2. Better than the Yule Ball (Fleur)
'It is an act crucial to success, Draco!' Snape s voice bellowed to the keyhole that Harry had been listening to. The conversation was difficult of too much intrigue that he refused to tear away from it. But the wand poking him in the back through the cloth of the invisibility cloak was enough to startle him.
He found himself facing a silvery blonde-haired woman, dressed in a white jacket and white jeans, so bright that you'd mistake her for an angel. Then she bent over and poked into the cloak again.
''Arry?' The French accent was apparent and through the darkness, enabled him to discover who she was in a second. Before Harry could reply, he heard Snape's conversation end and the footsteps close towards the door. He quickly threw the invisibility cloak over Fleur and pulled her against the wall beside the doorway, telling her to hush as they tried their best to remain silent.
Thankfully, she remained quiet, and as the door opened, Draco was the first to leave in a stomp, followed by Snape, who was suspiciously peering up and down both halls before following the blond Slytherin.
Harry held them still for an extended moment as he watched Snape turn the corner of the corridor, then waiting a few more seconds until he was satisfied.
Letting out a long breath, Harry pulled Fleur into the classroom that he was eavesdropping into and shut the door behind them.
'I'm sorry Fleur,' he apologised, not knowing how else to explain what he was doing.
'Eavesdropping on a professor's private conversation? Not exactly rule breaking but wurz mentioning to my colleagues, I feel,' she responded. Her French accent was still there, but her English has drastically improved since her graduation of Beauxbatons, then taking up an assistant professor role in Hogwarts, thanks to her exceptional skills in Charms.
It was odd for him just as it was strange to be alone in a deserted classroom with an assistant professor that he knew personally and saw as a comrade after participating in the Triwizard Tournament together. They had a connection that they shared with only one other person on the planet.
'I don't think I need to tell you why I hope you don't do that Professor,'
'Well only if you do somezings for me first,' Fleur said in trade.
'All right...'
'First, stop calling me Professor in private 'Arry. We are too close for zat,' she said with her arms crossed.
'Second?' He pushed.
Fleur pushed herself up to sit on the desk in front of Harry.
'Tell me why you are avoiding me,'
Harry took a breath in and shut his mouth. He'd been caught and felt the guilt running through him.
'Ever since I joined as a Professor, you haven't even tried to talk to me. Never asking for help or how I've been...Aren't we friends?' The lady looked distraught, which tore at Harry's heart as he realised the repercussions of his actions.
'Honestly...I thought it would be better for you.' He backed up and took a seat on the edge of a desk across from her 'I can't imagine how hard it might be dealing with the students here, I feel like I'd only add to the trouble by resuming what we had,' Harry explained honestly, though he was giving only part of the truth.
'Do you zink I care about that?' Fleur asked in a mixture of sadness and anger. 'I didn't just come 'ere to be a professor. I came back 'ere to be your friend. I owed you after ze second and zird task.'
A life debt was what Hermione called it. Fleur told him when she was leaving three years ago that she would repay him for all that he's done for her, including saving her in the maze. Harry didn't even try to think of why she came back...
'I came back for you.' It was then that a tear left her eye.
His body moved on its own, taking only two steps to close in on her and unhesitatingly hop onto the desk to sit next to her to wrap his arms around her shoulder.
Harry's guilt was overflowing and went to town on beating himself up internally, berating himself on his selfish actions. To make a lady like her tear up, a woman that he ended up garnering a crush on since the beginning of this year.
It disgusted him, to have such feelings for her, to place himself in the same group of mindless, hormonal teenagers affected by an allure that's as natural to her as breathing.
Fortunately for her, she wasn't introduced alongside Slughorn on the opening feast. But when he saw her again for the first time in years as she entered the Charms classroom on Flitwick's announcement, it unveiled an attraction that surprised him just as much as it horrified him.
The way she held herself, the way she looked at her new students, not as a fellow witch, but as a young woman. Combined with knowing her on a deep and personal level after sending letters to each other frequently for years after the Triwizard Tournament, only to come to a grinding halt after Sirius' death...
With all that, the last thing he wanted to burden on her was more unwanted attention, hence why he backed off when she arrived. He thought she'd want to adjust and get her work done rather than worry about her teenage students.
'I'm sorry,' Harry whispered, pulling her closer to him in an act to comfort her. He truly felt like he betrayed her, thinking of doing good by her. 'I only thought that you didn't want any more attention than you're getting, you know.'
'Can't you see zat I want your attention?' Fleur retorted, her voice cracking in her sorrow 'I am not good at making friends, 'Arry...you mean a lot to me...'
He understood that full well. They were more similar than most would think. They were raised with a label, given attention for things they couldn't help or have any say in, and have that label define that for their entire life.
'I still remember when you invited Hermione and me to the carriage for dinner after the Third Task...' Harry reflected.
That day Ron wasn't able to attend that weekend, much to his dismay. A result of his abysmal grades in Transfiguration and Potions, despite Hermione's pressure.
'Meeting your parents and your little sister properly. Probably one of the most terrifying things in my life...and you know what I've fought,' he ended with a laugh, which he was happy that Fleur joined into softly.
'Your father, I swear, had the most terrifying gaze I've ever seen. Your mother, on the other hand, was lovely. I see where you get it...'
Madam Apolline Delacour had the most youthful, womanly look he's ever seen. He may not have met a lot of mothers, but if he did, he was confident in stating that they wouldn't look anything like her.
Then when he finally saw Fleur enter the Charms classroom, he saw that similar glow in Madam Delacour's daughter. He always thought she looked gorgeous, but he never fell head over heels for her like Ron and every other hot-blooded boy. Which felt strange when his heart throbbed slightly upon seeing her again.
'I wish one day I could meet them again, to thank them...for you.'
'I 'ope you get to meet zem again. I know my muzzer and sister adore you,' Fleur added, snuggling onto his shoulder into the crook of his neck, an invasion of personal space that Harry refused to decline. He'd finally gotten through to her, he wouldn't dare mess it up.
'What about you?' Harry threw, the question innocent in value and intention.
'Why don't you figure out?' She retorted with her hair tickling his neck. Fleur was hiding in his neck so he couldn't see her eyes, he couldn't inspect her intentions, and it unsettled him.
It was a straightforward question with a complicated intent that left little to the imagination when considering the implications. Thoughts that Harry refused to acknowledge because reality was just as spiteful as the outcome should he misinterpret.
'Mind if you trust me for a moment, Fleur?'
She didn't say a word but allowed him to tug her out of the comfortable position she was in and off the desk before guiding her out of the classroom.
Harry retraced his steps, following the sound of music that he'd thought would be the last time he'd hear it.
Eventually, the pair arrived just outside of Slughorn's party, which had died down drastically, the majority of guests have left, and the only students left being: the polite ones, and the ones who were sucking up to the Professor. Unfortunately, Harry was obligated to reside in the middle of that.
'Professor Slug'orns Party?' Fleur asked after releasing his hand and drawing her wand to casting a gentle variation of a the scourgify charm, ridding the tear streaks from her cheeks.
'It's no Yule ball, but it's something,' Harry explained, looking over at her with a half-smile, holding out his arm.
She may not have been dressed for the occasion, nor was she invited, but nothing a little Chosen One charm wouldn't fix.
Harry entered the room, arm in arm with Fleur, which quickly attracted the attention of the remaining guests and Slughorn himself, who dropped his conversation with a seventh year to scurry across the floor to him.
'Oh my! Harry, my boy, have you brought yourself another date?'
'Just found this professor in the hall on the way back from the loo. She looked like she was in desperate need of some fun,'
'Ah. So you are Assistant Professor Delacour. I have heard much about you from Filius, he did mention your circumstance. It is a pleasure to have you, young lady,'
'Please, the pleasure is mine to be accepted here,' Fleur asserted, giving him a curt nod. Harry looked around, into the crowd to check if there were anyone he recognised still here, and even more so, his actual date, Luna. He really wanted the chance to explain to her the circumstance. Though, he was sure a girl like her wouldn't mind.
'Fleur?'
The pair looked over to their right to find Hermione. She placed her champagne glass down on the nearby table and walked over to them. Fleur lit up and opened her arms to embrace the bushy-haired bookworm, which was happily accepted.
He knew they were on good terms as, unlike Harry, she never stopped sending her letters when she could. Plus, she was borderline fluent in French. If there were anyone outside of the trio that she was close friends with, it would be Fleur ahead of girls like Parvati and Ginny.
Harry stood awkwardly at the side, looking around at the ceiling, counting the number of decorations that was set up above them alone.
'I'm sorry we didn't have a lot of moments to talk since you joined the staff,' apologised Hermione, holding each other's arms at length as they parted.
'You would not be you if you did not spend the majority of your time studying, in ze library no less.' The girls shared a laugh, then Hermione looked around Fleur's shoulder to spot Harry for a moment before asking.
'Was Harry snooping around?' Hermione asked with a knowing tone.
'Je ne peux ni confirmer ni infirmer,' Fleur replied with a small smile, looking away and avoiding eye contact with the bookworm.
'Harry...' Came Hermione with her eyes of judgement.
Feeling the spotlight on him, he knew that there was a grave he dug himself, waiting for him.
Fifteen or twenty minutes passed as the three piled into a fun-filled conversation, all be it not for Harry, as Hermione brought up his romantic ventures in his fifth year. As well as talking about how they dealt with Umbridge in the forbidden forest.
The room grew quieter as people left over time. Harry spotted a couple of ladies smacking their dates as they gawked at Fleur, quickly followed by a reluctant dragging out of the room.
During their conversations, they managed their way over to one of the small tables and took a seat, nibbling on the desserts that were still served.
'Wet...was how you described it?' Hermione asked with a grin, twirling a chocolate strawberry on her stick as she waited for the obvious answer.
For an answer, Harry only gave her silence, his cheeks reddening as he popped another bite of his spongecake into his mouth.
The girls shared a laugh once more at his expense. His first kiss wasn't exactly one that he preferred to reflect on, especially since that relationship fell through rather quickly. Ever since, he thought he would put romance in the backseat for the rest of his life, considering his destiny. The last thing he needs is someone else to love, and someone else to lose.
'Why ze down face, 'Arry? Iz just teasing,' Fleur spoke, stopping her giggling, thinking she hit on a sensitive point.
'Do you think it's worth it? Relationships?'
'What do you mean Harry?'
'I'm the Chosen One, just being close to me puts you on the same list Sirius was on...'
With that, the mood of the conversation darkened quickly, Hermione's gleeful expression diving downwards towards disappointment and contemplation, as Fleur looked upon him with kind and sad eyes.
She knew that the reason why he shut out everyone after the conflict in the Department of Mysteries was his godfather's death. Hermione explained this clearly to her over her letters, which played a large part in her joining the Hogwarts staff.
The bookworm stood up from her seat and bent over to whisper something in Fleur's ears, something that Harry didn't bother trying to listen into because he'd fallen into his rabbit hole as he recalled the green streak striking his godfather's chest in traumatising quality.
Afterwards, she approached Harry to bend over and hold him gently with one hand, then lean in to give him a soft kiss on his temple. She departed soon after, heading in the direction for Slughorn, who had been standing before his "collection".
Fleur then stood from her own chair to grab his hand that had been resting on the table. Finally, he broke from his trance with the contact and looked up at her. She was giving him a very gentle smile, neither happy nor sad, but rather comforting and caring.
The music that had been playing faintly in the background was turned up gradually and subtly. It was slow, the kind of song that would be five or six minutes long to prolong the moment, or at least that was what Harry remembered McGonagall saying about the songs at the Yule Ball.
The French witch brushed her thumb over the back of his hand softly, then she pulled on his fingers, tugging, as her eyes asked him the question she refused to communicate properly.
Temptation was what he liked to call it, the feeling that he's been suppressing when it came to most things regarding her. But the way she gazed into his eyes with her bright blue orbs told him something else that he had to double and triple check before he made a mistake.
He looked down as something was at the back of his mind, a voice eerily similar to that of his Godfather, spoke to him. It wasn't unnatural to hear his voice, his memory, so it wasn't something he could ignore.
Your father didn't fall in love in a day...
and when he did, it wasn't with her hair or her eyes...
Looks only come so far, look at yours truly...
I know you'll make the right choice one day...
'The right choice...' Harry mumbled to himself. Then he looked back up at her, flipping his hand over to take hers in his and stood up.
'May I have this dance, milady?' He tried cheekily yet confidently.
With her smile growing to one of joy, she nodded and allowed him for the second time that evening, to guide her. Pacing over to the open wood floor, the dancing lessons came rushing back as he remembered the steps beaten into his memory by his Head of House. Despite being a few years ago, that woman had a way of making the dancing more memorable than her lessons.
He placed his hand on her waist, and they quickly adjusted to the pace of the music. The difference of this dance was the lack of eyes on them. There were none. It was just them, no embarrassment, no one judging and no one glaring daggers at either party.
Not only that, but it felt like gravity was pulling them together, closer than Harry had held Parvati in the opening dance, which felt like a very modest range. Their dance was more for flair than anything else.
This dance, contrastingly, was intimate to say in the least. They had forgone the trained positions they were taught, Fleur's left arm wrapping under Harry's to hold him by his shoulder blade as she rested her cheek on him, while their other arms weren't stiff and outstretched, but rather their fingers were intertwined and lazed.
It was a strange feeling, to have her bosom so visibly and blatantly pressed up against him, but not feel awkward about it. Their connection mattered far too much for such pressure to distract him from her.
For the first time that night, he realised how much taller and larger he was than her. They could look back and notice how much skinnier he was back then, and at equal height as her. Not ideal for a young teenager back then, but he had bigger problems at the time.
Their closeness brought to attention a new fragrance that he never smelt before as her hair tickled his chin. It was sweet but not painfully so, like jasmine...
'Most men cannot 'andle my allure zis close...' Fleur whispered just beneath his ear, her cheek still to his chest 'But you're different...'
'I have a tendency to defy expectations,' Harry joked, taking in a sharp breath as the nervousness was nearly getting to him. Her snuggling into his chest, taking him by surprise briefly.
'Yea...you do...'
He felt like these words were enough to answer the question he asked half an hour ago, not in what was said, but in the way she said it, the way she shamelessly pressed up against him as she did.
'Where is your 'eart, 'Arry?' Asked Fleur, softly, peering up at him, her chin barely touching his.
His heart...He loved his friends, so much so like family. Hermione was his sister, and there wasn't any other way around it. She took care of him in more ways than Molly could fathom. Then there was Ron, he was a bellend and self-centred at times, which rose to wonder why Hermione had feelings for him, but he was a stand up guy when it mattered.
Then there was Sirius, the surrogate father he deserved but had stripped away from him. Despite that, the amount that he's learnt from him, he garnered a new way of thinking, the way of an old-Marauder that he treasured and didn't dare forget.
Where is my heart...Harry repeated in his thoughts.
Cho mattered little to him now that he grew from that experience, only respecting her as a fellow student and as the girl who had Cedric torn from her. Ginny is his best mates sister and thinking about being in a relationship put a sour taste in his mouth, as he wasn't one to take something taken, Dean was his friend too.
Fleur...she was his professor, yet she wasn't. She was a comrade, a survivor, labelled and unrelentingly exceptional. He knew her just as much as he knew himself. She had the beauty of an angel whether she liked it or not, but when you looked past the mask she couldn't take off, to what lies in her heart.
She just wants to be a normal girl.
Yet here I am, wanting to be a normal bloke...he mused internally.
Harry wondered if he was wasting her time, being lost in his own thoughts, his own contemplations. All of which amounted to nothing because he already knew the answer, he just refused to come to terms with it.
What was he waiting for?
He looked down into her bright blue eyes with his own eyes that he inherited from his mother. Their noses touched for a split second, but the contact was enough to send a shock down his back.
Was it permission?
Her face grew closer to him, but with the little space already between them. Harry believed his mind was playing tricks with him as time slowed for him, but he came to realise it wasn't him moving, it wasn't magic, it was her.
His eyelids felt heavier as her lips neared his own, so he allowed them to. Soon, a connection was made, something soft, yet rigid, was pressed against his lips. A feeling so pure that sent his self-control over the edge and proceeded to lean forward to apply his own pressure...his own passion.
All the doubts, all the fears of judgment, gone, in an instant. Leaving only clarity left in his mind.
Moments, seconds, minutes, he didn't care to count how long it took for them to part. All he cared about was the look in Fleur's eyes when his own opened.
He was greeted with not tears this time, but eyes that conveyed happiness in a way he's never seen before. It was him that did this, that brought about those eyes, that smile, that red in her cheeks and that grip on her fingertips.
'With you.'
