" 'Arry, I'm sorry about yesterday, mon chéri,' was the first thing Harry heard when he woke up.
Honestly, those words hurt something inside of him a little. Even Potter realized that from most people's point of view, he was the one who had behaved rather rudely yesterday. And now Fleur was apologizing to him in such a pitiful voice, as if she had done something terrible. Delacour stood across the bed with a tray in her hands, on which were croissants and coffee. Tilting her head down, she continued:
"I acted stupidly. I know how much you dislike socializing, and here it's just so many people in one place and..."
"Fleur," he interrupted rather gently for typical Harry, "it's not your fault. I've had my mood pretty badly ruined by that Weasley and I wanted some peace and quiet. And actually, for that matter... you're the one... I'm sorry," Harry said the last sentence with a slight wrinkle in the bridge of his nose, not believing he was saying it himself.
Veela looked up and stared at him with a look of surprise and hope. She, more than anyone else, knew what it had cost him to say that phrase.
"Now come here, and let's eat together what you brought," Harry said in his usual, emotionless voice. Seeing the undisguised joy in the veela's eyes, he remarked a little distantly, "For someone of such high intelligence, she's surprisingly emotional."
With wandless levitation, Potter held the tray in front of him and Fleur, while she happily ate what she had brought, chirped about how she had something to do in the carriage for the day today, Harry, to be honest, wasn't really listening. It was rare that he didn't listen to a veela, but this was the case. He'd deduced the main thing that he'd been doing all day today on his own. Something he had gotten used to since Delacour had come into his life.
Catching himself at that thought, Harry hovered a little.
And indeed, she was constantly with him in silent support. It even made him feel a little good. Just a little bit. Somewhere deep down. Though perhaps it was the coffee that reached his stomach.
Left alone, sitting in the chair in front of the fireplace, Potter remembered that it had been a long time since he had used the knives for their original use. Harry rolled up his sleeves and swiped the blade, making an incision. Blood flowed out. It was no longer as satisfying and relaxing as it used to be. He would even say that he basically felt nothing but mild satisfaction. It used to be his salvation. Every cut was like a new orgasm.
Suddenly, space distorted in the middle of the room, and with a small flash of fire, Dumbledore appeared. Harry, however, was already used to this extravagant way of the Headmaster's appearance.
"Harry, you seem to have gotten out of the habit of cutting yourself," Dumbledore reminded him a little thoughtfully.
"No... Although, more like yes. It doesn't bring the same absolution," Potter replied, healing his cuts with his wand. "What brings you here, Headmaster?"
"I would like to discuss a few matters with you. And the first of them is: "have you figured out Tom's new rat yet?"..." the Light mage asked, sitting down in a nearby chair.
"Yes, Bagman. A few word-parasites are gone, replaced by new ones. The gait has changed, also the manner of speech, the look, the gestures. In short, the new Eater is doing far worse than Barty."
"Yes, you're right, of course. Now tell me, what is his ultimate purpose for being here?"
"Hmm, well, given that I'm still here alive and False Bagman trying to help me in the Tournament, I guess he's going to try to kill me in the last challenge, blaming it on the mission itself? The third quest, on the other hand, is traditionally a quest to find a trophy in a dungeon, maze, or similar. That's the one for 'accidental' death."
"No, I think if he wanted to kill you, he would have already. He needs to steal you. And in a way that we wouldn't notice right away. And ideally not notice at all. Be careful, at any moment they might decide to steal you for nothing."
"I'm careful...as I always am. Anything else?" asked Harry and immediately regretted it when he saw Albus' eyes twinkle.
"Yes, Harry. How do you feel about Ms. Delacour?"
"Toward Fleur? Nothing," replied the boy as firmly as he could. "She's taken up residence here, you might say, and I don't mind. It can get cold at night."
"Uh, that's good. The thing is, to my deep regret, she must be sacrificed..." looking intently at his interlocutor, Dumbledore said.
"NO!" jumped Harry, automatically pointing his wand at the Headmaster.
"There, and you say you have no feelings whatsoever!" cheered his grandfather, looking into Potter's infuriated eyes. "It was just a test, put your wand down and sit down please."
After waiting for the young man to do as he was told, Albus continued:
"Seems to me, if you had said now that you had to sacrifice England, you wouldn't have reacted so strongly. Harry, you need to listen to yourself and figure out how you feel about Miss Delacour."
"I..."
"I don't need to know," the headmaster interrupted, "you have to figure it out for yourself. Just trust my experience, or you'll be very sorry later."
There was a brief pause, during which Dumbledore stroked his beard and Harry stared into the fireplace and sipped the coffee Fleur had made him before running off.
Should probably have a smoke. Instead of a packet, there was a note on the table:
"Harry, we're out of cigarettes. I'll be sure to get some more today. Yours Fleur."
After reading the note, Potter just leaned back in his chair and stared into the fireplace. She was invisibly close by all the time. Again something warm appeared somewhere deep. Although, it might have been the coffee again.
After a while, Harry decided to clarify something:
"Headmaster, do you know how to play the piano?"
He seemed to catch Albus off guard with that question.
"Yes, I can play many instruments, why do you want to?"
"I'd like to learn. It was the piano that first came to mind."
"I'm sorry, Harry, but as long as the Tournament is going on, I can't teach you anything. The vows are pretty strict around here. You'd better tell me, have you solved the riddle of the egg yet?"
"А? What egg?"
"The one you stole from the dragon. You know, you should practice paying attention to everyday things, because sometimes it seems like you're just messing around," the headmaster said in a tired voice.
"To be honest, sometimes I am," Potter smirked. "The Marauders' legacy, you know, kicks in sometimes. But I wasn't kidding about the egg. No, I haven't solved it or even tried it. But I know that, again, traditionally there will be someone or something we'll need to rescue."
"I can't tell if you're right or wrong, Harry. But you know, you have absolutely no ties to anyone but Ms. Delacour and me right now. So the judges, if there was any hostage taking, would look closely at your past connections," Albus looked into Harry's eyes.
"Ron. I see."
"And last in number but by no means least. Harry, I'm obliged to ask you. You're sharing a room with a girl, and I'm sure no one's told you this," the boy smelled something amiss, "about pistils and stamens. You see, when..."
"OK, WAIT!" interrupted Harry's headmaster with panic in his eyes. "I grew up in the Muggle world and I know where babies come from!"
"Are you sure about that? Because nature will take its course and then there will be a baby during the war..."
"YES, I'm sure!" shouted, panicking a little, Potter.
"Well, alright then, I'll leave you to it," chuckling into his beard, Dumbledore apprised the boy. "By the way, you're a member of the Tournament so just thought I'd tell you the password to the seniors' bathroom is 'pine fresh'."
"Oh well, I'll dip this egg in the water, I will. That's it, come on, goodbye. I'm off to learn the piano."
Still chuckling in his beard, the headmaster called Fawkes over and with him disappeared with a little clap.
After enlarging the piano he had bought from the owl mail, Harry decided to try out a few chords.
Fleur was in seventh heaven today. Her little sister Gabrielle was arriving. If Harry would agree to let her stay with them, she would be spending Christmas with the two people she held dearest to her. The main thing was that her lover would agree.
While still on the approach to the apartment, the sisters heard strange noises. When they entered, the first thing that caught their eyes was the piano, where Harry was sitting at and fiddling with his fingers. It was recognizable, but it was crooked. Without noticing the girls, he jumped up and angrily transfigured the piano into a flower pot, which he immediately placed on the only tray. Turning around, he froze. Rubbed his eyes.
"Fleur, who is that? And why does she look so much like you?"
"That's my sister, Gabrielle..."
Gabrielle ran and put her arms around her landlord's waist and rasped something in French. Harry, however, froze and looked at the girl with terror in his eyes. Then he shifted his pleading gaze to Fleur and whispered:
"Fleur, put her away, please. I'll do anything for you, just unhook her, please..."
"Gabrielle, come here," laughing, called out that Delacour. "She's just a fan of 'Arry Potter. In France, you know, they tell stories about the Dark Lord's Great Victor, too."
"And now 'Arry Potter is my sister's boyfriend! Boyfriend, isn't he?" exclaimed Gabrielle.
Harry raised an eyebrow, Fleur stepped up gently and whispered in his ear:
"If you can, try to explain our relationship differently to an eight year old girl."
After looking into the veela's eyes for a couple seconds, Potter turned back to her sister and, putting one arm around the blushing Fleur's waist, confirmed:
"Yes, we're dating."
Gabrielle jumped up on the spot and clapped her hands, while Fleur thought sadly that it would be nice if it were true. And then she remembered a very important moment.
"'Arry, look, can Gabrielle come live with us? Please, please...' have you tried enduring the veela's pleading gaze? Shrek the cat's on the sidelines. Harry couldn't take it, and he didn't even try. Of course, lately he had begun to feel an inordinate amount of emotions and was still subconsciously afraid of getting burned as in his distant childhood, when he had brought his excellent results in trying to please the Dursleys. However, he didn't feel like completely shutting himself off again just yet. After all, Potter was beginning to realize that he had some feelings for Fleur. Not a hell of a lot, but he had some. And that was better than nothing.
"Oh, okay. I'll sleep on the couch, you sleep in the bedroom."
At this statement Fleur first looked at him surprised, then upset, and then with a slightly flushed face she suggested:
"Why don't we let her sleep here, on the transfigured bed, and we'll sleep there? I just, well..."
"Okay," Harry interrupted, looking at the increasingly blushing girl. "I certainly don't mind," smirked the young man slightly, to which the veela, who had only raised her head, lowered it sharply, blushing even more.
"And now it's time to solve the riddle of the egg... Yes, Dumbledore reminded me again," Potter added, seeing Fleur's surprised look. "Gabrielle, make yourself comfortable here. No one is allowed in the lab. It's deadly dangerous. Fleur, go to the carriage to get your swimsuit, meet me on the fifth floor in half an hour outside the Heads' Bathroom."
"Why the carriage? I'll get it from the closet right now. All my stuff has been here for a while," the veela explained, noticing Harry's surprised look.
"Yeah, time to pay more attention to your surroundings..." the man muttered. "Alright, grab your swimsuit and let's go. We'll change there," Potter finished confidently.
"Yeah," Harry noted, looking at himself half-naked in the mirror. There was a basilisk scar on his arm, and a lot of marks on his body from the Dursleys' beatings, street fights, and other Harry Potter "adventures".
Looking at himself, he realized that he looked too... formed for a fourteen-year-old, but Dumbledore had said that magic adjusted the body to the demands of the human brain. And the magically saturated background of Hogwarts helped spur the body to grow up quickly. He looked about sixteen years old now, and the growth was still coming.
Harry walked out of the changing room to the bathtub-pool and lay in it with his egg. The water was warm and foamy.
Just then Fleur walked in in her swimsuit, if those rags could be called that. But Potter, already hardened by her robe, didn't look where he shouldn't. This upset Delacour a little. She was counting on a more... at least some sort of reaction. Veela waded into the water and sat almost obscenely close to Harry.
"Now let's dive in and listen to what the egg says," Harry commanded firmly.
Fleur gathered air into her chest, sat underwater on the marble floor and listened: a chorus of voices sounded from the opened egg, giving her goosebumps.
"Seek where our voices might be heard,
But not on land, where we are as dumb as fish.
"Seek and know that we have taken what we have taken,
That you will grieve for
# You've only got an hour to find what we stole
To get back what we stole
Search and remember as you go on this journey,
"There's only an hour, and then it's gone."
Veela pushed herself off the floor, sprang up and shook her head, flicking her hair back from her face.
"Oh shit, now I see why Gabrielle is here!" exclaimed Fleur. "If anything happens to her, je vais brûler all qui ont inventé this stupide ordeal!" it was obvious that the veela was starting to get a little hysterical, Harry put a hand on her shoulder.
"Nothing will happen to her, I promise you," Harry said, looking her straight in the eyes. She, touched by his words, moved closer, placing both hands behind his neck, still looking him straight in the eyes. A flicker of incomprehension flashed in Harry's eyes. She began to slowly bring her lips closer to his as the door to the room opened and Cedric and Chang walked in, chatting merrily. Seeing the picture of the pool, they froze. Fleur bounced up sharply.
"Uh-oh, sorry, we're interrupting you," the Hogwarts Champion said cheerfully, twitching his eyebrows.
"No, everything we wanted to do has already been done," replied Harry neutrally with a stone face. "Fleur, let's go I guess, shall we?"
"Yes, 'Arry, let's go."
Delacour was cursing everyone and everything at this point. She almost kissed him. For a moment, come back later. If there is a god, he obviously doesn't love her.
Harry did everything automatically. He caught himself thinking for the first time that he regretted the two of them coming in.
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