The Veela's Champion
Prologue I
The Quidditch World Cup was everything Harry had dreamed of and more. The sprawling fairground buzzed with life, filled with vendors selling magical trinkets, enchanted souvenirs flew through the air, and banners in the colors of different teams flapping in the cool evening breeze. The hum of excitement was contagious, and for once, Harry felt like he could forget about the constant chaos and drama in his life.
Ron and Hermione had disappeared into the sea of tents in search of butterbeer, leaving Harry to wander on his own for a bit. He didn't mind, actually somewhat happy to be alone for once. It was nice to take everything in, walking at his own pace, feeling a sense of normalcy as he explored the different vendors.
As Harry meandered past stalls selling enchanted fireworks and self-tying shoes, something caught his eye. A small booth tucked between two larger stands, its colorful sign advertising a target practice game. Several floating targets bobbed lazily in the air, just waiting to be hit with a well-aimed spell.
An aged wand sat on the table in front of the targets, clearly for customers to use, and booth's the owner stood not far away, seemingly staring at something in the distance. Harry felt a tug of curiosity and stepped closer, but before he could pick up the wand lying on the counter, a voice behind him interrupted his thoughts.
"Excusez-moi, but I believe I was next."
Harry turned around, startled. Standing behind him was a girl, no, a witch—one who could have stepped straight out of a magazine. Her long, silvery blonde hair shimmered in the fading sunlight, and her pale blue eyes seemed to narrow with an air of superiority. She was breathtaking, but there was something off about her.
She was also staring at him expectantly, one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised.
"Oh, sorry!" Harry stammered, stepping aside quickly, feeling like a complete fool. "Go ahead."
The girl smirked, clearly pleased with herself as she sauntered up to the booth. She walked past him, and he couldn't help but let his gaze lower, following the contours of her feminine form as her hips widened and flared out to a big bubble butt. She was easily the most beautiful woman Harry had ever seen, to the point it wasn't even close.
She moved with the grace of someone who knew the attention of others followed her naturally. With a flick of her delicate wrist, she picked up the provided wand and pointed it at the targets.
Harry watched in silent awe as the girl hit each floating target with swift, precise spells. Her concentration was absolute, her wand movements fluid, and she never missed a single shot. Each target exploded in a small burst of light as her spells found their mark.
When she finished, the booth owner clapped enthusiastically, presenting her with an intricately designed plush dragon that puffed out harmless smoke from its nose. She barely acknowledged the prize, her eyes flitting to Harry as if to say, 'See? This is how it's done '.
She handed the wand to him, doing so in a dismissive way that conveyed her own superiority. "Your turn." She said, her accent thick with French elegance. The words were polite, but the tone was anything but. She expected him to fail.
Harry felt his cheeks burn under her gaze, but he wasn't about to back down now. He took the wand from her and focused on the floating targets. The first spell went wide, completely missing the target, and he heard her snicker quietly behind him. He gritted his teeth, determined to do better. The next two targets were hit squarely in the center, their small explosions satisfying, and he managed to hit the last two with growing confidence.
The booth owner gave Harry a stuffed phoenix as a prize, and he smiled sheepishly, unsure what to do next. He glanced at the girl, expecting her to mock him, but instead, she looked at him with mild surprise.
"Well done." She said, her voice still holding that haughty edge, though it was softened now. "I didn't expect you to recover."
"Thanks." Harry replied, his voice a bit stiff. "I didn't either."
Her lips twitched upward in the slightest hint of a smile. She seemed to study him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she spoke again, her voice lighter this time, though still laced with arrogance. "You are different than the others."
Harry blinked. "Different how?"
"The boys I know at Beauxbatons," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "They all try to impress me. They think because I am part-Veela, I will fall at their feet. But you… you do not try."
Her eyes flickered to him, examining him as if he was some sort of unique creature. Harry looked down, feeling confused and mildly embarrassed for some reason. "I… didn't think I was supposed to."
The girl let out a soft, almost amused laugh. "Exactly."
Before Harry could think of something to say, she tossed her plush dragon over her shoulder, the toy fluttering in the air before obediently following her like a loyal pet. She gestured toward the bustling crowd. "I am getting something to eat. You may join me, if you like?"
"I—yeah, sure," he managed to say, hoping he didn't sound too much like a complete idiot.
She nodded and began walking, her dragon still trailing lazily behind her. Harry hurried to keep up, feeling like a moth drawn to a flame. They wove through the bustling fairground, passing food carts and vendors shouting over one another, trying to sell their enchanted snacks. Eventually, she stopped at a crepe cart and ordered off the menu with a casual flick of her wand, as if she had been doing it her whole life.
It struck him how comfortable she seemed in her own skin, almost to the point of pure arrogance. He followed her lead with his own wand, and ended up ordering the same thing. They found a quiet bench under a large, enchanted tree nearby that had floating fairy lights twinkling above it. Sitting next to the beautiful woman, Harry felt a knot of nervousness tighten in his chest.
"So…" he started, trying to sound casual. "How do you like it here? In England, I mean."
She took a delicate bite of her crepe and considered his question. "It is… different, Beauxbatons is very beautiful, very elegant. Here, everything is… rustic."
Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it is a bit rough around the edges."
She looked at him, her blue eyes softening slightly. "But I think that I am beginning to see ze charm in it."
He swallowed thickly. "You don't go to Hogwarts then?"
"Non." She answered, flopping her hair over her shoulder. "I attend Beauxbatons in southern France, if that's what you're wondering."
"Oh." He realized that he knew next to nothing about other magical nations, much less different schools. "Do you like it there?"
"Oui, it is ze best school in Europe." She sniffed arrogantly.
"If you say so." Harry shrugged, not really knowing if that was the case. The beautiful girl shot him a strange look for that answer, before her expression changed.
"I did not introduce myself." She suddenly said. "My name is Fleur Delacour, and you best remember it."
"I will." Harry nodded, feeling amused by her hubris. "I'm Harry by the way, Harry Potter."
"Harry Potter." Fleur Delacour said the name as if testing it for any weakness. "You should be delighted to know that I will be visiting ze Hogwarts school this year."
"You are?" Harry frowned, not really getting what she was saying. "How?"
"There will be a competition between different schools this upcoming year, one that I plan to participate in. I do know all of ze details, but I know that it will include the best students from each school. Meaning that I will, of course, be part of it."
"Huh, well I hope that I see you then." Harry replied, guessing that she really was one of the best students in her school.
Fleur looked at him suspiciously, finishing up her food before dispelling it. "Most boys want to see me again too. Are you the same way?"
"I-I didn't mean it like that!" Harry said quickly. "I just thought we had a nice conversation, and I'd like to get to know you better-"
"Harry!" A yell cut him off, and he turned to see Hermione headed towards him. Her eyes looked over him as if making sure he was alright, before settling on Fleur and narrowing. He also noticed Ron was following her, but he suddenly stopped in his tracks.
"Bloody hell. " Ron muttered, a small bit of drool creeping out the side of his mouth as his gaze locked on Fleur.
"Harry, I thought you would come find us. Mrs. Weasley sent us as we're about to head to the stadium." Hermione explained quickly, walking over to him before her gaze went to Fleur. "Hello."
Fleur ignored her greeting and simply studied Hermoine and Ron before looking back at him. "I see that your friends are here."
"I guess so." Harry smiled slightly.
"This is farewell then." She stood and turned to leave. "Goodbye, Harry Potter."
"Umm… you too." Harry waved, but Fleur had already turned and headed off. He turned back to Hermione who watched Fleur with narrowed eyes before looking at him suspiciously. "What?"
"I don't like her." Hermione stated, arms crossed.
Ron suddenly walked over, looking as if he had been caught in a daze. "Bloody hell, mate, where did you meet her?"
He heard Hermione growl to herself, her teeth grinding in frustration. 'I don't think I'll ever understand how women think.' "We played one of the booths together."
"So you were with her this whole time?" Hermione nearly demanded, sounding outraged.
"I guess?" Harry shrugged. "At least for some of it."
That answer didn't seem to improve Hermione's mood anymore, and for some reason even Ron looked jealous.
Fleur watched him as the game went on, her own seats not far from where Harry Potter was seated. It seemed that he really had been telling the truth about his identity, given that he was seated so close to the British Minister, not that she believed Harry Potter was lying.
He sat amongst a group of rambunctious redheads, with a small redhead girl and the same brunette from earlier sitting close enough to him that it made her foot tap in annoyance. In her mind, the two girls weren't exactly all that attractive, especially when compared to her, but there was still the threat of one of them being in a relationship with him.
That little girl next to him was really annoying her, and she gritted her teeth each time the little redhead girl glanced at Harry with admiration. It was the type of look that women gave famous men that they admired, and Fleur just knew that girl would be a problem for her.
"Why don't you go talk to him? " Her Maman asked in French, breaking her out of her thoughts.
"What? "
"That boy you've been admiring. " Maman grinned. "You've barely watched the game at all, so just go over and talk to him. I've taught you well enough to take what you want over the years. "
She didn't respond, and tried to watch the quidditch game, but she could only feign interest in it for so long. Her mother knew her well enough to know what she wanted, and Fleur didn't want to give her the satisfaction of being right. But eventually she couldn't take it anymore, and made her way over to him.
She found his row of seats and walked down to him, doing her best to not draw attention to herself. "Excusez-moi?"
But her thick accent got the attention of every man there, and the glares of the nearby women. All the redhead men Harry was sitting with instantly gawked at her, the younger boy next to Harry drooled like a buffoon. Harry's female friend from earlier was staring suspiciously, and the smaller redhead girl was outright glaring at her.
"F-Fleur?" Harry asks, looking oddly at her.
"May I speak with you?" She asks innocently, before glancing at the rest of the group. "It will only take a minute."
"Sure." Harry is already following her, and she gains a victorious smile.
She gives her hips a bit more sway as they head away from everyone else, giving him a good show of her ass. Fleur knew she had the best ass of any Veela, and that no witch could attain the same hourglass form her own body had. It was as much a point of pride for her as a statement of fact.
Harry nearly ran into her when they stopped, meaning her little show worked, and she gave him a seductive look. She bad brought him to an empty inlet off one of the many hallways in the stadium. They could still hear the noise of the crowd from where they stood, but it a lot more muted compared to their normal seats.
Harry stood awkwardly, unsure how to respond. "Uh, hi." he mumbled, his cheeks red.
Fleur tilted her head, studying him. He was so cute, but at the same time she wanted him to have a bit more backbone. He still seemed to be immune to her allure for some reason, and she figured it was better for him to be awkward with her than openly drooling.
"You are not what I expected." She said, her tone teasing but edged with condescension. "So quiet, so… modest. It is refreshing, non?"
Harry blinked. "Um, thanks… I guess?"
Fleur stepped closer, her eyes meeting his own. "You are famous, oui? But you do not seem to enjoy ze attention. This makes you so different from ze others."
"I don't think being famous is all that great," Harry replied honestly, with more confidence than before. "It's not really something I chose."
Fleur laughed softly, the sound like a melody. "So humble, but tell me, Harry, do you have no interest in ze girls who admire you? Surely there are many?"
He looked at her, looking even more flustered than before. For some reason it seemed that he had never flirted before, nor been in a situation like this. "I… uh… I don't really think about that stuff."
Fleur raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting such a plain response. "Oh? Perhaps you should. A boy like you could have anyone. Maybe… someone like me?"
The suggestion in her words was clear enough, and it somewhat grated on her nerves to offer herself so freely. To make up for it she told herself she was just flirting with him, and possibly giving him an opening to start a relationship. But in reality, Fleur knew that she really would get in a relationship with him then and there if he wanted it.
"I—I think you've got the wrong idea." He stammered, stepping back, and Fleur felt her heart sink. "I'm not really, I mean, I'm not looking for anything like that."
Fleur's smile faltered for the briefest moment, but her arrogance quickly masked it. "Ah, I see. You are shy, non? Perhaps you are not used to women like me."
"It's not that." He said, trying to sound firm but polite. "I just don't think I'm the right person for this kind of thing. Sorry."
Fleur studied him, her expression unreadable. Then she gave a small, graceful shrug. "Perhaps you are not ready for someone like me. But there is no shame in zat."
Her tone was light, but there was an edge of condescension that made Harry shift uncomfortably. The truth was that it stung to be dismissed by a boy younger than her, and it was the first time she had been turned away. It hurt her pride, and beyond that, she felt something in her chest aching because of his refusal.
"Well," She continued, tossing her silver hair over her shoulder. "it was interesting to meet you, Harry Potter. Perhaps we will meet again. And next time, you will not turn me away so easily."
There was a certain threat in her words, a promise that he wouldn't rebuff her advances when they met again. She headed back to her own seat, not caring for the irritated expression on her features or the angry clacking of her shoes.
A/N:
This is the first chapter for a Harry x Fleur fic I've wanted to write.I'm not sure if it's written how I'd like it to be, and may rewrite it at some point in the future.
I've read a lot of Harry x Fleur, but I feel like most of them have too much puppy love where in this one I'm trying to make Fleur a real queen 't expect Harry to be as… forward as he normally is in my other stories, as he's quite naive in this one. That said, he can still learn.
If you want to read ahead on this story, see artwork for it, and even vote, then be sure to check out my P-A-T-R-3-0-N !
RougeAtomic