CHAPTER 16: UNFORESEEN ENCOUNTERS

The rafters of the owlery were obscured by a thick layer of bird droppings and dust, and a tangy, musty odor lingered in the air, causing Harry's nose to scrunch up. Owls nestled there, seeking refuge from the dim shards of sunlight that managed to seep through the gaps in the cracked tiles and half-closed shutters.

It was an unusual setting, one that Harry mused might not be the most romantic for a rendezvous, if he had ever given it much thought. But, then again, he had to remind himself that this wasn't a date, even though it had elements that made it seem like one.

As he heard the faint approach of footsteps, Harry moved away from the door, quickly casting a disillusionment charm to obscure his presence. He couldn't help but chuckle inwardly, musing, "Not really how I would've pictured a meeting, if I'd done much picturing, but then again, it's not a typical encounter, is it?"

Just as Harry marveled at his own charm, Fleur Delacour gracefully entered the owlery. Her wand was elegantly held in her hand, and her eyes were locked onto Harry.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Harry's mouth, and he inquired, "How did you notice?"

Fleur Delacour tilted her chin with an air of sophistication and replied, "I am well aware of the weaknesses of that charm." Her lips curved into a gentle smile.

Harry, feeling slightly abashed, continued, "I suppose I owe you an apology for laughing back in the Great Hall–"

But Fleur interrupted, her gaze piercing, "I would rather know why you thought it was funny."

Harry shrugged, his brow furrowed in thought. "I was laughing at Ron."

Fleur Delacour's eyes narrowed as she asked, "And the first time?"

Harry looked puzzled as he replied, "First time?"

"When you were with that dark-haired girl, and I was being accosted by boys," her summer sky-blue eyes fixated on a point somewhere in the center of Harry's head, "you laughed at me. I don't appreciate being laughed at."

"Katie said something funny," Harry responded, suppressing a thin smile. "I wasn't paying too much attention to what was happening in the hall. I was in my own little bubble, I'm afraid."

"Ah," something flickered through her blue eyes. "Then consider my company tomorrow an apology for overreacting. I thought you were laughing at me."

Harry mused to himself, "A poor apology. His thoughts came in a familiar, smooth, high voice. She's not doing it for me, and she has a very high opinion of her company, too."

"If it were an apology, I wouldn't accept it," Harry replied. "But your part in destroying my relationship with Katie was much smaller than everyone else's anyway. You were just the catalyst. She would've done something like it eventually."

Fleur Delacour studied the ceiling. "It is destroyed?"

"I think so," he sighed. "It certainly won't be the same. I have firewhiskey and Roger Davies to thank for that. And the two of us, of course, though mostly me."

"More her," Fleur's eyes didn't leave the ceiling. "She had every right to be angry with me, but it was obvious you had no idea what was going on. Perhaps it's for the best it's over, but if it's not, well, the more it hurts to win, the more satisfying it is."

"Perhaps," Harry took a deep breath. "I still shouldn't have defended you. Salazar would say I was trying to live up to unfair expectations again."

"Shall we go?" Fleur asked. "This tower smells worse than I remembered."

"Where would be better?" Harry followed her down the stairs, maintaining a cautious distance. "The Great Hall?"

A soft, gentle laugh escaped Fleur's lips. "Are you hoping to twist the knife in Roger Davies' heart or that other girl's?" She slowed for a step, closing the gap between them. "If we see them, perhaps I'll let you hold me close for a moment."

Harry's skin tingled as the warmth of her presence enveloped him. He paused in his stride until she was a few steps ahead. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'd rather avoid spending too long in the hall with you."

"I might think of somewhere else as we walk, though I admit I'm not fond of Hogwarts. It is cold, grey, and wet." Fleur led them on a longer route back to the castle, one that skillfully avoided passing by Beauxbatons' carriage.

Harry glanced at the cold, clear winter sky as they entered the castle. "I think that's just Britain. We get a few good days in summer, but the rest of the year's a toss-up between overcast or raining."

Fleur's smile briefly reappeared before fading. "I hope you don't think less of me for using you as a shield, Harry."

"A shield?" Harry inquired, puzzled.

"I'm a veela. I attract a lot of attention. If I could, I wouldn't attend this Yule Ball at all, but having a date capable of keeping his wits is far preferable to the alternative, and it will ward off most of the others who'd pester me for dances."

They stepped through the doors into the Great Hall. Heads swiveled in their direction.

Harry chuckled. "I don't know who they're staring at now."

"I do," Fleur sniffed and turned up her nose. "Look at them. So weak-willed. The slightest touch of my magic, and they lose themselves."

Harry noticed the glazed look in their eyes. "I know somewhere most people don't?"

Fleur stepped into his personal space, lightly brushing his arm with her shoulder. "Let's go."

Harry felt a strange sensation in his stomach as the hairs on his skin prickled. "Why's she doing that?" he wondered. "Why won't she stop doing that?"

Harry led her to the seventh floor. "I've never brought anyone here before, you know. You weren't the first person I'd have expected it to be, either."

Fleur blinked and swept her silver hair over her shoulder. "Non? Not even your friends or Katie Bell?"

"Not even them," Harry gestured at the blank space of the wall opposite Hogwarts' worst tapestry. "This is the Room of Requirement."

Fleur pulled her wand out and closed her eyes. "Hmmm, I can't sense any magic." She narrowed her blue eyes. "If you were anyone else, I'd suspect you were about to try something that would result in me cursing you very harshly."

"Why am I different? Because I'm supposed to be a hero?" Harry bit his tongue.

"Imagine the room you want to be in," he said. "The Room of Requirement will provide. It has to adhere to the laws of magic, though, so no food and so forth."

A slender, elegant door materialized. Everything was painted in a light shade of blue, except for the metal handle, and silver runes glowed in small circles across its surface.

"How ingenious," Fleur remarked, twisting her wand with white-knuckled fingers. "I suppose we should go in."

Inside, a neat silver and blue blanketed bed sat amongst packed bookshelves. Stacks of tomes stretched from the ivory carpet to where an elegant crystal flower glowed with a gentle, white light. Dozens of tiny, enchanted items adorned both shelves and stacks, and two silver-haired girls smiled and laughed in the photo beside her bed. Two pairs of bright eyes shone from the frame: one set of summer sky, the other storm grey.

"Gabby," Fleur's blue eyes tightened behind a veil of silver hair. "My little sister."

"But nobody else," Harry observed, looking around the room. "Just you, and her, and all these books and trinkets to fill the time."

"You can change the room from within," he murmured.

"Thank you."

The ceiling shifted into a high, arched vault, with long, tall windows of thin glass stretching down either side. Harry gazed out through them at mountains and a sparse woodland of gnarled, short pine trees.

"Beauxbatons' Gallery," Fleur said. "We have no Great Hall, only an open forum. When winter comes, this is where large groups gather."

"I can understand why you don't find Hogwarts attractive."

"It isn't as beautiful a place, but we don't have a room such as this, either."

Harry thought to himself, I think that's the only compliment I've heard from you.

Fleur twisted her heel back and forth on the floor. "Tell me, Harry. Do you know how to dance?"

"No," Harry replied, feeling his gut churn and the hairs on the nape of his neck prickling intensely. "I've never been all that keen to be the center of attention."

But I'm always stuck there, just like I'll be stuck dancing at the Yule Ball.

Music began to drift from the corner of the room.

She must really want to dance, Harry thought, because I really don't want to dance, and I'm fairly sure the room just picks the strongest desire from the two of us.

"My date will have to dance," Fleur stated. "I will not be laughed at by everyone. If you can dodge a dragon, you can avoid standing on my feet." Fleur stepped in close to him, her breath brushing against his chin, and a sweet, sharp scent catching Harry's nose. "You just need to learn the steps... and voilà!"

Harry froze. His heart pounded against his ribs like a prisoner's fist against the bars of their jail. "I suppose I've no choice if we're opening the Yule Ball."

Fleur studied him with a strange gleam in her eyes. "You really don't like the closeness, do you?"

"No," Harry replied as the music continued, a cheerful, fast-paced assault on his ears. "I don't. I don't see why everyone always has to get so close to everyone else."

She measured the gap between them with her eyes. "Are you afraid? Or just not used to it?"

Harry frowned. "Does it matter? It makes me very uncomfortable."

Fleur's expression softened. "I can try and alleviate your discomfort if you like. You won't feel it so much if you pay attention to me and let my magic guide your thoughts."

Her magic. The allure.

"I'll be fine," Harry said, twisting his face into a bright smile.

Fleur's eyes narrowed, and she reached out, taking his hands and drawing him close against her. "These are the steps," she murmured, her breath washing over his cheek in a rush of burnt holly leaves.

Harry focused on the placement of her feet, the tug of her hands, the rhythm of the steps, and the beat of the music. He pictured the circle of black ink on its pale page and clung to its image, trying to let himself drown in its dark. His heart ceased its pounding, but Fleur's presence in his arms burned against his skin like a branding iron, and a small sigh slipped from his lips.

Fleur's lips quirked. "Do you know how many boys there are within these walls who would like to take your place?"

"I'm not them," Harry mustered a grin. "What about girls, too? I'm sure there are probably a few of them who'd be envious."

Fleur smothered a small smile. "No. I suppose you're not them." She guided him across the room in step with the music. "You know, Harry, you remind me of a girl I used to know."

A friend? Harry recalled the lone picture frame in her room as Fleur spun beneath his arm. Does she have any friends? Or maybe it's her little sister?

"What was she like?" he asked.

"Lonely. Busy parents and no real friends," Fleur replied.

Harry half-stifled a flinch. "Just lonely?"

Fleur pulled his hand back to her waist and favored him with the soft smile he'd glimpsed next to Gabrielle's. "No. She was different. Better. Envied. Hated. In the end, being perfect was all she had left, and winning was the only way to prove it. But you know a little about that now, don't you, Harry?"

"It does sound a bit familiar," Harry replied, forcing the brightness back into his smile and stretching his lips into a wide curve. "I—"

"Don't smile at me like that," Fleur interrupted, abruptly halting their dance. "I don't share myself readily, Harry. Don't treat it like it means nothing and act like I were them."

Guilt gnawed at his gut. "Sorry."

The music faded away.

"Why did you ask me to be your date?" Harry inquired.

"I have to go with someone," Fleur replied, choosing her words carefully. "You and I aren't so different."

So the girl is her. Harry felt things fall into place. She thinks like Salazar does. She believes she's better than most and spends all her time seeking a connection with someone worthy.

"Similar enough, I suppose. Fleur Delacour is seen through a rose-tinted lens. I fall underneath my own shadow."

Fleur tossed her hair back over her shoulders and smoothed it down with both hands. "I'm glad your name came out of the goblet, now."

"You are?" Harry grinned. "You might change your mind when you come second."

A small smile curved Fleur's lips. "I will come first. As always." She stepped back from him. "You did not enter, did you?"

"No," Harry sighed. "Things like this always seem to happen to me."

"Do you know how an age line works?"

"Professor Dumbledore explained it to me a little. It detects the age of your magic."

Fleur shook her head. "That's a very basic explanation. Still, nobody younger than seventeen could've crossed the line, so you couldn't have entered your own name."

Harry laughed. "You believed me all this time? Who'd have guessed?"

"Albus Dumbledore's too powerful to have one of his wards broken by any student. You couldn't have crossed," Fleur said, her smile fading to a frown. "Do you know how the Goblet of Fire works?"

"It selects names."

She laughed. "It selects the best possible candidate of the names it accepts from a list of criteria chosen by its creator, but, most importantly, it can't be lied to. If I tried to put another's name in, I'd fail. I might regret it, too. The goblet's old, old enough to carry some vicious curses."

"So nobody but me could have put my name in," Harry's stomach plummeted. "But I can't have put my name in because of the ward, so that doesn't make any sense."

"Nobody who wasn't called Harry Potter and was above the age of seventeen, but such a scheme is far-fetched and seems unlikely."

"I've come across some pretty far-fetched schemes here, but I think I'm probably the only Harry Potter nearby."

"My cloak's not been missing, either," Harry scowled. "But then how did my name come out at all?"

"Your cloak?" Fleur's smile reappeared. "An invisibility cloak can't conceal you from an age line, Harry. Your friends are wrong."

"My former friends are more right than they realize. My cloak's an heirloom capable of bypassing the line, my godfather said so, and Dumbledore confirmed it."

Fleur blinked. "I would very much like to see this cloak if you don't mind."

"It's one of the very few things I've left of my parents, I'm afraid," Harry sighed. "Dumbledore assumed I used it."

"If I'd known about it, so would I." She pursed her lips. "You're not going to like this, Harry. Albus Dumbledore made it impossible for anyone to enter you, but still read your name out…"

Ice lanced through Harry's chest and down his spine, swirling through his blood like a hurricane. Every year, I encounter danger at Hogwarts under the nose of Albus Dumbledore. Every year, I almost die. He's been trying to destroy his accidental horcrux from the very beginning!

The deep, hollow numbness consumed his fury, washing it away like a sandcastle in the tide. "Huh. Well, I'm sure he'll be overjoyed when I win."

"When you come second," a small smile played around the corners of Fleur's mouth.

"We'll see."

"Have you progressed anywhere with your egg?"

Not at all. Harry kept a straight face. I should really do something about that.

"I solved it a few days ago," he said.

"What solution did you come up with? I thought your plan for the first task was quite ingenious. A simple charm and plan, you solved the problem and gave away little of your ability."

Harry laughed. "If I told you, I'd rather undermine my chances, wouldn't I?"

"I suppose that's true," Fleur's delicate eyebrows arched into a gentle vee. "I won't be able to convince you that I've already found one of my own and am just interested?"

"You might. I don't think you'd lie to me, but I still won't be able to tell you."

Mainly because I have no idea what the clue is.

"Caution is to be admired," Fleur said. "I am not offended. I am fond of winning. If I needed a solution to a problem, I might well try to pry some details out of you."

"Do you know if either Cedric or Viktor have figured it out?"

"Why would I know?" Fleur smoothed her uniform and took a seat on a chair that appeared beneath her. "I've barely spoken to either of them."

"You knew about my cloak."

Fleur's smile didn't waver. "I was curious about my competition. However, as far as I know, neither of them have done anything more than decipher the clue. I would assume Viktor Krum, at least, has a plan, though, since he's started spending a lot of time in Hogwarts' library."

"You don't seem very worried about them," Harry remarked.

"Cedric Diggory is an exceptional student and clearly a talented wizard, but he's overestimated himself by entering this tournament. He simply lacks the same will to win that we have. Viktor Krum knows what it means to win but isn't one for planning. Igor Karkaroff can only compensate for that so much."

"And me?"

"Young, but prodigious and powerful, with a will strong enough to win it, and capable of cunning," she patted him on the shoulder. "You'll make a very good runner-up, Harry."

Harry pointed at her hair. "I think silver's more your color than mine, Fleur."

"The Triwizard Tournament trophy is silver, Harry."

So it is.

"What about you?" Harry asked. "What makes you better?"

"I am more complete than any of my rivals save perhaps you, but my experience is greater than yours, and I'm just as talented. Provided the tasks do not exploit my natural weaknesses too much, I will win."

"You're very confident."

I wonder what her natural weaknesses are? Something to do with veela?

"I take pride in winning and being the best at my school, Harry. It's been a long time since I've failed at something I've competed in. You'll be just the same, if you aren't already," she raised a finger. "Don't mistake my pride as a dismissal of others, though. I may be better than most, but I still respect talent and have my own equals and betters in turn. Even if I've not met them among our peers."

"So modest," Harry quipped.

"I think I should return to the carriage now," Fleur rose from her seat and paused a few steps from the door. "I should warn you there are those, amongst Beauxbatons' students at least, who believe I've charmed you into going with me after stealing you from your previous girlfriend. If your school is anything like mine, those rumors will spread."

"I don't care," he offered her a grin. "I've not noticed anything charming about you yet."

Fleur laughed. "Non? You must be the only boy in the country to think so, then." Her forehead creased. "I'd like to see if my allure has more of an effect on you at some point, though. It's interesting for me. I've never really had anyone to properly test it on."

"If you like. Just don't make me do anything particularly embarrassing when I do succumb."

A bright gleam entered her blue eyes. "No promises, Harry. Don't forget, we're still rivals."

I won't forget. Harry's thoughts came in a soft, smooth whisper. And if you turn out like all the others, I won't forgive you, either. Not when you told me you were different.

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