"[When asked to talk about his brother's relationship.] No."
Come on, Fleur. Gut up.
Her inner voice was insistent and frankly, a little tired of Fleur's waffling. She couldn't blame it, really. She'd been standing in front of the Goblet, name-bearing scrap of parchment in hand, for a good ten minutes now. It was starting to cause a bit of a scene – that is, more than she usually caused. She blew out a breath. This was getting ridiculous. Quickly, and before she could stop herself, she reached up and dropped her name into the flames.
And that was that.
She turned around and saw that she'd had an audience. Not only from Hogwarts, but the other schools as well. Their looks were a mix of congratulatory(hers), or scrutinizing(everyone else). And just for good measure, there was also a healthy amount of glassy eyed lust. Just to let them know how much they affected her she lifted her nose, turned her back on them, and went into the Great Hall to eat whatever the English considered to be breakfast.
She didn't have high hopes for the meal, but it was better than being looked at like she was one. If only just. As she made her way up the Ravenclaw table she gave the dishes passing glances and felt her hopes sink with each one. Bacon, toast, porridge, scrambled eggs, sausage and mashed potatoes. She knew her stomach would protest the weight of the food, but she didn't have much choice.
"Good morning!" Emilie waved from a seat three down from the table's end. Fleur smiled back and her friend patted the seat next to her. "Come on, sit down!"
"Morning Emmy," Fleur sat and poured herself an orange juice, enjoying the citrus tang on her tongue. "is there anything good?" She laughed as Emilie made a face. "I'll take that as a no, then."
"It's not bad," she said, gesturing with her fork. "the sausages are rather good and the eggs aren't overly cooked, but it's too heavy for this early in the morning."
Fleur's stomach made its agreement known. She ignored it and gave herself helpings of both before digging in. The sausages were savory, the eggs fluffy, and she could almost convince herself she was back home for a moment. Until-
"Did you do it?"
Her eyebrow rose as she looked at Emilie's curious, excited face. "What?" Realization dawned a moment later. "Oh, that. Yes, I did."
A wide, happy smile started on her friend's lips, waiting for the signal to bloom into life. "Did you really? You aren't teasing me, are you? I might die if you're teasing me."
Fleur smiled and shook her head. "No teasing. I really did it. You are looking at a potential Beauxbatons champion!"
That was the signal Emilie's smile needed and it damn near lit up their corner of the Hall. She gave a happy squeal and engulfed Fleur in a hug that almost dislocated a shoulder. "Oh, I'm so proud of you, Fleur! I knew you could do it! This is so amazing; you'll be chosen, no doubt, and then you'll win and have all that money and fame and this is so amazing!"
The only thing she could think of to say in the face of all this enthusiasm was, "You said 'amazing' twice."
Emilie nodded. "It's that amazing. Really." she tried to stop smiling and failed. "I'm so...gah, I can't even say it!"
Fleur hugged her friend and wondered how she got so lucky. "Thank you, Emmy."
"You're welcome." Emilie leaned back and wiped at her eyes. "I'm not crying, shut up."
"I wasn't going to say anything," she protested. "But I am now. Are you-"
"Ah buh buh buh!" Emilie wagged a finger under Fleur's nose, forcing her to go cross eyed to spot it. "Not. A. Word."
Fleur mimed zipping her lips and burst into laughter. After a moment's attempt at an indignant look – which failed miserably – Emilie joined her. That was how breakfast went for her; heavy food, teasing, and laughter. It was nice. She wasn't sure how long it would last.
Ben had a favorite spot on the grounds. He was pretty sure no one else knew about it – he'd never seen anyone there. Hogwarts' lake wasn't completely round. It had a number of thin outlets, one of which curled into a fist shaped pool surrounded by large, flat rocks. His favorite seat was a boulder that somehow had a scoop taken out of it, worn smooth by rain and time. On a sunny day he could curl into the bottom of it surrounded by warm stone and forget about everything for a few hours.
He had only ever come there for that purpose, and that day he was there because of Malfoy. He and Ben had been sworn enemies from day one, for reasons that weren't immediately clear to anyone. He knew how it had started: Malfoy was proud, and Ben's rejection had stung deeply. But from there...it had grown into something greater. Something stronger than it should.
Maybe that was why he'd said and done the things he had. Until now, Ben had been willing to let it slide off him. He'd taken a not insignificant amount of pride in the fact that he had never once retaliated to one of Malfoy's taunts. Of course, Malfoy had never mentioned his mother before. He rubbed his knuckles, feeling the rough scabs under the pads of his fingers, and took a small amount of satisfaction from knowing that it wouldn't happen again. Malfoy may be an idiot, but pain was an excellent motivator.
Ben would know. Vernon had made sure of that.
"Ben?"
Not her, he prayed, not here, not now. He turned slowly, dreading to confirm what he already knew; that his secret hideaway wasn't entirely secret. Standing there with worry on her face and a bandage on her hand was Hermione, and he didn't want her to be here. He didn't think he could keep his Secret. Not here. Not now.
"How did you find me?" he asked, pulling his legs up. Hermione took an uncertain step. A breeze tugged at her mane of curls that had only this year started to tame.
"I've always known where you go," she said softly. "I just figured you needed the privacy."
"I did," he spoke into his knees. Somehow, she heard him, and stepped closer. "I do." She stopped, face falling.
"Oh," hurt flashed in her eyes and he felt like an utter ass for putting it there, even though he hadn't. "I'll just...leave you to it, then."
Hermione started to leave and suddenly he didn't want to be alone anymore. "No, wait!" she stopped, but didn't turn around. "I...you don't have to go, but I can't – I can't promise I'll say much of anything."
"That's okay," when she turned he saw sympathy and something else, something that almost had him telling her. "I don't really feel like talking anyway."
Ben held out a hand, which she took to boost herself up next to him. True to her word she settled in next to him and offered him a quiet comfort; her presence, pressed up against his shoulder. She didn't say anything. At that point, he figured there wasn't much else that needed saying.
So he sat with her, and she with him. Until the sun stood tall and their stomachs set to grumbling. Then Hermione stood and offered Ben her hand. He took it and she hauled him to his feet, then led the way back to the castle. She didn't say a word, and she didn't let go of his hand until they reached the Great Hall.
Harry had been having a good morning. He'd been enjoying breakfast in the Great Hall and ignoring the people around him as they either gossiped about the Tournament or worried about not doing enough for their homework. Not exactly scintillating conversation, and he wasn't in the mood to talk, anyway. His dreams had been trouble in one way or another, giving him an uneasy sleep that left him feeling as if he'd slept half the time. And then, as he was leaving, he heard a cultured, refined voice say something that put ice in his veins.
"It's a good job," Draco Malfoy said, grinning widely at his own brilliance. "that the Dark Lord killed your whore mother before she could –"
Malfoy was interrupted at that point by Ben tackling him to the ground and trying to beat the stupid out of him. The group of students that had gathered around to watch Malfoy taunt his brother were now shouting at each other and the boys on the ground. Their voices blended into a cacophony of uselessness that made getting anything done impossible.
That is, until Hermione Granger drew her wand and knocked Ben off of Malfoy with a Banishing charm she wasn't supposed to learn until next semester. When he stood Harry winced at the look of horror and shame on his brother's face. He knew what losing his temper would do to Ben, and sure enough the Boy Who Lived turned and ran out into the grounds, vanishing from sight quickly.
After a moment's hesitation, Hermione chased after him, leaving Harry to clean up the mess. The cacophony of uselessness still remained, and unless he fancied shouting himself hoarse(which he didn't), he'd have to use magic to get their attention. So he did. Harry touched the tip of his wand to his throat, murmured, "Sonorus," and then shouted, "OY! SHUT IT!"
Silence fell, and the sounds of Malfoy's pained groans were finally heard. The students made way for him as he approached, and when he saw the mess Ben had made of the other boy's face he hissed. He crouched next to Malfoy and quickly came to the assessment that he wasn't going to be good for anything for a while. "You, and you." he pointed at two burly looking boys that weren't Crabbe or Goyle(probably). "Get him to the Hospital Wing."
Neither boy moved.
"Now!"
They jumped and got to it, leaving Harry to disperse the crowd with an annoyed, "You've got classes to go to, right? They don't meet here! Scram!" They scrammed, flowing around the approaching Professor McGonagall like a river parting for an obdurate stone.
"Mister Potter," she said, anger and exasperation in every word. "what have they done now?"
Harry sighed through his nose and rubbed his forehead. "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said nothing happened?"
Her eyes flashed and her lips thinned. "No, I would not."
"Oh. Well. Nothing happened."
He ended up receiving the berating on Ben's behalf. And he'd been having such a good morning.
After that his day didn't get any better. Nor did it get any worse. Instead it floated around 'Vaguely Ruined' as he drifted from class to class with his peers like fish in a school. The classes themselves were the same: Transfiguration was hard, Charms entertaining, and Potions a polite form of torture. He didn't really remember what went on in Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts gave him a headache.
Business as usual.
He spent his free period that day – his last scheduled class – sitting on the steps in the Entrance Hall watching the people around the Goblet of Fire. To his surprise there weren't a lot of people putting their names in. Discussion about entering, sure. There was a lot of that. But in the hour or so he sat there, butt becoming progressively numb, only about four people from each school entered. Which was odd, given the looks he'd seen on people's faces when the Tournament was announced.
Maybe sleeping on it had led people to believe that yes, potential death isn't an equal trade-in for eternal glory. As he understood it, glory was difficult to enjoy from the afterlife. No matter the reason for their sudden return to logic, he was grateful that they had. His lips quirked at the sight of a little third year giving the runic line around the Goblet a wide berth. Clearly she had paid heed to the warning it implied.
Then he saw two people who were genetically incapable of listening to such a warning: Fred and George Weasley. They were identical in every way and had the scheming, mischievous looks of someone about to get themselves into a whole mess of trouble.
"You think the Aging Potion'll do the trick?" one asked the other. Harry couldn't tell them apart, so he didn't try. The other shrugged.
"Maybe. Don't see why not. 'Sides, if it doesn't, it's not like Dumbledore'll do anything to hurt us."
"True, true," Twin A conceded, before grinning broadly and producing a messily folded scrap of parchment from his robes. Twin B copied actions and they stepped over the Age Line with a flourish.
For an entire second, nothing happened. Then everything happened at once. The Weasley twins howled with glee. The air sizzled like rashers of bacon on a frying pan. The Line lit up like a Christmas Tree. Harry smelled ozone, a sure sign of magical discharge. Then the Weasley twins were seized 'round the middle by an invisible force – maybe a lasso – and yanked out of the circle. All of this paled in comparison to the fact that,when they rose, they saw that they had gained something from the experience.
Beards. Magnificent, bushy, tuck it into your belt so you don't trip over it beards. The ever present crowd of students found this hysterical, none more so than the twins themselves, who leaned on each other as they left the Entrance Hall, alternately laughing and tugging on the other's beard.
Harry laughed quietly. His stomach grumbled, alerting him to the fact that he'd never actually had breakfast and should eat before he passed out probably. Maybe. With that in mind he headed to the Great Hall. And because it was That Kind of day, he never made it. Because he saw Ben and Hermione walking hand in hand back into the castle, and that quite naturally made him stop in his tracks.
As he approached Hermione gently disengaged her hand from his brother's, and gave him a look that he seemed to understand. Not for the first time he had thoughts of them fancying each other. And not for the first time he had thoughts of how the Dursley's had damaged the both of them. "We need to talk," he told Ben, who nodded and turned to the girl next to him.
"I'll meet you inside." he said. She didn't move, hesitation and worry written on her face. "Really, I'll only be a few minutes. Right?" the last was directed to Harry, who nodded.
"Professor McGonagall wanted me to pass on a message," he told her, and her worry lessened at the mention of her favorite teacher.
"Okay," she gave Ben the kind of smile Alexis used to give him – a smile that was both a promise and a question. He watched Ben respond in kind. "I'll save you a seat. Don't take too long, Ron'll start chewing on the table if you make him wait."
Hermione headed into the Hall, the brothers Potter watching her go in silence. Harry liked her, and had done so ever since the incident with the troll in Ben's first year. She'd been a quiet, bushy haired girl with a near-obsessive desire for knowledge and had since mellowed into a warm, young woman.
Ben didn't choose poor friends.
"Remind me to tease you about her later," he said to his brother.
"'Kay. Wait, no, why would I do that?"
"Because it's my duty as an older brother." Harry smiled, before sobering. "You broke Malfoy's jaw, Ben."
Ben seemed to deflate; shoulders sagging, head drooping, eyes downcast. "I know," he said quietly. "but you heard what he said about mum. I couldn't let that go."
"But you should have," Harry pressed. "you lost your temper, and I get that. But...you can't just around breaking his jaw he says something stupid."
"So, what?" Ben challenged, sparking defiance and righteous anger. "I should have just let him drag her name through the mud after she died for us?"
"No. He needed to be taught a lesson, and you did that. That I don't have a problem with. The problem is that everyone saw you do it. Professor McGonagall saw you do it. She took fifty points and gave you detention for the week. Actions have consequences, Ben. I need to know that you know that."
"I do," Ben said quietly. "believe me, I do. Are we done? I promised Hermione."
"Yeah," Harry watched his brother put the event behind him, keeping the lessons he'd learned and leaving the emotions behind. It was a lesson that surviving their childhoods had taught them. It may not have been healthy, but it kept them sane. "yeah, we're done."
He watched Ben leave and wished he could have done more to protect him from their aunt and uncle. Ever since he could remember he'd thrown himself between the worst the Dursley's would do and his younger brother. When Vernon got drunk and started blaming the pair of them for every downturn his life had ever taken, Harry had been there; drawing the punches and thrown objects. Bruises and tears and bloody wounds for seventeen years, and he wouldn't change a thing.
Suddenly he wasn't hungry. What he wanted was to find a place to hide for a while to bring himself back to normal. He left the Entrance Hall, and headed for a blank stretch of wall on the seventh floor corridor. A few hours alone would do him good. The Room of Requirement was remote enough that he wouldn't be found until he was damn well good and ready.
Fleur didn't see Harry at lunch. And yes, she'd been looking. She wouldn't ever admit it, but she'd kept an eye out while she chatted her way through the meal. With a surprising amount of stealth. Or so she liked so think. The sly look Emilie gave her told her that stealth, like lying, wasn't one of her strong suits.
So she wasn't going to be stealthy anymore. He intrigued her, and she wasn't going to hide it. From her friends. Harry was a different story. The idea that he might, might like her the way she was starting to think she liked him sent tingles through her limbs and made her cheeks warm. So telling him would probably lead to her making a fool of herself and since when had that mattered?
Life had been so much simpler when she hadn't had to bother with this sort of thing. No, wait. She was not nostalgic for the days of boys being, and she quoted, witless mongrels. There was no way that a sane Veela – which she considered herself – would miss those days. When she put this in a letter to her mother two days later, she would have no idea the hilarity it would cause her parents.
Fleur's stomach grumbled. Food beckoned. There was nothing in the carriage for them to eat. There was barely enough room for all forty students to sleep. Space expansion charms could only do so much. A room full of beds for the boys and a separate one for the girls had been the best Beauxbatons could do.
So she would have to go into Hogwarts. Where the mongrels would be. Decisions, decisions. Her stomach growled, letting her know that in no uncertain terms that she was to go into that castle, brave the terrible danger, and eat something. After finding a thick cloak that might not be hers, she set out to do just that.
Stepping out of the cottage into a Scottish winter was like being punched in the stomach. Fleur was not frail, nor did she have anything in particular against the cold. Or so she'd thought prior to coming to the part of the Arctic Circle called Scotland. Winters in France were cold, but as she'd discovered in the day and a half she'd been at Hogwarts: there was cold, and then there was cold.
This was the latter. And she did not like it.
So she ran. All the way from the Beauxbatons carriage to the Entrance Hall. Of course, arriving shivering, sweaty(somehow) and red faced didn't make for a great first impression. So it was a good job they were onto second impressions, wasn't it? Fleur took a deep breath and tried to make herself presentable. More presentable. She wasn't trying to impress anyone. Much. After a brief look around she grinned happily to herself. At least she wouldn't have to deal with any –
"I've invented a new stamina potion! Want to help me test it?"
Never mind. She turned slowly. Standing at the foot of the stairs were three people. The first was gangly red-headed boy with too many freckles and an expression of deep embarrassment. He was also rubbing his shin with his foot. The second was a girl with bushy, cinammon colored hair and an expression of equal annoyance. The third person made her blink.
He looked in almost every way to be a twin of Harry Potter. The same facial structure was there, as was the way he held himself; quiet, calm, confidence in the set of his shoulders and grace of his stride. It was in the eyes they differed. Harry had bright green eyes – a pair that had haunted her dreams last night. This boy had brown eyes, and short, auburn hair. "Sorry about that," he said, smiling crookedly at her and heading towards her, holding out his hand. "his foot has a mind of its own, wanders into his mouth on occasion."
Fleur smiled and took his hand. "It's quite alright," she addressed her comment to the still blushing red-head. "I'm used to it."
"Still," Harry's brother – what was his name? Ben. It was Ben. – released her hand. "doesn't mean you should deal with it when it's so easily stopped. At least with him. Have we met?"
"No," she said, "though your brother mentioned you."
For some reason, this surprised the three of them. They exchanged significant looks between them, the meanings of which she couldn't begin to guess. "You've met Harry?"
"Yes," Fleur frowned, puzzled. "is there something wrong?"
"Hm? No!" Ben smiled again. "It's just odd. He isn't what you'd call a social butterfly. He must like you."
Her cheeks burned. Was she blushing? She better not be blushing. The girl next to Ben frowned. Yep, she was blushing. "Who are your friends?" she asked, blatantly changing the subject. Ben didn't seem to mind, chuckling before turning first to the boy, then the girl.
"This is Ron," The red-headed boy gave her a sheepish wave, which she smiled in return to. "and that's Hermione." The bushy haired girl shook her hand – businesslike and impersonal.
"It's good to meet you both." she said, and her stomach gave a regrettably audible rumble. Her blush returned twofold and she looked sheepishly at them. "As you can see, I'm a bit famished, so if you'll excuse me."
"Of course. It was good to meet you. I'll tell Harry we met. He'll be thrilled." Ben said. She smiled one last time at the trio and entered the Great Hall, the tantalizing scents of a variety of well-cooked foods coming to her and driving all – well, most – thoughts of confusing brothers from her mind. She spotted Emilie sitting next to a pretty, Asian Ravenclaw and waved. Emilie waved back and gestured the empty seat next to her.
Fleur nodded and scanned the Ravenclaw table quickly, confirming that yes, Harry wasthere.
"You got it bad," Emilie told her as she sat. Fleur very maturely stuck out her tongue and filled her plate.
Ben knew he wasn't affected by a Veela's allure. That didn't stop him from watching her walk into the Great Hall. He didn't have the glazed look Ron – bless him – couldn't seem to keep off his face, but he still couldn't seem to look away. Partly because she was extraordinarily beautiful, but mostly because she knew Harry. That roused a strong protectiveness in him.
Harry was strong. He'd had to be, with the life they had. Pain, stress, worry, anxiety, these his brother could handle. Their...misadventures over the past three years, those he and Harry could handle. But a girl? Opening that part of them that they'd closed to survive the Dursleys and letting someone in?
When Alexis broke up with him, Harry didn't talk to anyone for a month. Not even to him. He watched his brother retreat into himself and it scared him. Ben didn't like the idea of another person being able to do that to Harry. It made him watchful of Fleur, and of the interest she very clearly had in his older brother.
"Well," Hermione gave Ron a distasteful look. "that was...interesting."
Ron, impressively, looked both ashamed and defiant. "Hey, I shook it off, didn't I?"
"Yeah," Ben tore himself from his thoughts. "and only after saying one stupid thing. Very proud of you."
"Shut up, Ben." Ron said, before something visibly occurred to him. "Hey, how is it she knows Harry?"
At the change of subject Hermione managed to throw off her disappointment in...well, Ron, and focus an impressive amount of suspicion on Fleur. "It is rather odd," she agreed. "and...I can't help but wonder if she has an ulterior motive."
The comment was utterly Hermione that Ben had to smile. Ever since their first year she'd become very protective of his older brother, which he appreciated. Part of of the reason he...part of the reason he had his Secret. "You wonder that about everyone interested in him."
She raised an eyebrow at him and said, "Pansy Parkinson, Penelope Clearwater, Alexis Roberts, Alicia Spinnet, –"
"Alright, alright! You've made your point. No need to rub it in."
Hermione grinned triumphantly.
Ron's stomach grumbled, which prompted him to gripe, "Look, you two, as fascinating as this is, do you think we could get inside before the food disappears?"
Ben laughed. "Course, mate. What were we thinking?"
" 'I like depriving my best mate of food.' "
"Yes, Ron." Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's it exactly."
"It's a conspiracy," Ben agreed, coming to stand next to his increasingly irritated-looking friend. "see, by keeping you from eating, we're hoping to stunt your growth and ultimately keep the Cannons from ever winning a single game!"
"You're a riot, Potter." Ron growled. "Can we go now?"
"Yeah, okay."
Harry's stomach howled. Angrily. Emotional turmoil was all well and good, but after skipping two thirds of the day's meals even that stepped aside in the face of maybe having something to eat today. The Room of Requirement was good for a lot of things. It could do beds, it could do chamberpots, or a room full of junk. It could even, if one were clever enough, provide a passage between it and a small anteroom to the Great Hall.
He pushed open the door the Room had created and stepped into that small anteroom, going through that into the Great Hall and sneaking to his seat. His hope was that by doing this he wouldn't get spotted by virtually everyone. He'd missed the start of dinner, and the Hall was sure to be crowded.
His plan relied entirely on the idea that his luck would improve.
So naturally, at least a dozen people saw him sneaking into his seat. Including the girl who – had circumstance and rubbish luck not prevented him – he would have thought about on and off for most of the day. To her credit, Fleur only smiled, eyes dancing. Amusement looked good on her. Although, he suspected that anything up to and including intense nausea would look good on her.
"Harry," Roger greeted him as he sat, to which he nodded and tried to hide how his eyes kept flicking down the table. A task at which he failed. "how is it, and I mean no disrespect, that the surliest git in Hogwarts manages to catch the eye of the fittest bird in the history of oh, ever?"
Harry shrugged. "Animal magnetism."
Roger snorted. "You liar."
"Fine," he took a roll and buttered it. "I ran into her last night. We talked."
"Ooh," Roger sang. "Gossip!"
Harry gave his friend a Look over his dinner roll. "Don't make me kill you."
Roger pouted. Harry grinned. Then took a large bite out of the roll and left it in his mouth to better hold the wide bowl of mashed potatoes that came his way. At some level he was aware of someone's eyes on him, but the larger facet of his attention was pointed directly at Food. But since he was clearly aware of whose eyes were on him, he kept his manners. If only just.
After dinner came dessert. And after that came the announcements, which were usually uninteresting repetitions of the start of terms announcements with some daily flavor added in. Today, though, Harry knew that something was different from the moment Dumbledore took the podium.
"Now that we are all fed and watered," the old wizard started the announcements the same way he had for the past seven years. "there are only a few notices that I have for tonight. First of which is that the Selection of Champions will take place in one week's time, after dinner. In addition to that,the ability to enter one's name will be removed three days before that." Dumbledore ran long, wrinkled fingers through an impressively long beard. "There are an impressive number of stories that these days bring to mind, but – " he laughed as the Hall groaned collectively. "I think that instead I will just say, good evening."
Harry let himself be buffeted out the doors by the much relieved crowd. Dumbledore was a brilliant man, there was no question of that. He was also an old man, and one of the favorite pastimes of the old man – according to Sirius – was telling long-winded, mostly pointless stories about their youth. A few memories of that exact thing happening at the end of year feast popped to the front of his mind.
His first year, the Headmaster had given an impressive accounting of the fishing trip he took to the Maldives. Harry knew more than he could ever hope to need about tropical fish as a result. Second year saw him telling a story about his time on the continent, bashing any hopes he might talk about Grindewald to pieces the instant he mentioned yetis.
The long winded stories had stopped once Ben started attending Hogwarts. Largely because every year since Ben started Hogwarts some horrible thing had happened that usually resulted in the near-death of three or more people. Usually. Two years ago was a large exception, and last year...
Well, the less said about last year, the better. To Harry, the only good thing to come of last year was Sirius' exoneration.
"Something on your mind?"
He'd stopped near the Goblet's pedestal, minding the Age Line with an airy watchfulness. The voice behind him, low and throaty, caused him to turn and stumble back over it. He regained his feet as gracefully as possible and pointed a threatening finger at Fleur Delacour. She had compressed her lips into a thin, white line and her entire face was involved in the effort of holding back laughter.
"Not. A. Word." he intoned, and she broke. Fleur had a good laugh; rich and lively, it rang out over the crowd of students going about their evenings. He tried to fight the reciprocal smile it tugged out of him, but it was a lost cause.
"You know," Fleur said after she'd regained control of herself. "you're the second person to say that to me today?"
"Must be something in the water," he offered, stepping neatly over the Age Line and out of potential beard danger. He was over the age limit, but sometimes magic took a more...liberal interpretation of its limits. It explained why when you made a mistake, instead of levitating a feather you summoned an angry and confused water buffalo. "How are you?"
"Fine, thank you." she smiled. "Better now."
"Yeah, yeah." he pouted. Slightly. "Laugh it up."
"It was your face," she said shamelessly. "the expression was impressive. Like you had just eaten a very large lemon and been prodded in the ribs at the same time."
Harry tried to picture the face she described without laughing and couldn't. "Okay, you may have a point."
"Of course I do." she said, before tilting her head at the Goblet. "I put it in. This morning."
A mix of two feelings rose in his chest. Part of it was pride. That he could deal with – that he was familiar with. But the other thing; the warm, pleasantness, that he wasn't expecting. It wasn't lust, and it wasn't love, but it was in the neighborhood of both. He knew he was attracted to Fleur, but this feeling...was something else entirely. In the end, he could only say, "I'm happy for you. How do you feel about it?"
Fleur shrugged her shoulders, sighed, and smiled a wide, carefree smile. "Incredible." her eyes danced. "Like the weight was taken off my shoulders."
"I'm glad to hear it." he said, expecting that to be the end of it. Partly hoping it was the end of it, because if this carried on any longer he'd probably make a fool of himself. But fate, or Fleur, had other plans, because she closed the distance between them and lowered her voice.
"And your brother?" she asked, shocking him. "Are you still worried about him?"
Harry's mouth opened. It closed. No sound came out. Fleur raised an eyebrow.
"Did you think I would forget?" she asked archly. "You listened to me and remembered. Why should I not do the same for you?"
He held up his hands in apology. "You should. Sorry. It's just...never mind. To answer your question, yes. Yes, I am. I told you last night I'm always worried about him."
"Oh." Her eyes darkened, their bright joy dimming as she carried part of the worry he'd handed her. "I'd hoped that sleeping on it would help you feel better."
"So did I." he confessed. "Did it help you?"
Fleur shrugged. "Not really." And then she took his hand in hers, sliding their palms together in an act far more intimate than it had any right to be. "Look," she said quietly. "I don't know how to make your worries go away. And I don't think you can get rid of mine any easier. So why don't we take a walk around the lake and try to forget for a little while?"
Harry blinked at her, owl-like and confused. Should he say no? He kind of wanted to. Just say no, he had homework or whatever, maybe another time? It would be easier that way. He wouldn't have to think about what this – whatever it was – meant. He wouldn't have to worry about if he was complaining too much. He wouldn't have to think about if a walk around the lake was anything more than a walk around the lake.
Part of him wanted to say no. When he opened his mouth, what came out was, "Yes."
It was her turn to blink at him. For a moment. Then her smile returned twofold and she started tugging him toward the castle doors. Outside, the sun was setting and staining the snow with a palette of warm colors. The air was still and crisp and the picture it presented was beautiful.
"Perfect." Fleur tucked herself into his side and they set off down the path. Off towards the borders of the forest the chimney on Hagrid's hut puffed smoke into the sky. "it's a wonderful evening."
"Yes, it really is." he said, and he was looking at her when he said it, even though he'd tried to stop himself. She didn't notice, or didn't draw attention to it. Either way, he was lucky. They were a quarter of the way to the lake when he realized that Fleur basically had him at her mercy. She could ask him anything she wanted and he couldn't duck away without being incredibly rude.
Yep. He was in trouble.
"What's it like?" she asked. "Going to school here? All those portraits and secret passages and trick stairs, it must be very hectic."
Or maybe he wasn't.
"Maybe," he said. "but it's mostly a good time. Sure, the walls pretend to be doors on occasion, and yes, the paintings do yell at you sometimes. But I mostly like it here. How is it compared to your school?"
There was a small, disbelieving voice in the back of Fleur's mind that kept asking, what are you doing, you massive idiot? It went on to accuse her – the nerve – of having no real plan beyond Spend Time With Him. She told it to shut up and tried to ignore the fact that it was probably right. She focused on how much she was enjoying the company of a genuine boy for the second time in her life. That it was the same boy both times just made it better.
One of the many, many, many downsides of being a Veela was that she'd spent the better part of her teenage years either ignoring or combating the opposite gender. The result of this was that when it came to boys she had two modes: avoid, or hex. And now she was in the company of a boy to whom neither mode would apply. Put simply, she was stumped. And more than a little nervous. That they both had reasons to not talk didn't help any.
In the end, the fact his school was playing host to hers and the castle behind them gave her a safe subject, one hopefully free of conversational landmines. Harry seemed happy enough with the subject, painting a picture of a school dominated largely by cheerful chaos. It made her a little homesick for her own castle, and its own, different cheer.
Then he asked her what Beauxbatons was like. She smiled and demolished a small snowdrift with the toe of her shoe. The differences between her castle and his were clear in her mind, and she felt a rush of enthusiasm that she tried to rein in. She didn't want to demean a place that he held in such high esteem. "It's very different," she said eventually.
"In what way?" he asked, and she felt his voice through their linked arms.
"I think Beauxbatons is newer," her brows furrowed as she tried to remember her school's history. "I'm not sure, but it would explain why it looks so much..."
"Nicer?" he prompted with a smile. She flashed a grin at him.
"I was going to be polite about it, but...yes. Nicer. And calmer. The walls are walls, the doors are doors. The staircases don't have minds of their own. Rooms don't shift around and decide they'd rather be on a different floor that day."
"Sounds boring." he opined, and she bumped him with her shoulder. He laughed, the sound sending pleased shivers down her spine. Harry's laugh was uninhibited and open, so completely opposite to the rest of him. She had a sudden desire to dig through his guard to the source of that openness.
"Maybe," she said. "but I think your castle sounds insane."
"That's because it is," he agreed, prompting a laugh from her. "but it's a friendly kind of insanity. Nurturing, like."
"Insanity cannot be nurturing." she insisted through a smile. He grinned and bumped his shoulder into her.
"Says you."
She shouldn't be having this much fun talking nonsense in the cold. Especially Scotland cold, which was a special breed that liked tormenting foreigners. She'd been happy to concede, but recent events had forced her change her stance on the matter. Being out here with Harry, putting the Tournament and her worries and self-doubts behind her – even if only for a half hour, was nice. He was nice.
In a week, things would be different. But that wasn't tonight. Tonight, she would just be a girl, teasing and laughing with a boy she liked on a cold night, red cheeks and a smile on her face. She would deal with the trials to come when they arrived. Until then, she would be in this moment, and let nothing ruin it. Being out there with him made her think that maybe – just maybe – everything would be all right. Whether or not it would be was a question for tomorrow.
Note: Random question. Does anyone know if Transfigurations have a time limit? Fanon says that they do, but fanon also says that magical cores have an effect on anything other than cheap drama. I want to know what canon says about it. The two are very, very different. Anyway, if anyone out there knows, shoot me a PM.
I'll give you a shark if you do...