𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖊

Act I - The Trials of Summer

Chapter 37 - The Truth of the Veela Part 2

"The first time we met at Gringotts," Fleur began simply, "it was a nightmare. I was just getting used to my new life. Between the grilling job hours, a merciless taskmaster, living all by myself in a muggle house, and surviving my nightmares, I was managing to keep myself on my feet. I wasn't exactly Little Miss Stability, but I was surviving. And then, Overseer Griphook threw me your way. Can you guess why?"

Harry's eyes twitched slightly. He knew what goblins were capable of, and exactly how far they'd go for gold. He had wondered why Griphook, who had otherwise done everything else with a snap of his fingers, had asked Fleur to bring files the mundane way, instead of directly summoning them. Griphook knew of Fleur's history with the Triwizard, and sought to monetize an opportunity.

"He chose me for three reasons. The first, because we had history. As much as they'd tell you otherwise, the goblin nation takes a serious interest in wizards. They have to, considering their entire existence revolves around wizards. And the Boy-Who-Lived is always on the list." she told him, "The second, is because, as he said, you held priority, but weren't wealthy enough to warrant a goblin, and third, because I was a veela."

"He wanted you to enthral me." Harry broke in darkly, but she shook her head.

"Not quite. Enthralling wizards is a bad idea, especially the celebrity kind. No, he was testing your resistance against… a beautiful girl. A seductress. If I could win you over, then Gringotts could use me like a noose around your neck, and make you its cash cow. Trust me, had you just decided to walk out of Gringotts, angry with Griphook, instead of caving to his ridiculous demands, he'd have just given you everything you wanted. Me as your personal Overseer, a Noble Account. Everything. Instead, my sudden resignation threw his plans under the cart. I've no doubt he was behind William's sudden entrance."

"But I digress," Fleur continued. "That day, when Griphook offered me the post, I knew what he was offering. I was to be at your disposal."

"Then you should've rejected the job," Harry scoffed. "I certainly didn't force you."

"No, and I don't blame you. I blame myself. That day, seeing you, sitting as a potential employer, my employer, and offering me the choice to take it… It brought the memories back. You spat on the glory of the Triwizard, and now, you were offering me a way out, as if I wasn't good enough. It drove me mad."

Harry was starting to think that this girl had a massive inferiority complex. Why else would she feel so challenged by him of all people? He, who had been called a freak for the first ten years of his life?

"That first ice-cream date," Fleur laughed scornfully. "I cannot tell you how I hated going there. To meet you, bow down to your wishes, and behave like an employee. I expected you to act like the stereotypical pureblood buffoon. Too little skill, too much money and fame, and a head full of ego. Instead I found you nervous, stumbling over your words, unsure of your own reputation. Your emotions were all over the place. A feast for me to prey and subjugate. I had the tools. You were starving for companionship, for support, for validation. It'd be too easy."

Harry twitched again.

"Your resistance to my allure was interesting. I thought… maybe you had received Occlumency training. Maybe you had natural Occlumency defences. It's a rare trait but I've met people who've had it. Your manners were endearing, your naivety even more so, especially when you were afraid of my reputation being spoilt by associating with you. Me. Who didn't even have a reputation to start with."

Fleur stood up and walked to the window, facing away from him. "That night, when I got home, do you know what was the main thing on my mind? Not your resistance. Not your mannerisms nor naivety. No, what stuck in my mind was that I spent four hours talking to you. Four hours. You let me enjoy a normal conversation, be a normal person, for four hours. It was… refreshing."

"I was grateful for it," she told him, "Papa always taught me to pay back my debts, and yours was on a marathon rise. It was so obvious that you were starving to talk to someone, anyone that would lend you an unbiased ear. I had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. I thought it'd help me understand how you tick. But the more we talked, the less it became about my job and more of an ever-unlocking puzzle. While you weren't the most outstanding man, you were not a lacking one. And you were young, developing. I became interested in you. I even entertained the idea of taking you as a lover."

"You mean food." Harry muttered.

"When I need to feed, I visit pubs, hospitals, and coffee shops. People there are always brimming with emotions. It keeps the Allure in control, if not content. Plus, you were my employer, and.. And I was enjoying being with you, so I let it stay that way. But then, you told me what you thought of me and I…" she shivered, "And then that attack happened, and you protected me. Those feelings in me, and seeing your power, and your… I got carried away.I gave in, and offered to sleep with you."

"And I refused!"

"And you refused!" she said. "You told me no. You've no idea what that did to me. For one moment, it sent me reeling back to my old self. The dominating, cruel bitch. The one that played with others. No one ever said no to me. But here you were, walking away from me."

Fleur's eyes had turned into orbs of molten silver.

"The old me took over. I relapsed. I couldn't help myself. Nothing could have stopped me. Nothing should have stopped me."

She looked him straight in the eye.

"I used my Allure on you."

Harry was a mass of tension, knuckles white and fists clenched. He knew the passive Allure didn't work on him. Much. But active? He had no idea. If Fleur had used it on him, would he even know? Just how much had she manipulated him into acting the way he had?

"I could sense you. Sense the anger, the pain in you. You were battered, scarred and wounded. There were shadows about you, dark and menacing. And that power. So much power. I could feel your determination, your resolve. You would protect. You would defend without hesitation, even if it meant you'd have to kill. Without mercy. I could feel your darkness slowly enveloping mine. It was ecstatic, and then— and then—"

She trailed for a moment before croaking in a dead voice. "It died."

Harry blinked. "Come again?"

"My Allure died," Fleur said with all the dryness of the Sahara. "The moment the Allure touched you, touched your magic, it vaporised. Not just the amount I had injected, but the one surging through my veins. It was like being hit with cold water in the face. I was… awake. Back in control."

In hindsight, it wasn't surprising. The power of Death had disintegrated the torture curse. It had nullified Allure wouldn't have stood a chance.

"I was stunned. Straight up stunned. Resistance was one thing, but this? I had never come across something like this before. The predator in me was cautious, but I was exhilarated. I had finally found someone that I could be normal with, and yet, someone my Allure couldn't even touch, not without risking its own destruction. I… I…" Fleur looked like she wanted to claw into her own chest, like it was so important to speak out her feelings. "I had begun to believe that I'd forever be alone, fearing that getting intimate with another man would… would…"

"Kill him?"

Fleur swallowed, but didn't acknowledge his question. Not directly anyway.

"It was… inexplicable. Never in my life had I believed for a moment that I'd get someone that I could touch, but not feed on. You— you were priceless, are priceless, and I knew, I knew I had to have you, and yet, you told me no. Again. Here you were, using the favours to get me a room in your home, when I was offering to be in your bed." Her entire face looked flushed. "It drove me crazy."

"And then the worst happened. You brought her into the picture. Daphne Greengrass. The frail princess that got to marry you simply because her papa played on your weak points. I was… furious! It was so obvious to me that the father & daughter were using you. I started relapsing again. Here were you, showing off a subpar girl before me, right after you rejected me in the face. That wasn't being a friend. That was upping the game. You were telling me that I wasn't good enough. Again!"

"You know that wasn't how it was."

Fleur glared at him. "I don't care. I didn't care. You were a challenge in my eyes, and you were parading a stupid, frail, little girl and calling me subpar. I couldn't understand why. I had better tits, a better arse, a prettier face, and better hair. I am veela. No one is better than me. Certainly not that cunt. And yet, you were spending more and more time with her. With them. You had done that ritual, while I was being friendzoned?"

She gave him a hungry glare. "I told myself you were out of your mind. That you needed a real woman. Someone like me. You wanted me, not her, but your own pesky morality was holding you down from getting what you wanted. Don't lie, I saw the lust in your eyes, flickering, wanting to do away with the shackles you had placed upon yourself. But you didn't."

Harry had an idea what she was about to say next.

"I am a veela. Seeing other women despair is my favourite snack. The knowledge of Daphne Greengrass on your arm, while knowing you were beyond my Allure… it unleashed the monster within me. Saying 'no' was the worst thing you could have done to me. But parading that girl like that? That was unforgivable in my eyes. I told myself that Daphne Greengrass would cry for your actions. You were resistant to my allure, but that didn't mean you could resist me."

Fleur was standing now, facing him. "The Fleur I spent two years creating was gone. The evil, depraved bitch was back. You wanted me to make me feel like a normal person, give me something others wouldn't. Instead, you unleashed something worse. The ambition from my younger years, combined with the discipline I had gained through Occlumency. I was an unstoppable force, but you were an immovable object. I was ready to play. I was ready to do whatever it took to conquer you. Whatever. It. Took."

The psychic whammy he had gotten on the way to Gringotts.

"You know the rest. We went to Gringotts. Suddenly I realised I had been outplayed. And when I saw you acting irrationally, I knew that Griphook would see it as his victory. How dare he? I did all the work, and now, he'd claim it as his own? No. I resigned. Did I know that you would not discard me? Definitely. Did I resign because I knew you'd take it as your fault? Perhaps. I never got around to that point."

They had come full circle. Maybe in a different world, Fleur would have gotten the chance to speak about her nature privately without having to reveal her sins. Instead she found herself presenting a case to an un-lenient judge. Why? Because she knew him? But wouldn't that….

That thought led to a different string of memories. Maybe Fleur didn't know it, hell, maybe she didn't recognize it yet, but there was a stark difference between what she claimed and what she did. For someone so obsessed with winning, several of her actions were staged to lose right off the bat. She called herself ambitious, yet she had offered to be the rebound girl, going so far as to suggest giving Daphne a fair chance. She knew he had drawn offence at her words, but she forced herself to give him the unvarnished truth. Was she… subconsciously sabotaging herself? Was this attraction between Fleur the Veela and Harry the Freak, just another case of Damaged finding Damaged?

Finally he spoke, his voice low and very quiet.

"You know, when Bill talked about you like that, part of me fought for you. I told myself you were simply a misunderstood being. Much like a werewolf. One that didn't wish to become a beast, but circumstances forced them to choose that path. But I was wrong. You— you are responsible for the sorrows of countless people's lives. You killed a student and were ecstatic about it. You… Just standing here, in front of you, makes me want to throw up. To just walk away and never look at you again."

Fleur looked up at him, terrified and tortured, despair written all over her face. "I… 'Arry… I…" She rasped. "I— I'm sorry, I had no other— I—"

"Shut up!"

Fleur flinched.

The tears continued to fall.

"I've listened to everything you've had to say. I just have one question. Based on your answer, I will judge you."

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

"And if I don't?" she asked.

It was only natural. He had defined the contest, and now it was time for her to define the stakes. If her explanation wasn't sufficient, what would he do? Would he attack her, leave her, threaten her?

"Then I walk," he said bluntly. "The next time I see you, it will be for the first time."

Fleur went still.

"I asked you for the truth of veela. Truth of Fleur Delacour. You could have surmised it all in a few sentences. Keep yourself smelling like roses. But you didn't. You took the other path. You told every single detail, like you wanted me to experience them myself, and then decide. Why? It doesn't make sense at all."

Fleur stared at him but said nothing.

"Why?" Harry repeated "Why did you do so?"

Fleur opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She shut them and repeated the process over and over, but to no success. Finally she met his eyes.

"I… really couldn't say."

The silence in the room lasted barely three seconds, but it seemed like an eternity before Harry finally spoke again.

"Because you don't know? Or, you are unable to tell me?"

For the first time since their conversation began, a surprise flickered in Fleur's eyes, as her lips twisted into something that was almost but not quite a smile. "Both," she said aloud, "I can say that, as far as I know, no veela can ever directly reveal their… truest… deepest… '' Fleur wrinkled her nose and stopped speaking. "I've told you what I can, 'Arry Potter. Judge me."

"Even if they make you out to be the worst sort of monster?" Harry accused. "Something I'd hate and detest for life?"

Fleur laughed. "You've got it backwards, 'Arry. I am a monster. You calling me one, or not, makes no difference. A spade is a spade. At least now, if you hate me, you'll have a genuine reason to do so. Go ahead."

And then she said it again.

"Judge me."

Harry abruptly shook his head and blinked several times. "Tell me Fleur, when are you going to admit that you've never actually tried to manipulate and compel me into choosing you over Daphne?"

Her breath hitched. "What are you talking about? I did try. Repeatedly."

Harry gave her a 'don't-be-stupid' look. "I've seen the kind of things you can do if you actually set your mind to it, Fleur." He shook his head. "And I know you're far from stupid. I know if you really wanted, you could've had me on the very first day. Long before I even met Daphne. And yet every single time, you've done things in my favour, not yours."

Fleur stared at him, stunned.

"You say that this entire thing was generated from your competitiveness. To show that you were the one in control. You wanted me to accept defeat. Make me yours. And yet, every single action you've taken has been the exact reverse. You haven't tried to force me to be yours. You've offered yourself to be mine."

"You're—" Her lips trembled. "You're wrong!"

"Am I? I'll agree you offered me sex. I'll even agree that you flirted with me non-stop. But do you know what you really did? You tried to force me to reconsider forgiving my friends. You tried to offer yourself as a rebound, as a safety net, bolstering me to give this relationship with Daphne a serious attempt. You took it upon yourself to help my case, even when that meant taking the brunt of Umbridge's personal attack. And most recently, you quit your job, your career at Gringotts, just because they were manipulating me through you. I've had Dobby monitor you for the past five days, and guess what he saw? Not someone that's angry at not getting what she wants, but someone that could barely keep herself from crying." He cocked his head. "I'm no expert, but those aren't the actions of someone that wanted to force me into submission."

He smiled. "Those were the acts of a friend."

Fleur stared at him in acute disbelief. "You must be wrong!"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"You cannot be correct!"

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not."

Fleur looked like she was struggling to find words to explain how impossible his assumptions were. How wrong his conclusions were. But all she could do was draw a blank.

"You— you're telling me that somehow, I am sabotaging myself?"

That was easy to answer. "Yes."

At her confused look, he said "Look. I'm not sure how the veela instinct operates. Maybe you were aiming to control and dominate me. But I think that there's another part of you— the witch, the one that calls me her friend, the one that…" his voice cracked slightly, "... loves me, that part of You is always acting in my favour, not yours."

Fleur stayed silent for a moment. Then she met his eyes again.

"Well?" She asked, taking a step towards him. "What happens now?"

"What do you think should happen?" Harry asked.

He could see the fear in her eyes. Fear of… being rejected by him.

"You've given me every reason to walk away. To reject you. You presented yourself in an unforgivable way. But your actions towards me have always, always been to my favour. You've been caring. Kind. And the Fleur in my mind doesn't match the Fleur in your story. So I'll trust you. Trust that there is something more. Something that you wont or cant say. And wait until you can."

Fleur stared at him, stunned.

He took a step forward.

"And until that day comes, I will continue to accept you. With all your perfections, with all your imperfections."

"How— how can you even zay zat?" She demanded, her face messy with tears. "I— I am a hideous monster!"

"That you are," Harry said with a laugh. "You look like shite. When was the last time you had a bath?" He scrunched his face. "You stink."

A scowl formed on her face, before dissolving into laughter. "English pig!"

When Harry returned to the bedroom, the vision awaiting him stopped him in his tracks.

Fleur stood on the balcony, her back to the railing, her eyes gazing deeply at him. She looked like a heavenly apparition... a radiant silhouette with the moon behind her. She could have been a Roman goddess, enshrouded in her white terrycloth robe, the drawstring cinched tight, accentuating her curves. Behind her, a pale mist hung like a halo. Harry felt wildly drawn to her... more than he had ever felt to any girl in his life. Slowly, he went to her on the balcony.

"Had a good bath?" He asked a coy whisper.

"Oui."

Harry smiled. "Long week. Now come, I got something prepared for us to eat."

…

…

The feast was sumptuous. Dobby had gotten them some Odgen's Finest, and set them beside the food. Throughout it, Harry's eyes kept tracing her thin white silk robe. It ended high on her thighs, and was tied partially open to reveal swathes of her flesh. Knowing her, she had done them simply to tempt him that much.

She was a seductress. That bit wasn't going to change.

Harry didn't need to be a genius to read the signs Fleur was sending him. During dessert of treacle tart and ice-cream, she pressed her bare legs against his beneath the table and fixed him with a sultry stare. She seemed to be willing him to set down his fork and carry her off in his arms.

But Harry did nothing. He remained the perfect gentleman. Two can play at this game, he thought, hiding a roguish smile. Patience was the name of the game and the one that spoke first, lost.

When all the food was eaten, Harry retired to the edge of the bed where he sat alone, turning Fleur's gift over and over, making repeated comments about the enchanting involved. Fleur stared at him, her confusion growing to an obvious frustration.

"You find that pendant terribly interesting, don't you?" she demanded.

Harry nodded. "Mesmerising. You should know, you made it for me."

"Would you say it's the most interesting thing in this room?"

Harry scratched his head, making a show of pondering it. "Well, there is one thing that interests me more."

She smiled and took a step toward him. "That being?"

"How your ward uses the intrusive magic to strengthen itself."

Fleur threw up her hands. "Dieu! Enough with the ward! Don't play with me, I'm warning you."

"I mean, using what should kill me to strengthen me? That sounds…"

"Poetic?"

"Dichotomous."

He grinned. "Maybe for your next experiment, you could study my death magic and use it to save life?"

Fleur was steaming now, but the first faint hints of an exasperated smile appeared on her lips. With one fluid motion, she was on him, pinning him down. "I hope you believe in life after death, Mr. Potter."

She was laughing as she straddled him, her hands holding him down, her eyes ablaze with a mischievous fire.

"Actually," he choked, laughing harder now, "I've always had trouble picturing anything beyond this world. The next great adventure is more of Dumbledore's thing."

"Really? So you've never had a spiritual experience? A perfect moment of glorious rapture?"

Harry shook his head. "No, and I seriously doubt I'm the kind of guy who could ever have a spiritual experience."

Fleur slipped off her robe. "You've never been to bed with a veela, have you?"

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