Surprisingly, Harry had a pretty good night's sleep. On an uncomfortable couch, sitting with the extra 'weight' of a veela, but he had slept well.
Inexplicable, but true.
Tempus read nine in the morning. Then it was time to go to the mess hall.
But first, a smoke.
Yeah... I'd have to wake up the girl first, I guess.
"Fleur, wake up. Come on, I'm hungry," she snuggled even tighter against Potter, mumbling something in French.
A nearly empty room with an extinguished fireplace and a couch across the room. For some reason Harry found it a little surreal.
Well, in principle, one smoke could be had here. Pulling a pack of cigarettes to himself, he pulled one out and lit it. And, tilting his head back, he took a puff with an expression of great satisfaction.
The meal could be delayed. Even with his shoulder stiff as hell, Potter was happy with his situation. Who wouldn't be?
Fleur didn't know what to do. Oh, sure, she'd woken up to Harry's thrusts, but first of all, she didn't want to let him go at all, and secondly, it was good at night when people were in the mood for revelations, and right now she was a little embarrassed. God, it was the first time she'd ever been embarrassed in front of anyone. Both for flirting last night, and for falling asleep on him. And actually... the girl didn't know what to do.
But the problem solved itself, at least temporarily. He relaxed and smoked. Actually, earlier Fleur would have said that she couldn't stand the smell of cigarettes and wouldn't date someone who smoked. But now it was as if the smell of cigarettes was a part of Harry. She couldn't imagine him without that smell. And she liked it.
Well, actually, she liked everything Harry Potter related lately.
Ugh, time to 'wake up' I guess?
"Waaaaaahhhh," yawned veela, stretching sexily.
"Good morning, Fleur."
"Sorry, I fell asleep on your shoulder last night. It must have been uncomfortable for you?" asked Delacour a little pitifully.
"Not at all, I haven't slept like that in a long time, which is actually weird. I can't find a single circumstance that could have caused it," he replied a little wistfully.
Somehow, after that statement, all of yesterday's boldness and playfulness returned to the Frenchwoman. She pressed her breasts more firmly, drew her lips close to his ear, and whispered accurately:
"What about the fact that you slept with a charming veela on top of you?"
"A bit smug, don't you think?" inquired Harry mockingly. "And we sort of agreed, with me, you leave all your... you get it... you leave it behind the threshold."
"Oh, you can't flirt anymore..." she sighed, returning her head to his chest. "Okay, okay, I get it."
"You know, I'm certainly warm and cozy and so on down the list, but I'm hungry. And now it's just about breakfast..." began Potter surprisingly, unsure.
"Oh, our Mr. Perfect doesn't know how to give a girl a hint to get her off at last?" the waif asked playfully.
"No. I don't like to take hints. I'm hungry, and it's breakfast time. Come on, I'll take you to the Great Hall, and there I think you'll find your way to your carriage," he continued confidently.
"Ugh, okay, let's go. But first, morning treatments. Where's the bathroom around here?"
"I went into this room with you for the first time yesterday."
Fleur reluctantly pulled away from him and went to look in the three doors that were in different corners of the room. Two of them were just empty rooms, but behind the third she found all the amenities she needed. Now she would quickly clean herself up and the two of them would go to breakfast...
After fifteen minutes, Harry realized that he should have gone to the bathroom first.
After half an hour, Potter was about to spit and just go to the Great Hall, but that's when Fleur came out. In just a towel. Bitch.
After another fifteen minutes in which Harry had time to clean himself up and Fleur had time to get dressed, they finally made their way to the Great Hall.
When they were already out of the apartments, Potter asked the logical question on his part:
"Fleur, can you tell me why you're holding my hand?"
" 'Arry, I'm just afraid of getting lost," the girl replied too innocently, flapping her eyes picturesquely.
Damn. Okay, when she's so obviously overplaying it, it's even sexy.
On the way out, the veela managed to get Harry to divulge what they'd talked to the Headmaster about.
The doors to the Great Hall swung open, letting them in.
The pair actually looked quite handsome: a tall, black-haired young man with an icy stare in a three-piece suit that definitely attracted most of the female audience, and a blonde veela in a blue and white dress who held the hero under his arm and attracted ALL of the male audience with an equally icy stare. Black and White.
Fleur was very pleased. You could say she had claimed her rights to one particular wizard.
They walked over and sat at the Gryffindor table because that was Harry's department and Delacour wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.
Most of the guys at the table stared at Fleur and froze like that. And not just at the table either.
Hermione wondered why Harry sat some distance away from them. Not to mention the fact that he wasn't, according to Ron, in the bedroom tonight. And he had come in with that French girl on his arm and wearing new clothes.
Only she wanted to call out to Potter as she was interrupted by Ron's disgruntled voice.
"Harry, where were you last night?"
"Dumbledore gave me a private suite as a participant in the Tournament. That's where I spent the night," the boy replied neutrally, not looking in the redhead's direction.
"And why did you come arm in arm with another champion? Harry, she's your enemy!"
"No, she's not my enemy, she's my rival. And those are completely different things. And I can spend my time with whoever I want," Harry finished more coldly.
Fleur was in seventh heaven. He was actually protecting her from the attacks of his past... the word 'favorites' was more appropriate.
Here Hermione decided to show herself and ask an important question.
"Why aren't you in your school uniform?
"
"Since I'm in the Tournament, I can wear whatever I want."
"So why are you wearing that Muggle nonsense?" blurted out Weasley.
"That Armani suit cost about seven hundred galleons. I stocked up on the good stuff over the summer."
Such a price even Fleur was surprised. No, she could spend seventy galleons on a dress, well a hundred, but not seven hundred. For reference, the latest model of broomstick cost eight hundred and sixty galleons.
Ron's eyes widened, and then he turned away, his whole face showing resentment. Occasionally, though, he glanced at Fleur, thinking no one could see him.
Potter, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice. Though why would he seem to, if he did? He could be remarkably attentive to the little things, but when it came to the feelings of others about him, he was remarkably blind.
"Okay, Harry, let's go to Potions. Class starts in five minutes," Granger decided that nothing unites like a common enemy in the form of Snape.
"I have free attendance," looking in front of him, Potter replied. "But, Harry, that's 'll get sidetracked and then he'll be like, "...blah, blah, blah...," the quote wasn't exact, but that's what the student heard. What he knew for sure was that if that annoying one got something into his head, there was only shutting down.
"I have no need to attend fourth year pairs," he interrupted her eventually.
"How not?"
Hermione seemed insulted to the core. This Potter thought that if he was chosen by the Goblet, he really did know everything better than anyone else in the school?
"At the end of this year I take the NEWT and afterward I become Dumbledore's personal apprentice. I don't need to attend classes."
Why? The headmaster didn't say to keep quiet. So it was okay to tell so they'd get off his back.
"That's a very good joke, Harry. Ha ha, it made me laugh. Come on, finish your food and let's go!" replied the curly haired girl a little glumly in a commanding tone.
"Girl, he's telling the truth. The headmaster has appreciated his intelligence. In case you weren't aware, he has an Oxford degree that he got a few months before enrolling at Hogwarts," Fleur intervened, giving out her best icy tone.
Harry gave her a slightly disgruntled look, but remained silent. He was going to keep the aces up his sleeve for a while. But what was done was done. Hermione seemed dumbfounded. Oxford diploma, fourth year final , tears for her fame as the smartest witch in the world. No matter how proud she was of her knowledge, it was unlikely that she could even pass the OWL exams now, not even the theory, let alone the practice.
A devastated Granger took Ron by the ear and dragged him into the classroom.
" 'Arry, so what are you going to do today then, if it's no secret?"
"I'm going to either go to the library, read something, or practice spells... I invite you to help me," anticipating the question that would follow from the veela, he offered. 'If you can't prevent it, you'd better lead it.
"Merci, d'accord," murmured a satisfied Fleur.
A month went by in roughly that fashion. Harry devoted himself completely to his self-study and to veela. She was always around. And not to say it was annoying. Lately he was even happy to see her.
But here came the day of the first test.
Honestly, with this test, everyone who couldn't help themselves was trying to help Harry: someone was telling him what was going to happen there, someone was telling him what to do, someone was doing something else along those lines. Harry was nodding smartly, working out in his head the next formula for the higher transfiguration he'd taken up.
That was the hardest part of it, keeping a huge reservoir of formulas in the brain's short-term memory to visualize and describe what you were transfiguring and what you were transfiguring into. Harry didn't have a problem with that. So far he's been able to deduce the transfiguration of a huge chain with formulas, because the first task is traditionally a battle with something big and dangerous.
The only thing Potter knew about the first test at this point was that it would be in twenty minutes.
He was the last to enter the champions tent.
"Hello, Harry!" exclaimed Bagman cheerfully. "Come in, come in! Make yourself at home!"
In the corner on a low wooden chair sat Fleur, pale, droplets of sweat visible on her forehead. Krum frowned even harder, looking nervous. Cedric paced from corner to corner. Seeing Harry, Diggory smiled slightly. Potter responded with a polite nod of his head.
Shocked by his actions, he conjured up another chair next to Fleur's and sat down on it, putting his arm around veela, reassuring her. She snuggled closer to him.
Someone in the room whistled.
Bagman was wearing an old robe with black-and-yellow wasp-like stripes. Fat, jovial, he looked like a caricature surrounded by pale and tense champions.
"So, everyone is assembled. And I'll let you know what to do now! When the spectators have gathered, I'll open this bag here," he lifted a small red silk pouch and shook it. "In it are replicas of those you are to fight. They are all different. Each of you will take turns lowering your hand and pulling out the one sent to you by fate."
Bagman untied the silk pouch.
"Ladies, please," he announced, offering the pouch to Fleur.
She dipped her hand inside and took out a tiny, accurate model of a Welsh Green with the number "2" tag around its neck. Fleur didn't show the slightest bit of surprise, more of a realized doom. And went back into Harry's soothing embrace.
The second choice was Krum. The scarlet Chinese Fireball with the number "3" fell to him. Victor didn't blink an eye, just looked under his feet.
Cedric pulled out a blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout with the number "1".
Harry pulled out his dragonkin number '4' with interest. The Hungarian Horntail seems to be one of the more ferocious dragons. Delacour, throwing him a concerned look, confirmed his fears.
Potter didn't listen further. He mulled over his plan in his head, hovering with an unseeing gaze forward, unaware of anything. With his left hand, Harry cradled the veela, and with his right, he found her trembling hand and took it gently.
"I think his subconscious mind is more concerned with his body's privacy than his conscious mind," the Frenchwoman's mind flashed, which lifted her spirits a little.
Hearing that Cedric was up to the task, Harry was distracted from his thoughts.
"Come on Fleur, I have faith in you. Surprisingly so."
"Thank you," the encouragement from him was so-so, but she had long since accepted him for who he was and realized those were really important words.
Then there was Krum.
The last to come out was Potter.
What, defeat the dragon? Why not?
The spectators froze in horror when, after the usual, albeit moderately scary, moderately dangerous dragons, THIS was brought onto the field. A huge killing machine driven by twenty dragonologists. The stands became quiet, because, unlike the previous dragons, this one inspired some ancient, primal fear.
And from the other side of the arena, Potter emerged, dressed in a suit that had been familiar of late. In a completely cold-blooded, calm walk, holding his wand in his right hand, looking directly into the dragon's eyes, he began to approach.
The dragon was freaking out, trying to snatch the chain and already attacking this insolent biped, who, without changing his facial expression, kept walking towards him.
Harry on the other hand, keeping all the right formulas and images in his head, approached the monster.
CRACK!
The chains snapped off their fastenings, and the dragon jerked violently towards the Boy-who-stands-with-a-blank-face.
It seemed Harry wouldn't make it this time, for the dragon's open maw was a couple of meters away from him. But Potter simply made a whistling motion from bottom to top with his wand, and in an instant the dragon was nailed to the ground by huge metal chains transfigured from stone. Another stroke of his wand and a huge stone icicle created out of thin air pierced through the dragon's head.
The spectators were silent. Someone even heard a cricket somewhere outside the arena.
Harry looked questioningly at the judges.
"Mr. Potter, your goal was to steal the golden egg from the clutch, not to kill the dragon!"
"... Oops!"