A/N : This chapter contains excessive amounts of French (not Google Translate, I know the language better than I do English, in fact) and therefore may not be suited to all audiences. For the reader's comfort, I have rewritten this chapter in English entirely (the next one posted), which should be labelled as "Centenary Occurence - ". I hope this solves any linguistic barriers and makes the chapter enjoyable for everyone. Future chapters may also contain small amounts of French. Those chapters will only feature bouts of French here and there, mostly just word insertions at some places. Those will be translated at the bottom of the chapter. Future chapter's containing big amounts of French (more than one entire sentence in French) will always be posted along with the translated chapter. If you are bilingual though, and speak both French and English, I do hope you enjoy the switches between the two languages. Anyhow, as per usual :
I DO NOT own anything, every recognisable character, event, action, incantation belong to J.K. Rowling. Updates may be irregular because of school, among other things. My first language is not English, so to you expert English writers and speakers, expect some mistakes here and there. I will do my best to correct them, though.
This chapter is entirely from Fleur's point of view, which is why most conversations are in French. The translated chapter will be posted along. I had to rush a bit in the correction for this and the next three or four chapters so I might've missed more mistakes. I'll try to respect my schedule to the best of my capabilities for the next chapters.
This story is rated M for a reason. You may be your own judge but there will be themes in the upcoming future chapters that are not suited for every audience. Consider this a warning.
Chapter 3 - Centenary Occurrence
Paris, the City of Lights, the City of Love. It was a fairly hot summer day, with the occasional small breeze whistling through downtown. The sky was clear of any clouds for miles on end, with the occasional pigeon taking flight only to land a few hundred metres away.
On the balcony of a large, modernly designed house sat a young woman. This woman was no ordinary woman, no, she was a witch, a very powerful one. And to make matters better or worse, depending on which end of the wand one stood, she was a Veela. A very beautiful Veela. It is said, in the ancient tomes of the Veela enclaves that a Veela's beauty scales with her power. The more powerful one was, the more beautiful she would be. Make no mistake, even the less powerful Veelas were considered extremely beautiful and normal witches would look plain next to them. Sure, the more powerful they were magically, the more powerful their Allure would be, but even without the Allure, Veela genetics naturally moulded them into the epitome of beauty.
Fleur Delacour was sitting lazily on a lounge chair, propped up on one elbow, her other hand was holding a book that she was reading. Classy sunglasses protected her eyes from the bright noon's sunlight. The occasional breeze rustled her lilac sundress, making her silver blonde hair float around. There was an elegance and sensuality about her that most women would kill for.
She flipped a page of her book, yawning. Summertime was definitely her favourite period of the year. It was warm almost all day long and she could spend hours on end lazing under the sun, working her tan or just relaxing. It was strange, she loved the peace and quietness of her neighbourhood, but there was also something within her that yearned for action, adventure. Slowly, she rubbed her foot against her other calf, massaging it absently.
Soon, she and her mother and sister would have to go on their yearly Veela enclave visit. It was a yearly, single day celebration that almost all Veelas from across France would attend. The enclave was located somewhere around the very southern border of France, near Marseille. Veela tended to gravitate towards warmer regions, as their body heat was higher than that of normal humans and wizards. The cold suited them just fine, but was not preferred.
Somewhere in the house, Gabrielle laughed merrily. Fleur smiled amusedly. The little eight year old had probably been caught trying to sneak off with some of their mother's precious chocolate. Fleur would never admit it, but some of the times her mother had noticed her chocolate was gone and she had blamed Gabrielle, in reality, the real culprit was herself. Chocolate was one of the rare weaknesses of the Delacour women.
With a delicate, dainty hand, she flipped another page of her book. She took a moment to examine her perfect porcelain skin. Fleur wasn't vain to the point of staring at her own image for hours on end in front of a mirror, but she knew she outclassed most if not almost all women in the looks department. A perfect hourglass shaped figure, curves all in the right place, long, smooth legs, perfect, pale skin, a firm, heart-shaped butt, in short, she would draw a no small amount of staring wherever she went. And she knew it.
She was proud of her beauty - who wouldn't? - but it was also the source of some of her insecurities, because yes, even the prettiest women in the world all had their own insecurities. Fleur often thought that others would only see her as all looks, no brains, whilst in reality, she was blessed in both departments. However, her insecurities weren't unfounded. Not a single student at the French Magical Academy - Beauxbatons - thought of her as more than a simple mannequin, her academic prowess were surely just given to her just because of her looks. It had depressed her, at first, what others thought of her, but now, she didn't mind anymore. She wasn't closed up and hiding in a shell, per se, but she did not talk to anyone at the Academy outside of necessity.
She would give her time to anyone that could see her as whole, not just her looks, nor just her brains. And right now, that person did not exist, so she just acted as herself with her family. That was plenty sufficient and she was content as of now. She needn't more, but she wouldn't be opposed to anyone else getting close to her. Not that it would be easy for that person, but Fleur could certainly hope.
The Veelas' mating season was getting close too, and her own teenage hormones were starting to rage free. The mating season was an annual period of time - between the months of September and December - during which all mature Veelas' hormones would go into overdrive and make them more, for the lack of better word, horny. It didn't turn them into sex-crazed deviants, but the mated Veelas would spend considerably more time in their bedrooms. Those without mates, however, would simply be more actively seeking for one.
To the external point of view, it would sound as if, during the mating season, Veela would go hunt for as many mates as possible and satisfy their desires, but that wasn't true to any extent. Veela, however tempting may it be, never engaged in sexual activities before being certain of their partner. Veela could only ever have one special person in their lives and it was simply impossible for them to move on to another. Some Veela had tried to do so in the past, may it be willingly or unwillingly, and at every occurrence, the other counterpart had lost more than just their lives. Nowadays, Veela were incredibly careful of and for whom they chose as their lover.
Now, with the approach of the month of September, Fleur's own hormones were raging within her, pushing her towards the potential male suitor. It had been like this for the last 3 years, ever since she was 14, around the end of summer, she would notice boys a lot more. If she was honest with herself, Fleur was quite annoyed. She had no time for little boys that couldn't even utter a single word in her presence., but yet, her hormones would make her notice, just a little more than a turn of her eyes, those with more attractive features.
She sighed, rubbing her foot against her calf again. She longed for the touch of someone other than her family. She let herself lie fully on her back, the hand that previously held her up was now toying with the thin strap of her lilac dress. A calm wind lifted her hair up. Except the wind did not calm. It kept blowing, stronger and stronger, and just as Fleur thought she would be blown away from the force of the air, the wind fell abruptly. And then, a wave of the strongest magic she had ever felt washed over her. And then, it was as if she was in a trance. Her body acted on its own accord. Fleur set her book down on the lounge chair, not even bothering marking the page.
She stood up, and, mechanically, walked back into the house, intent on finding her mother. Maybe she should have been panicking, maybe she should've yelled for someone to check if she hadn't been put under any spells, but no. Whatever magic had washed over her made her feel secure, whilst also giving off the feeling of dominance. She walked down a flight of stairs, just as her mother appeared at the bottom of said stairs, Gabrielle holding her hand. Her mother noticed Fleur and her robotic demeanour.
"Tu l'as ressentie toi aussi, Fleur?" Apolline asked. At Fleur's nod, the older woman smiled excitedly. "Il faut qu'on parte maintenant alors, pas le de prévenir Papa, quelque chose d'extraordinaire vient de se produire."
Fleur felt the feeling of the wave of… whatever that was, somewhat diminishing. Her stance relaxed considerably. 'That was intense,' she thought. Not unpleasant in the least, but it was unfamiliar. Apolline ushered little Gabrielle and Fleur both out of the house before grabbing both their hands and Disapparating them away.
As soon as they reappeared in a secluded alley of the Muggle world, Fleur recognized the place. They had been there once every year at the end of August for as long as she could remember. They had gone the year Gabrielle was born as well. But this was too early. Normally, this trip only occurred when her summer vacations were coming to an end. What were they doing here, now?
This was Marseille, the closest city to France's Veela enclave. Fleur, again, pondered what they were doing there. Surely it had something to do with the giant burst of wind she had felt moments earlier?
Her baby sister was looking around with wide innocent eyes, incomprehension reflecting all over her pretty blue eyes. "Maman? Qu'est-ce qu'on fait ici?"
Apolline smiled at her youngest daughter. "You shall see soon, Gabrielle. This is, after all, a centenary occurrence." She said no more and Gabrielle nodded vigorously, like a small child pretending to understand perfectly what they had just been told. Fleur grinned at her little sister. Gabrielle was just too damned cute for her own good.
Apolline led them outside of Marseille. They couldn't Apparate directly into the enclave, lest they risked getting killed by the ancient wards that covered the entire territory. Instead, they had to walk the short distance that separated Marseille from the enclave.
"Why exactly are we coming here, Maman? Normally we would just come to the yearly blessing rituals at the end of August, non?" Fleur cast a questioning glance at her mother.
"You will see very soon, Fleur. I think it is safe to say that most, if not all of the Veelas from France will be coming here," Apolline answered.
And she was right, Fleur noticed. There were quite a few other Veelas - she could feel their heritage - that were walking a few paces in front and behind them, seemingly all headed for the enclave. It only served to spur her curiosity further. What happened?
Then Apolline led Fleur and Gabrielle to a lone, official looking building. There were supposedly no more forests in the entirety of France; the trees had all been cut down during France's development stages, but that wasn't true. The Veela enclave was entirely surrounded by dense trees. The only reason those trees still existed was because of old, ancient wards that covered the entire enclave. Rumours said that the wards erected around the enclave were as powerful as the ones protecting Avalon, and since Avalon was yet to be discovered, well let's just say that the Veela enclave was very well protected.
As they entered the building, Fleur felt the usual freezing sensation of the wards washing over her before her body warmth returned. The wards scanned the blood of anyone entering the enclave for Veela blood. Should the visitor not be specifically invited with the Blood Key of the Elder Veela, they would find themselves instantly ripped to shreds by unknown magical forces summoned by the wards.
Nobody knew very well how those wards worked, that knowledge had been long since stolen in the Dark Ages by someone with the hopes of destroying the Veela clans across the world. The Veela never knew what had happened to that person, they only assumed that he had died. Anyhow, back in the enclave's entrance building, Fleur watched Gabrielle look around in wonder. She had been there eight times already, but the curiosity of a child was never satiated and Gabrielle somehow still found a fascination with the tall marble walls.
The trio made their way out of the building through a set of thick glass doors at the back. It was like they stepped into any other major city of France, except without all the non-magical buildings and what Muggles called machines, cars, lawnmowers, and all that. Houses surrounded the centre of the enclave. Apolline led Fleur and Gabrielle to the centre of the enclave, where a few other Veelas were already waiting patiently for something.
Thirty minutes later, the whole place was stacked with people. The dots started to connect in Fleur's mind. Maybe it was supposed to be evident, maybe it wasn't. The powerful wind gust she had felt that morning, maybe it wasn't so much as simply a gust of wind. It had to be something more and all the Veelas had sensed it, which would explain how her mother knew they had to be at the enclave.
Fleur's attention was caught by a Veela dressed in rich, elegant robes. Her exterior attire was much more luxurious than the people from around her. That was the Elder Veela. Fleur now recalled her name, she had heard it only once in the past 5 years she had visited the enclave with her mother and little Gabrielle. Andrea, the Elder Veela, made her way onto a platform like stage.
Despite her advanced age - she was over 104 years old - Andrea looked no more than 30 years old. Her figure was just as flawless as the day she had matured into the adult Veela form. Even her demeanour wasn't one of over a century of age, but that of someone a third her age. Vaguely, Fleur remembered something about Veela's life span, scaling with her magical power, much like wizards and witches, who could live up to four centuries at most. Fleur really hated history lessons, but unfortunately, some of the historical knowledge, she simply could not forgo. The oldest a wizard had ever lived was Merlin himself, rumoured by ancient texts to have died at around 443 years old.
She would definitely have to read up on her 'Veela, Ancestry and Powers explained, for the youth". It was a book that was gifted to all small Veela girls, when they reached their fifth anniversary. That tome had been written by the first of the Veela clans, way, way back, over some 1600 years ago. It contained all and everything there was to know about Veela and Fleur needed to be sure she knew it all.
Back on the stage, Andrea drew her wand and amplified her voice. "Fellow sisters and younglings," she intoned. "Today we are standing at the very centre of our enclave, brought together by our very instincts. You may ask, what exactly may have caused us to rally ourselves, in front of the altar, two weeks earlier than the blessing rituals day? It is because today, there has been an awakening, of sorts. Every century or so, someone with abnormal - superior - magical capabilities is born. And that is precisely what has happened today. Well they weren't exactly born today, but today, they have encountered something very powerful magically. Something so powerful that a shockwave of energy radiated from them."
"These beings, the ancient Veela texts label them as magical Titans. These Titans - not the recent ones but the older ones from over two hundred years ago - were known to associate with Magicals of higher abilities than the average wizard and witch, Veela being the most common ally. It is also a great honour for the Veela clans to be allied to a Titan, as most of the known Titans who associated with Veela ended up taking a Veela as their life partner."
At this, Fleur perked up, interested. Deep down inside her, she knew that she had relatively no chance to ever have a magical Titan as her mate. There was the whole Veela community against her, not to mention every other witch on the planet. And who said that this magical Titan didn't already have a special someone?
"Veela," Andrea continued, "have very finely tuned magical sensors that were used in the old days for the reproduction of our race. Nowadays, these sensors still exist and they still play a role in Veela mating, but wizards from the new age are way less strong mentally and close to none can resist the Veela Allure. Even after centuries of evolution, the magical sensors of Veela stay extremely sharp, therefore, if a Veela ever encounters a magical Titan, they'll know it instantly. So I ask of you, fellow sisters and ladies, that should you encounter this magical Titan, you report his or her location to the enclave. It should be in our best interests to reinitiate old alliances. This year, there will be no blessing rituals as the emergence of a magical Titan is a blessing enough in itself."
Andrea ended her speech there and exited the stage. Around Fleur, chatter and excited whispering among the other Veelas could be heard. Fleur had no right, but she still felt jealous flare up within her abdomen. Her Allure lashed out and flooded the whole plaza of the enclave. The other Veela's around her retreated slightly at her Allure coming out of her in waves.
Fleur's mind was alight with a burning inferno. The jealousy and determination of a young woman with the idea of proving herself to the world burned brightly in her chest. It was irrational, she knew, but her instincts said otherwise. She was better and far more deserving of this 'superior' magical being's attention than any other Veela around her. That she knew, and she had the proof for it. Whether it was academically or just in general, Fleur knew she was better.
The warm, calming touch of her mother brought her back into her own spirits. Fleur shook her head and sniffed. She clamped down her Allure abruptly and left in a stride, with her mother and little Gabrielle hot on her heels.
Apolline sighed as she marched behind Fleur, dragging her youngest by her hand. 'To be young again!' she thought to herself. She remembered clearly the specific episode in her life during which she had vivid emotions exactly like Fleur's currently. She was powerful too, not as much as Fleur was, but she was quite the accomplished witch. Veela produced much more hormones than normal witches and the more powerful a Veela was, the more hormones their bodies would produce.
In short, everything about Veela depended on how powerful they were, whether it was beauty, hormones, Allure or the gender of the Veela's children - if she ended up having any. Right now, at the perspective of a very powerful - magically - individual being in the world, Apolline could understand Fleur's volatile emotions. Unmated Veela all followed the same pattern of emotion when it came to powerful wizards. When there was a wizard that held great magical power that was unclaimed, the unmated Veela would all become jealous and weary of each other, whilst also not having any claim over said wizard.
Fleur reacted the same way. Apolline had no doubt that she would calm and return to her usual self in a matter of a few days and the incident - if you could call that an incident - would be soon forgotten.
Fleur felt her mother grab her shoulder and the sensation of being squeezed through an airtight tube encompassed her whole body. They reappeared on the front door of the Delacour house in Paris. Fleur saw her father, Sébastien Delacour, rush towards them as soon as they stepped through the front door.
"Houlà, qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?" he questioned a bit agitatedly. "Je suis revenu à la maison et voilà, pouf, plus personne!"
"L'apparition d'un nouveau Titan, apparemment," Fleur answered her father, all her previous agitation all but gone; she was her normal self once more.
Sébastien frowned thoughtfully. He knew his magical history very well, since his politician job at the French Ministry required it. The last magical Titan apparition had ripped the whole Wizarding world apart. The Dark Lord Voldemort was no ordinary wizard by any extent. And before him, there was the one in a trillion double event; the apparition of Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald. Sébastien doubted any of them knew of their status, and the rest of the world probably didn't know it either, but the giant censors hidden within the depths of each magical ministry couldn't be lied to. He couldn't know if the Veela enclaves had sensed those - they probably did - but he and Apolline weren't around yet to possibly know it. Still, if Fleur's words were indeed true, then Sébastien didn't know whether to be scared or to be excited. Two of the last three magical Titans had been the cause of the deaths of millions of non-Magicals and thousands and thousands of Magicals.
Fleur, meanwhile, kissed Gabrielle's brow before announcing her leave to her parents. "Je vais retourner à mon appartement," she said. And with that, she stepped into the fireplace and Flooed to her flat, waving to her parents and sister as she disappeared.
Fleur stepped out of the fireplace, into her apartment. Well it wasn't really an apartment, per se, more like a dormitory outside of her school. Beauxbatons itself didn't have any places for students to sleep, so students either stayed at their parents' places, or if they could afford it, they could rent their own place near the school. Fleur however, had her own place, but she didn't pay a Sickle for it. As the top student of her year, Beauxbatons offered her scholarships that covered any expenses she made during the school year. And that included her flat's rent, the food - if she didn't eat her meals at school, all her books, her robes, her trunks, pretty much anything that could affect her academic life.
The scholarships made her parents' lives quite easier. It wasn't like they weren't well off or anything, her father's political career made them quite the sum, and her mother's enchanting contract produced a more than fair income. But without having to pay the astronomical tuition of Beauxbatons for Fleur, they could save and invest their money elsewhere.
Fleur sighed. She looked out the charmed window of her flat into the magical counterpart of Lyon. Her place was situated in Lyon, which was the nearest she could get to Beauxbatons whilst still living in relative comfort. Beauxbatons was situated somewhere in the Alps and Fleur would Floo there every morning at 8 to attend her classes. She had read somewhere that some of the other magical schools functioned very differently from her own school. Apparently, Hogwarts and Ilvermorny hosted their students during the whole academic year and the students stayed in the school at all times.
Fleur herself preferred, by far, the homely feeling of her flat. Stepping into her room, Fleur shrugged off her lilac sundress and changed into a tight string top that arrived at her upper abdomen, leaving exposed the delicate skin of her flat
Sitting at her desk, Fleur pulled out her quill and ink and her leather-bound notebook. While she enjoyed Enchanting very much, what Fleur really loved was spell construction. Or rather its opposite; spell deconstruction. She would take a spell and analyse it until she could decompose it completely.
She would determine the association of wand movements and the intent behind the casting of a spell. She would link the uttered incantation with the result of a spell. Fleur hoped that one day, she would be able to deconstruct enough spells to be able to write her works down and publish them. Fleur believed that her work would allow the magical community to progress beyond that of regular spells, and each and every one could modify the current spells into their own versions of the spells.
She knew that it was also quite dangerous for the entirety of the magical world if people actually managed to create their own spells as a single slip could occur and everyone could kill anyone with any spell. But that was thinking way too forward. Fleur was currently through the analysis of the Stunning Spell.
She had only marked down the very basics for the spells for now. The forward circular flick of the wand to cast the spell, the caster's will to knock out the receiver of the spell, the meaning behind the incantation, it was all marked in her notebook.
Fleur sat there thinking, flipping through the previous pages of her notebook. Her eyes fell on a particular dog-eared page. It was her notes on the explosive hex, Bombarda. This was one of Fleur's main sources of pride. She had managed a full analysis and decomposition of the explosive hex at the age of 13 years old, which was during her third year at the Academy. She had reviewed those notes over and over, just to be sure that her pride was founded on valid notes. Every time, she had come to the same conclusion: the studies and notes of her thirteen year old self were flawless.
The explosive hex was one of the first massively destructive spells - when cast correctly with enough power - which she had learned as a young teenager to protect herself. The spell itself was complicated, but way less difficult than the Stunner.
The first step was to concentrate on a massive flux of her magic. Then, that flux would be redirected from her core and through her wand arm. Afterwards, for the duration of half a second - Fleur approximated the duration - the spell would be held at the tip of her wand before it would be shot.
At first, Fleur had thought the sounds spell made when they were fired didn't matter but oh how wrong she was. It had taken her weeks of her third year to figure that one out. For the explosive hex specifically, the jet of light made a sound when it was released from the wand; a sound somewhere in between a zipping sound and a shoe slipping on a wet floorboard. Fleur had laughed herself silly at first with that description of the sound, but it was really what it sounded like. To Fleur at least.
But that zipping sound had its importance. Fleur had read up on Advanced Arithmancy in her third year and she reverse-engineered the mathematics and the magic behind the Bombarda spell. The sound the spell emitted was a result of the highly unstable magic contained in the jet of light colliding against the air molecules. The shock and collisions the magic and the air created resulted in a zipping sound. 'But then why would the other spells emit different sounds or no sounds at all?' Fleur had mused to herself. She had kept asking that question to herself until she realised that the explosive spell attracted the air molecules it collided with and made them gravitate around itself.
The spell would attract the air molecules after colliding with them, pulling them away from their original… position. The sudden movement of the particles accentuated the signature zipping sound of the spell. Upon impact, the spell itself would magically explode, but the biggest damage would be caused by the air particles that the spell pulled to it. Those would be bursted into all directions by the magic explosion and with the magically enhanced speed and heat, the air would be turned to plasma for a split second, but that was enough to kill someone.
Fleur froze and her breath hitched. Could it be possible? Fleur looked over her notes again, the Arithmancy calculations to be precise. The magical intent multiplied with the factor of the desired spell effect - and a bunch of smaller mostly unimportant calculations - would create the explosive hex. But what if she changed the intent? Or the Arithmancy? Could she, Fleur Delacour, really create her own spells?
Fleur hastily flipped to a blank page in her notebook. In her elegant script, she wrote down her current main idea. Explosive stunner. Instead of blasting off air particles and unstable magic, maybe Fleur could get the spell to blast stunners instead. She had no idea how she would make that work but it was an idea to work towards. But first, the stunning spell. She would have to decrypt that one.
It was now pitch dark outside. Not feeling particularly hungry, Fleur grabbed a few of her precious pastries that she kept concealed on a shelf. If she didn't do so, every time Gabrielle would come over, the little eight year old would sneakily swipe some. Fleur had learned her lesson after her pastries had all but vanished in a week after Gabrielle had first come over.
Fleur nibbled distractedly on a pain au chocolat in her small kitchen. Some crumbles fell on her plate but Fleur paid no attention to them. She stared absently into nothingness. Her gaze was unfocused but her mind was running rampant. Those damned hormones. The mating season wasn't even officially here and Fleur's insides were already squirming. Oh how she wished she could make whatever magic was out there that created Veelas that she wasn't interested in little boys!
What could she possibly want of a wizard that couldn't even look at her properly, let alone talking to her? Fleur knew she had time, she had her whole life ahead of her. But still, every night, for the past 3 years, she had fallen asleep praying that one day - soon she hoped - she would meet her one. Sighing, Fleur set her plate away and dragged herself to her bed.
She snuggled under her covers, never mind the mild temperature of the summer day. Veela liked warmth and Fleur was no different. She fell asleep rapidly, her lips curving and silently pronouncing the word - bientôt - despite herself. Fleur never knew she had mouthed the word.
High up, in the deep, dark starlit skies of Lyon, a lone light shone brighter than any others. As if it was winking to the inhabitants of Earth. The keen and observant astronomer would've noticed Regulus shining brighter than it ever had; the star was almost positively twinkling. It stood out proudly from its constellation, constellation of Leo - lion in French.
Elsewhere, in the distant constellation of Andromeda, Alpheratz burned as brightly. Invisible to the eye, a lone meteoroid was caught in the orbit of Alpheratz. The massive star pulsed, radiating its blue hue and, suddenly, the meteoroid vanished. It simply ceased to be present in the orbit of Alpheratz.
Magic really could make wonders. That much was certain. Elsewhere, Regulus had suddenly gained a meteoroid. A space rock from elsewhere. Yet, instead of simply trapping the meteoroid in its orbit until it burned and disappeared like all the previous ones that had approached the star, this one was kept in Regulus' orbit. Never once did the star draw the rock close enough to destroy it.
And all that had happened almost 78 years ago. But the astronomer from Earth would only see it now. A shooting star glazed Earth's atmosphere, its bright tail trailing behind it. It passed over Lyon, Paris, and all of France. The next day, Muggles from England even would report the sighting of an unexpected shooting star.
In the world of dreamlands, beyond what is comprehended as reality by the human mind, a lone soul had made its nightly wish.
Maybe the Centaurs were right. Maybe the stars really hid messages about the mysteries of what's to come and what could be. Maybe magic really could be the origin of creation. Who knew?
Or maybe it was all just Fate's doings, and the stars were merely reflections of what's to come. One thing was for certain though. On the night of the ninth of August 1994, one single wish was granted by Magic.
Someone was yelling. Well no, that word wasn't right. Someone was squealing excitedly. That made no sense. Fleur lived alone. Well her parents and sister had free access to her flat anytime they wanted. Sister. Sister. Little sister.
Huh. The identity of the noisy intruder was revealed. Fleur smiled. Who else but Gabrielle would act as her personal réveille-matin? Said little girl burst into Fleur's room. A single flash of silver, the speed of a Veela bullet. Gabrielle literally threw herself into Fleur's waiting arms.
"Fleur!" she exclaimed excitedly. The little girl squeezed her elder sister tightly.
"Qu'est-ce qui t'as rendu si excitée si tôt le matin?" Fleur groaned. Gabrielle wasn't even supposed to be here alone! She was way too young to Floo around on her own. Or at least Apolline and Sébastien thought so. Apparently not.
"Allez Fleur, debout!" Gabrielle shouted energetically whilst shaking her sister lightly. "On va voir la coupe du monde!"
Fleur groaned again, casting a bleary glance at her alarm clock. The red, square numbers indicated 9:00 a.m. exactly. Whoops.
"Quelle coupe du monde?" Fleur asked Gabrielle groggily.
"Bah la coupe du monde de Quidditch! T'en connais d'autres coupes du monde?" the little bundle of energy replied enthusiastically. "Debout, maintenant, paresseuse," Gabrielle ordered, punctuating each three words with a bounce on Fleur's bed.
"Bon, bon, c'est bon, je me lève," Fleur grumbled. "Et je ne suis pas paresseuse!"
The young woman got out of bed, throwing the blanket over Gabrielle's head, trapping the little girl in the fabric. Fleur didn't bother with changing clothes. The string top and yoga shorts she wore to bed suited her just fine for the morning.
She helped Gabrielle out of the bed covers and scooped the little Veela up. "Allez, on va voir Maman et Papa."
With the eight year old Veela struggling in her tight grip, Fleur stepped into the fireplace and Flooed to the Delacour household. As soon as she stepped out of her parents' home's fireplace, Gabrielle jumped out of her arms and ran to their parents.
"Bon matin, Maman, Papa! C'est quoi cette histoire de coupe du monde que la petite canaille qui se cache derrière Papa ait jugé si importante qu'elle est venue toute seule jusqu'à mon appartement pour me l'annoncer?" Fleur asked her parents.
Apolline raised an eyebrow at the 'Gabrielle came to my apartment alone' part. Her look promised chastisement for the eight year old.
"C'est pour mon travail de politicien pour le Ministère Français, Fleur. La coupe du monde de Quidditch à lieu cette année en Angleterre et notre famille a été invitée. Normalement, je vous aurais donné le choix mais cette fois-ci, c'est hors de mon contrôle. Il faut que nous y soyons tous." Sébastien said apologetically.
Fleur felt a little uncomfortable at those words. She was sitting on a fence. She was torn between two ideas that seemed equally appealing to her. Well technically it was only one idea since the other one wasn't plausible anymore since her Papa had said they all needed to be present.
As a Veela, she didn't have any friends at school. Not a single one of the students at Beauxbatons thought her academic prowess were anything but legitimate. And the ones that did think her results were all because of the work she put in simply didn't deserve her time because those people didn't even care about themselves - academically speaking.
Some may have said that her loneliness may have caused her to be socially awkward but the social status of her Papa required her and her mother's presence - and sometimes little Gabby's - at social parties. There, she always had to interact with people mostly older than her. And so, she did her best to put on a fake pleasant persona.
She didn't hate any of the people she met at those soirées, per se, but that didn't mean she liked them. At least those interactions had made her aware of how wizards and witches behaved under formal occasions.
"Du coup, cette coupe du monde, c'est quand?" Fleur asked.
"Dans une semaine et un jour, le 18 août," Apolline told her daughter.
Fleur sighed. At least that gave her time to prepare herself and select something that fitted the occasion. 'So much for enjoying Quidditch,' Fleur thought. Why did wizards have to add flying murderous balls into something as gracious as flying, Fleur would never know. Maybe it was time for her to take out her old broom for a spin in the air once more. A tug on her sleeve brought Fleur out of her thoughts.
Looking down, Fleur saw Gabrielle looking up at her with wide pleading eyes. Her heart instantly melted at the bright, shining blue orbs that were aimed at her. And the small pout shaping her baby sister's lips! That little girl was way too adorable for her own good.
"Tu veux faire des gâteaux avec moi?" Gabrielle asked her big sister.
Fleur smiled inwardly but kept her exterior image unreadable. Messing with her little sister was way too fun sometimes.
"Laisse-moi y penser, oui?"
Gabrielle nodded excitedly but after seeing Fleur stay unmoving for more than a few seconds, she instantly went back to that cure pout of hers.
"Alleeez, s'te plaît Fleur! S'te plaît, s'te plaît, s'te plaît!"
And Fleur cracked.
"C'est bon, c'est bon, tu gagnes. Mais on fait la recette en anglais. Faut que tu pratiques."
Gabrielle gasped dramatically. "Why do I 'ave to practise zis 'orrible langue?" she whined.
"We are going to England, it is normal that you 'ave to practise. Même moi je dois me pratiquer. Allez, va chercher la recette maintenant."
Gabrielle pouted but still ran off and returned moments later with a piece of parchment. The little eight year old dropped the paper on the counter as if it had burned her.
"Brrr, l'anglais," Gabrielle shivered.
"Come on Gabby, it is not so bad. As a matter of fact, we are only speaking English for the duration of the making of the biscuits," Fleur smirked, making Gabrielle groan.
"Pas cool," Gabrielle glared at her sister.
"Allez," Fleur poked Gabrielle. "Mix the dough, I'll go get the chocolate chips."
Fleur waxed as Gabrielle expertly put together flour, salt and the baking soda. The small hands of her sister worked on the dough, shaping it together. Fleur, meanwhile, grabbed another large bowl. She dropped butter and sugar into the bowl and with a twirl of her wand, she began mixing the two substances together.
It was a good thirty minutes later that saw the biscuits finally cooking in the magical oven. From the kitchen, two Veelas stained with white flour patches all over their clothes ran out. Apolline had come into the kitchen about 10 minutes earlier to give Gabrielle a tongue lashing about using the Floo alone.
And she had walked in on Fleur and Gabrielle throwing flour at each other. There was no need to say that Apolline was less than happy with both her daughters. Gabrielle and Fleur had both run out of the kitchen giggling, lest their mother start hurling fireballs at them.
Gabrielle had gone to her room to read a book. Or at least that's what she had said. Fleur herself was now headed for the shower of the Delacour home to clean herself off.
With damp hair, Fleur went back to her flat in Lyon to grab her notebook and writing supplies. The baking session with Gabrielle was certainly fun and now, as she stepped back out of her parents' fireplace, she could smell the enticing aromas of the freshly baked treats.
Maybe a snack was due before she got to studying her notes once more.
The rest of the week passed without much trouble. Fleur had spent most of her time at her parents' place, spending time with little Gabrielle and her parents' both, whenever they weren't at work. The day of the World Cup was tomorrow and Fleur felt like she still had lots to do.
"Tu veux venir avec moi pour aller acheter mes affaires pour la rentrée?" Fleur said loudly so that her sister could hear her from across the house.
"Ouais!" came the excited reply of the little Veela. "Tu pourras m'acheter de la glace!"
Fleur laughed lightly at that. "Si t'es sage, c'est d'accord."
The drumming of running feet reached Fleur's ears before she saw the tiny eight year old bolting down the stairs. In an instant, the silver bullet had grabbed Fleur's hand and was pulling her off the couch and towards the fireplace.
"Place Sainte-Catherine!" Gabrielle shouted joyfully. With a flash of green flames and grey smoke, the little girl vanished. Thankfully, she had enough presence of mind - or rather, consideration - to let go of Fleur's hand before she Flooed away.
Following her sister, Fleur called out the same address and stepped into the fireplace. One whoosh later, she found herself in a small clubhouse, with loud music playing. It wasn't exactly a real clubhouse, no, it was just a decoy, to cover up the entrance to the magical shopping district of Wizarding France. Relieved at seeing her sister a few metres next to the glamoured fireplace, Fleur quickly grabbed her sister's hand and led her towards the ladies' restroom.
Discreetly, Fleur tapped the handle of the door thrice with her wand. She heard a small, satisfying unlocking sound. Pulling Gabrielle along, Fleur and her sister both stepped into the busy main alley of magical Paris.
All around them, shops and businesses bustled with people shouting prices or putting new products on display. Most notably, Monsieur Yibou, from the magical menagerie, was chasing an owl around the alley with his wand out, casting summoning charms at the escaping bird.
Next to Fleur, Gabrielle was laughing at hardly anything. Fleur smiled indulgently. The innocent mind of a child was often mesmerising. One as innocent as a small eight year old deserved the world, yet Gabrielle, like all Veela, was condemned to have a mostly lonely teenagehood. Simply because she was born a Veela. A soul born a gift, granted with unfaltering beauty, yet still a curse, for those tainted by jealousy would only despise her. And so, Fleur promised to do her best to give Gabrielle the teenagehood she herself never had.
"Allez, on va aller chercher mes livres d'abord," Fleur told Gabrielle.
Pulling her little sister along, Fleur walked towards the bookstore. Fleur pulled out her booklist from her bra's strap and quickly scanned through it.
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7 by Miranda Goshawk
A Master's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
Advanced Alchemy and Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
The Dark Arts: Theory and Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
Fleur didn't need the History of Magic book since it was the same gigantic volume that they studied for the seven years they spent at the academy. Her eyes trailed down further.
Mastering Arithmancy and Magical Calculation by Prius Pythagoras
The Advanced Guide for Magical Enchanting and Runecrafting by Astrid Erikson
Fleur gave a low whistle at the last two titles from her list. Those would've been extremely costly had the Academy not had her covered. With the current rates, 60 Galleons only for those two books felt like a robbery in broad daylight. But from what she had heard about the two authors, their books were indeed excellent so the money would be worth it. Hopefully.
On a shelf, Fleur noticed a thesaurus on spell incantations. She quickly flipped over to the page about the Stunning Spell. 'Huh,' she thought. So not French nor English. The word stupefy was from Latin like any other spell. So there really were no exceptions. Oh well, one wrong assumption wasn't the end of the world. Fleur closed the heavy volume and made a mental note to herself to change the notes she had written down in her notebook later. With her curiosity satisfied, Fleur carried on with her book browsing.
Fleur grabbed the necessary books from their respective shelves and made her way to the front of the store to pay for her purchases. Little Gabby had insisted on helping Fleur and was now proudly carrying the two biggest tomes of Fleur's pile.
Gabrielle was struggling a little to keep her balance and almost tripped when she went to deposit the two books she was carrying on the clerk's counter. Fleur caught her before she could hurt herself whilst sending an apologetic awkward smile at the saleslady. Fleur reached into her robes and pulled out her money bag. She paid the 96 Galleons and 9 Sickles for the books and dropped them into the bag the clerk had handed her.
Fleur left the shop with Gabrielle in two. The little Veela was happily waving goodbye to the smiling saleslady.
"On va où maintenant?" Gabrielle asked Fleur.
Fleur thought for a moment. Robes? She didn't need any new ones. She was still her 5'9 self. Potion ingredients? Nope, she still had plenty of those and if she ran out, she could still order whatever she needed by owl. A telescope? Definitely not, she had already dropped astronomy.
Oh well, books only it was then.
"Ice cream."
Gabrielle whooped her approval of Fleur's words. Fleur was dragged unceremoniously to the ice cream parlour by an overexcited eight year old.
The vanilla cup - she knew she wasn't original but whoever liked the pistachio cone Gabrielle had chosen needed to get themselves checked - she was eating was quite tasty. Unique even. There was something special about that particular taste of vanilla. The sweetness of the ice cream left a frosting aftereffect in her mouth that she found she quite enjoyed on the hot summer day. Veela like warmth but that didn't mean they had to live under the beating rays of a bright noon sun. One could always use a cooldown.
Fleur listened absently to Gabrielle who babbled about this and that. The little girl chatted happily at her big sister who tried to understand the thought process of an eight year old as best as she could.
The two sisters came back to their parents' home late in the afternoon. The sun was setting in the horizon, casting an auburn hue in the horizon. Apolline had collected Gabrielle as she and Fleur had come back into the house for a late afternoon piano lesson.
Fleur flooed back to her own place, preparing herself for the coming day. As the daughter of a prominent politician, she had to do her best to coordinate with her Papa's work. She didn't mind helping her father's political image and so, she always did her best to dress and act accordingly to the event she had to attend.
That got her thinking. Formal or more casual? If Fleur was honest, it was a sporting event that she had to attend. A formal dress would make her stand out way too much. That type of dress would simply make her seem out of place and snobbish. So Fleur made her decision there and then. Formal dresses were crossed off the list.
Fleur stepped into her modest closet. She busied herself browsing through her casual clothes. She wasn't going out clubbing - not that Fleur had ever gone clubbing - so her more… revealing wardrobe sets were out of the question.
A pair of slender, high waist, blue jeans caught her eye. 'Perfect!' Fleur thought. The jeans were tight enough to hint at her long, slender legs, whilst also being not too directly skin-hugging. Fleur was proud of her own body, but showing it off at a Quidditch World Cup wasn't appropriate. That, and the way people leered at her if she even showed a little bit too much skin at the wrong place gave her the creeps.
Fleur pulled the pair of jeans off of the hanger and threw it out of the closet. The soft thud behind her signalised her that the pair of pants had successfully landed on her bed. Fleur heard another thud and sighed. Apparently not. It seemed like those jeans preferred the floor to the bed.
Fleur internally shrugged and went back to browsing through her selection of clothes. Nope, not that one. Not that one either, too hot. Turtleneck sweater? Nope again, she'd be sweating profusely for the whole event. In the end, Fleur settled for a tight, short-sleeved t-shirt that would show just the tiniest bit of her flat belly. The shirt did display the generous curves of her chest.
She completed her outfit for tomorrow with a light blue jacket that hung nearby in her closet. Fleur normally didn't care much for what she wore, since the uniform from the Academy was what she wore most of the time. And most of her wardrobe was blue, all sorts of blue, sky blue, dark blue, anything blue. Maybe it was because of the colour of her eyes, Fleur knew not, but she did know that since she was 3 years old, she held a deep appreciation for the cerulean tint.
Anyhow, with her clothes selection done, Fleur walked out of her closet and back into her room. Picking up the fallen pair of jeans from the floor, Fleur cast a look around her room. She grimaced slightly at the mess her room had become since the beginning of summer. Oh well, whoever thought girls always had their rooms pristine clean was probably mental. That, or they watched one too many princess cartoons.
Oh well, maybe they were right. Maybe, just maybe, Fleur's room needed a bit of reorganising and scouring. There were three sets of pyjamas scattered across her bedroom's floor, some books were stacked high on her desk, and another pile had toppled over near the corner of her room. Some of her day to day clothes were laid out in a jumble on the floorboards, next to her pyjamas. Fleur wasn't expecting any visitors anytime soon, but some of her… personals… were definitely a bit too scandalous for anybody but her to see.
Thankfully, Gabrielle paid no mind to what was on the floor when she visited - unannounced - and her parents had enough knowledge about teenage needs of privacy to not directly come into her room without asking.
With a flick of her wand and a handful of household spells her Maman had taught her for fun as a kid, the clothes were sent to the charmed laundry basket. Those would be washed and dried magically in a bit. The books were reorganised by subject and title and were redisplayed correctly on her bookcase.
Next, the scattered parchment flew back on her desk and rearranged themselves neatly in a pile. A single misplaced quill floated back into the ink pot.
Another swish of her wand and all the little dust and crumbles vanished, leaving her room once more pristine clean. Normally, Fleur cleaned her room once a week, every Sunday. Since the summer break though, like the previous six years, Fleur let the cleaning slack and didn't really preoccupy herself with it. That, and also the fact that she spent at least half her summertime at her parents'. She still cleaned, no mistake there, nobody wanted to live in the middle of a messy academic supply warzone, but just not as often as she otherwise would.
With her room clean, Fleur cast a glance at the clock that sat on her nightstand. 9:23 p.m. Oh well, it wasn't too late. Fleur still had time to clean the rest of her modest apartment. At least the other rooms weren't as messy as her bedroom. The small kitchen only needed a bit of reorganising; some of her silverware and plates were washed but misplaced.
Another flick of her rosewood wand and the shampoo bottles that had toppled over reverted to their straight stance once more. Her skincare products also rearranged themselves in the cupboard next to her mirror. That was one positive thing, at least. Now, Fleur wouldn't have to do her daily skincare product hunting every morning. All she needed would be in the cupboard.
Lastly, Fleur cleaned up the small sitting area of her flat. The cushions returned to their respective couches - not that Fleur had many couches, just a loveseat and a larger sofa. The dust that was accumulated beneath the two couches vanished and both of the couches looked brand new once more. Magic really was wonderful.
Fleur blew out a deep sigh. Sleep time! Fleur dragged herself to bed, her eyelids had become heavy suddenly, heavier than her feet. Fleur fell back heavily on her mattress and pulled her thin blanket up to her nose. The soft mattress could swallow her right there and then. The slight sink of the mattress beneath her weight felt heavenly to her tired body.
Fleur closed her eyes and let her thoughts wander off. Her clothes for tomorrow had been piled up neatly on her nightstand. Check. Her breakfast for tomorrow. Not check. Oh well, she could just go to her parents' place and join them for breakfast. Not that she didn't do that already. So breakfast, check. And she fell asleep, her mind had wandered off to Morpheus' land.
"Allez, on part, c'est l'heure," Sébastien said to his wife and children.
He pulled out a delicate napkin from his pockets and held it out to Apolline, Fleur and Gabrielle. A Portkey. Fleur glanced at the old-fashioned clock that was on a table nearby. 9:14 a.m. The last digit shifted and Fleur felt an uncomfortable tug at her navel and she was whisked away from her parents' house, said parents following her with little Gabrielle.
In a whirlwind of colours and high pitched sounds, the whole family of four landed on their feet in a clearing. Well, almost the whole family. Unfortunately for little Gabrielle who wasn't used to magical means of travelling - apart from the Floo - doubled over as soon as the Portkey arrived at destination and fell to the ground. Apolline had quickly pulled her youngest daughter back to her feet and checked her for injuries.
The little Veela's cheeks were red from embarrassment at her unfortunate fall. Fleur's teasing smile only served to fluster her even more. The little girl swatted Fleur on her hip with a muttered 'pas cool'. Fleur's teasing smile vanished and she smiled fondly at her smaller sister this time.
Sébastien, who had walked off when his wife had confirmed that their youngest daughter's fall hadn't caused her any injuries, walked back to his wife and children, a piece of dark grey cloth tucked under his arm and in his hand, he held a small fabric pouch.
"J'ai la tente, Apolline. Le gamin anglais qui se charge du terrain n'avait pas l'air de croire que je suis vraiment un important politicien français."
At his wife's blank stare, Sébastien winced. "Ça l'a sonné comme si j'étais le plus gros trou du cul pompeux du monde, c'est ça?"
Apolline nodded and both adults dissolved into laughter. "En tout cas, le gars a bien insisté sur le fait que le modèle de tente que je lui demandais de me donner était pour des individus d'un 'plus haut statut social'," Sébastien said before turning to his daughters. "Allons-y, notre emplacement est à 3 kilomètres d'ici. Ça fait une sacrée randonnée!"
Fleur nodded and Gabrielle groaned. The four headed in the direction Sébastien had pointed at. Sometime on the way, Gabrielle had hopped onto her Papa's back and the tent had switched hands and was now held by Apolline. Fleur carried the magically expanded bag that carried their supplies for the day.
It was some 30 minutes later that the Delacour family had made it to their spot. The square spot of grass that was allocated to them was already starting to be surrounded by other tents, most of which were the ones of other foreign ministry officials. Fleur and her mother were now consistently on edge and they had to make sure their Allure was suppressed to the best of both their capacities. Even then, people stared. Fleur had settled the supply bag on the grass and was now helping her Papa with setting up the tent. She was well aware of the six or so pairs of eyes that were transfixed on her. Bunch of pigs, the lot. Her Allure wasn't even a tiny bit loose and she had picked her clothes specifically to not show more skin than necessary. Some people really had no sense of civility and respect.
Fleur ignored the stares and the tent was pitched in a record time soon after. As soon as the tent was nailed safely to the ground, Fleur and Apolline immediately raced inside, away from the stares. They both exhaled a breath neither knew they were holding.
Sébastien looked most apologetic and there was a pained look on his face. Fleur knew her father must've been beating himself over and over for bringing his wife and eldest daughter into a giant crowd of people where all they'd get was stared at. But Fleur could never blame her father. Neither could, nor would she blame her heritage. There was but one and only one party that she could blame and that was the weak minded.
Fleur knew it was worse for her mother. Even if she was older and was probably more accustomed to the stares, Fleur could see very well that her mother had never gotten over it. It still bothered her and made her highly uncomfortable after all these years.
At least the tent provided them with somewhat of a refuge. Fleur dreaded the moment she would have to go back out for the game. With a well-practised twist of her hand and a conjured claw clip, Fleur clipped her hair in a messy bun and tucked the remaining few loose strands of her platinum blonde hair behind her ear.
Gabrielle escaped her mother's clutch and went on to explore the rooms of the tent, her mother in tow. Fleur, with nothing better to do, reached into the supply bag and pulled out her notebook. 'Smart move!' Fleur congratulated herself. Fleur briefly wondered how much she would've liked to simply sit and do nothing for 8 hours, had she not brought her notebook.
Now, where had she left off again? Oh right, the Stunning spell. Fleur quickly scanned through what she had already marked down. The forward circular flick of the wand to cast the spell, the caster's will to knock out the receiver of the spell and the meaning behind the incantation.
Without the means of actually casting the spell, Fleur decided to work on the more abstract parts of the stunner, namely the incantation and the wand movement. Normally, in order for Fleur to study spells, she would borrow her Maman's spell container.
The spell container was a magically enchanted sphere - her mother's own creation. The sphere was entirely transparent, as if there was nothing else but a thin metallic framing shaped into a circle. There was a small opening at the top of the metallic frame that was wide just enough for the tip of a wand to poke through.
From that hole, Fleur would insert her wand and cast whatever spell she wished to study. Once the spell was shot out, the sphere would magically seal itself off. The magical matter of the spell would be trapped in the sphere and with barely enough space, it could flow freely within the confines of the container. The sphere allowed the spell to exist without it needing to travel or hit a target, eternalising it.
Complex analysis spells Fleur had found in her Maman's enchanting handbook would come into play next. Normally, within a few days, if Fleur was very familiar with the spell she was studying, she could completely deconstruct it.
And when Fleur had no more means to study the spell inside the container, three taps on the metal rim and an overpowered vanishing spell would see the contained spell vanish instantly.
Now, back to the stunning spell. The incantation of the very popular spell was 'stupefy'. 'Definitely not Latin,' Fleur thought, which was kind of amusing to her, since most of the spells she'd heard about had incantations in Latin.
Stupefy. Stupefy. Stupefy. Stupéfier. Stupéfiant. 'French?' Fleur mused with an amused grin etching her lips. But Fleur was pretty sure that she had come across the exact same word when she had first started learning the English language. And now she was in a dilemma. English or French?
'If only I had brought my dictionary with me,' Fleur mentally sighed. But who brought a dictionary to a social event, the Quidditch World Cup no less? So the incantation either came from French or it was simply an English word. Oh well, the origin language of the incantation would only matter at a later date, if Fleur did manage to make the appropriate calculations to combine spells together.
Next, the circular forward flick of the wand movement. Fleur drew her own wand and practised the movements herself, wondering how the swishing mattered in the casting of the Stunner. The Stunning spell was a relatively fast travelling spell, so maybe the flick was what gave the speed to the jet of light. Fleur made a small note with her quill in her notebook to test her theory of the travelling speed of the spell at a later date. She didn't want to have spells start flying inside the tent and attract unwanted attention from the officials.
And that was how the rest of the morning passed. The only disturbance was the occasional shout from Gabrielle or the laugh of Apolline. Sébastien had left the tent for some time at one point and he came back much more relaxed and with a pleased smile.
"Les filles, j'ai réussi à négocier des… euh, places plus convenables. À la place de devoir endurer la partie au complet avec les autres ministres et politiciens dans leur loge, on devra simplement faire une apparence et serrer quelques mains. Les nouvelles places que j'ai pu négocier sont beaucoup plus tranquilles, il y aura seulement deux autres familles."
Fleur sighed in relief, as did her mother. Making a simple appearance was much better than having to endure the unwanted stares of people for the whole duration of the game. In a smaller box with way less people than the ministries' official one, Fleur might just enjoy herself. Fleur hugged her Papa tightly, silently conveying her thanks. Her father really was a considerate person and Fleur loved him dearly for that. Maybe she could avoid the occasional harmless jab she made at her Papa's job. Saving her mother and herself from having to endure the lustful gazes of men was worthy enough of not getting called a snooty boring politician - which her Papa was anything but those two things. Just maybe.
Soon enough, the time for the match's start arrived. Fleur and the rest of her family made their way out of their tent and headed for the stadium. Soon enough, the stares came back and Fleur let herself fall into her well-practised façade. She focused herself on thinking of the little things she enjoyed in life, whilst also doing her best to clamp her Allure down to the maximum of her capabilities.
Within three deep breaths, the stares became that much more bearable, to the point where Fleur was barely registering them anymore. Fleur saw her mother's proud look and smiled inwardly.
Thankfully for little Gabrielle, the stadium was much closer than their point of arrival and the trek was short. The entrance to the stadium was surprisingly well organised, at least much better than Fleur had initially expected. There were enough inspectors stamping the tickets so that the lines of witches and wizards were advancing at a steady rhythm.
Fleur looked around her. Some of the people held shining silver tickets, a colour somewhat similar to that of her hair. Others, like her Papa, held tickets harbouring a golden hue. The most common ticket Fleur saw, though, was tinted in bronze. It probably had something to do with the price of the ticket.
Soon enough, it was their turn and Sébastien showed the ticket controller their tickets. The man scanned the four golden passes with his wand, checking their authenticity. Satisfied that the tickets were in fact real, he stamped all four with a red stamp that read 'approved' and let the family pass.
"Seventh floor," he stated. "Up the stairs and to the right. Enjoy the game!"
"Right, thank you, good day," Sébastien responded tightly before leading his family away.
"Before we get to our box, we need to go greet a few other high standing officials. I'll make sure it's done quickly," he promised, falling into the English language. "The officials' box is on the highest floor, this way."
Fleur reluctantly followed her father, praying that nobody would be tempted to try anything. And who knew climbing up 24 flights of stairs would be so tiring? Was she falling out of shape? Fleur self-consciously brushed a palm over her belly. Nope, not a single gram of weight gained. Maybe she needed to start jogging again.
Thankfully, the family of four made it all the way to the top floor of the stadium. 'At least I'm not the only one that's out of breath,' Fleur thought. The stairs led to a single, straight corridor, unlike the other floors where the stairs led to two corridors, going either left or right.
Sébastien walked upfront, his wife and daughters following at a more sedate speed. The doors leading to the spacious officials' box were already open and when they approached, someone announced them.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Ambassador for the French Ministry of Magic here in England, Ambassador Sébastien Delacour and his lovely wife and daughters!"
Fleur did her best to mask the grimace that was about to surface on her perfect visage. Fleur exhaled deeply and focused. She wasn't here to talk or shake any hands. That was her Papa's job - and perhaps her mother's too. All she had to do was stand still and look pretty. Stand still and look pretty.
But that thought quickly faded. Ignore the stares. Ignore the stares. But the men's eyes were already on her. Fleur masked a scowl. Apolline wasn't less stared at either. So Fleur did what she normally did under such circumstances. She lifted her chin up and, with her nose in the air, she did her best to look arrogant. Arrogant and pretty. That way, Fleur hoped, people would stare but at least they wouldn't be tempted to come chat her up.
Quite a few people came to greet her father. But they all struck Fleur as the vicious type. The ones that would rub all over you to gain favours and turn their back to you as soon as you served your purpose. It made her sick, but that was exactly true. Politics in general made her sick. Fleur could never understand how her Papa could appreciate working all day with bigoted and snooty politicians and still be himself. At least the pay was good, Fleur supposed.
Thankfully, her father shook one last official's hand before he quickly turned towards his uncomfortable wife - who did her best, Fleur noticed, to hide her discomfort - and led her towards the doors, motioning Gabrielle and herself to follow.
As soon as they reached the staircase, Fleur let out a breath and she heard Apolline do likewise. The arrogant mask fell and Fleur recomposed herself. She felt the small hand of a child come and reach as high as it could up her back and rub her below her shoulder blades soothingly.
The mask now vanished entirely and Fleur felt an eager smile replace it. She had not been very excited when her father had first announced that they would go to the Quidditch World Cup. But that was because she dreaded having a whole crowd of people staring at her. But now, she would get to watch the game peacefully - minus the other two families in their shared box. Fleur loved flying, well anything that had to do with being in the air. Nowadays, with her studies and projects on the side, she hadn't got much time for herself, even if it was summer. Maybe it was time to take her old broom back out for a spin. Fleur followed her father and mother down the squeaky metal steps of the stairs of the stadium.
Seventh floor, the ticket guy had said, hadn't he? A panel on her right indicated that they were currently on the 8th floor. Another set of downwards stairs later, the Delacours were presented with two corridors.
Sébastien pulled out the four golden tickets. Fleur saw her father squint his eyes to try and read the inscriptions on the tickets in the dimly lit hallways.
"Box… F… 7-4," he said slowly. "So forth box, seventh floor. Or I assume so."
"And what 'appened last time you assumed something?" Apolline questioned him amusedly.
For the first time ever, or at least that she remembered, Fleur saw her father gulp. Audibly.
"You were pretty mad at me," the man replied meekly.
Apolline snorted and laughed. "I wasn't pretty mad, as you oh so gracefully put it. But what is forgiven is forgiven. Now, what 'ave I said about assuming?"
"To never do it again?"
"Very good, husband. You would do well to remember that. Now, would you kindly lead us to our loge?"
Sébastien gave his wife an over exaggerated bow and gently took her hand and led her away. Gabrielle came up to Fleur and whispered, "Est-ce que j'ai même envie de savoir?"
Fleur could only shake her head, smiling. Some of her parents' troubles from their younger days were better off being unknown. The family passed a few doors, all four had their necks craned upwards, checking the plates nailed on top of each door's frame.
F7-0, F7-1, F7-2, F7-2 VIP, F7-3, and F… Fleur bumped into her mother's back. Fleur frowned. Why would her mother stop so suddenly, in the middle of the corridor no less?
"Are you alright, Maman? Are you feeling un…" Fleur never got to finish her sentence. She froze in place too.
"Talk to me ladies, what is going on?" Sébastien questioned, his voice laced with unease and confusion.
Fleur said nothing. Apolline said nothing. That only served to worry Sébastien even more.
To his relief, or unease, whichever was more appropriate, Fleur finally uttered three words.
"Il est là."
A/N : I'll just say it again, the next chapter is the translation of this chapter and is entirely in English. Also, I hope the spell decomposition thing wasn't too hard to understand. If you did find it incomprehensible or a tad bit confusing, send me a message with pointers on where I've been unclear and I'll try my best to edit it. Hope you've enjoyed so far though.