go either."
"Ron Weasley, right?" Fleur asks, hesitantly.
"Yeah… fucking Pettigrew killed him, and then Dumbledore finished the job after I tried to bring him back."
"Dumbledore? Bring him back!?" Fleur breathes, shock lacing her words.
"One of my fancy little powers," I say, studying the back of my hand, knuckles rolling as I flex my fingers. "It has to be very soon after death, otherwise they live on in eternal torment. Cheery, right?"
"That is… I can't deny that it's useful, but doesn't it go against… everything? The dead should stay dead."
"I agree, but I couldn't let him go. It had only been half a day, so he wasn't even aware that he had died. I did the same to Dumbledore after I killed him, but with a lot of extra rules placed so he wouldn't run off and try to have me executed for use of Black Magic."
Fleur pauses, her mouth hanging open. "You… you killed Dumbledore?"
"Well, I had some help from Severus, the potions professor," I admit. "I would never have been able to take him on my own, and after Dumbledore put Ron back under, I got complacent, and he soon found out that I was a Necromancer. I had no choice but to kill him."
"That is… your life since returning has been quite a bit more eventful that mine," Fleur mutters, almost looking ashamed of herself for not being an adventurer like myself.
Not that I'm an adventurer by choice, but one has to play the cards they've been dealt.
"All I've done is train, train, and train some more. Trying to understand and master my elements, as well as whatever White Magics I can learn."
"See, I've done the same. Lots of Blood magic rituals on my part, and I was lucky enough to come across a book here at Hogwarts that outlines what I imagine to be the entirety of Necromancy."
"You what? Where?"
I blink, realizing that if I found a book on Necromancy, there's surely one on Albumancy. "Room of Requirement. It's this magical spot on the seventh floor that can turn itself into anything you need. For me, it often appears as a ritual room, full of athames, books on dark magic, and a low altar in the middle so I can practice Blood Rituals."
"You're taking me tomorrow," she demands.
"Of course, why wouldn't I?"
She shrugs. "I don't know, it just sort of slipped out."
We both laugh, cuddling up next to one another.
The two of us sit and chat through the rest of the night, warmed by each other's embrace, absent conversation, and the knowledge that we're both in this together.
God, Draco is an absolute dickhead.
DALucifer13: Right about now.
PascalDragon: Dumbledore is still planning ahead in his own way. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
setokayba2n: But where would the fun in the story be if there was no danger? The fastest way to lose all tension is by removing all sense of danger, and by making Helene into some sort of immortal, regenerative, magical WMD, the story would simply turn into a power wank.
96: I don't see where you're getting a hate for old white men in my story.
Ollivander, even in canon, was a bit prejudiced. He was flippant towards Fleur during the weighing of the wands, and I felt like ramping that up a bit just to add a bit of flavour to the chapter. There's no prejudice on my part, his character just happens to be old, male, and white.
DarthRag: So, I don't really know where to begin.
I'm not here to use my story as some sort of "horrendous radical mouthpiece spreading the message that homo is better than hetero." It's not better, and it's not worse. They're perfectly equal, and that's the way it should be.
I'm not going to only do gay pairings, because that's statistically improbable for one, and it also doesn't even make sense. So many of the characters are canonically straight, and it wouldn't make any sense at all for me to change that. Sure, the story is going to focus on a lesbian relationship when it comes to romance, as that's the perspective of Helene. But I'm not here to discount 98% of the population, that would just be silly.
I'm also not here to make men out to be horrendous assholes, bigoted, or the like, because they're not. Humans can be assholes, bigoted, etcetera, but gender doesn't have any play on it. It's just a people thing.
To quote Tom Segura, the delightful bastard that he is: "Sometimes, people suck."
Once more, I don't hate elderly white men. I don't know how you've come to that conclusion, but somehow, you have.
As I said to a reviewer in a much earlier chapter, there's gonna' be some 'homo shit.' There's gonna' be plenty of 'homo shit.' If you feel that by me focusing on my two main characters, Helene and Fleur, both of which are in a lesbian relationship, that somehow makes my story either heterophobic, or a "radical mouthpiece spreading the message that homo is better than hetero," then you're free to stop reading whenever you'd like. That's not what I'm writing at all. I'm writing a dark character drama, with sarcastic humor, and a solid heaping of lesbian romance. Not the LGBT manifesto.