𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖊

Act I - The Trials of Summer

Chapter 34 - When one chapter closes...

Fleur Delacour suppressed a sigh as she sorted through the papers. As expected, Overseer Griphook had several dozen papers for her to sort out, explain things in excruciating detail to an increasingly bored Harry Potter, and then have him sign them using one of their patented Blood Quills. Really, why was she pushing papers around when the only thing she wanted was to jump Harry's bones on the same table and have him cry for mercy?

"Well, Delacour? Is that all?"

Fleur gave the goblin one of her patented fake smiles. The creature wouldn't really recognize it. Goblins were masters of emotional suppression, and in several cases, pushed if it turned them into living drones that lived for making a profit and nothing else. She'd know. She had joined Gringotts for similar reasons, after all.

She decided she was waxing maudlin and decided as good a sign as any, she was getting peckish. Maybe she really needed to make that visit to St. Mungo's. It'd take care of her allure for another month-long dry spell. It'd be so easy. She wouldn't get any satisfaction from it, wouldn't enjoy it, and most importantly, it wouldn't be Harry.

But it'd be food. Nourishment. Healthy body for a healthy mind and all that.

Fleur realised that even thinking of that was making her warm. This was becoming a rising problem lately. Why was it she failed to stay in control while in his presence? Was his utter immunity to her allure enough? She could feel her nipples peaking, her breath shortening, and her eyes growing silver.

No! She told herself. Not here. Not now.

Closing her eyes, she maintained her focus and controlled her breathing. She let any stray thoughts drift away, focussing on the task at hand. Her Allure was raging, especially with him around, and she'd need every bit of Occlumency to keep her head in the game. It would not do to create a scene in front of the Overseer. She exhaled cooly, letting the air blow through her slightly parted, smooth lips.

"Delacour?"

"Uh… yes? Yes, sir. That is all."

Griphook gave her an intense look. "In that case, congratulations are in order. You've completed your job assignment of transitioning Mr. Potter through the entire ordeal."

Fleur blinked twice, fighting down a sudden, irrational burst of panic. The goblin wouldn't do — he wouldn't dare to—

"You can now return to your regular auditing duties, Delacour."

"But—"

"Is there a problem, Delacour?"

Fleur opened her mouth to speak, but Harry beat her to it.

"No."

Griphook narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"I said no," said Harry. "I've gotten used to having Fleur deal with my financial stuff. Several of her suggestions are extremely useful, and I enjoy working with her. I'd rather not lose the working relationship I've built with her and start off with another."

"That is… unfortunate, but the decision does not change, Mr. Potter," Griphook said in a no-nonsense tone. "Delacour is a rookie analyst, looking to progress. But she hasn't gained enough experience to deal with the financial administration of the firms that House Potter possesses. The only reason I offered her this assignment was because aside from your case held priority, and none of the goblins were available. That you knew each other made things simpler. Fewer complaints from you, and fewer headaches for us."

Fleur felt like Griphook had just slapped her. She had known; she had known it deep inside her that this was the reason the Overseer had given this job to her of all people but to hear it out loud, especially in front of him—

"her beauty, Mister Potter enthral —," Griphook was saying, "but that does not translate to business acumen. Not on the level required for someone of your stature."

"But—" Harry began.

"No!" Her words surprised herself. Harry looked at her, but Fleur did not look at him. She couldn't. Not now. "No. 'Arr — I mean, Monsieur Potter. It's fine. I'm certain—"

The knot in her throat clogged the rest of her words. Clenching her fists, Fleur met the Overseer's eyes. "Will that be all, sir?"

"Yes."

Fleur whirled around, her hands clenched and ramrod straight. She didn't glance at Harry, she couldn't. Without another word, Fleur stepped out of the room—

"Wait."

Her feet froze.

It was Harry.

"Overseer Griphook," Harry said, steel lining his voice. Gone was the flustered, uncertain guy she had walked into the room with. In his place was the Lord Potter. Vessel of the Peverell Family Magic.

"When I first came to this office, you told me that Noble Houses get a personal overseer. Like Ripclaw serves House Black's interests. Now that House Potter is Noble, surely I deserve a personal Overseer as well?"

"But of course," Griphook said, his tone instantly softened at the sound of potential profit. "But having a personal Overseer comes at an increased price, and while House Potter is now Noble, it does not have the monetary worth as much as House Black—"

"I don't care. Do I warrant a personal Overseer or not?"

"...yes."

"Then get me one. Her."

Fleur's feet faltered.

It did not faze Griphook.

"Apologies, Lord Potter. You are mixing personal with professional. We do not do that at Gringotts. Delacour is not fit to run financial operations of an Ancient House. Forget becoming the personal Overseer for House Potter, hiring her only heightens the risk on your investments, and that will speak ill of our services. Not to mention, it also risks reduction of Gringotts's share of profits."

"Did you listen to what I said?" Harry began hotly. "I don't—"

But Fleur wasn't listening anymore. Her mind was racing. Far beyond Griphook's insults or Harry's reactions. Something wasn't matching up. Goblins were tough, but fair. Griphook had handed her the affairs of House Potter not because it was easy, but because she could handle it. She was one of the best analysts he had. But the casual way in which he was degrading her in front of Harry it was not because of her lack of experience; it was because of—

Fleur froze.

Oh. Oh that conniving, manipulative son of a bitch.

Griphook wasn't trying to shove her away. Oh no. No, no, no. Why would he do that? She already had an excellent repo with Harry, and from his reaction, he was unnaturally against the idea of losing her, to the point of overpaying. Griphook did not want to fire her. No, he wanted Harry to overpay for having a — Fleur had to admit, a subpar overseer for a house that, to be honest, did not boast finances comparable to House Black or House Greengrass. Plus, it would excuse her failures. No, no, it was more like her failures would be welcome, because apart from Gringotts getting no blame on them, they'd even charge extra from Harry to manage their portion of the losses.

And Harry, her friend, would willingly go through that, just to ensure her happiness.

…

Fleur made a decision.

It would suck. Things would be difficult for her. It would probably fuck up her career.

But she had to do this.

For Harry.

"Wait," she called out, still looking away from both of them.

Harry and the Overseer both paused.

Fleur turned around. "Overseer," she said in as polite a voice as possible. "You're right. I am a debutante, and it makes me feel 'orrible to see Monsieur Potter acting irrationally. I'm glad he finds my services useful but—"

"Fleur—" Harry began.

"'Arry, for once, shut. Up."

She turned to face Griphook. "I'm a part-timer, but I feel like I should consider something else. I had… seen this job assignment as a sign of progress, but if it isn't…. Perhaps—"

"Delacour!" Griphook blurted. Fleur almost smirked at the sudden rise of panic in him. "It is… not that you have made no progress. It is just that Gringotts policy with Noble Houses demands—"

"A better candidate," Fleur filed in. "I agree. Zo, I think it's best that I take up a new career."

"But—" The goblin was showing the turmoil within, no doubt surprised at how his profitable venture was about to doom itself because of his greed. "Miss Delacour," he said even more politely, "Your work has always been of a high standard, and there are many opportunities within Gringotts for one such as yourself, both here and overseas—"

"It is what I wish, Overseer!" Fleur said with a tone of finality. "Please. I wish for a termination of my employment contract, effective immediately, with no strings attached. I'd walk out of here today itself, preferably with him if possible."

Harry was staring at her as if she had grown a second head. He didn't understand. Not yet. But he would.

Griphook stood up from his chair, his eyes shining with fury. "You have been training under our wardbreaker, Delacour. According to our policy—"

"Gringotts takes forty percent of my salary away as tuition. There are no rules I've broken. I wish to leave Gringotts right now."

"But, Mr. Potter," Griphook tried, his voice hoarse, "surely you can make her see sense?"

"I… am not sure what to say, Griphook," Harry said slowly, no doubt getting it, "if she wishes to leave, I cannot compel her. Maybe you were right. I'll just stick to what I have for now. No need for a personal Overseer."

The goblin's shoulders sagged.

"Are you— are you certain?"

Harry nodded. "I'm glad you're looking after my House like you were doing before, Overseer. Now, if that is all, I'd like to leave. Perhaps you could do me a favour and end her?"

Fleur inwardly grinned. And to think she had thought him dense. Well, he still was dim in certain matters, but no one was perfect.

Griphook slowly slid down to his chair.

"Well…" Harry said, "that was fun!"

Yes. Fleur thought morbidly. Fun indeed. She was now out of a job. And if there was one thing she knew about goblins, it was that they were sore losers. She'd be rejected at every Gringotts branch in the entire world, simply because of her actions. She had just kissed her wardbreaking career goodbye.

Seriously, what the hell was wrong with her? She was supposed to be the cold Ice-Queen, not a love-struck fool.

"Still…" he sniffed, "you didn't have to leave your job for me. I mean, I get it. In hindsight, he was just trying to manipulate me into paying more—"

"More?"

Harry sighed. "Fine. a heck lot more than I'd have paid, for something he'd have given me, anyway. But that's goblin for you. Greedy beyond reason. But that doesn't justify you leaving your job. I mean, what are you gonna do now?"

Damn good question. After the Wizengamot session and the party earlier, Harry would definitely make waves across town. As his Account Manager, it'd have been her job to be with him through thick and thin. It'd give her more exposure, more time to study this immunity of his, understand how it worked, and why it affected her the way it did. But now?

Now it was all gone.

"I joined Gringotts for two reasons. Prepare for my Ward mastery, and something to pay the bills. But Gringotts isn't cheap. Learning under Bill was… épuisante. Exhausting. But I've learnt almost everything I can. En réalité, I'm almost ready to submit my first project."

"Oh?" he said. "What does it do?"

Fleur grinned. "Why tell, when I can show you instead?"

…

…

Fleur's cubicle was a short walk from Griphook's office. There was a single large, golden-framed window on one side, gazing out at Diagon Alley below and the milling crowds of shoppers working their way up and down the street, more or less oblivious to the slow shadow settling over the entire world with Voldemort's return. Harry stood next to Fleur, looking at a neat and complicated-looking diagram drawn all over a table, uncertain and wondering how such scribbles would be worth a Ward Mastery.

Fleur flicked her wand, and bright blue lines began to arise out of the diagram, expanding, dividing into more segments in all directions, merging and radiating outward before a perfect three-dimensional prototype of the diagram stood floating above it. Even Harry couldn't help but gawk at the sheer level of complexity it exuded.

"Zis is the Tomb. A barrier ward," she stated, unable to keep the smugness off her face. She saw the apprehension in Harry's eyes and smiled widely. "Oui, I know what you're thinking. Barrier wards are the most common wards out there. And that makes zis so unique."

"... okay."

"Do you know how wards work, 'Arry?"

"Somewhat," he said, his brows furrowing. "They're a combination of multiple spells tied together using Runes and Arithmancy, to produce a composite effect. At least, that's what Sirius said."

"You're right," she said, "Partly. What you describe is an enchantment, a combinaison of multiple spells, arranged in specific layers using Runes and Arithmancy. Wards need a 'third factor'. Do you know what zat is?"

"Uh, a battery."

Fleur frowned. "Oui. Every ward requires a ward stone, an object located inside, and sometimes, outside the ward, that empowers it. Like a battery. Destroy the wardstone, and the ward goes poof!"

Harry cocked his head.

"There are two ways to destroy a wardstone. First is you keep firing high-powered curses, and drain the wardstone completely, causing ze ward to fall. The ozzer is to infiltrate inside, and damage the wardstone. Cut off the connection. But zis ward," she proudly pointed at her prototype, "does not need a wardstone."

Harry blinked. "Then how does it work?"

Fleur grinned. "It absorbs the spells shot at it and strengthens itself. Granted, it does not stay strong for long, but I'm working on that front."

Harry was impressed. "So it'll just use whatever I throw at it to strengthen itself?"

"Oui," she raised her wand. "Watch."

"Reducto!"

The blasting curse splashed against the ward prototype. The lines glowed an electric blue for a second before returning to normalcy. She turned to him, grinning. "Now. You try."

Harry arched his brows and raised his wand.

"Reducto!"

A cold, barely translucent light sprang out of his wand like a living thing and slammed against the barrier. The electric blue lights shone brightly, halting its power—

"See," Fleur began, "it just absorbs—"

—and flickered out right away, as the curse slammed into the table, blasting it into smithereens.

"..."

She just… stared.

It took her a second for her mind to process what had happened. It took her several more to actually realise that the curse had destroyed the prototype, and the table it was placed on. As it clicked inside her head, she whirled around, her eyes wide as saucers.

"Uh, sorry?" Harry offered.

"Sorry? Sorry? Zat— Zat isn't possible! My prototype absorbs spells, not — not—"

Harry raised his hands and took a step back. "I'm really sorry. Maybe I could repair—"

But Fleur wasn't listening. She flicked her wand and cast a silent Reparo, restoring the broken table and the prototype upon it to its original state. "It's not damaged, 'Arry. The Tomb absorbs magic. How did you destroy it?"

Harry winced. "Maybe I put in a little more power than it could take?"

"No!" she stressed, "zat isn't it! Zat's—" her hands went up to her hips. "It's your magic! It always fucks things up. First my allure and now zis!"

Fleur waited for as long as she could stand it, maybe four or five whole seconds, before breaking the silence with a sigh.

"I feel like I should apollo—" Harry began, but was interrupted by a familiar and annoying voice.

It was William.

"Bill!" Harry greeted, striding up to him and shaking his hand. "How're you? Didn't see you at the party."

William laughed. "Sorry Harry, got stuck in some work. I'm sure Ron and the twins had a blast." The man remembered something, and the grin vanished from his face. "Erm, Harry, about Percy—"

Harry waved him off. "No worries."

That seemed to satisfy the curse breaker. "So, what are you doing here by yourself? Does the…" he hesitated for a moment, "Did you come here with Sirius Black?"

Harry snorted. "Sirius's drunk with firewhiskey right now. No, I came here with — Fleur," he called out. But before she could get to him, William had already crossed him and was now facing her, and was that… condescension she saw in his eyes?

"Fleur!" William said coolly. A little too cool. "I heard about your little… argument with Overseer Griphook."

Already? News travelled fast here. Unless—

"—Didn't think you'd be this… desperate."

She arched an eyebrow. "I've no idea what you mean."

Bill edged closer. Fleur could feel his emotions running rampant. Whatever the Overseer had intimated to him, it was definitely not good.

"Don't think I cannot see what you're doing," he whispered. "Harry's young and innocent. No wonder you're taking advantage of him."

Fleur's eyes flashed with fury. "William—"

"Stop. Just stop," the man said. "I can't — I just can't believe that I even considered…" he let out a hollow laugh. "But then, you are Apolline Delacour's daughter, aren't you? No matter what you say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Fleur clenched her teeth, her eyes blazing. "William, you're crossing your—"

"Limits?" He snarled. "At least I have them. What about you? Taking advantage of Harry's—"

""Bill!" came Harry's sharp voice. He quickly approached them. "What's going on? Why are you being so harsh on her?"

"Harsh?" William snorted. "You don't know half of it, Harry. Overseer Griphook explained it to me. She's a veela. Do you know what that means?"

"I know what a veela means! And her allure doesn't work on me!" Harry retorted.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" William all but yelled. "She's not some witch with supernatural beauty, Harry. She's a hunter, a sexual predator. A vampire that feeds on others's emotions. And when they've extracted every bit of sustenance from their prey, they kill it. That's what she is. You think she's doing this because she enjoys working for you?"

Harry went still. Like, absolutely still.

He let out another hollow laugh. "You should've seen her when she first came to Gringotts. She utterly despised you. Hell, she refused to talk to me because I was Ron's elder brother, and I was her fucking teacher. She hated you and cursed your name every day. And now look at you. Barely a month working with her, and you were willing to pay extra, knowing that she's subpar. And now she's walking away with you, hoping you'll get her an easy life. She's preying on your goodness, Harry. Wake up!"

No! She wanted to shout at him in denial, but no words escaped her lips. She saw Harry stumble backwards, as if William's words had a physical weight behind them. Fleur felt his anger rise. It was palpable, terrifying.

It unnerved her. Set her on edge. Made her cautious.

"Let me tell you something, Harry," William continued. "You know what the secret is of being a Veela. They need to kill their prey. Only then do their powers activate. And that woman in front of you, she's a full veela. There is no saying how many people— magical and muggle. She's killed or enthralled over the years. Why else is she here, in Britain, of all places? Because her mum sent her! Her infamous Black Widow Mum."

A spike of raw panic jolted her. She hadn't expected things to happen this way. Having to confront Harry over her powers was something she always feared. She had spent nights wondering how to steer the conversation into safe waters, how to overcome his arguments and appeal to him to see her beneath the veela.

But now?

She had—

She had lost.

Her career. Her happiness. Her friend.

She had lost it all.

She had lost her chance. She knew what was going to happen. Harry was going to turn to her. His eyes would be filled with that same look of disbelief, that same horror, that same revulsion. She had seen them before from the person closest to her. Her own father. Even now, no matter what excuses he might give, Fleur knew that in his heart of hearts, he could never see past what she had done. What… she had become.

And now if Harry looked at her with the same revulsion then—

No.

She wouldn't be able to bear it. No. No. NO.

Shutting her eyes, she disapparated.

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