Golden Haze : Act One, Part Two

AN: Here's the next bit, I hope you all enjoy it and continue to leave such wonderful feedback. I tried to respond to each review individually, even if it was just a few lines. They mean so much to me, and I love to have dialogue with my readers about what I am writing.

To everyone who added this story to their favorites or alert list, thank you. I hope you enjoy the next bit as much as I enjoyed writing it. ~ana

This had become a far more delicate situation than she had initially had anticipated. With her vision swimming in and out of golden hues (that she had not foreseen either happening or becoming a problem quite so soon.) she found herself struggling to pay attention to Minerva's welcoming speech. This was different than the one that she had heard Albus Dumbledore give all those years ago, but still as powerful and heartfelt. Minerva was different, her voice was different, but the tone was the same. Welcoming, sympathetic, comforting, and commanding. There were many words that Fleur found herself struggling to think of as she tried to shake her head ever so slightly without appearing rude. She had to clear her vision, for the outward signs of this golden haze were far more telling than the marked decrease in her ability to see.

To a non-veela, it was nothing, a lightening of the pupil really. It was odd looking, Fleur remembered from the first time that she had seen it in herself, jarring if you were not expecting it. She was not. Neither were any of her colleagues. If she did not get the constant glistening of gold flecks out of her vision, however, there were be far more marked problems. Physical problems that could get her arrested in this day an age. She was not a full-blooded veela, but the physical attributes to such a being were there, just beneath Fleur's careful veneer of control.

There were rumors, created by Rita Skeeter, but not entirely unfounded, about her family history. Everyone who she had gone to school with knew the tragic story of her grandmere and grandpere. It was, according to French popular culture, one of the greatest love stories ever told. Fleur thought it horrible, that story. It had ruined her family.

During the Great War when muggles and wizards alike had been so captivated with killing each other and themselves in the name of nationalism her grandpere had become quite a prominent figure in French wizarding politics. He had been a member of the opposition to Gindlewald, but had all but dropped from the public eye when a beautiful veela had effectively removed him from politics because in those days, such marriages and relationships were deeply frowned upon. Upon his disgrace, he had written pamphlets and credos, explaining how love between their races was such that it must be respected and endured - for it was unlike any other. He had become a laughing stock for his beliefs and his love.

Still, that woman was her grandmere, and she was a wonderful woman when Fleur chose to look past the fact that it was largely her fault that Fleur was now in the predicament that she was presently trying desperately to avoid. The haze, the golden haze of pure and unadulterated lust and longing. She had been told of it, long ago, when she was seventeen she had experienced it for the first time. Standing naked in front of the mirror after the first task of the Triwizard tournament, having just watched Harry Potter receive a close embrace from a girl who appeared to be his best friend. She had experienced a full shift then, and had flown into a fit of jealousy that she did not understand for many months after that. The haze was the first sign that her control was weakening, then would go her fingers, fusing into predatory talons and her body falling prey to lustful instincts that terrified her.

Perhaps, if I explain it. Mais non... She frowned deeply, and shook her head once more. The haze had lifted slighly and her vision was no longer as clouded. She could, perhaps, live like this. Her control had always been like iron, even back after that first shift when she had no idea why it had occurred.

Unlike the previous feasts that Fleur had attended at Hogwarts, they had eaten first. During the meal Harry Potter had come up to extend a warm welcome and a pleasant smile to her. She'd always liked him and he seemed a genuinely good man. She had rested her chin on her thumbs as they talked, bridging her fingers and almost pointedly showing him that she was no longer wearing William's ring. She wanted him to know, he was smart enough that (with time, boys are all quite slow) he would be able to detect the sham that was her marriage to Bill Weasley. He had grinned and told her that he was looking forward to classes with her - as he knew (and shockingly respected) her work at Gringotts as a curse breaker. He even knew of her mastery, and how she had no idea.

Fleur respected him for a great many reasons that had little to do with his own humility and lack of hubris. He was a good man, had saved her sister during the tournament, and had introduced her, perhaps unwittingly, to his friends. William's brother was stricken with her, but the girl, oh the girl. She was lost when she tried to think of words to describe the girl. When she told Harry Potter that she was also looking forward to the class, she had already begun to plot and to scheme. She had ideas, for the limited number of students who had returned for their seventh year, ideas to create a community within the four houses that had not been known up until that time.

William's brother and the girl had hung back, politely, despite their supposed familiarity. She had waved at them, her eyes downcast, the haze clouding them more prominently when in closer proximity to Hermione Granger. Her nails had begun to itch and pinched her leg until her vision cleared. How had she ever hidden this before? She frankly had no idea - she had slept in the same house, just one room over from Hermione for two summers, it had never been this bad.

Maybe she had finally moved past denial (or simply was not pretending any more).

After Minerva made her speech, the Golden Trio lingered, despite two of them being prefects there seemed to be no rush for them to leave the Great Hall and it's charmed ceiling of cloudless starry night. She watched them linger, as the first years followed their heads of houses out and way to the dormitories. They seemed to be reminiscing on painful subjects, as their conversation, along with the few others who lingered at the Gryffindor table was hushed and private.

Fleur longed to join them, to walk over, and to admit that she had been through all that they had and more during the war. She could not, however, it would be improper and not to mention rude. She feigned interest in the Evening Prophet once more, reading about the latest reforms that would put even more restrictions on her kind, had she not been a foreign citizen protected by marriage into an old family. It was depressing, and she sighed, deeply.

"What have they done now?" Minerva wanted to know, as if attracted by her sudden and sad utterance. Townsend had left with the first year Gryffindors and now there was no barrier between Fleur and the headmistress. It was not that Fleur wanted to avoid speaking to her newly found employer, she was simply unsure of what to say, what was safe and what was considered taboo. At Gringotts there was never this problem. Goblins were far simpler in that respect, and Fleur had always gotten along well with them, even if they really did not seem to like much of anyone.

She shook her head, carefully folding up the paper so that the article was face up and passed it along to the older woman who took it with a frown. "I was 'oping that this would not be a problem with him gone."

Minerva scanned the article quickly, her face falling as she did so. Too many people were being repressed now in the name of reform. It was probably not good to speak out publicly against such actions, but the Ministry was attempting to create parity so that a dark lord would never rise again (there would be another, there was always another). "You're protected by marriage, are you not?"

She shrugged, and realized that she had an opening - a chance to be completely honest. Minerva McGonagall was a good woman, and would protect her (to some extent) should the truth ever come out. "William and I have an arrangement, yes." It was vague, but not that it would go past the headmistress' attention. She did not want to be honest.

"I wondered as much." Minerva clucked her tongue and handed Fleur back her paper. "He was always rather..." She paused and searched for the word, but at Fleur's small nod realization dawned on her face. It was not her place to tell William's secrets, but there was nothing against implying, heavily. "Oh."

"It es for convenience only." Fleur said, tucking the newspaper back into her over-robe pocket and nodding to the headmistress. "Bonsoir." She made a point to cut directly past the Gryffindor table on her way out of the Great Hall. A part of her screamed to keep walking, to ignore them. (To sit, to chat, to entertain as only she knew how.)

To have a conversation with that girl.

But there was a rebellious streak in her and she remembered, quiet clearly, a story that William had told her about certain antics that Ronald and the others had gotten up to during their fifth year. It had involved Harry Potter teaching those of his year who wanted to learn Defense as they were not learning it in the classroom thanks to some toad of a woman who was now in Azkaban for collaboration with the Dark Lord. "Monsieur Potter," she began, pausing as she passed. "If you are considering restarting your defense club this year, let me know."

Potter opened and closed his mouth, his eyes narrowed behind his thick glasses. William's brother was staring openly at her, as many young men were wont to do when around her. She hated that, hated the constant attention. It was always there, a little annoyance like a cracked nail or a scuff on a boot that could not be buffered way. She had gotten used to it at school, but had been spoiled by working with goblins, who had little interest in humans - half magical creatures or not.

"Why do you ask?" There, she had spoken. (Elation.) Fleur turned ever so slightly to face Hermione Granger with a warm smile that she hoped was not too predatory. (It was.) "It was not exactly school-sanctioned last time..."

Hermione Granger, accusing her of bending the rules. There was a rich concept.

"I was suggesting because I am in the possession of more advanced texts than those that are available here from my mastery research," she kept her tone light and airy - but there was an edge to it that she could not eliminate. This was the veela, interacting with the one that was supposed to be the mate. (Denial. Again on her part. The veela was damn cocky and Fleur hated it.) "I 'ave to follow the curriculum as per the Ministry, and prepare you for your exams. This would be for personal betterment."

It was, honestly, a reasonable explanation. Fleur was astounded that she could think so clearly to lie like that on the fly. Being around her was confusing and frustrating, not to mention terrifying. She had to get away before too much longer, her control was slipping away.

The girl, well not really a girl any more, more of a (stunning) woman that Fleur wanted to admit; glared at her. This was a face she was used to, from spending summers with William's parents. She remembered, quite suddenly, that she had never gotten on well with the girl that was (probably.) her destined one. There was contempt on her part and condescension on Fleur's part. Their personalities were constantly at odds.

This is a horrible idea.

"Sounds great Fleur - ah, Professor We-" A harsh look from her and he quickly corrected himself. "Delacour." Potter must have sensed the tension, as he smiled brightly at her. He was immune to the veela for whatever unfair reason; and always had been. Fleur had wondered about him, but he seemed very attached to William's younger sister and to that end, she respected him. It was not often that a man could look at her and not want her. It was refreshing.

"Excellent," She smiled brightly at all of them, her vision was starting to cloud once again. She clapped her hands together, left hand (ringless hand) facing Hermione. "Mademoiselle Granger, if you would come by my office sometime tomorrow, I will find you the appropriate texts."

A move, daring as it was, but important. She had to speak to her alone - if to smooth out whatever contempt Hermione still had for her.

The girl let out an exasperated sigh and nodded reluctantly. She would not meet Fleur's eyes and seemed rather preoccupied with toying at the hem of her robes. (Please look at me, you are so beautiful.)

"When is your free period?" She asked eventually.

"After lunch." Fleur responded evenly, knowing that they were now attracting stares.

"Alright."