Deep in the woods outside Hogsmeade sat a boy alone, with a very sour expression on his face. The reason he was feeling rather sour was because a particular blonde champion had not sought him out all week like he had expected her to. He had expected her to. It felt daft in retrospect, but at the time it had been a welcome respite.
He felt angry, humiliated, bitter- no… that was not right. Mostly, he just felt sad. Hermione had been right. He had been right. She had just been after what he knew. He hadn't the heart to tell his friends that yet so he had dodged the subject as much as possible. Hermione and Ron were enjoying their Hogsmeade visit and he had disappeared to go sulk. A part of him hoped that they were imagining he was with Fleur right now.
Harry had not even wanted to go to the ball, he remembered. He had wanted none of it. It had already almost screwed up his friendship with Ron and now it had screwed up his self-esteem. The only reason the school was even allowing fourth-years to go to the ball was because of Harry. Because he had been chosen, rather forced, to enter into the stupid tournament.
Harry sighed quietly before leaning back against the large tree. He could just barely see the Shrieking Shack from his viewpoint but it helped calm him down. Once it had brought fear and curiosity to him, then he found out its true purpose and it brought comfort. It was a place integral to his father's group of friends and him. He wondered if they could help him. Sirius had yet to respond to his letter, Remus too, and he would rather suck on a shard of glass than speak to Wormtail about girls. Harry really wanted to speak with his father, his father would know what to say to a girl. If he had gotten his mom then he could easily help him with Fleur.
"'Arry Potter, hiding again, are we?" A girl asked before plopping down immediately beside him. He could tell who it was simply by her voice, and the way he felt when she was near, he did not have to look. But look he did.
She looked particularly beautiful outside of her school robes, not that she didn't in them. "Fleur?" He found himself asking as he studied her. She wore a red wool sweater with a matching red beret. Around her neck was a loose white scarf with a pair of white gloves on her hands.
Despite how happy he was to see her, a part of him wondered if she had to sit so close. His eyes dropped to her lips which rested oh so close to his and had never looked oh so red before. For a brief moment, the only sensation he could feel was her arm brushing up against his own. You're being weird, he suddenly thought and he quickly looked away from her lips as he attempted to rein in his hormones.
"'Arry?" She asked, matching his tone and mimicking his facial expression like she had before.
He did not want to ask the question that his mind screamed at him to ask. It was clingy and weird and worst of all, it was "pathetic." He should ask how her week had gone but all he could ask instead was, "where have you been?"
Fleur's teasing grin fell away, replaced by the cold stare of the girl who had rejected him. She watched him quietly for a moment, a moment Harry could almost physically touch, it felt so present. Finally she spoke. "I've been here, where have you been, 'Arry Potter?" She asked quietly, so quiet she might have been speaking only to herself.
Harry's brows furrowed as he thought over the question. Where have I been? he wondered, what does that even mean?
"Sorry." He mumbled, but he resisted looking away.
She huffed lightly and leaned back, some of her previous mood returning quickly. "You know if you missed me so much, you could have sought me out." She stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Harry cursed himself because it was. It was the most obvious thing in the world. They were friends now. He could have gone to her just as he went to Ron or Hermione and they to him.
"Do you want to walk?" Harry asked, suddenly standing up and holding a hand out to her. He wanted to change the subject, move on.
Fleur watched him for a moment, her smile growing larger as she began to push herself up and reach for Harry's hand. And then she stopped. She glanced between his hand, him, and the pathway behind him, a hint of disappointment on her face. But then it was gone, replaced by a loud yawn.
"You can if you want, but I already walked so far just to come and give you company while you sulked. I think I will rest for a while." She stated mockingly.
He wanted to point out that she was a Triwizard champion and that she surely had another kilometer or two in her, but something inside of him whispered that it would not be a good idea. Instead he plopped back down beside the beautiful girl, with the addition of a healthy inch or two, which was made up by her scooting closer…
His cheeks reddened at having not only been called out for sulking but also for trying to put more distance between them. She had obviously seen through his attempt and had no problem with dispelling it.
"I understand why you came out here, 'Arry… it's beautiful. I had begun to worry that you British were sorely lacking in it, but I was wrong. I wonder what this place must look like when it's snowing…" Fleur trailed off, a ponderous look on her face.
Harry spoke before he could stop himself, before he could think. "We can come again, when it's snowing I mean, if you want." He said, his face heating up a degree or two.
Fleur stared at him curiously for a moment, eventually a soft chuckle escaped her red lips and she spoke. "I think I would like that very much, thank you." Harry breathed in deeply with relief before he looked away and began cursing himself. He did not usually act like this, not that he was very good with girls to begin with. But he easily held conversations with Hermione or Ginny, many others in Gryffindor too. Why was Fleur any different? No, he had acted similarly with Cho before but never like this. This was something different yet still.
Fleur shivered lightly, shaking Harry from his thoughts. He looked at her, feeling a little confused but not willing to ask. It was chilly, but not cold. She was already bundled up in clothing that would make Harry sweat. How was she still cold?
His confusion must have been quite obvious as only a second later she answered him. "Veela run colder than most, we prefer warm weather, hot really." She told him as she pulled her legs closer into her body. A moment later she stopped and glanced up to Harry, worried. "Do not tell anyone that, it's our best kept secret." She added on, a smirk suddenly appearing.
Harry's brows furrowed as he thought over her words. "Veela," he had heard it mentioned a few times before in relation to Fleur, but really he had no idea what one was.
"Fleur, what exactly is a Veela?" Harry finally asked, hoping it was not an insensitive question. He had, after all, already learned that lesson with Dobby.
Fleur stopped messing with her clothes and position and looked back at Harry, wide-eyed. "You mean you do not know?" Harry felt her eyes on his as she studied him intently, more intently than before. Perhaps it is an insensitive question then… whoops, he thought.
"No… should I?" He told her simply, feeling embarrassed.
She continued to study him for another moment before quickly glancing away. Is that… a blush? he wondered, watching her cheeks redden slightly.
"I suppose I just assumed…" she trailed off, glancing back at Harry before quickly looking away. "Veela are a magical species similar to wizards but still wildly different. They were the inspiration for Muggle myths such as the Sirens. They are usually beautiful with unique magic known only to their own. Many wizards of old and even today believe there is great prestige in having a Veela on their arm. Children born of Wizard and Veela would share their parents' abilities, both of them. They are highly sought after for spouses by many wizards, often aggressively so… because of all that, they largely stick to their own kind. 'Arry, I am part-Veela." She finished, fidgeting slightly as she stared Harry in his eyes.
Harry had listened quietly but intently, "huh," he finally said, not entirely sure how to react. It was interesting, and he would love to hear more about her heritage, but how did it relate to him? Why had she blushed in embarrassment? Then it dawned on him and he looked back at Fleur with no small amount of hurt.
"You thought I asked you to the Yule ball because of that then? Prestige? I have enough of that already, Fleur. Surely you do not think me that shallow?" He asked, hoping he was wrong. He truly had very little idea of what a Veela was before that day.
Fleur stared at him, unimpressed, her previous sheepish mood forgotten. "I seem to remember my being pretty one of your core reasons for asking me to the ball, 'Arry Potter." She stated flatly.
Harry cringed immediately, a feeling of shame and regret quickly spreading through his stomach. It had been one of his reasons in pursuing her, worse, he would be lying if he said it wasn't still. Fleur watched him in anticipation with raised eyebrows and her arms crossed before her chest.
He opened his mouth to make out an apology before he realized something. "Hang on, before I asked you to the ball, you had rejected a dozen guys, since then you have rejected a dozen more-"
"I rejected you as well, 'Arry," Fleur reminded him helpfully.
Harry glared at her lightly before sighing. "But you didn't, not really, not like the rest, I assume you believe they asked you because you are part-Veela, as with me, but you did not outright reject me." He asked.
Fleur tapped her cheek repeatedly with her left forefinger for a moment. "Why?" She repeated once. "Well, I suppose I did not reject you like I rejected the others because of who you are."
Harry's heart fell but he continued, "and who am I?" He managed to ask.
Fleur tilted her head, confused, her finger briefly stilling. "'You are 'Arry Potter." She stated.
Harry should have felt mad, betrayed perhaps, or even angry. In the past he had been, he did not like using his fame to his advantage, at least not in such a direct way. His parents died in the process of gaining said fame, and to cheapen it to such a degree of using it to get a free lunch or a date with a pretty witch disgusted him. All the same, his heart jumped at the way she said his name and suddenly he felt warm all over.
Perhaps it does not matter, my name was not enough for her to accept, I am still where I started, he debated. Fleur caught his eye then and with a sinking feeling, he realized he had been sitting silent for the good part of a minute. She watched him with a large smile spread out across her face, the smile which signified a hidden secret unwilling to be divulged.
"Sorry." Harry told her, forcing the blush and dazed look from his face.
Fleur looked at him, amused. "For?" She replied after a moment.
"Sorry for getting offended, Fleur, it was hypocritical." He told her honestly, though a part of him whispered that she should also apologize. He ignored it.
Fleur scoffed lightly, "you do not have to be sorry for that, 'Arry." She whispered tiredly.
"Sorry for going silent on you then… or?" He trailed off, lost.
Fleur leaned the side of her head on the tree as she stared at him. "Something like that, yes." She finally decided once a few moments had passed. Her eyes closed then and her head gently fell forward so as to use his shoulder as a pillow.
Harry cursed, he had just gotten himself back under control but now his heart was racing once more and the hair on his arm stood upright as her hair brushed against it.
"Fleur?" He asked hesitantly.
"Yes, 'Arry?" She responded after a moment.
So she's not asleep then, she's conscious of what she's doing, Harry thought briefly. He opened his mouth to speak but before any words could come out, he stopped himself. She was not asleep, she was just resting, she had said she was tired. He did not mind his predicament that much so he wondered if perhaps it was better to just leave her be.