Un Serpent au Milieu des Fleurs
A Snake Among the Flowers
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Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
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Chapter 8
Edited: 11 April 2025
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July 16, 1994
Paris, France
The Rue Servandoni was in the centre of Paris. Like many of the side roads, it was barely wide enough for a sidewalk and road for a single car. The buildings were all a tan plaster over stone. At one end was a large park and the other a large old church.
When he found number eleven, it was a five-story building, much like the others that surrounded it. A small bakery was across the street. Looking at the black door of the building, he let out a long breath before opening the door.
Why he was here was something he had been asking himself for a week.
He needed the connections that the Delacours could provide, but having Fleur in his dreams since meeting her again was really throwing him off. She had found Bill and married him, then was made a widow the night they had finally beaten Voldemort.
The difference between his timeline and this one was still throwing him for a loop at times.
He knew he hadn't felt any attraction to her before.
Walking up to the third-floor landing, he felt the difference. The top floors and attic space were obviously warded. The floor below was as well. By the feel, it was Muggle distraction and many other nastier wards if you were not welcomed.
Looking down the hallway, this floor looked to have numerous apartments.
As he walked up to the top floor, there was an active probing of his magic. He didn't like it, never having felt the like before. He had never been so sensitive to magic before, but the longer he was in this reality, the more sensitive he had become.
When nothing happened, he continued up.
This time the stairwell ended at a large landing with two doors. He knocked on 4A.
Henry took a step back. Before he stopped moving the door opened. A small house elf greeted him. Henry nodded his head to her. "I'm sorry, I don't speak French. Do you speak English?"
The amber eyes of the house elf just looked up at him for a moment. It was obvious she didn't understand. Still smiling at her, he took out the letter from Fleur. She cocked her head to look at it before smiling. Motioning to follow, Harry stepped into the apartment. It obviously took up the top floor and the attic space above.
There was a fair amount of wealth on display. Rich tapestries, a few vases and busts, regal looking paintings of both the Delacour and the veela lines. Many of the paintings looked at him as though unsure what he was. Others were a little haughty.
Guess I know why Fleur is the way she is, he thought to himself.
The room he was led into was far more intimate than he had expected. From his few interactions so far with Amelia and Sirius, a guest was usually shown and received in a room that showed off the family's status and wealth.
This room showed that the Delacours were an affluent family, but it was a long room with a piano, a small round table big enough for tea or small meals with four chairs, a few paintings and cabinets with curios and beloved trinkets and heirlooms with a large fireplace at the far end. By the fireplace was a long couch, a love seat and two high back plush chairs facing each other with a few small tables on the sides and a low table between them.
When he entered, the little elf announced something in French.
Fleur looked up from a book she was reading. Sitting on the couch, he was surprised to see her in ripped Muggle jeans and a tight-fitting white sleeveless shirt that covered her chest up to her throat but left little to the imagination that she was an extremely attractive girl. It was also apparent she was not wearing a bra today.
Jean-Paul was drinking from a small cup of café and reading a paper.
The man gave him a nod. Henry was looking at Fleur as she got up. "I wasn't sure you would be here so early," Fleur said.
Henry mentally shook himself. He wasn't trying to leer at her. Her veela allure may not have an effect on him, but her nubile body did. "I always like to get going early."
Jean-Paul had gotten up now. He extended a hand to Henry. "I'm glad you accepted our invitation."
Henry grasped his forearm. "I need to thank you for extending it. I'm sorry to say that I will need to go back to England next week to take my OWLs, but I'm free the rest of the summer."
"Bien. Our house is yours for as long as you wish," the man told him.
Harry nodded in acceptance. "Good morning, Ecuyer Delacour," he said a little more formally than he wanted too.
She gave him a slight raise of her brow. Standing tall, he focused on her dark-blue eyes instead of the way her chest strained in her shirt. "Ecuyer Shafiq-Gaunt, it is a pleasure to see you," she said with her French accent in full force.
He took her hand, turned it over and kissed the back of it. "The pleasure is all mine."
Jean-Paul chuckled. "That was smoother than when we first met."
Henry grinned, still looking into Fleur's eyes. "I've been practicing."
Fleur sniffed. "You could still use more."
"Good thing I'm here to learn," he replied, his grin turning cheekier. The side of her mouth twerked up just a bit before she stuck her chin up.
"We'll see if a few weeks will get rid of that uncouthness," she haughtily replied.
Jean-Paul looked amused. "Please, join us, Henry. Saturday mornings are usually lazy for us."
Henry sat next to Fleur. She sat with her back to the arm of the couch and pulled her feet back up. "Fleur, there is company."
Her toes pushed into his leg. "It's Saturday, papa. I wanted to finish this chapter."
Her father gave her a look. Henry could only think she was rebelling against something. Given the last interactions he had seen with her father, he wasn't too surprised. He shrugged. "I don't mind. I really don't like formalities."
"It is one thing to not be informal, it is another to be rude and ignore our guest," Jean-Paul stated.
Fleur looked to him. Henry shrugged again. "Finish your book. I'm sure your father and I can talk about other things."
She gave him a quick smile before pulling her book back up to her face.
Jean-Paul didn't look pleased. Henry was trying not to focus on the way her toes were moving against his leg. "Would you like anything, Henry? Tea, café or something harder?"
"Tea will be nice."
"Remy?" Jean-Paul called out. The amber-eyed house elf stepped around the couch. Jean-Paul gave an order in French and the little elf scurried away. "Remy will get you some tea. While we wait, I wanted to thank you again for your help with Sirius. Have you seen him since the trial?"
"It was the right thing to do," he casually said. "Madam Bones has invited me over twice since then. I got to meet his godson and Madam Bones' niece. They are nice and offered to give me a tour of Hogwarts in the fall."
"Good. It will help to know some people when you go, even if they are in the younger years. Have you met or been introduced to anyone else that your family used to know?"
"Only the Bones, Sirius and Harry Potter," he admitted.
"Those are good people to know, but if you are looking to take up your family responsibilities again, you will need to expand your social circle," Jean-Paul said.
"That is part of why I am here, Jean-Paul. My family used to have contacts all over Europe. I was hoping you might be able to introduce me to some of them. Otherwise, I will need to go through the goblins," Henry said.
Jean-Paul took a sip of his café. Remy came back with a small silver tray with a pink tea, a small taurine of milk and cup of sugar with a small silver spoon in it. "Thank you," Henry said.
"Merci" Fleur said.
"Excuse me?"
"It would be 'Merci'. If you are to learn about the way to act in proper society in France, you need to learn the language," she told him as her eyes moved across the page of the book.
Henry turned back to Remy, who was standing tall with her hands before him. "Merci, Remy."
The small elf smiled then jabbered back in French before giving him a small bow and then running off.
"I am impressed, Henry."
He looked back to Jean-Paul. "Why?"
"Most are not as kind to the little folk that help us. I sense you have little prejudice towards any type of non-wizard," he commented.
Henry shrugged. "Why should I? They are all people, aren't they?"
Even if he hated the goblins still, they were just a people. People different from him with different magic and a different culture.
"That is not a view that many wizards have. Is that a stance you wish to take or to hide?"
Henry knew why that question was being asked. There were many that looked down on all creatures. Even someone like Fleur was regarded as a half-breed at best in many places. "I won't treat anyone differently because of their background or what they are. I've seen too much prejudice since coming to the magical world and I don't like it."
Fleur had stopped reading. Her eyes were looking over her book at him.
"I don't like it either," Jean-Paul agreed. "If that is your stance, then I think some of your family contacts will not be very receptive to you. I don't know how much you know, but I have been able to determine some of the families that the Shafiqs were once friends or allies with."
"I don't know if there are formal alliances like with the Blacks. I have dozens of outstanding loans and investments with many families, and only hints of a few that my great-grandfather might have been close with," he said.
Jean-Paul leaned back on the couch he was sitting in. "And which families were those?"
"The Auberges in Austria, Richelieus in France and the Holstiens in Germany," he said.
Fleur frowned. Jean-Paul had a dark look flit across his face.
"The Auberges and Richelieus are not as great as they once were. Both have been relegated to minor houses now after the Great War. The Auberges are known to be a neutral family that is friendly to most non-wizards. Traders and merchants, they still mingle with the more affluent of families across Europe. They would be a good family to know and a potential alley if you wish to see them prosper and you with them.
They are still a relatively large family. Herr Elias, the head of the family, is in his later seventies. He enjoys the European duelling circuit and is a shrewd, but fair, businessman. He had children later in life. He has two sons, a brother and sister. His sons have two daughters about your age and two older boys. His brother has a single child that is much older than the main heirs. Fleur, do you remember the age of Herr Alexander's grandchildren?"
Fleur rolled her eyes. "One boy that is my age and two girls, twins, that might be thirteen, maybe fourteen."
Her father nodded in satisfaction. "You will need to know who you are meeting. Given that you are a young, handsome man, and knowing that Herr Elias wants to ensure his family legacy, he might push for a union very quickly."
Henry frowned. "Will that happen with everyone I meet?"
"Potentially. It will not be missed that you are magically powerful and from an old, influential family. Being hidden for all these years will leave many guessing why you appear now and what your goals are. If you are owed as much as I think you are, then you have a lot of power that many would covet," Jean-Paul said.
Henry shifted a little. He wasn't sure if Jean-Paul was one of those that would covet the power or not? He hoped he wasn't getting himself into a situation that he would owe more than he wanted too.
Fleur was a little bitter. "Most of the old lords and heads want to marry off their children early."
Henry gave her a curious look. She turned her eyes back to her book. Jean-Paul nodded. "Yes. That is often the case that any of the older families look for formal alliances and mergers through marriage and the old laws of magic allow the brokering of such agreements."
"You mean that a head of house can just sell someone off?"
Fleur's frown grew.
"Non. That is not possible, but if an agreement is made, betrothals are still common. The betrothal will give the families first choice in marriage. The two being married must agree but are not eligible before they are sixteen. Most will go along with it as there is much pressure from the families to adhere to contracts and many face expulsion from their families should they refuse. Once the two to get married sign the agreement, then it is magically binding to the terms of the betrothal. Some go straight into the marriage contract, but most betrothals look to marry the couple by their twenty-first birthdays," Jean-Paul explained.
"They are barbaric," Fleur muttered.
Jean-Paul frowned at his daughter. "I do not like them, but sometimes they can be necessary."
"How so?" Henry asked. He had never gotten an explanation like this before. He had heard of betrothals. It was impossible to be a wizard and not hear about them at Hogwarts, but he had to admit he knew truly little about them.
"Sometimes betrothals can be used for protection. If a family is afraid that a son or daughter might be manipulated or taken advantage of, then betrothing them to a more powerful family can give them a boon.
Other times, families seek out specific talents. Say that your family is gifted in transfiguration and another family is as well. Marrying your children could only enhance that gift and often opens the family magic to both to expand their knowledge.
Then you have the ones where families seek closer ties. Should a more influential family marry a second son or a daughter from a less influential family, then the lower family can benefit from the other connections while the more influential family now gains a valuable vassal or trade routes or potion knowledge or dozens of other things the lower family might have. It could also be a marriage between two highly influential families that could change the power structure of nations, though few families hold that type of power or influence anymore. Most are among equals for some type of mutual gain."
Jean-Paul reached for a small pastry on the low table between them.
"More often than not, though, most families use the archaic ways to control their bloodlines and influence. Marrying into those of equal status or familial lines is common. Some nations, like your homeland, take it to a little bit more of an extreme. France is considered more progressive, but it is still a frequent practice. I am telling you this so you can be cautious about it, but don't let it influence your decision to deal with a family or not," Jean-Paul said.
The face that Fleur was making had Henry curious about whether she was being pressured into a betrothal?
"It is something to be aware of when you talk with the Auberges. I wouldn't worry about it much from the Richelieus. They are reduced to only four adult members. Monsieur Percy is a professor of Arithmancy at Beauxbatons. He has three children, all in their early thirties to early forties. His two grandchildren I know of are only nine and eleven. The elder son's wife is often sick.
Percy has no real ambitions to move above his station. His elder son works at an apothecary in Nice, while his middle daughter is a Ward Weaver for the gnomes.
His youngest daughter, Marly, is the jewel of the family. She has managed to work her way into a senior manager position at the gnomish banks in Austria. She oversees their foreign investment division. She was widowed a few years ago without any children, but from what I know, she prefers older gentlemen, not those as fresh as you," Jean-Paul said.
Harry could feel Fleur's magic grow a little disturbed. Her allure was creeping out as her father talked.
"Marly is known to give very favourable returns and would be someone to court for an alliance as she could handle your money affairs on the continent and abroad better than the goblins. She also knows the important people at the banks. If you choose to go after those that might still owe your family money, I would trust the gnomes over the goblins."
Fleurs toes were digging into his leg. Without thinking about it, he swatted her foot. It would have been something he would have done at Shell Cottage when she used to do something similar to that to him and Bill.
"Ai! Tu viens de me frapper!" Fleur rather indignantly said, pulling her feet back.
Jean-Paul rose an eyebrow.
"Don't poke me then," Henry said back.
"I thought you don't understand French?" Jean-Paul enquired.
"I can tell when someone is upset," he said, meeting Fleur's glare. She huffed, threw her head back to get the hair out of her face, then curled her legs in closer to bury her head in her book.
They missed the appraising eye of the elder Delacour.
"If my daughter is done causing issues…?" Jean-Paul said.
"Papa! I was not the one that hit me!"
"You were the one that was poking your toes into me," Henry pointed out.
She huffed again.
"Are you done being children?" Jean-Paul asked, sounding amused.
"I am not a child," Fleur shot back. "I will be seventeen next Saturday."
Jean-Paul gave her a look of a parent to a petulant teen. "You are not seventeen yet, mon petite oiseau. I expect you to be more mature as you help Henry learn how to properly behave."
"I behave," she said. "When I have too," Henry just barely heard her whisper.
He tried not to laugh. He really did. Her reproachful glare left him grinning. "I can tell you once you turn seventeen, the maturity really sets in," he goaded.
She scrunched her nose. "If you keep teasing me, I will leave you an ignorant swine."
He rose a brow at her. "Whatever, princess."
Jean-Paul shook his head. "I can see this conversation is at an end. I need to do my weekly review of our finances. Can I trust you to show our guest around the house and take him to his room?"
Fleur sighed. "I promise to not get him lost."
The man muttered something in French. "Thank you, Fleur. He will be staying in the room next to you."
Fleur's head shot up from her book to look at her papa. Henry had a sense this was something unusual. After a moment, she said, "Oui, papa."
"Henry, if you want, I can organize meetings with the Richelieus and Auberges?"
"Please. Can I ask why not the Holsteins?" Henry enquired.
Jean-Paul frowned. "I will explain later, but you do not want to get tangled with that family. If you hold anything over them, it is best if you just forgive and forget about it."
Jean-Paul got up and left the room. Henry gave Fleur a curious look. "What was that about?"
Fleur was looking down. "Papa does not get along with them. I have been told they are not nice people and are involved with the vampires. You do not want to be involved with the vampires or anyone that works with them."
"Ah, sure. Why?"
Fleur had a deep frown. "They are not nice."
When it was obvious she wasn't going to say anything else at the moment, he dropped the subject. He would have to find out about the vampires and why this upset them so much. Henry was coming to realize that his limited education and spending so many years locked away at the Dursleys had done little to prepare him for the world at large.
-oOo-
July 17, 1994
Redhill, England
Harry stepped off the purple bus, his stomach still feeling like it had been left behind in one of the wild jumps and sudden lurches.
"Thanks for using the Knight Bus. Just remember getting a two-way pass can save you a few sickles," a young woman said as Sirius stepped out next to him.
The man was grinning, not looking that affected. "It can be a bit of a shock the first time," Sirius jovially said.
"That was worse that apparating," Harry told him, leaning over and trying not to get sick. He should be used to something like that from flying, but when flying, your stomach didn't come into your throat by popping here and there with an uncomfortable feeling behind your navel…
He took in a deep breath to not think about it.
"Side-a-long apparating is worse than doing it on your own," Sirius admitted.
"Why couldn't we have just apparated here?" Harry questioned. The man that was his godfather had insisted that he not call him Mister Black, and Harry didn't know him well enough yet to call him Padfoot, though he did feel he recognized the man when in his big shaggy dog form.
"I wanted you to know about the Knight Bus. It's the easiest way for you to get around when someone isn't on the Floo network until you can apparate," he said.
"I'll just take the tube and a bus next time," Harry told him.
Sirius shrugged. "Up to you, pup. Lily used to feel the same way."
Harry perked up a little, like he did every time Sirius mentioned his parents. "My mum didn't like the Knight bus?"
"Sort of like you. She got sick at almost any type of magical travel. It was even worse when she was pregnant. You aren't pregnant, right?"
Harry screwed his face. "What! No! I'm a boy."
"Oh, right. Forgot," the older man said with a smirk. Harry glared at him. What the hell did his father see in this man to be best friends? He was worse than Fred and George.
Sirius winked at him. "Alright, are we in the right spot?"
Harry stood up and took the letter out of his pocket. Hermione had sent him an owl a few days ago. Harry's anger at her had mostly died. She had no right to go into his trunk like that, but at the same time, she had been his best friend for three years now. Sirius had encouraged him to take the invitation to meet her.
Looking at the address on the envelope, he found the street name on the sign. Mourning Hill Court was along a busy thorough fair a few dozen miles outside of London proper. The Knight Bus, and its Muggle distraction charms, had been able to drop them off at the corner. "This is the street. Number forty-three A," Harry said.
It was a nice neighbourhood of two-family homes. Expensive cars, well-manicured lawns and a few trees lined the sidewalk. Unlike Privet Drive, most of the houses had their own character to them, and it didn't look like Homes and Garden magazine. Just a well-kept upper scale place in the centre of a town.
Number forty-three was at the end of the road in a large cul-de-sac. A dark green Range Rover was parked on the curb and a red Volkswagen Golf was in the drive. Sirius was looking around the neighbourhood. Harry didn't feel like there was a reason to look so weary, but twelve years in Azkaban and being betrayed by one of your closest friends would make most paranoid.
Not to mention Dumbledore was still looking to get Harry back, even if Harry didn't know that.
"Go on up and knock," Sirius encouraged.
"I've never been invited to visit anyone before. What do I say?" Harry asked. He probably shouldn't have admitted that, but he really wasn't sure about this. He had still been furious with Hermione a week ago. Knowing that he would never be going back to the Dursleys' now and that Petunia and Vernon were in jail had lifted a weight off his shoulders.
Susan had been great. Harry was enjoying time with her and starting to get to know the other Hufflepuffs she was friends with, but she hadn't gone through all the adventures Hermione and Ron had with him.
Harry knocked on the door.
They were about ten minutes early. He had just barely finished his third knock when the door swung open. Hermione quickly stepped forward. Harry took a step back. He had faced much worse without flinching, but seeing a girl with tears in his eyes frightened him.
"Harry?"
"Ah, hi," he said. Hermione stood there, looking uncertain at what to do. This was not like her. The only few times he had ever seen her like this was the day the troll almost got her or when Ron made her angry enough to cry. Usually that meant she was about to bolt or deck the redhead. Luckily Harry hadn't been on that bad side of her yet.
"Hi," she said back.
Sirius was grinning behind them at the stupid teen drama.
Harry held up the letter. "I got your apology."
Her eyes looked ready to leak. "I'm so sorry!" she blurted before throwing herself at him. He had to catch his best friend as she hugged him for all she was worth. He took a stumbling step back.
Part of him wanted to tell her it was alright, but he wasn't sure he was so ready to easily let it go. He wasn't angry, but he still felt put out. "Yeah," he said. She tightened her hug. Harry wrapped his arms around her to hug her back. "Don't do that again."
She shook her head on his shoulder. "I won't. I'm sorry."
He wasn't sure what prompted him, but he went on. "Hermione, you really hurt me. First the Firebolt and then reading my private letter."
She pulled back whipping at her eyes. "I didn't mean too. You… Harry, you're my best friend. I just… we are always getting into trouble. I worry about you."
"I know, Hermione," Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I worry about you too."
They awkwardly stood on her doorstep for a moment. Sirius cleared his throat. "Were you going to introduce us?"
Harry flushed. "Oh, right. Hermione, this is my godfather, Sirius Black. Sirius, this is one of my best friends, Hermione Granger," Harry said.
Hermione held out her hand to shake Sirius's. Sirius took it and kissed the back of her hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger. This one has moped about you since getting off the train."
"I have not!" Harry whinged.
Hermione grinned. "I'm sure he has."
"Oi! I have not!"
Sirius kept a straight face. "Well, maybe not all the time. The fair Miss Bones has occupied a fair bit of his time. I think they are quite smitten with each other."
Hermione gave Harry a curious look. He knew his face had reddened. Her eyes were still teary. "I heard he let her use his broom before we left. Harry doesn't let anyone touch it."
Harry groaned at the sly look Sirius had. "I have heard he's rather possessive of his broom. Likes to polish it, from what I heard."
Hermione flushed this time at the obvious inuendo.
"I'm going to get a doghouse to tie you up in," Harry muttered.
Sirius chuckled.
"Hermione, who's at the door?" a woman asked from inside.
Hermione brightened some. "It's Harry, mum. Come on inside," Hermione offered.
Harry gave Sirius a glare. In less than two weeks he had never been so exasperated by anyone as he had Sirius. Not even Ron. Sirius waved his hand for Harry to go in first. Harry hoped Sirius wouldn't embarrass him. It would be a hope that was short lived.
-oOo-
July 18, 1994
Paris, France
Harry found Fleur in the library. In the last two days he had found this to be one of her favourite spots. When she wasn't trying to teach him to be an 'uncouth' Englishman, she was either here or in the family room.
The family library wasn't a large room. Maybe sixteen-foot square with a few hundred books in shelves built into three walls. Two large chairs were before a fireplace and two tables were in the middle of the room. Today she was in a white dress that came down to her knees with blue flowers embroidered around the bodice. Henry did not try to focus on her form or the way the dress had a large square cut to the top of her chest.
She was reading through an old tome with her wand out and making motions in the air.
"Next week, right?" Henry enquired as she sat at one of the tables. He had his rucksack with him to do his own studying. She had not wanted to meet until eleven.
"You need to greet me in French," she told him, not looking away from the diagrams in the book.
"Bonjour, Ecuyer Delacour. Comme si come ca?" he said in bad French.
She tsk'd. "How papa expects me to train you, I don't know."
Henry gave her a cheeky grin. "You'll just have to do your best, I guess?"
She rolled her eyes. "I have leetle hope it will do much."
Henry chuckled. "What are you studying?"
"Magie familiale."
Henry pondered that for a moment. "Something magic?"
He had spent two hours the last two nights going through the French dictionary. Occlumency really did help with remembering things.
"Family magic. I am trying to master this movement before my birthday. Now let me study," she told him.
Henry didn't feel like studying though. "What about going out today?"
"I don't go out," she told him.
He cocked his head. "Why not?"
She didn't say anything.
"I don't know the local wizarding alley or whatever it is," he said. "How about you show me?"
Fleur's hand has stopped moving. "Henry, do you really not feel my allure?"
Henry shrugged. "I can feel your magic. It's always radiating a power. I thought that was just you. I know veela can control their allure?"
She gave him a sharp look. "What would you know about veela?" Her tone was sharp and condescending.
"I knew one once."
Her eyes narrowed. "I thought you said you grew up as a muggle?"
Henry realized he had just made a mistake. "I think I said I grew up in the muggle world. My parents had found people to tutor me. One of them was a veela."
She didn't look as angry. "And a veela told you all about what is like to be a veela?"
"I don't think she told me everything, but she told me enough. She told me about the allure and what effect it has on people. I can feel it, but it just doesn't affect me," he said. The Fleur from his time had told him about the allure and that she could control it. She had once tried her full powers on Harry and he only felt a little randy, but that was all. Henry found himself even less affected.
She turned her eyes back to her book.
When she looked to be ignoring him, Henry sighed before opening his bag. He took out his charms book and his notebook. He opened the book to the earmarked page. Clicking the pen to push out the point, he put his finger on a passage. He started to read about the Hernivicus charm before Fleur spoke again. He wasn't sure if this would be on a Charms or Herbology OWL. There was so much he just didn't pay attention to his first time through.
"I don't usually go out on my own. Not that I don't want to go out," she said after a moment.
Henry looked up from his notebook. "Why?"
She let out a breath. Henry felt the increase in pressure of her magic. He could feel a deep-seated attraction and his body responded a little, but it wasn't the all-consuming need to impress and rut her that he knew the allure was supposed to evoke.
"You really don't have any reaction?"
Meeting her dark blue eyes, he felt she needed him to be truthful. "I won't say I don't feel anything. It doesn't hold any sway over me."
"Comment ne pourrait-il pas en être ainsi?"
Henry really wished he could understand French. Once he was done with his OWLs, he would have to focus on it. He could tell she was asking a question. "I don't understand."
Fleur sighed. "How does my allure not affect you? Almost anyone would be a drooling idiot with my full allure."
He felt the room become less oppressive. The semi-hardon he had was not from her magic, but the way her leg was exposed almost up to her crotch when she shifted in her chair. Even when she pulled back her full allure, he could still feel some of it leaking out. "I've always been able to resist any type of mind control magic. I'm able to break the Imperius curse. Compulsion, distraction and confounding charms have trivial effect on me. I don't know if there are others."
She was honestly interested. "Papa can resist us, but at times he will fall for the allure if one of us focuses on him. Should I know why you know you can throw off the Imperius Curse?"
Henry frowned. "My parents and others died protecting me. I know."
Her eyes softened. "I'm sorry."
He shrugged. "It happened. I'm still alive. The best I can do is honour their sacrifice by living."
She obviously didn't know how to respond. He turned back to his book after a moment.
"Henry?"
"Hmm?" He continued to read the passage.
"This veela you knew, she told you that veela can control their allure?"
He looked back up, hearing a strain tenure to her voice. "She did. She also said it might slip when a veela is very emotional. It's worse when shagging."
Fleur flushed a little. "Veela are supposed to be able to control their allure." There was a pause as she seemed to be finding what to say. "I can't turn it off. I must fight it from getting away from me. You really are not affected?"
He felt her release her full control again.
He felt the attraction, but he could ignore it fully if he wanted.
"I'm not," he replied.
"I don't go out because I can't turn it off. Whenever I go out with papa, unless we go somewhere private, I always draw attention. The only time I can remember people not causing a scene, even when with papa, was the day in the courtroom with you. Even at school, where people build up a partial tolerance, I still often must push off unwanted advances," she told him.
He could see the pain in her. "I'm sorry," Henry said.
She looked back down at the book. "I am not veela. I am something else."
Her voice was full of pain.
"We are all different. Some of us more than others," he said. Henry could understand what it was like to be different. He grew up being different. For ten years he was a freak and hated. Then after that, his life went from being the most famous person in the world, to the most hated, then back again. Undesirable number one was his last claim to fame before he was killed by a mad man on the orders of a bearded man he had trusted.
He could feel she was searching his soul for something.
"Would you like to go out?" Henry asked again. "Do you even affect Muggles?"
"Not as much," she admitted, "but enough."
"You said that people didn't bother you if you were with me?" he questioned.
She reluctantly nodded. "They were too scared of you."
Henry grinned. He had not been pleased to see people looking at her that way. "I can scare them away again."
"Maybe. I need to master this spell this week. Leave me be before I must tutor you on how to act at a dinner. This afternoon, we will be doing dancing lessons," she told him.
Henry grimaced. He did not dance well. "Do I have too?"
"Oui. You will not embarrass me when papa hosts the summer ball in August," she told him.
Henry rose his eyebrows. "Was I going to be told I was taking you? Or where you just going to kidnap me the day of?"
She smirked. "If I could trust you not to embarrass me, I would just steal you for myself the night of. As it ees, I have doubts you will be ready," she told him.
"Well, I'll try not to be an embarrassment, Ecuyer Delacour."
She stuck her nose up. "No. You will not. I also know you need to know these people and make a good impression. The ball is on August twenty-first. We go to England for the Quidditch World Cup the day after."
That was a month for her to get him ready, with him being in England for five days next week.
He was quite serious as he looked at her. "If you are willing to give me the time, I will give you all I have."
She gave him an odd look. After a moment, she sniffed. "You will give me all you can. If you don't, these lessons are done."
Henry nodded.
She bowed her head before turning back to her book. Henry did the same after looking at her side profile for a moment as she practiced the wand movements again.
-oOo-
July 19, 1994
Paris, France
She grabbed Henry's hand. "I am not some delicate flower that you should avoid touching," she told him. She moved his hand so that it was open, then firmly placed it around her torso so that his hand was firmly on her back. She then made sure he was holding his arm up in a semicircle. "We are dancing. You are the man. You lead."
He had an amused smirk on his face. "I thought that is what I was doing?"
"Non. You are being all floppy and indecisive. Your arm is strong and fluid. You are the one in charge to ensure that everyone is looking at us. You are showing me off and I am shining as you confidently lead me around. Who taught you how to dance?" she demanded.
She placed her arm over his left than took his right hand into hers. She was ignoring the way she could feel the warmth of his body through her shirt or in her hand. "We are doing the Viennese Waltz. This is a popular dance at many functions."
She slightly arched her back, her shoulders were straightened, and her chest was pushed out. "Stand tall." Once he did, she moved in so that her body was pressing against his. "Most will want a separation. If you are dancing with a debutante or matron, that is fine, but if you are dancing with a woman that is a proper partner, you should not be afraid to touch."
Henry's annoying smirk was getting to her. "As you say. What else was I doing wrong?"
Her dark blue eyes narrowed on his intense green orbs. "You are too stiff. Yes, you need to keep the strong line and proper posture, but dancing is meant to flow. Now, between your hand on my back and the one here, you tell me where to go and what we are doing next."
"Alright."
She glared at him. "Remy, please."
The little house elf started the old phonograph. Henry had the basic moves, but he lacked the confidence in them. Starting up, he began the steps to move in the circle around the ballroom floor the dance called for.
"Keep your eyes to the side. You are to look where we are going, not at me," she told him as she extended her neck and turned her head to the side. Henry did his best to copy her. He was a quick study, but she was afraid that they wouldn't be ready by later August. They were still only on the waltz on their third day, and she needed to make sure he knew a half dozen others of the most common dances.
"Yes. Like that. Don't lose count of the steps. Now what we practiced to reverse," she ordered.
Henry stumbled on the pause and the slight dip he was supposed to do. She huffed and straightened up. "Non. You took an extra step."
Henry scowled. "How am I supposed to lead and change up so quickly when you keep ordering me when I am the one that is supposed to lead?"
"You need to lead. Changing up so quickly is something we need to master as there will be others on the floor," Fleur retorted.
Henry took a long breath before moving back in. She was slightly surprised as he thrust his arm around to her back and took her hand. He pulled her in. He stood just the way he should. "When I stop, my feet should be where?"
She liked how he didn't shy away. "Put your left foot back just a little bit. My foot should be here. Our hips should be touching, like this. You are to lean forward and dip me to your right. I will throw my head back like this."
They practiced and he did the few adjustments that she ordered of him. When he pulled her back up, the determined look in his eyes did something funny in her. Without warning, he thrust her back again. Her years of training kicked in and she did as was required. He did that three more times. When he pulled her up the third time, she didn't have any comments to fix his technique.
"Is that how it's done?"
His eyes were burning with an attraction she felt her body responding too. "That is better, but not perfect," she softly said.
He just nodded. "How do I count to make sure I'm stopping at the right time then?"
She had to shake herself internally. She was not used to people being so forceful to her. She tapped her foot. "Do you hear the tempo? It beats," she told him. She moved her foot to tap his.
Henry frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't really hear it."
"Feel it then," she said, still tapping his foot. "Back to starting position."
She started to tap his arm where her hand was resting. The muscles in his shirt were taught. He pulled her to him a little more confidently this time and she felt a flush of heat in her core as green eyes captured hers. "The music has a tempo. The dance follows the tempo. I will tap your arm. Each tap is a step. When I stop, that is when you stop. When I start, that is when you start."
"Alright."
When he started again, he kept a better pace as she tapped his arm. It was going to be a long few weeks to get him up to par. As they moved around the room, he was becoming more confident. Feeling him move against her and starting to lead was something she was finding herself willing spend the time on.
-oOo-
Next time on Un Serpent Parmi les Fleurs: Appoline and Gabrielle return while Henry takes his OWLs.
