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Hermione had to admit after her conversation with Fleur, she found her very interesting. That wasn't to mention how polite and kind she'd been, if a bit teasing… well, more than a bit teasing, but she supposed that was just Fleur's personality. Most of them seemed rather confident in themselves, and they were almost always strongly independent. It made sense too. How couldn't they be when they had to rely on nobody but themselves and their family?
That led her to where she was now, that being back outside the Beauxbatons carriage. Only there was a slight hitch in her plan. Fleur wasn't here. She was gone, likely on a mission to speak with Harry or to study in Hogwarts' library. The other girl had shown a strong interest in her studies just the same as she herself did.
But that wasn't a reason to leave. Fleur's sister was here; Gabrielle. Fleur loved her something fierce from what little she knew of the other girl. Enough so that the only time they weren't together, was when Gabrielle was in the carriage — if she was anywhere else, one could guarantee Fleur's presence right there beside her.
"Excuse me," Hermione said as she brushed past a few girls in blue, skirting around one that seemed rather unimpressed with her presence. It was a bit awkward, maybe, but all the same she was in the other school's carriage easily enough and off to Gabrielle's room.
Hermione hadn't been to it before, but she remembered what Fleur had said about it being isolated and towards the very back of a hallway with a noticeable dead space around it. There was only one hallway with such a design at the end, and so Hermione started off down it, all the while hoping her conversation with the girl a year younger than herself wouldn't be half as awkward as those with Fleur were.
Gabrielle certainly seemed far more shy than her big sister… but maybe that'd simply make things worse.
Actually, the more Hermione thought about it, the more she realised she should just turn around and head back whence she'd come. In fact, maybe that's exactly what she'd go and d—
"You are 'ermione, no?"
The voice was noticeably younger, far quieter, and just as accented if not more so, than Fleur.
She turned back around, looking down the hall she'd been walking down. Sure enough, there was Fleur's little sister, Gabrielle, standing in her doorway and rubbing her eyes as if she'd only just woken up from a nap.
"I am… how did yo—"
"I see you, 'Arry and ze ozzer boy at ze Gryff-een-door table during meals. Fleur said you were kind to 'er, and zat you wanted to learn about us," Gabrielle cocked her head to the side. "Ees zat true, or was my seester pestering you?"
"I did — I do, I mean," Hermione said, nodding at the former question, and then shaking her head at the latter. "Fleur didn't bug me either. She was very polite and helped me understand everything far more than books did."
"Zat sounds like 'er." Gabby said with a sweet little smile on her face. "Do you want to come een? I 'ave just woken from a nap, Fleur should be 'ere in the next 'alf an 'our."
That had previously been Hermione's intentions, to go and speak with the younger Veela, at least until she'd lost her courage or thought it awkward. Now, however, given that the slightly younger girl had invited her, she supposed it was fine. It wasn't like she'd gone and invited herself, so she'd not be imposing.
Maybe Gabrielle had the same desire for companionship that Fleur seemed to have. After all, Hermione and Harry had each noticed just how isolated the two girls seemed to be. In a way, they were very much kindred souls — Hermione, Harry, Fleur, Gabrielle, they'd all been treated differently so long as they'd been in the Magical world.
"... 'ermione?" Gabrielle was a few steps closer now, Hermione's mind having run away of its own volition.
"Sorry," Hermione said, blinking and stepping closer to the girl; like Fleur, there was a tickle at the back of her mind, only it wasn't quite as strong. "And please. That'd be lovely."
As before, Gabrielle fixed her with an award-winning smile, her pearly-whites all but shining on account of the flickering torch lights. A second later, the girl was bounding towards Hermione, whereupon reaching her, she grabbed one of her hands and started back whence the pair had just come from; her room.
They reached the entryway in a few seconds' time, Gabrielle brushing off the strange looks the two received by one of her peers as the person emerged from their chambers. In an instant, the thing was pushed open and Gabrielle was going through it, their connected hands ensuring Hermione followed very close behind; all throughout the happening, Hermione was simply glad the younger Delacour girl didn't have that same icy adaptation that Fleur did.
She quite liked the use of her hands.
"And 'ere we are," Gabrielle said, twisting on the balls of her feet as she dropped Hermione's hand and gestured to the room at large. "My 'ome for ze time we are 'ere. Eet ees magnifi-magnifi—" she huffed, folding her arms as she stomped a foot into the ground, even adorable in her anger. "You know ze word."
"Magnificent?"
Gabrielle smiled prettily, nodding animatedly. "Zat one! Zank you!" She grabbed Hermione's hand again and hurriedly pulled her over to a little coffee table with stone-tiles inlaid as the surface, and whereupon was tea and no small amount of baked goods. "You may 'ave whatever you like."
Like her older sister, Gabrielle seemed very kind, and very willing to entertain her.
"So," Hermione said, glancing around the girl's room. "I was able to ask Fleur most of the questions I was keen on getting the answer to, but I missed out on one for the both of you — hobbies. It's horribly rude of me to go straight into serious questions as I did."
"Fleur zought eet was very eenteresting, but she was 'appy," Gabrielle assured her… before a cautious, shy look overcame her. "Our 'obbies, you said? Zose are what eenterests us, no?"
"It is."
Gabrielle gave a little happy clap of her hands at having gotten the word right. "I like… 'ow to say — video games from z—"
"Muggles." Hermione completed the girl's sentence without thinking. She loved video games too, but Ron and Harry never so much as uttered a word about them, and as such, she'd surely not bring them up. "You play them? Really?"
She couldn't tell if the other girl was teasing her. She'd seldom heard anybody else discussing Muggle goods, much less those that were considered the most modern of them all.
"Eet ees 'ard to play zem een our world, but zey interest me,'' Gabrielle seemed to be speaking the truth, especially as the pace which she spoke seemed to increase as she leaned forward. "Papa takes us all when 'e goes to work with ze Muggles. 'E lets me use ze black boxes as long as I want — zey do not work een our world, so zere ees no worry I waste time every day."
Hermione supposed that was fair, but that wasn't the first word that'd come to mind. No, the first word had been sad, and Morgana, was it. The Delacour girls were so unlucky, it was unfair; no friends, items of interest not working around magic, the allure causing awkward or unwelcome advances. Hermione would have gone mad ages ago were she in their shoes.
"My dad only lets me use it thirty minutes a day at the most, an hour on weekends. He says video games can cause a different sort of cavity to…" Hermione blinked, her cheeks reddening as she realised she'd begun to ramble.
Gabrielle hadn't seemed to mind though. In fact, the girl seemed even more interested than she'd previously been, if such a thing were even possible. "You play zem too?" She sounded like she could hardly believe it.
"I do. Not very often. Especially not while I'm here, but I like them. They're interesting," Hermione admitted. It was true too. The more advanced they got, the more interesting they grew. One day, she imagined you'd almost be able to implant yourself in any game you wanted to.
In an instant, Gabrielle began speaking rapidly, covering a wide range of games. Each was as interesting as the next seemed to be. Next came the mention of their studies, the two apparently on a similar curriculum despite their minor age difference; Gabrielle was incredibly intelligent, the same as Hermione, and younger too, at thirteen years of age.
She'd also let slip, or perhaps willingly told, that her family were amongst the strongest in the Veela world. That'd ticked Hermione's interest in an instant, but she'd not press the matter. There was plenty of time to get to know the two Delacour girls.
It was just about thirty minutes later from when the two had returned to Gabrielle's room when Hermione made to rise from her seat. She'd not intrude on the sisters' time together since Fleur would soon arrive, besides, all this time spent around the younger Delacour sister had begun to mess with her mind.
Granted, it wasn't as strong as Fleur's allure for certain, bu—
"Oh, 'ermione," Gabrielle said from behind her a second before a dainty little hand tapped her shoulder. "You almost forgot ze book you took from your bag. Eet ees eemportant, no?"
Hermione blinked, a hand errantly reaching down for her satchel only to realise it was still open, and sure enough, one of her books was missing. She didn't even need to look, she could tell simply by feeling the arrangement of everything. Morgana, the number of times she'd said as much to Ron and Harry; organisation is horribly important.
"Thanks," Hermione said, smiling at the other girl as she took the book from her outstretched hands.
Gabrielle giggled, a hand rising to cover her mouth as her long hair formed a semi-curtain thanks to her whipping it around. "Eet works."
"Sorry?"
"I 'ad zought you were completely eemmune, but zat ees not true, no?" Gabrielle danced closer to her, her little bursts of giggling adorable… and annoying. The other girl, the younger girl, was incredibly proud that she was able to affect her, evidently. Almost as if Hermione's thoughts were read too, the younger girl spoke again. "I am 'appy to be ze second to affect you. Maybe Fleur was right — you 'ave eyes for us."
Hermione huffed and folded her arms, trying as best she could to look put-out. "It's only you and Fleur, it's not like it's every Veela. From wha—"
Gabrielle's grin grew. "So eet ees true. You do feel eet. I 'ad zought I was mistaken for a moment, but ze look ees zere, no? In your eyes. Zank you for con-firming zat eet ees only us you 'ave zese feelings for."
Hermione started to speak again, and then she huffed and wisely kept silent. The two Delacour witches were beyond mildly infuriating.
As if to prove her point, the younger witch patted her on the side. "You do not 'ave to worry. Fleur and I zeenk you are cute too."
Hermione wanted the ground to open up and swallow her, and when that failed, she tried her best, like early, to look unamused. It didn't work very well. Gabrielle's joy and bursts of giggles were infectious, far more so than Hermione's attempt at annoyance; the sense of fluster she felt didn't dissipate any. It was far more stubborn than any other emotion as of late.
She mumbled that she'd see Gabrielle later, soon, anything really, and then she made her hurried escape from the girl. Naturally, Fleur's allure had to strike her as they passed one another in the hall, a simple wave and polite smile being all the exchange between the pair.
This time.
Harry couldn't believe it. Or, well, he could believe it — he'd been stupid to think Fleur's allure or lack thereof would be the problem he'd face for the year. Being near a pretty girl and finding out why he wasn't affected by her as everybody else was? Letting her grab his hand, speak to him, watch him… that'd be far too pleasant.
Of course something had to go horribly wrong, like his name popping on out of the goblet. He hadn't entered it. He hadn't asked anybody to enter it for him. Merlin, he'd only been in the room once to watch Fred and George try to enter, and even then, he'd not been very close to it.
Yet, here he was, now bound by magic to enter into the ruddy thing. The school would hate him, especially since it was Cedric that'd had his name pulled first. It wasn't fair to either of them.
But what could Harry do if he'd not been the one to enter his name in the first place? Bloody stupid goblet. Not once could he be left alone for a year.
"Ron," Harry called, seeing his mate only just turn a corner up ahead — there wasn't any sign of Hermione there alongside him. He ran after him, his feet carrying him quickly across the cold stone floor of Hogwarts. "Ron!"
The other boy stopped then, turning to look at Harry. His face is red, signifying he's angry or embarrassed, but something told Harry it wasn't the latter emotion that his friend was feeling. No, it was probably the first, and nothing but the first.
"Did you do it?" Ron's voice was accusatory, angry, but there seemed a flicker of doubt on his face.
"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I didn't, mate. You were with me the only time I went near it — we watched Fred and George, I was beside you the entire time. Pl—"
Ron holds up a hand then, shaking his head. His face still looks to be an angry, bright red, but thankfully, he doesn't snap or storm off. Still, when he speaks, the anger in his voice is palpable all the same as the confusion. "I'll see you in a bit, mate. Need some space for myself to think."
He turned then, walking away from Harry with long strides that carried him quickly through the hall.
Yet before he went away completely, Harry called after the other boy. "You really think I'd do this for attention?" Ron had to know Harry hated the constant attention he was given. Why would he think otherwise?
Ron turned to glance at Harry over his shoulder, his eyes were narrowed, and his voice seemed to get a touch more anger-filled. "I'm not sure, now am I?" he scoffed. "It's a bit weird that every time something happens, it's us three, innit? And not just us three, but you, mainly. Every year."
Harry thought much the same, but before he could say as much, Ron shook his head and continued on walking. This time, Harry didn't call after the other boy, he simply watched him walk along, until eventually, he turned the corner and left altogether from Harry's line of sight.
His shoulders sagged then. He felt right defeated as his best mate turned his back and left, doubting the sincerity of his words. It wasn't an argument, Ron hadn't yelled or gotten proper mad, but that didn't make it sting any less, watching the other boy walk away.
And Hermione.
Where was she? Where'd she gone? What about Fleur? She was a champion now too, would she be just as angry at him as Ron was?
Harry's mind began to wander, each thought worse than the previous one as his feet saw him walking aimlessly through Hogwarts' halls. He hoped Hermione and Fleur would believe him where Ron hadn't… and then he furrowed his brow; he'd thought of Fleur a lot lately. Her and her shy little sister, a witch just a year younger than himself — the two were constantly coming up in his thoughts.
He shook his head as he wandered on. Right now, he just wanted to take a walk, he didn't need anybody else's presence.
Fleur kissed Gabrielle's forehead and exchanged goodnights with her baby sister. It'd been an eventful day. One that, for a few seconds, had been wonderful for her. She was the champion chosen by the goblet to represent all of Beauxbatons, after all. It was an honour, and one she'd hoped to get when she'd entered her name.
It'd show everybody, when she won, that she was more than the pretty face they saw and yearned for.
That enthusiasm, that eagerness to prove herself to all those who'd ever thought of her as a lesser person vanished when the goblet spat out a fourth name. Somehow, she'd known who it'd be even before the Hogwarts Headmaster had announced it.
Harry Potter.
He was well below the age requirement that'd been set to enter, and not remotely equipped for such a challenge even if he showed some martial prowess; her Father's term, not hers. That wasn't to mention how sweet and kind a boy he seemed to be. It was unfair, completely and utterly, and it terrified her — the mere thought that her Harry could be seriously hurt or even… even killed, made her tremble with rage.
She could feel her Veela side rising, those attributes that made her distinctly non-human, wishing to come forth. Feathered wings that oft were kept stored under her skin, talons, her beak, all of it wished to show at the thought of that sweet boy forced to compete in so dangerous a game.
Her pacing in her room ceased when she realised what she'd said to herself. Her, Harry. Slowly, her Veela features, desirous as they'd been to come forth, faltered as she put more thought to her passionate thoughts. It was weird of her to call him hers. He was younger — and sweet and strong — and more akin to her sister in age. Did Gabrielle not deserve a chance with him? Would it not be more normal? More accepted?
She huffed at herself and shook away such thoughts. That could be thought of later, as could any sort of hand-holding, or shoulder rubbing, or those green eyes…
Fleur huffed at herself. She had to stay focused.
Harry wasn't safe. Whether he'd entered or not didn't matter to her in the slightest. He'd saved her and Gabby without expecting anything else in return; that was something that couldn't be said of most, should they have been in his position. Beyond that, in the time she'd spent with him thus far, he'd been the perfect gentleman. Shy, kind… adorable.
The more she thought of him, the stronger her resolve to keep him from harm grew. Such an echo chamber lasted for minutes unending, until finally, she'd concluded a mission needed to be given by her, to her.
A mission to ensure Harry was kept safe from all harm… but she'd not tell him of her goal. No, she didn't need him trying to do the same in return. This wasn't a fairytale. Fleur didn't need a bold, courageous boy to come to her rescue.
All she needed was for him to live.
One day.
It had been one whole day since Harry's name had been pulled from the goblet. In that time, he'd ignored just about everything and everybody he could. He'd needed a bit of time to himself just like Ron had, he supposed.
But there was one person that wasn't having it. Hermione might have seemed content to let him spend a bit of time on his own, but Fleur hadn't been. She'd sought him out after lunch, whisking him away whilst waving off any excuses he tried to offer, still feeling put out as he was.
That was why he found himself where he currently was… in Fleur's room, again. It wasn't quite as awkward as the first time she'd pulled him inside, but it wasn't far off. As for that 'allure' of hers, it was as it's always been, that being barely a tickle; the 'ice' she had around her was equally as ineffective. The little degree difference actually made being closer to Fleur a bit better for him, slight as the change in temperature was.
"Now, 'arry," Fleur tutted at him as her hand found his. "Eef I deed not know any better, I would 'ave zought you were avoiding me."
He blinked at her, and then at their hands, connected as they were. That never failed to make him blush. Nor did the eyesight she always insisted on forming with him… it was why he'd always look away first, before his face turned red as a tomato.
"I wasn't."
Fleur raised a brow.
"No?" As she'd shown a fondness for previously, her thumb began to rub the back of his hand. Bare as it was, the softness of her was as mystifying as ever. "Eef you are not, would you 'umour me?"
"Humour you?" He furrowed his brow. "How?"
"I 'ad zought to tell you more of Veela. Our 'istory, 'ow our allures work," Fleur took a half-step closer, the scent of her perfume and the splash of her hot breath against his face messing with his mind more than her allure ever had. "Eef we are doing zat as well, why not see 'ow long we can touch?"
He blinked at her. Surely he'd not heard what she'd said. His mind had to be playing tricks on him.
"You're going to hold my hand the whole time we talk… I thought that was dangerous?"
Fleur smiled winningly at him, the look melting away all the worries of the world, let alone the thought of freezing a few fingers off. "You would feel eef you began to freeze, and zen you would only need to pull away," she cocked her head at him, her eyes falling to their hands; he swore he saw vulnerability flash across her as quick as lightning struck. But as quickly as it'd arrived, it vanished, the confident, beautiful visage of Fleur smiling back at him. "Please?"
Harry blinked at her, swallowing a second or so later. How could he say no? "Alright," he agreed, swallowing a second time and glancing away when that intense, happy gaze of hers returned to him.
It could steal a bloke's heart in a few seconds; such a dangerous degree of beauty.
Silence. Fleur was content to grasp his hand, to rub his fingers between her own, to swipe her thumb across the back of his hand. Really, it was like a massage, and whensoever he'd glance her way as the silence continued to drag on, he'd find her eyes alternating between just the same two spots.
Their connected hands… and his eyes. Every instance which he looked away seemed to amuse her, her thumb growing more incessant as soon as the exchange would happen. Eventually, Harry found his voice, even as his eyes looked anywhere but her way.
"You wanted to talk about your allure…" He reminded her, clearing his throat and risking a glance her way.
Fleur's pupils seemed dilated, her eyes darker and her breathing more erratic. Upon his words, however, she seemed to catch herself, shaking her head from side to side for a moment and fixing him with that beautiful smile of hers. "I said zat, yes," Fleur dipped her head, but there wasn't any acknowledgement of her staring or silence, and she certainly didn't seem embarrassed. "I 'ave told anozzer before, but zat one knew of the allure more zan most — do you know much about us, 'Arry?"
He swore his name sounded better in French, he did.
"Not really. Only that you're all beautiful, and you all have that… allure, I guess," Harry offered. Hermione had offered other tidbits of information, but like much of what she said, he didn't remember. No, too often he was day-dreaming or lost in his thoughts, with Hermione's voice being a pleasant backdrop.
"Zank you." Fleur dipped her head, her smile widening to show those gorgeous dimples of hers.
"Huh?"
Fleur cocked her head at him, a playful smirk replacing the smile. "You 'ave just said I am beautiful, no? Eet would be mean to take eet back so soon."
Harry blinked at her, a common occurrence nowadays. He didn't remember calling her… he hadn't. Well, not directly, anyway. He'd called all Veela beautiful, and Fleur, the tricky minx, had taken the chance to tease him. Harry shouldn't have been all that surprised though, she'd been teasing him since she'd arrived at Hogwarts, especially with how often she stares at him from Ravenclaw's table.
She leaned in closer, that playful smirk widening and her tongue, pink and slight, swiping across her lips a second before she spoke again. "You 'ave my apologies, 'Arry — you are too fun to play weez."
He nearly groaned at her choice of words. She had to be tormenting him on purpose.
"The allure?"
Fleur leaned back in her chair, that little teasing look still in place, but smaller and diminishing as she spoke. "We 'ave two. One we control, and ze ozzer, we do not. Eet ees ze one we control zat ees ze strongest — zose of us zat are bad use eet to control ozzers. To dominate ze minds of zose who cannot refuse eet."
It was like an Imperius then, Harry reckoned.
"The one you don't control, that's the one that makes everyone go goofy around you, yeah?" Harry asked, just to make sure he understood it completely. After all, he'd seen what happened when she or Gabrielle, or worse, the pair were present. There'd barely be any sentience left in the room.
Fleur smiled, pleased that he seemed to be understanding it thus far. "Eet ees. I 'ave never used ze ozzer 'ere except when I met weez your adorable bushy-'aired friend. Zere ees more about us zat ees good to learn too — we 'ave ze Veela nation to look after us all. Eet does not 'ave a border, but eet ees a group to keep us safe. My grandmozzer ees the acting 'ead of state."
Merlin's beard. Her dad was the Minister of Magic in France, her grandma led the Veela nation — it was then he reckoned she was quarter-Veela as the rumours claimed too — she was practically a Princess twice over. No wonder she seemed alone as he did. All of that coalesced together for a horribly lonesome life.
She paused, taking his look for a question, and so he posed it for her. "I heard people say you were quarter-Veela be—"
Before he could finish the question, she was shaking her head. Her long hair whipping back and forth with a few errant strands tickling his nose, their floral scent very pleasant.
"Eet ees not true. To be 'alf Veela or quarter-Veela, zere ees no such zeeng. Eef you are a daughter to a Veela, you are Veela. As for boys, eet ees not a worry for Veela," Fleur's tone was confident as she cut him off, but there wasn't any anger even if the latter half of her sentence was rather cryptic; he'd been worried about bothering her, but he was glad to see that he wasn't.
Harry nodded. He'd heard something else from Hermione too, something about birthrates… but that was a question he'd truly steer clear of asking. It was awkward, and what she'd just answered had already been strange enough to say aloud.
Wait. "You said acting?" he asked, finally recognising her earlier words regarding her grandmother.
"Yes," Fleur nodded, a pretty little smile forming. She seemed satisfied by something. "My grandmozzer ees the acting 'ead of state because my mozzer, ze Queen, wants to spend more time with 'er 'usband. Zere being togezzer 'as done much good for both nations eenvolved, and ze time togezzer gave her two daughters."
The final two words, 'two daughters', seemed to be something of a feat by the way Fleur had said it, which very indirectly answered the question he'd been too nervous to ask.
"What about…" Harry didn't want to say it outright, so his eyes fell to their hands.
She understood what he meant quite quickly. "Ze ice? Eet ees an adaptation some say, but I prefer curse," the chuckled, a bitter-sounding noise that made for a stark contrast with her otherworldly, angelic form. "Eet ees 'ard to know ze reason. Maybe to protect us, maybe eet was a punishment for a grievance we cannot even recall — I only know zat eet came a day after I spoke for ze first time. Any zat approached would feel ze cold, eef zey stayed too long, zey would 'ave frostbite. Eet ees only my Gabby I can 'old as long as I wish."
There looked to be more that she wanted to say, but she stopped, shaking her head as her eyes fell to their still-connected hands. When they did so, the bitterness that'd rested on her face melted away, replaced by a happy expression as she gazed there.
"All ees not so 'orrible, no?" Fleur rubbed the back of his hand again, the action seeming to sooth her. "At least zere ees now anozzer zat can stand to touch me, zat does not feel ze cold… c'e— eet ees eencredible."
Not for the first time, Harry saw just how important her being able to touch him seemed to be. It was almost like it calmed her, and so as her thumb resumed its fond little pathing of the back of his hand, he shot out another question.
"Have you ever tried to control the ice? If you could use it in the tournament, you'd have an advantage," Harry felt awkward, very awkward, bringing the tournament up given that both of them were in it together, but he had to ask. If there was a chance she'd have an advantage, that she'd be safe, she should take it; his Potter luck had always seen him through, so there wasn't much reason to worry about himself.
Tentatively, Fleur shook her head from side to side. "I 'ave never tried. Eet ees a part of me I wish to 'ave never possessed. Ze few times I 'ave focused on eet, zat I 'ave wanted eet to leave, nozzing 'appened. Always eet 'as 'ad a mind of eet's own, and I 'ave been too scared to force eet — zere, een ze back of your mind ees always a worry eef you 'ave such a curse."
Harry looked at their hands again. "You think I'm immune, don't you?"
Fleur dipped her head immediately, her grasp around his hand tightening. "I do."
"Wicked," he stood up, Fleur refusing to let go of his hand all the while. "Hit me with your ice… just not in the face or with anything sharp, yeah?"
Fleur blinked at him, her eyes, once again, falling from his face to their hands, connected as they still were. "You 'ave not been frozen yet," she observed, bringing her second hand over to completely enclose the one she'd been holding since first he'd joined her. "Zere ees no ice. You appear to be totally fine — are you?"
His eyes were just like hers, staring at their adjoining hands. As she'd said, there was no ice, no frostbite, nothing. Everything appeared to be perfectly fine. In fact, aside from the one degree difference that he always felt upon first seeing her, there hadn't been a shift in the room's temperature.
"I am," he said with a shrug, his eyes and body telling him everything was fine; if anything, his brain, immature as it was, told him he should just let Fleur do whatever she desired. Since first he'd seen her, there hadn't been a single thing he'd disliked that she'd done.
Fleur's gaze was beyond overjoyed, and her eyes, as they'd done earlier, seemed to darken for a few seconds' time. "Eef you are fine, zen, maybe I will do as you say… but are you certain?" she seemed unsure of herself, her typically confident attitude gone in an instant as she continued to stare at their hands. "Eef eet ees not as we believe, I would 'urt you. You 'ave been too kind for me to 'ave such a 'appening."
Harry shrugged. "I trust you."
In an instant, Fleur's eyes found his own as they so oft did. Her pupils were still dark and dilated, and he swore her features seemed sharper, more angular, but that all faded from his mind as she smiled at him as wide as ever.
And then he saw the ice come towards him; on instinct alone, he closed his eyes, waiting to feel the biting cold encase wherever she'd struck.
Nothing. He waited a few seconds more, wondering if the ice was slow or if Fleur was working to bend it, but still, there was nothing. It was then, after nearly five seconds had passed in silence, that he opened his eyes again to take a little gander as to what'd just occurred; it started with a little slit of visibility, and then expanded.
Suddenly, the silence made sense. Fleur was staring at and around him. At his feet, on his clothes; nothing. Not a hint of ice… but when he looked around, he saw where the ice had gone. Somehow, for some reason, Fleur had blasted it on either side of him, the ice sticking to the wall on his left and right.
"I thought you were going to hit me with it." Harry looked back and forth, again, wondering why she'd shot around him with so much ice; he thought she was going to just do a touch of ice as a test, but there was far more than just a smidge on the walls.
"Eet went around you," Fleur said, her speech slow, awed, and her eyes focused solely on him. It was like the ice hadn't happened, such was the degree of focus she held him with. "Eef eet 'ad got you, I 'ad been ready to counter… but…"
Fleur went quiet, her voice trailing off.
As for Harry, well, he had but one simple thought; life was never normal.
Harry blinked as he stared at the Beauxbatons carriage for what felt like the hundredth time; in reality, it wasn't nearly so many instances, but he was so familiar with the place now. He'd gone to see Fleur there multiple times already, and here he was again today, off to see her. The sun, the flowers, the scents of the woodland that surrounded the place… it was far more peaceful than Hogwarts had ever been for him.
Or maybe that was Fleur's presence.
He blinked to himself as he continued forward. This time, he hadn't come on invitation. Well, not one of hers. Harry recognised that many of his earlier successes could be attributed to luck, and luck alone. Sure, there'd been instances where he'd done well or what have you, but the Potter luck had seen him through more problems than he reckoned was normal.
It was wicked.
It was unsustainable.
Such was the reason he'd gone and walked here — he would enter the Beauxbatons carriage, knock on Fleur's door and ask for her help. His mind was made up in that regard. With Hermione trying to balance her time between Ron, Harry and studying since the two boys were staying away from one another for the time being, he couldn't rely on her half as much as he'd done in the past.
It wasn't like studying by himself would yield all that many results either. There was only so much time he'd have to prepare, and it was Hermione amongst others with similar marks that knew just where to look.
Harry took in a breath as he pushed open the door to the carriage and stepped inside the warm, fire-lit carriage. There were a few others milling about, but he didn't mind them any attention. His eyes were firmly on Fleur's door, and in a few seconds' time, his feet had him standing outside the aforementioned entryway. Any muttering, any disgruntled looks, they were pushed away as they'd always been.
He took another breath, and then knocked on the door. The seconds ticked by slowly, but then he heard the pitter-pattering of bare feet and the jostling of the door handle. Fleur appeared not a second later, her visage shifting from neutral upon opening the door to happy upon seeing who'd come to visit.
"Come een, 'Arry," those were the first words Fleur said, and before he could so much as say a proper word of greeting, she'd already pulled him inside, the door shutting behind him with an audible click as it secured itself. "'Ave you 'ad breakfast? Do you 'ave more questions?"
Fleur brought him over to a chair, guiding him into it and taking up the one right beside him. Her eyes were focused on his face as her second hand joined her first in grasping him; it was like only he existed, such was the look on her face.
It was enough to make Harry wiggle in the chair beside her. He was used to being the centre of attention, but never by a witch and for a good reason. It was usually one or the other… but Merlin, Fleur made him feel… different in a very pleasant sort of way.
"I had something in the Great Hall before I came down, but thank you, Fleur," Really, it was kind of her to offer. "I actually wanted to ask… well, you know — I'm in the tournament."
That smile of hers, predominant as it oft was, seemed to falter at the mention of the tournament. Immediately, he thought that reminding her had been a bad idea. She probably shared the opinion of most; he shouldn't be in the tournament, he was trying to steal the glory of the vi—
"I 'ad 'oped zat was a dream."
Harry snorted. "So did I," he paused, furrowing his brow when he registered just how her voice had sounded. "You're not mad at me?"
"I 'ave not a zeeng to be mad at you for, but so much to be zankful for," Her eyes fell to their hands, and then traced their way over to the door that led to her sister's adjoining room; each message was clear. "What can I to to 'elp, 'Arry?"
"If you wouldn't be opposed to it… could you help me? With spells, I mean," Merlin this was hard. "I saw what you could do. I remember all the spells you threw at his followers. I was hoping you'd be alright with showing me a few? If it's not a bother? Any—"
Fleur seemed to have a look of deep, deep relief flash across her a mere second before she leaned forward to wrap Harry in her arms. It was the first hug they'd shared, but each thought of it at the moment in time as the greatest yet; their reasons weren't entirely dissimilar either.
"I promise to do all zat I can to 'elp you as you 'ave 'elped us," Fleur said, her arms rubbing Harry's back, feeling the muscles, the bones, the heat of another person. A man. A boy. She'd been too shy to offer her assistance ever since his name had been pulled, and yet, here he was, coming to her for help. Perhaps her pleading had been answered, she thought, withdrawing so as to look him in the eyes again. This time, a playfulness on her face. "But I must tell you, zere ees a price for 'elping my opponent, 'Arry."
For a fleeting few seconds, Fleur regretted her teasing as she saw his face fall. She wasn't being serious. Well, she was, but the price wasn't Galleons, blackmail or the like. No, her price was far more self-serving.
"What is it?" Harry's voice was smaller, hesitant even.
"You 'ave to pay me with touch."
"Touch?" He grew horribly red. "I do—"
Fleur looked amused, but she shook her head, taking pity on the poor boy. "Not een such a crude fashion, no no no. You know how rare eet ees to touch anozzer — I would only want ze chance to do zat as we work togezzer. Eef I am to help my opponent, zen my cute leetle opponent can 'elp me at ze same time — I am 'appy you asked too. I would not 'ave offered if you 'ad not."
Cute… little… Harry shook his head, barely even registering her final words. Even if that allure of hers did all but nothing to him, her words and that accent more than made up for it. He swore, enough time with her and no other witch could ever hope to compare… but where else would he learn general combat spells the likes of which she'd been throwing about? Even Gabrielle had shown a surprising ferocity for a girl a year younger than him.
Harry swallowed. If it was just her wanting to hold his hand or hug him, especially hug him, he'd be more than fine with that. Merlin, he was a bloke, wudn't he? If Fleur had kissed him, he didn't think he'd complain or push her away… why was his heart racing?
"Deal," his voice was nearly a squeak, and so he looked away from her incessant staring and cleared his throat. "Deal." This time, his voice was louder and more certain-sounding even if his heart was beating even faster; one of Fleur's feet, bare and warm, had rolled up a few centimetres of his pants to brush against his leg.
"Perfect!" She sounded beyond pleased, her hands pulling from his for all of a second or so to clap before they returned. "We start today, yes?"
Harry wasn't so much as given the chance to speak before she whisked him up and out of the chair, and over to the edge of her bed. His eyes had widened until he saw her summon her satchel, and there, leaning against her bed beside her, he watched as she withdrew tome after tome.
The bulk seemed French, but as she pushed them into his arms, he reckoned that'd not be a problem.
She'd promised to help, after all.
The birdsong from outside had died down as the sun began to set, insects replacing the previous elegant noises with clicks and hisses. Harry had been sitting with Fleur for hours upon hours since their initial conversation wherein he'd asked for her assistance. It'd been so strange of him to do at the time, but now, working with her right alongside him, it was nice.
Really nice. She didn't make him feel stupid, she wasn't rude, she offered him snacks; her only price was proximity to him, and like any bloke, he'd given her a carte blanche to touch him as much and as often as she'd like to. Today, for example, after she'd picked out the books with which to teach him, she'd promptly pulled him over to a chair and sat beside him, their knees brushing and hands held together.
While he'd been blushing until it grew to be normal — touching her that was — Fleur had looked as if it were her birthday or Christmas come early. Any time the pair would shift, she'd be sure to maintain physical contact. Just about the only exception was the loo, and as soon as he'd return, she'd return them to the status quo.
Chancing a glance her way, he took note of the seriousness which she wore on her face as she read from the book and actively tried to translate it for him. Still present was a small, zoned-out smile, the corner of her lips raised as her thumb occasionally swiped across his hand or her fingers wiggled to assure herself of the contact.
Unlike him, no blush ever rose to those pale, porcelain cheeks of hers. The one time he'd tried to pull away early on, after thirty or so minutes of her holding onto him, she'd snapped her head his way and sought out their connection. When she failed to see ice or signs of frostbite, she retook control of his hand and fixed him with a reprimanding look; she didn't seem to care in the slightest just how embarrassed he was.
No, all that mattered to her was their physical contact, and she'd ascertained it for the whole duration of the time he spent with her. No less… he'd say no more, but that wasn't entirely true — not when she'd grab his hand in the Great Hall, in the halls, on Hogwarts' grounds. Really anywhere they'd 'bump' into each other, they'd, well, literally bump into each other.
Fleur wasn't nearly as inconspicuous as she thought even before their little deal had been made.
"Ahh," Fleur stretched, her hands pulling his right along with them into the air, forcing the pair closer together as their torsos raised. "Eet ees late. I should not keep you too long, no? Eef I do, ze rumours — zey will be more 'orrible to you."
"They've already made up their minds. They do every year," Harry waved away her concern and leaned back, away from her. Fleur smirked but remained silent, content in the fact he'd not pulled away from their physical contact. "But you're right. Gabrielle probably thinks I'm stealing you from her."
He made to stand, but Fleur's hold of him didn't relent, so he was stuck in an awkward partial standing position before her chair.
"Fleur?" His eyes went to their hands, and then back to her own eyes, brilliant and blue and captivating as they were… he coughed then, pointedly looking away.
"I 'ad not replied," Fleur said, only now standing and allowing him to do much the same. "Eet would be rude eef you do not say goodbye to my leetle Gabby, no? After all, she 'as said you are 'er favourite person zat she 'as met 'ere — a beeg compliment from 'er. Now, come, eef you leave now, I weel not 'ear ze end of it."
He walked side by side with her, the pair moving through the quiet space of Fleur's room. As they did so, Fleur's slow pace allowed her more words shared just betwixt the two of them, and she made use of that time expertly.
"Eet ees no problem, eezzer, 'Arry."
"Huh?" He blinked, unsure of what she meant.
Fleur's melodious giggle told him she found his seemingly confounded state funny. Her words came after a few seconds' time, but Merlin, he'd have been able to listen to those giggles for minutes unending. The sound was far more beautiful than most of the hyena-like laughter he oft heard at Hogwarts.
"You are not stealing me from Gabby. She tends to 'er studies as she should, but eef she ees free, I am more zan 'appy to share 'er weez you, and you, weez 'er. Eet ees no stranger to us, sharing," Fleur smiled wide then, and not a second later, the door that separated their rooms was opened as they finished their short walk thereto.
In no more than a few more seconds, he found himself betwixt the two otherworldly sisters with only enough time to hope she meant 'sharing' in the platonic sense of the word.
Between them as he was, he had to admit the pair were more intimidating than any amount of time facing off against Voldemort had been… and far more enjoyable.
As it turned out, Fleur had taken her responsibility of teaching him extraordinarily seriously as she'd found him a teacher's assistant.
No sooner had he arrived in the Great Hall, did he find himself pulled by the hand of Fleur all the way back out of the room he'd just entered. Gabrielle was giggling when she grabbed his other hand, having skipped after the pair when Fleur took hold of him. She earned a little comment in French from Fleur he hadn't a chance to understand, but whatever it was simply made the younger girl giggle; a musical noise that had those stunned by the allure drooling.
Thankfully, the trio didn't have to put up with onlookers for very long. Not when Fleur kept their pace up and shot looks at any that'd approach them; she was a woman on a mission, with that mission being to steal Harry away to her and Gabrielle's adjoining rooms for a private breakfast. One where none of the three would be gawked at as if they were some sort of attraction for the rest of Hogwarts and her guests.
As Fleur led them along, through the halls, past portraits and statues, down dirt paths with the beauty of nature surrounding them, the entire time, Harry couldn't help but do as he'd done every year thus far. He thought, in silence — the two sisters were speaking quickly with little giggles, their eyes on him — on how everything had turned out thus far.
His conclusion was; it could be far, far worse.
That was made abundantly clear as the two switched to English as the carriage came into view.
"My leetle Gabby—" Fleur punctuated her sister's name teasingly, reaching around him to tickle her before she continued. "—wants to know eef you would mind 'er joining us for studies."
He shook his head. "She can join us. I'm not gonna tell you she can't." It wasn't his place, he reckoned. Fleur was doing him a favour, after all, even if he was returning it in a very strange fashion.
Naturally, his eyes took the chance to fall to their hands, connected as they were. Even now, her grip was covetous, possessive, even. Enough so that he'd learned not to pull away from her ever since that look she'd given him when he'd tried to. Merlin, one would think he'd stolen her favourite present and thrown it from Gryffindor Tower.
"Zank you," Gabrielle said, stopping their walk to curtsey and fixing him with a pleased smile, wide and beautiful as Fleur's was. There was even that same little set of dimples… though Gabby's seemed to have a dusting of pink.
Really, he reckoned Gabrielle was just a smaller, shyer Fleur. Once the two were full-grown, they'd be almost identical save for their differing traits.
"Yeah," he managed as they emerged from between two rows of hedges, the little dirt path widening to reveal picnic tables and the like set up around the carriage. They'd never used them, but the idea was appealing even if the onlookers wouldn't be. "Allow me."
Harry pulled one hand — the one Gabrielle had been holding — away to open the carriage's door. In an instant and as she made to climb past him, Gabrielle reclaimed the hand he'd stolen away from her, and so naturally, he had to follow after her lest Fleur go next and turn him into a pretzel.
And so he did, climbing in after Gabrielle and coming to a pause once he was sure-footed so as to aid Fleur. It must have looked a bit comedic, he reckoned, the three of them trying to board the carriage whilst holding hands. Maybe people would think they'd been pranked… actually, no, he reckoned most of the people that'd seen them didn't have the capacity to think, much less remember anything other than the two Veela flanking him.
"Ah, warmz," Gabrielle took in a deep breath and shimmied. "Eet ees much better zan ze cold you Anglais—" Fleur pinched her side "—Engl-eesh—" Fleur smiled. "—seem to 'ave so…"
"Often?" He offered, seeing Gabrielle grow stumped, her brows furrowing together cutely.
"Often! Yes, zank you," Gabby nodded animatedly, the dusting of red on her cheeks growing as Fleur snickered off to their side.
Speaking of Fleur, she seemed just as curious to watch him interact with Gabby as she was to initiate any form of contact with him. There was that wide, beautiful smile on her face he'd come to recognise as typical in the presence of those she knew and trusted — Gabby always got sent such looks — and a sense of teasing.
He recognised it right as she gently started them off once more, pulling him along and getting him to do much the same to Gabby; the younger girl needed no urging though. She seemed just as content as Fleur to take him somewhere sans the company of others, that somewhere being their adjoining rooms as Fleur opened the door, ignored a person that made to speak to them, and promptly shut it behind them with a resounding and final latch as the lock clicked into place.
As soon as that happened, before Harry could so much as manage a word, he found himself in a chair with one Fleur in his lap and a Gabrielle by his side.
He'd thought it earlier, but now he knew it for certain; this year might not have gone his way completely, but Merlin, it could've been so much worse.