You look rather nice, you know." commented Salazar as he inspected Harry's robes.
It was currently December 25th, a mere half hour left before the beginning of the Yule Ball. Harry's Christmas celebration had been rather lonely this year, as it had been while he was locked within his cupboard at the Dursleys. It had still been immensely enjoyable however, as it was spent in the Chamber of Secrets with Hedwig and Salazar. While neither were truly human company, they were both pleasant all the same.
Harry had just transfigured robes for the night, taking advice from Salazar as he did so. Harry currently wore what he thought looked like a mix between an expensive muggle suit and expensive wizard robes. They were mostly black, although there was a bit of white here and there.
The cufflinks he wore were small silver serpents whose eyes were made of emerald. They were rather hard to notice, so Harry had allowed it. Salazar had been particularly pleased with the choice. He had told Harry to wear the cufflinks, as he claimed it made someone look more appealing.
Harry had initially transfigured his robes into a very nice muggle suit, which Salazar seemed to like quite a bit. Unfortunately, the portrait had recommended that Harry not wear it, as it would earn him the ire of those deeply rooted in the magical community. After Harry had transfigured his clothes into a nice set of robes, Salazar had recommended he mix the two. The result had surprisingly been quite nice.
Harry held out his hand, summoning his wand from the nearby table. A few days ago Harry had become skilled enough with his Occlumency, and in turn his wandless magic, to finally move on to the beginning of tier two wandless magic. At the moment he could only summon objects, and even then the objects had to be rather small in size - but it was still something.
"Don't let anyone see you doing that." warned Salazar, "It will likely put you under the close eye of many powerful people."
"Yeah, I know." said Harry, conjuring a mirror in front of him to check his appearance. Salazar had told him that the most immediate effects of his first ritual, the 'Decorum', would only take a week, but that the ritual would continue at a slower pace for years. Only now was Harry realizing that Salazar was right; he was certain that he hadn't looked this good a month ago. Not that he constantly checked his appearance, or anything of the sort.
In truth, Harry had never particularly cared about his appearance. It simply seemed so unimportant, like a cover to a book. Still, he supposed it might make more approachable. Not that anyone would be approaching him soon; he did not have to attend classes, and many of the students had realised that they had better things to do than simply antagonize him.
"So what I just did - summoning my wand - is the most powerful wandless magic people like Dumbledore and Voldemort can do?" questioned Harry curiously.
"Perhaps a bit of banishing and slight levitation as well, but yes." replied Salazar, looking over Harry's robes once more.
"That sounds too good to be true." noted Harry.
"Of course it is. All it means is that you can use magic without a wand," Salazar reminded him, "It does not at all mean you can do anything particularly impressive with it. Your magics will remain just as powerful as you are, regardless of whether or not you require a wand."
"But if I keep gaining more magical power, eventually I'll be able to do things that can't be done with a wand, right?"
"Essentially, yes. Morgana, for example, was able to fly, albeit not for long periods of time. She died less than a year after learning how, but I digress."
"Could I ever do something like that?" asked Harry.
"It all depends on how much magical power you develop." said Salazar, "At the moment, you could easily triumph against anyone your age, but are not immensely powerful when compared to fully grown witches or wizards. More powerful than most, do not believe otherwise - but not a match for the likes of Riddle and Dumbledore."
"Then I'll use my magic everyday." declared Harry, "You said it grows like a muscle, I'll exercise it everyday."
"Be sure that you do. But as of now, you have a ball to attend. Do not embarrass our family."
"The one everyone thinks has died out?" asked Harry sarcastically.
"Yes, that's the one. Now go. Let us hope your ritual helps you with your dancing. If not, just let the Veela lead you."
"Fleur." Harry automatically corrected.
"Yes, her." continued Salazar, "Make sure you present a good image, do not get lost in her allure or act foolish. Staying in control of yourself will create a nice image for you with the press."
"Wait a moment," began Harry, "How come I've never seen Dumbledore get lost in Fleur's allure. Just about everyone has some sort of reaction, even Snape blinked a few times. I know I can't feel it, for some reason, but why can't Dumbledore?"
"He can feel it, but is simply good at fighting it. It is a trait in powerful wizards." explained Salazar, "Their magic will combat the allure. But even then, your headmaster would still likely have to avoid looking her in the eyes. The eyes are where her allure is strongest."
"And why's that?"
"Because the eyes are the windows to the soul."
Harry made his way towards the entrance of the Great Hall with fifteen minutes to spare, as requested by Professor McGonagall. Apparently the rest of the students were waiting for the champions inside the hall. At least, they would have to be within fifteen minutes; at the moment, most of the students seemed to be scattered around the halls nearby the Great Hall, chatting or giggling amicably.
Harry quietly passed through them, trying his hardest not to attract any attention. He was more or less successful, with only a few people noticing him. Two Slytherins girls in his year, one being a brunette while the other was a beautiful blonde. Harry was fairly certain that their names were Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass respectively, although he wasn't sure.
When the brunette saw him, her jaw quite literally dropped. The blonde girl, who Harry knew was often referred to as the Ice Queen of Slytherin, seemed to have no reaction, although her eyes widened significantly.
I guess Salazar's clothing sense is still great a thousand years later.
Beside them stood two boys, both Slytherins as well. Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, unless Harry was mistaken. Harry didn't know much about either, as they were not among the Malfoy's group of Slytherins, but knew that neither of them got along well with their remaining parents. For Theodore, that was his father. For Zabini, his mother.
Both of their reactions were identical to that of Daphne Greengrass. The four of them soon turned around, clearly speaking to one another on some unrelated subject.
Susan Bones also noticed him. She smiled happily at Harry from beside her friend Hannah (who gazed at her friend in a disapproving manner), blushing slightly.
Harry was lucky enough to not attract anymore attention as he made his way towards the front. He arrived to find Cedric and Krum chatting quietly with one another. Neither of their dates had yet arrived, which seemed to be the same case for his own. Professor McGonagall stood before them with Professor Flitwick by her side. Both nodding to Harry as he arrives, Professor Flitwick nearly falling over as he did so.
It turned out that Cedric and Krum were talking about Quidditch. Harry merely stood to the side and listened; while he was not a fanatic like Ron, he was not foolish enough to miss out on some of Victor Krum's quidditch tactics.
Moments later the doors to the Great Hall were opened for all but the champions, causing many people to cheer with delight. As the students passed him and the other champions, Harry caught more than a few looks of shock sent in his direction. Perhaps they were just realizing that Harry no longer looked like a copy of his father; it wasn't as though he had spent much time in public since had begun to change in appearance, which started in the middle of the summer.
Or maybe I just clean up nicely. I'd love to see Dudley's expression when I get back to Privet Drive. It'll be lovely when he tries to impress a few girls by bullying another ten year old.
Harry immediately amended that thought. There was absolutely nothing that could make him look forward to returning to Privet Drive.
"Couldn't get a partner, Potter?" exclaimed Ron savagely. Holding onto his left arm was Pavarti Patil. She seemed to be regretting her decision now, based on the way she was looking at Ron with wide eyes, her cheeks slightly tinted with embarrassment. But there was little she could do now; her and Ron were partners, and the Yule Ball was ready to begin.
To be fair to Ron, Parvati was likely the prettiest Gryffindor in their year - not that Harry cared. He was rather surprised to see that the redhead was not attending with Hermione. He had been fairly certain that they would come together; they seemed to go together, in a bizarre, odd sort of way. She was always picking up after him, and he was . . . well, he was giving her something to pick up.
Harry ignored Ron's taunts, choosing not to reply. He did not know if there were any members of the press nearby, and would not respond to anything anyone said until he was sure there were not reporters around.
As people continued making their way into the hall, Cedric's date finally arrived. Cho Chang, a girl whom Harry had been rather attracted to last year, linked her arms with Cedric. A few moments later, an attractive brunette did the same with Krum. She seemed to be looking everywhere except where Harry stood, and it took him a moment to figure out why.
Hermione. I guess I'm not the only one who cleans up nicely.
"Potter," whispered Professor McGonagall, "I specifically remember mentioning that you were required to have a date for the ball."
"And I do." Harry answered casually, "She'll probably get here whenever Fleur does."
Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes slightly but said nothing, opting to turn towards the doors instead. Harry took the time to look around for reporters; Malfoy had not yet entered, and Harry was certainly not going to take another insult from the blonde lying down. He would not instigate something - he truly didn't care for such a thing - but knew very well that Malfoy would.
Sure enough, Malfoy passed by a minute later, accompanied by Pansy Parkinson. Behind them was the entire fourth year group of Slytherins. The only people missing were the four Slytherins from earlier, which didn't surprise Harry. He doubted someone like Greengrass (or really any of the other three Slytherins) would put up with Malfoy for long.
The Slytherins seemed shocked when they saw Hermione by Krum's side, though Malfoy's smug expression returned when he saw Harry standing alone.
"No one wanted to come with you, Scarhead?" taunted Malfoy.
"You're acting all cool in front of your buddies," began Harry, his voice cold as it usually was around others, "Perhaps another dose of fire might warm you up?"
Malfoy clenched his jaw before he and the other Slytherins were ushered into the hall by Professor Flitwick, likely in order to avoid a conflict.
"That will be five points from both Gryffindor and Slytherin." said Professor McGonagall in a resigned voice, almost as though she knew Harry wouldn't care.
"Nice, Harry." muttered Cedric from beside him.
They stood in silence for a few more moments as the last of the students made their way into the hall, before finally the door closed. As soon as they did, Professor McGonagall rounded on him.
"Your partner, Potter?" she demanded.
Before Harry could answer something, or rather someone, entered his field of vision.
Fleur practically glided towards them, her hips moving in an alluring way that had nothing to do with her Veela abilities. She wore a beautiful silver dress, a colour practically identical to Harry's queen and the partially-formed king pieces on the chessboard down in the Chamber of Secrets. In short, it was beautiful.
She was beautiful.
Once she had made her way over to Harry, Fleur gracefully linked her arms through his. Never had Harry been more grateful for the growth spurt he had gone through over the summer. He was still a bit shorter than her, but the height difference was only by a few centimetres, as opposed to the dozen it might have been a year prior.
The jaws of the other champions, their dates, as well as Professors McGonagall and Flitwick all hung open to varying degrees, although all of the wizards had a slightly glazed look in their eyes. If this was their reaction, Harry was somewhat looking forward to seeing the reactions of Malfoy and Ron.
Hermione's finally looking at me.
Harry's former friend was gazing at him with a mix of annoyance and disappointment. It seemed as though she hadn't yet forgotten her Veela argument with Ron.
"Very well." McGonagall stumbled out once she had gotten a hold of herself, "Stand in line with your partners please. Diggory and Chang at the front, Potter and Delacour may take the rear."
The six students each nodded, getting into order as was requested of them. Once they had done so, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick stepped to the side and the doors opened.
The Great Hall had seemingly transformed into a mix between a royal palace and some bizarre sort of igloo; the walls were all made of carved ice, snowflakes occasionally falling from the ceiling that showed the beautiful night sky. Icicles and mistletoe were spread through the corners of the room, the latter being eyed eagerly by many excited witches.
In the center was a rather lovely dance floor which was surrounded by tables for people to dine. At the front was one large head table, where the champions and select members of the ministry were to be seated.
While there were no Recorder Glasses in sight, Harry was quickly able to spot a few reporters sitting at one of the many tables, their quills and parchment by their side. The arrangement would work out nicely for everyone; the students could act up to some extent, the reporters had something to write about, and the adults and champions didn't need to be constantly stressed.
The rest of the wizarding world probably isn't as thrilled as everyone in the hall.
As the champions entered, the Great Hall was filled with noises of all kinds from the students. Harry paid little to no heed to the reactions of those around him, instead choosing to concentrate on breathing. He would have to dance soon, something he had never done before. He had seen the traditional ballroom dances the champions were to do, Professor McGonagall had sent the instructions with Hedwig, but it wasn't as though he had a partner to practice with.
Harry was not so deeply lost in his thoughts that he missed the reactions of Ron and Malfoy. The self-proclaimed Prince of Slytherin seemed deeply angered, his face the same colour as Ron's hair. He was staring at Harry in rage, though the glare was not particularly threatening when combined with the glazed look caused by Fleur's passive allure.
Ron, if possible, looked even more angry. He was looking back and forth between Hermione and Harry, his skin colour already having long surpassed the shade of the hair on his head. In fact, he was so angry that he had managed to surpass Fleur's passive allure, something that could only be accidentally done by extreme levels of emotion (according to one of the tomes within the Chamber of Secrets, anyway). Harry highly doubted Ron had an unnaturally strong will, or that he had whatever strange resistance to the allure that Harry himself did, so that was the solution he went with.
Pushing the reactions of the two fourth years out of his mind, Harry made his way up the stage with Fleur. The three pairs were quickly and gracefully organized upon the stage before music was played throughout the hall.
Harry carefully placed his arms around Fleur's shoulder and waist, his expression not betraying the uncomfortableness he felt (thanks to his improvement in Occlumency). Fleur did the same with him, and they were off. Emerald and sapphire eyes met, looking at each other without blinking.
Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot . . . one, two, three, one, two, three . . .
Harry and Fleur slowly made their way around the stage in a circle, as did the other pairs. Their eyes never left each other, seemingly having an unspoken conversation while their mouths were hidden by false smiles that fooled those within the crowd.
I don't think I'm the only one who had nobody to practice with.
That wasn't to say that Fleur was a bad dancer, as that was as far from the truth as possible. It was simply a feeling Harry got as he gazed into Fleur's eyes; he saw someone as lonely as him, someone who covered it up by acting cold and aloof to others. It was not unlike looking in a mirror.
Once the dance had finished, the hall burst into applause. The champions and their respective partners all bowed before making their way towards the table set up for them, just as they had been instructed to do earlier. As they left the stage many other couples made their way onto the dance floor, all swaying happily to the music.
Harry was very aware of the lust filled gazes being sent at Fleur, but a discreet glance from the Veela beside him reminded him to stay stoic. The two of them followed the other champions and their partners to their seats, choosing to sit beside each other so as to avoid being near someone they disliked (which, for Fleur, Harry suspected to be at the very least every male except for himself).
I'm not even sure about the last bit.
On the plate before him Harry found a plate that was covered by a single piece of parchment. It seemed to be a menu. The meals were listed in clear yet fancy lettering. It did not, however, explain how they were to select their meals for the evening.
Just as Harry opened his mouth to ask Fleur, he heard Professor Dumbledore from his left.
"Pork chops!" intoned the headmaster clearly, his eyes twinkling as the aforementioned meal suddenly appeared upon his plate. The remaining members of the table, as well as the students who had opted to dine first all quickly caught on.
Harry and Fleur ate quietly, both wanting to leave as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, they both knew that they couldn't do such a thing; they were Triwizard Champions, and, after the first task, were all likely to be the gossip of the European wizarding world, and were at least known fairly well in places like North and South America, Asia, and so on. Harry had already been known across the globe, but it had somehow managed to worsen this year. That, of course, was all thanks to the invention of the Recorder Glass.
Salazar had urged Harry to look into the invention, as it could be something immensely important (and potentially useful) in the future. From what Harry had managed to learn (which truthfully wasn't much), the Recorder Glasses were to be installed in all ministries of magic across the globe, as well as all major wizarding schools - twelves different schools, to be precise.
They would be used in order to send emergency broadcasts, or simply to interact with other ministries. Apparently, Camille Estelle, the enchantress who had invented them, had found a way to have the glass interact with a single other glass, as well as all other glasses out there.
The Triwizard Tournament was just a means of testing them, as was the Quidditch World Cup; once they were sure it had been perfected, the ministries would be keeping the invention to themselves. They would not become available for the public, and this tournament would potentially be the last time the glasses would be used for entertainment.
But for each task of the tournament, Recorder Glasses would be placed in famous locations in the magical world, controlled by the ministry. Harry personally wasn't thrilled that the ministry had the Recorder Glasses up specifically for this series of events; one of the reasons he had never been bothered by the press was because almost nobody knew what he looked like. That certainly wasn't the case anymore.
Harry slowly turned around, his eyes scanning for any Recorder Glasses and their respective orbs. He hadn't seen one as he danced with Fleur earlier, but at the time the only thing he had seen was Fleur, so it didn't mean much.
"Looking for reporters?" whispered Fleur, eyeing a French dish that Harry didn't know the name of.
"In a way, but no." answered Harry, "Recorder Glasses."
"There are none in the hall, I have already checked."
Harry nodded silently, returning to his meal. The two of them continued to eat in silence, both finishing rather quickly. Once they were done, Fleur stood up, pulling Harry gently towards the dance floor.
"If it is not you, it will be someone else, which I would not prefer." she explained to him as they began to dance, "Besides, it is good for the press. International cooperation."
Harry rolled his eyes, continuing to dance with Fleur. Just as before, Harry's eyes were glued to Fleur's. This time, however, he was more aware of the glances others sent their way. Most of them were male, but Harry was sure he had seen at least a few females, all of whom were staring at him as opposed to Fleur.
"You do look rather decent, I suppose." said Fleur, accurately guessing what had caught Harry's attention.
"You look beautiful." complimented Harry, "Though you probably knew that already."
"The sentiment is still appreciated."
"You know you don't have to act formal if you don't want to." whispered Harry without breaking the gaze they had held for several minutes now. Judging from Fleur's expression, she was still as cold and distant as it normally was; her eyes, however, told a different story.
If what Salazar says about people is still true a thousand years later, she's evaluating me, maybe getting ready to test me in some way. She wants to see if she can trust me.
Harry wasn't entirely sure his hypothesis was correct; if Salazar's teachings were accurate, the way her eyes shone could also potentially mean that she was feeling rather sick. Harry personally felt, however, that the odds of that being the case were rather slim.
Harry decided that he wanted to pass her test. Besides proving himself to the world (and his enemies), he didn't care much about the Triwizard Tournament. He already had enough fame, and a thousand galleons was practically a joke for anyone besides Ron (or a five year old, but that was only because they wouldn't have any money in the first place).
Any potential connections he made, however, would likely be more valuable to him. He knew better than most the values of friendship, having spent the first decade of his life without any at all. The next few years had helped him forget the feeling of helplessness, but the past few months had returned the feeling to the forefront of Harry's mind. Having the sole company of a sarcastic portrait and a magical owl didn't help much.
And she knows that feeling just as well as I do. Maybe more.
Harry could tell Fleur was cold and aloof around others for the same reasons he was, and that she wanted company just as much as he did. It wasn't from anything she had said, but rather her eyes. Salazar was right about the eyes being windows to the soul.
"Madame Maxime has advised against talking freely with other champions." said Fleur, "She does not wish for me to lose the tournament for any reason."
"I don't care about the tournament." said Harry with narrowed eyes, his voice holding a slightly dangerous edge to it. Fleur's eyes briefly widened at the intensity behind his claim, before quickly returning to normal.
"And why is that?" Fleur questioned, her voice just barely softer, to the point where it was hard to notice. She seemed to be looking at him in a new light, her eyes widening as though they were truly taking in his appearance for the first time.
"The only thing I can possibly gain from it is the world seeing my prowess." began Harry, "That can be done without winning the tournament, although I suppose it wouldn't have the same effect. I have much more to lose than I could possibly earn. That doesn't mean I will be a pushover, mind you - I will do my best to win. But the tournament does not matter to me."
Fleur nodded, thinking hard as they continued to dance. He was being truthful, she could tell from the way he spoke, as well as from a single glance into his eyes. Fleur knew that he had not entered himself, and knew him to certainly have many enemies. There were likely many Death Eaters out there that would love to avenge their fallen master, and it was likely how he had ended up in the tournament to begin with.
Fleur slowly and discreetly took in the reactions of the other students. It appeared that she and Harry were center to an equal amount of jealousy this evening, if the way his female peers were looking at him held any meaning.
He is certainly attractive.
Not that Fleur cared. As far as she was concerned, it was the character that made the person. You could be the most handsome man on the planet, it did not matter; if you were overly rude, or arrogant, you would be unattractive in her eyes. While that sounded rather similar to how Fleur acted, it was not the same; she simply wore a mask, hiding her true self from the world.
She turned back to her partner, fixing her eyes onto his.
Harry's eyes had not wavered from Fleur's. She was testing him, attempting to gauge how badly he wanted to win the tournament. From what she could tell, the fourth year only wanted to prove himself, nothing more. Whether that was done with or without winning the tournament didn't particularly matter to him, although the former would obviously be preferable.
The two of them finished their dance a few moments later, neither champion speaking until the dance was completed. Once they had, Fleur nodded towards the door.
"Shall we go to the Rose Garden?" she asked her partner, "We might finish our discussion there."
Harry nodded, walking by her side out of the entrance hall. They both externally ignored the reporters watching them while jotting down notes, internally feeling rather annoyed. Harry had opted to look around for Ron instead. The redhead was sitting in a chair by himself in the corner of the room, angrily watching Hermione dance with Victor Krum.
Fleur simply continued to walk with her head held up high, making her way gracefully towards the garden.
The Rose Garden was located in the courtyard beside the Great Hall; it had been created by Professors Sprout, Flitwick, and McGonagall solely for the Yule Ball. It was very large, likely capable of housing the entire school with relative comfort. That pleased Fleur, as she wished to have privacy for their discussion.
The two of them eventually stopped at a bench in the furthest corner of the garden from the hall. They were easy to see, but not easy to hear, just as Fleur wanted. There was absolutely no way she would be having a conversation in one of the many rose bushes, regardless of how much privacy it would offer.
"So," began Fleur as they sat down, "What is your purpose behind getting myself to speak freely to you?"
"I'm just saying you don't have to be so formal." stated Harry, genuinely seeming confused, "I'm not the press or some prejudiced pureblood, I don't care how you talk."
Fleur paused, unsure of how to voice what she was thinking. It wasn't what he had said to her that had gotten Fleur's attention, but something else. The boy, whether he knew it or not, was offering an invitation of sorts, particularly one of companionship.
At least, that was what Fleur thought. Regardless of her lack of social interaction, she was a Veela, and therefore was better than most when it came to emotions. It was an example of magical adaptation: Veela were inherently good with emotion in order to make up for their lack of interaction with others. Unfortunately, the supposed skill with emotions that Veela possessed did not seem to apply to Fleur. No matter how talented, powerful, or beautiful she became, she had always been alone.
She desperately wanted that to change, but was incapable of doing so. Who that person was or what they looked like was not important; what mattered was the care, emotion, and trust Fleur could share with them.
Before her, however, was a golden opportunity. She did not know much about Harry Potter's childhood (except that he lived with his muggle relatives), but she could already tell it had been a lonely one. She could see in his eyes that he understood the way she felt, that he often felt the same. He was not lost in her allure, nor her beauty.
He could potentially be what I have always wanted.
"Do you wish to know me better?" asked Fleur, internally flinching at how bluntly she spoke.
"Yes." replied Harry in a calm voice.
"Why?"
"Because I don't care about this tournament. It lasts for the rest of the school year, and then that's it. But the bonds you make with people last lifetimes . . . or they should, anyway."
Fleur frowned slightly, knowing that he was thinking back to his redheaded and bushy haired friends.
"They were not true friends." muttered Fleur, "They could not have left you like that if they were. They should not have doubted you."
"But they did." Harry pointed out, his voice laced with sorrow.
"You don't want to be alone anymore." realized Fleur suddenly, accidentally speaking her thoughts aloud.
"The last few years have done wonders in helping me forget what it's like to be alone." said Harry, "These past few months have reminded me. I'm just as lonely as I was before."
"Just as before?" questioned Fleur, watching sadly as Harry nodded slightly, evidently feeling uncomfortable.
"I was alone too, you know." said Fleur, attempting to alleviate the uncomfortable feeling that was clearly present within the boy beside her, "I had nobody as well. I still have no one."
"You have a family." whispered Harry, "I'm sure they love you quite a bit."
Fleur quieted, completely unsure of how to continue, especially how to do so tactfully. She genuinely did not wish to upset the boy beside her.
"They do. I know you live with your relatives, surely they love you?" said Fleur, a sinking feeling forming in her stomach.
"Not at all." said Harry quietly.
"You don't have to." said Fleur quickly, moving from her seated position. Regardless of how much she would like to have a potential advantage on an opponent in the Triwizard Tournament, she would not stoop so low. She would never stoop so low.
Fleur was realizing how sincere he was, he seemed to want companionship just as badly as he craved it her entire life. He was trying to prove it to her, trying to show how much having a friend would mean to him.
He cares just as much as I do.
An hour ago, Fleur would have instantly dismissed any notions of potential friendships, regardless of how badly she wanted one. They were practically guaranteed to have an ulterior motive behind them, and the person she was currently speaking to was meant to be her opponent. It was not at all hard to spot a potential motive.
Yet here he was, opening up to her solely in the hope of gaining a friend. He was doing something one would not normally do just for the sole sake of proving his sincerity. Fleur was truly considering whether or not she should return the favour; if he was truly willing to open up to her, with no ulterior motives, she was almost certain she would do so as well. This was what she wanted most in life, what she desired above all else. If it was real, and not just some pathetic attempt to seduce her, then it would be worth much more to her than the Triwizard Tournament.
"It's fine, I want to." Harry whispered softly, "I know what it's like, having people see through you. I know what it means to see someone who doesn't."
Fleur nodding, internally feeling more sure that the boy was not trying to mislead her.
"After that night thirteen years ago, I was sent off to live with my aunt, uncle, and cousin. They didn't like magic much. I spent the first ten years of my life sleeping in a cupboard. I didn't have any friends, I was pretty much alone. My cousin and his friends would rough me up nearly every day, and that was it."
He paused, noticing how Fleur's cheeks had tightened ever so slightly, particularly at the last few sentences. Her reaction, displaying anger on his behalf rather than pity, gave him the courage to go on.
"I remember, growing up, that strange things would always happen to me." said Harry, "Things moved ever so slightly when I was upset. My aunt shaved me practically bald, and my hair somehow grew back overnight. One time, when I was running from Dudley and his friends, I even apparated myself onto the roof of our school. But every time something like that happened, I just assumed that I was making it up, or something similar.
"Just before my eleventh birthday, we went to the Zoo for Dudley's birthday. I went with them, my relatives thought I would blow up the house if I stayed at home. At some point during the trip, we came across a snake. That was when I learnt that all those strange things that had happened to me had to have been real. Everything else could be explained, in some odd way, but talking to a snake was too different, too strange.
"I remember when Hagrid came to find me, when he told me I was a wizard. But more than that, I remember when he told me about my parents. The Dursley's, my muggle relatives, had always told me my parents were drunks who died in a car crash. I had always been hurt, thinking my parents didn't care enough about me to stay safe, if only for my sake. The moment I learnt what really happened was probably both one of my best and worst memories."
While Fleur's expression remained the same, Harry was surprised to see her eyes slightly wet. He had never seen Fleur act anything other than cold or superior, except when she had apologized for taunting him before they saw the dragons in the Forbidden Forest, and after the first task for calling him a little boy.
"I couldn't wait to join the wizarding world, to finally have people who liked me, people who genuinely cared about me. But I soon learnt that I was the Boy-Who-Lived, the saviour of the Wizarding World. All of a sudden, everyone wanted to be my friend. But it wasn't because of me, but instead the scar I had on my forehead."
Fleur nodded, hastily wiping her eyes before any tears could finish forming. She had reached her decision, she would return the favour. She knew that Harry was being truthful, and knew that what he had said meant quite a lot to him. In fact, she was certain that he hadn't even told his former friends anything on the subject.
He was likely telling her solely to prove that she could trust him, a gamble of sorts.
And it will pay off. My doubt in you has weakened while my trust has grown.
Fleur breathed slowly through her nose in an effort to calm herself down. It was now her that would be taking the bet; she would help build this friendship, and potentially risk losing the Triwizard Tournament if it turned out that he was manipulating her.
It did not matter. The tournament was still incredibly important to her, it would remain a testament to how far she had grown. But if this bond was not a falsity, it could last till the day she died, and something told her that would be the case. She would trust him - something told her that she could.
"When I was eleven, I finally attended Beauxbatons." began Fleur, her voice soft, "I was so excited to learn magic, and even more so to make friends. I was the heiress to the Delacour line, one of the most powerful magical lines in France. But more importantly than that, I was a Veela. France is a lot less caring about such things than Britain, but even then there were people with unflattering opinions of myself being the heiress to such a prestigious line."
Fleur paused, turning to look Harry in the eyes. She could tell he was listening, and carried on.
"Veela go through puberty very differently than other witches. When we arrived at Beauxbatons, I looked several years younger than all the other students. Nobody openly made fun of me, for my father was a very powerful figure in the French Ministry of Magic. But that did not stop them from saying things behind my back.
"I was heartbroken to find that nobody wanted to be seen with me. I isolated myself, choosing to focus on my magic and power instead. It was like that for many years, until around my fifth year."
Harry slowly held out his hand, which she held gently. It wasn't a romantic gesture in any way, but rather an assurance of sorts. Had it been anyone else, Fleur was sure the gesture would have been far less emotional, and far more lustful. It seemed paranoid of her to think in such a way, possible even arrogant, but it was an unfortunate truth.
"I had finally reached puberty. But because of all the time and energy I put into my magic, I changed much more than the average Veela. I became immensely beautiful, even for a Veela, and immensely powerful.
"The fires of Veela are usually only ever are orange, sometimes showing signs of blue flames when they are particularly powerful. Mine are entirely blue. My passive allure is as strong as the full force of a normal allure. It's why I was so surprised that you were immune to it. Even Dumbledore can not look me in the eyes.
"When I returned after that winter break, people really began to hate me. Girls were jealous, males tried to force me into their beds. It was only thanks to how much I have studied magic that nothing bad has ever happened to me."
Fleur quieted, no longer finding anything of substance to add. Besides, she could not bring herself to continue speaking.
"Nothing will ever happen to you." Harry whispered, honesty and sincerity echoing through his voice, "You're powerful, talented, and so much more that they could never hope to match you."
I could say the same for you.
Fleur didn't know where the words came from, but found herself agreeing with them. They both looked each other in the eye, reading the emotions of the others as though they were written words on a piece of parchment. They were so similar, so incredibly similar. They both drew slightly closer to the other.
"You don't have to be alone anymore." whispered Fleur, her voice filled with emotion.
The two slowly leaned closer together; Fleur could feel her eyes trying their hardest to close, wishing dearly to enjoy a moment she had never yet experienced.
" - doesn't mean no one else has spotted that I'm a girl!"
Fleur and Harry sprung apart, both having been immensely surprised at suddenly hearing the enraged voice of Hermione Granger ringing through the courtyard. Fleur ignored the girl's yelling, instead focusing on what had almost occurred.
I nearly kissed a fourteen year old.
Perhaps it was not so simple; he was different, the one person outside of her immediate family that Fleur enjoyed spending time with. But still, he was so much younger than her. It was not morally right to do such a thing. To do so in a place where they could be seen was even worse.
A softer, kinder part of her said otherwise. Fleur, however, chose to ignore it. She could not deal with something like that, she was not prepared for something like this.
The two of them sat in silence, neither mentioning what they both knew they had been seconds away from doing. It was a confusing silence, as well as an awkward one, but it would not be nearly as confusing or awkward as any attempts at a conversation would be.
"Shall we head back?" asked Fleur softly a few minutes later. Harry nodded, and the two of them stood up. They both returned their expressions distant, as they normally were. They seemed to have reached another unspoken agreement that whatever bond they may end up sharing, it would be shared between them and them alone.
Just as the two of them were making their way over to the Great Hall, Fleur paused, having seen something that made her almost completely forget what had almost happened just moments ago. Almost, but not quite.
Madame Maxime and Hagrid were talking to one another in a corner of the garden, a small portion of their faces obscured by a large stone. Upon the stone rested a rather plump beetle, buzzing with evident excitement.
How dare she.
"Fleur?" whispered Harry as she suddenly dragged him of course, marching the both of them towards Madame Maxime and Hagrid, "Isn't it, you know, rude to eavesdrop on people?"
"That is the point." she growled out, dragging him into one of the nearby rose bushes. At the moment she really didn't care how a reporter might interpret the action. Rita Skeeter was eavesdropping on her headmistress, a woman who had been crucial in keeping Fleur safe in Beauxbatons. Had the reporter forgotten that two of the people currently within the garden knew exactly what her Animagus was?
"Rita." said Harry darkly, having spotted what it was that had caught Fleur's attention. Fleur nodded, pulling out her wand from a pocket in her dress.
Stupefy!
A minute red bolt of light shot from the tip of Fleur's wand, directly striking the beetle on the stone. Around a dozen nearby students turned towards the temporary source of light, curious as to what had happened. As Rita was in her beetle form, nobody noticed that she had been stunned. The witches and wizards quickly carried on with whatever it was that they had been doing, which, in most cases, was rather inappropriate.
Fleur and Harry made their way over to the stone, Fleur looking around to see if anyone was watching them. As she did so, Harry wandlessly summoned the beetle into his hand, checking to make sure Fleur had not noticed.
He had used his wandless magic solely to avoid attracting any unpleasant attention; if there was someone watching, bending over to pick something up after a flash of red light would be rather suspicious, especially for two champions that had been verbally slandered quite recently. Rita's Animagus form was rather small, however, and could be summoned without being seen by anyone other than those just feet away.
Fleur turned around, having seen no members of the press nearby. Once she had made sure that there was nobody near them, she looked at Harry and nodded towards one of the many corners of the garden, which happened to be obscured by a large fountain.
The two of them made their way to the section, once more making sure that no members of the press were nearby. Harry turned his attention to the beetle clenched gently within his palm, barely paying attention to the wards Fleur was putting up to deter eavesdroppers.
Harry silently conjured a glass jar, enchanting it to be unbreakable. Salazar had taught him the trick after Harry had talked to the portrait about Skeeter being an Animagus, as it provided a means of trapping any Animaguses that Harry might encounter in the future.
Harry carefully placed the beetle in the jar, closed it, and poked a few small holes in the top. They would be small enough for the tip of a wand to fit through (and for Rita to breathe), but nothing which might allow her to escape.
Enervate!
A miniature stream of energy burst from the wand's tip, striking the beetle on its underbelly. The beetle slowly started waking up, before quickly buzzing around the jar in panic.
"Hello, Rita." whispered Harry savagely.
The beetle started buzzing louder and louder before it suddenly dropped to the bottom of the jar, moving slowly. Rita had just tried to transform in the jar, and was likely feeling the pain caused by the unbreakable glass. The beetle eventually stood itself up, and began to fly around once more, buzzing angrily.
Fleur pulled out her wand, waving it while angrily whispering "Quiet!" at the beetle. Once she had finished her wand motion, the beetle was completely silent (regardless of it still flying around it the jar).
"I do not care for what you have to say." said Fleur, "We have just caught you spying on my headmistress, and happen to know a rather lovely secret about you. You would do well to listen."
The beetle slowed down in flight, before finally dropping to the bottom of the glass. It stood there, tapping its front legs against the glass floor impatiently.
"We do not have much time to spend here," began Fleur, "Especially not for something such as this. You will meet us in the Three Broomsticks on the next Hogsmeade visit. Get a private room, we will join you shortly."
She turned towards Harry and nodded. Harry hastily removed the unbreakable charm on the jar before charming it to be silent and letting it slip out of his hands. The beetle within the jar seemed close to having a heart attack as the jar hit the lovely cobblestone floor of the courtyard.
Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), none of the broken shards of glass had struck the beetle. Rita quickly flew up into the air, buzzing angrily at the two of them once more before flying away.
"Next Hogsmeade weekend?" asked Harry curiously as he vanished the remains of the glass jar. Fleur shrugged in response.
"You invited me to Hogsmeade last time. I suppose I can return the favour."
The two of them made their way out of the rose bush, where they were annoyed (but not unsurprised) to find two reporters. They had evidently been incapable of hearing anything through the wards Fleur had set up, and had instead chosen to wait right behind the bushes to get their stories.
Harry and Fleur walked past them, their expressions betraying no emotions, good or bad. They ended up making their way over to the Beauxbatons Carriage rather than the Great Hall; it seemed that the Ball had already ended. Harry was more than willing to bet that the Weasley twins were throwing an after party in the Gryffindor common room.
It's almost enough to make me go back there.
It truthfully wasn't, but Harry did find the idea of lounging around the common room with others to be rather appealing at the moment. But perhaps that was simply because he had been so lonely for so long. Harry discreetly glanced towards Fleur as they approached the carriage.
I'm not alone anymore. And if this goes well, I'll never be alone again.
Harry opened the door to the carriage, before turning to face Fleur.
She's beautiful.
Harry had a feeling she was thinking something similar, but pushed the thought out of his mind. They were years apart, and even if he ignored that, there were a number of other problems with such thoughts. Still, those thoughts did not vanish, but rather buried themselves within the depths of his mind. They were still present, but were now hidden as well.
Harry held out a hand to Fleur, smiling slightly.
"See you tomorrow?" he asked in what he hoped was a casual voice, but likely wasn't.
Fleur's eyebrows raised ever so slightly. For a moment, Harry thought he had made a mistake. But a small smile made its way upon Fleur's lips, something that was synonymous to Professor McGonagall beaming at him. She held out her had, grasping his gently.
"See you tomorrow."
Down in the Chamber of Secrets, the unformed silver king piece that rested upon the archaic chessboard grew ever so slightly.