Summary:Fleur's beauty and arrogance was always her weapon against the world. But what happens when it not only doesn't affect Harry, but doesn't even get his attention?
Harry x Fleur
- contains Lemons (ao3) (p w/ plot)
Chapter 1: Prologue IChapter TextThe 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 Hermione 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.
Chapter 2: Prologue IINotes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextThe Delacour Household was always calm and cool during the late summer, located in southern France and not far from the Mediterranean, surrounded by the rolling hills of vineyards as far as the eye could see. Fleur's home had always provided her the much needed peace and quiet that she needed when away from everything.
Her life had always been exciting, filled with parties, boys, and academics. She was the most skilled witch to have come out of Beauxbatons in generations, and she had the trophies and records to prove it. And when she needed a break from it all, the cool breeze in the southern French countryside provided just what she needed.
And yet, Fleur had yet to feel any of the normal calm and serenity that was normal this time of year. She had not left her home in weeks, instead spending her days pacing through its grand hallways and rarely leaving her bed. The few friends she had, as well as family, went ignored as she underwent an internal struggle.
'Harry Potter.' And all of it went back to that handsome black-haired wizard she had met at the World Cup. 'Just why can't I stop thinking about him? '
It felt like every time she closed her eyes she could see his emerald gaze staring back at her. Even in her sleep she dreamed of the boy, waking up at odd hours and drenched in sweat. It had made her grumpy and ill-tempered, to the point she had even thrown out her sheets when they started to smell like him.
But it was her vanity that took the biggest hit above all, the confidence she possessed when it came to men had all but disappeared. Harry Potter refusing her advances had sent her on an emotional spiral that led to her questioning her appearance, and even going so far as to wonder if she was secretly ugly. All of this led to an angry, frustrated Veela that would snap at anyone who came too close.
"Tell me what it is that bothers you, my daughter?" Her mother finally intervened one day, seeing the sorry state that she was in. Fleur was a mess, with her frilly hair and ruffled clothing, looking more disheveled than any Veela had the right to be. Her family had avoided her because of her foul mood, but it seemed her mother had enough. "You have been like this for weeks now, rarely leaving the house and staying in bed late, does the upcoming year worry you that much?"
"Non, it is not ze upcoming year that worries me." She folded her arms, conveying her irritation.
"Then perhaps it is ze tournament?"
"Non." She shifted awkwardly, remembering the boy that simply refused to leave her thoughts. "It is because of a boy."
"A boy?" Her mother's brows raised, obviously not expecting that answer. Apolline Delacour frowned, looking concerned. "You are not being taken advantage of, are you? Blackmailed? Men love to take advantage of Veela when they can."
"Non, nothing as dramatic as that." Fleur looked to the side, feeling embarrassed. "It is a boy that I met at ze World Cup. He was able to resist my allure, and when I approached him, he didn't show any interest in me."
"I see." Her mother slowly. "It is rare for men to be able to resist our allure, but even then you should be aware that most of them think the same. Surely you know by now what will get his attention?"
"Of course I am aware!" She retorted, feeling her ire grow. "I practically threw myself at the boy and yet he still refused me!"
Her mother smiled thinly, folding her hands in her lap. "Ah, ma chère Fleur. You sound like a fledgling who has never missed her prey before. Is that what you are?"
"Prey? He is just a boy! A shy, awkward boy. Why should he resist me? Me! Fleur Delacour!" She was yelling at the end, her frustration increasing.
Her mother only seemed to be more amused. "Perhaps he is not prey, then. Perhaps he is…something else. But let me remind you of what you are. You are Veela, Fleur. You are a bird of prey. We do not swoop too soon, nor do we falter at the first sign of resistance. Tell me, when a hawk sees its quarry hesitate, does it lash out wildly, or does it adjust its approach?"
Her frustration was still simmering, but she managed to reign it in for now. "It adjusts. It waits. Watches. But what am I supposed to do? He is not like other boys. He is…distant, almost wary of me, as if he does not trust me."
"Then earn his trust. You are too quick to think that seduction is always the answer. Sometimes, mon ange, to get what you want, you must first disarm your quarry. Make yourself approachable, familiar. Do not swoop. Instead, glide closer. Befriend him." Her mother said softly but with a firm edge.
Fleur's eyes narrowed, clearly skeptical. "Befriend him? You think that will work? I am not some simpering girl who flutters her eyelashes and chats about meaningless things."
Fleur knew exactly what she was. She was an experienced Veela who could have any man she wanted, a woman so desirable that boys in her school would fight over the chance to sit next to her. Someone who devoured full-grown wizards as a snack and ruined relationships with just a few teasing words. And the thought of throwing all of that skill away to degrade herself was repulsive to say the least.
Her mother only smiled knowingly. "And that is why it will work. Show him that you are more than a Veela, Fleur. Show him the girl who fights for what she wants, but also listens, learns. Men like you are describing are rare, they value honesty and depth, and are not the kind to fall for superficial charm."
And yet her mother's words held enough wisdom to make pause. Her interaction with Harry Potter had made it clear he was resistant to her normal methods of seduction, and possibly even to her Veela allure, and it was possible what her mother was saying could work. "So, I should be… less obvious? Spend time with him without making my intentions clear?"
"Exactly. Make him see you as an equal, not a predator. Let him lower his guard, and then, when the time is right, you strike." Her mother leaned in, a predatory aspect in her features that wasn't there before. "You are a Delacour. A Veela. A force to be reckoned with, and one that every man would give an arm and a leg to be with. Show this to him, and also be sure to demonstrate just how good Veela are in ze bedroom. Ruin other women for him, and he'll be yours."
She snorted in amusement, her earlier frustration forgotten. "You make it sound so easy."
"It is not easy, my dear. It is strategy. The best victories are the ones where your opponent wants to surrender. Make him want to come to you, Fleur. And when he does, you will find that he is yours completely."
Fleur sighed, and decided that her mother was right on how to approach Harry. "Very well, Maman. I will try it your way. But do not expect me to wait too long. I am not as patient as you."
Her mother let out a light laugh. "Patience, my dear, is the greatest weapon of all. Use it wisely."
/////
The late summer sun cast a golden glow over the orchard behind the Burrow as Harry leaned against his broom, catching his breath. They had spent the day playing quidditch as the return to Hogwarts got ever closer, something Harry was anticipating. The makeshift Quidditch game had ended with Ron shouting at Fred and George for 'cheating' while Ginny hovered near Harry, her hair windswept and her cheeks flushed.
"That was fun, wasn't it?" Ginny said brightly, stepping closer to him.
"Yeah." Harry replied, still slightly winded. He smiled awkwardly but quickly looked away, focusing instead on the Quaffle lying in the grass.
Ron stomped over, still muttering. "I don't care what you say, Fred, you used your elbow to knock it out of my hand!"
Fred landed gracefully beside them, smirking. "It's called strategy, little brother. You'd know if you were able to keep your head in the game."
"My head is always in the game." Ron grumbled.
"It certainly didn't seem that way at the World Cup." George grinned. "You were one step away from throwing yourself off the balcony when those Veela appeared, dear Ronniekins."
"I did not almost throw myself off!" Ron shouted, his ears turning pink.
"Sure you didn't." Fred said with a smirk. "Though you should've seen yourself, you were like this."
He made an exaggerated face of slack-jawed awe, flapping his arms like a bird.
"No I was not!" Ron's face was red at this point. He suddenly looked at Harry as if seeing a way to get the twins off his back. "And it's not like Harry was any better than me!"
"Actually, Harry was much better." George grinned devilishly. "Until Ms. tall, blonde, and beautiful arrived, and spirited him away."
George's words brought back memories of the girl he had met at the World Cup, along with the awkward conversation they had at the end before she stormed off. Fleur had been on his mind since he returned, rarely falling asleep without remembering her beauty. It didn't help that she had also become one of the favorite subjects to talk about amongst the redhead boys.
A day didn't go by without the twins teasing him about it, nor without any of the boys commenting about how beautiful she was. Not that any of them knew her name, as Harry had kept that to himself, along with their private conversation away from the others.
"If only all of us had the kind of luck you have, Harry." Fred patted his shoulder. "So what was it that you and that blonde girl got up to?"
Fred's words were very suggestive, wagging his eyebrows at him before George placed his hand on Harry's other shoulder. "Maybe she wanted to see his wand?"
"It was nothing like that!" Harry said quickly, knowing he was in for another round of teasing.
"Ugh! You two!" Ginny growled at the twins. "Stop harassing him. And there's no telling what that woman could have done to him!"
Every time Fleur came up as a subject, Ginny would almost always get angry. He guessed that it had to do with Fleur's beauty in comparison to her own, something he was sure any girl would feel self-conscious about. But there was a certain amount of desperation to the girl about the subject, as if the mere thought of himself and Fleur being close scared her.
"Jealous, Ginny?" Fred asked, trying to goad her.
"I'm not jealous!" Ginny snapped back, her face turning red. "And it's not like the two of you were any better than Ron. If I remember, Dad had to hold you back from jumping into the pitch to chase after the Veela."
"Did not!" Fred and George simultaneously retorted.
"At least you weren't as bad as some of the others. You remember that wizard in the top box, don't you? The one who tripped over his own robes trying to impress them?" Harry said, trying to steer the subject away from Fleur.
Fred grinned. "Ah, classic. He looked like a flobberworm trying to dance."
Everyone laughed, and for a moment, Harry felt like the tension in his chest eased. But then Ginny shifted closer, her arm brushing his.
"You were brilliant out there, Harry." She said softly, her tone just loud enough for him to hear over the twins' banter. "You'd make a great Chaser, you know."
"Uh, thanks." Harry replied, feeling his face heat up. He felt very awkward with her so close to him, and stepped away, pretending to inspect his broomstick. "You're not bad yourself, Ginny."
Her smile widened, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Maybe you could help me practice sometime? I'd love to learn from you."
Ron rolled his eyes, oblivious to Ginny's intent. "Harry's already got enough on his plate, Ginny. Leave him alone."
Fred and George exchanged knowing looks but mercifully kept quiet. Ginny sent a scathing look at her brother, and Harry pretended not to notice.
"Anyway." Harry said quickly. "We should head back before your mum comes looking for us." He started walking toward the house, his broom slung over his shoulder, desperately hoping Ginny wouldn't follow too closely.
Back at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley was bustling about, preparing dinner. As Harry sat at the kitchen table, trying to avoid Ginny's glances, he couldn't help but feel the odd tension in the air. The Burrow, usually warm and comforting, now felt stifling. Between the twins' teasing, Ron's obliviousness, and Ginny's sudden attention, Harry longed to be at Hogwarts
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that this year was going to be different.
Chapter 3: Chapter 1Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextThe Beauxbatons carriage landed softly on the Hogwarts grounds, the windows inside it giving them an excellent view of the ancient castle. This was the moment Fleur had been anticipating for so long, a buildup of months of work which all led to her arrival.
The carriage door opened, and a rush of cold wind blew into the carriage. It made her shiver underneath her Beauxbatons uniform, and some of the nearby students even froze, but she moved forward nonetheless. She was one of the first few to walk down the carriage steps behind the Headmistress, not succumbing to the nervousness like her classmates did. Nervousness had always been something for lesser creatures, for those who didn't know how to control a room with a single look.
The Hogwarts students stood gathered like sheep around their carriage, a blur of black cloaks and wide eyes. Fleur's expression remained as indifferent as possible while she took them in, eyeing those who fell for her Veela allure like cattle. The British schoolboys nearly fell over themselves to get a look at her, drooling like idiots as they did so.
The girls on the other hand seemed to figure out what was happening, narrowing their eyes and glaring at her. Their jealousy was palpable, similar to her classmate's own after she first went through her Veela maturity years ago. Fleur had to suppress an arrogant smirk, knowing the girls in Britain must be ugly for her to get a reaction like this.
But then her gaze fell upon a figure who seemed different. His unruly black hair caught the breeze, and those familiar green eyes that haunted her. Harry Potter stood awkwardly amongst the crowd—silent, unblinking, and utterly unaffected—as he watched quietly. He wasn't staring like the redhead boy next to him, nor even blushing at the sight of her.
'He's not affected at all.' She thought, remembering back to the Quidditch World Cup and how Harry hadn't been affected by her Veela allure then either. She had possibly thought it to be a fluke, a one-off event created by outside circumstances. And yet Fleur's heart gave a faint flutter, a sensation she wasn't accustomed to.
She subtly flaired her allure as she stood there, making the reaction of the boys that much worse. Fleur could hear the girls grumbling around her, throwing even more filthy looks than usual in her direction. She didn't care though, instead watching Harry carefully, and trying to gauge his reaction.
"What's wrong with him? " Whispered Aimee in French, her voice tinged with incredulity. She was Fleur's closest classmate, and had a good eye for noticing strange things like this, as the girl stared at Harry as well. "He didn't even look at you."
Fleur's lips tightened into a faint line. She didn't respond, her attention still on Harry. There was a strange power in his lack of interest, a refusal to be drawn in like the others. And Fleur, who had always seen infatuation as a tool to be wielded, felt uncharacteristically unsettled because of it.
The entered the great castle then, an organized mess of students as they all entered the large stone structure and navigated its large hallways. The Headmistress led them all to a large dining hall, and Fleur found herself sitting with the other Beauxbatons students at one of the tables with Hogwarts students wearing blue accents.
She had lost sight of Harry Potter after he entered the castle, and she did her best to examine the nearby tables in an attempt to find him. But it was like looking for a needle in a haystack, with all the British students wearing the same dark robes. That wasn't mentioning the drooling masses of boys staring in her direction, along with the petty girls sending her glared.
Eventually she gave up on looking, and instead settled for eating alongside the rest of her classmates. And that presented the next problem, being the lack of food that was actually considered edible. Fleur had heard the jokes about English barbarians and their uncultured eating habits over the years, but didn't actually think it was this bad.
"This food tastes terrible." Gabrielle whined from nearby, taking a bite of some of the British food placed in front of them. "Are we really supposed to eat this? "
"I agree." Aimee said from Fleur's side. "It's way too thick for my liking."
Fleur turned to one of the Hogwarts students next to their group, his robes accented in blue. "Do you have anything French that we can eat? Ze food here is a bit… bland, for our liking."
"Y-You're so b-beautiful… I-I'll make dinner if you would like that?" The boy started to stammer, speaking pure nonsense as his eyes widened and he began drooling like a fool. She couldn't help but click her tongue in irritation, seeing the English students wouldn't be any help.
She began looking around the Great Hall again, this time searching for food instead of a boy. She spotted a bowl of bouillabaisse sitting on the next table over, and stood up before walking over. Fleur didn't pay much attention to who she was speaking to, focused on getting her food and sitting back down.
"Excusez-moi." She said, gesturing at the bowl. "Can you pass me ze bouillabaisse?"
"Of course." A black-haired boy said, gently lifting the bowl and turning around to hand it to her.
Fleur didn't pay much attention to him, so focused on the familiar food that she nearly dropped it when her eyes met his own. It was Harry Potter who she happened upon, a coincidence so startling that she nearly dropped the bowl.
Fleur composed herself swiftly, tilting her head slightly as she met his green eyes. It didn't seem like she was the only one who recognized the person in front of him, as Harry seemed to suddenly have a hint of unease in the way he held himself.
Just like at the Quidditch World Cup, he wasn't gawking, wasn't smirking or trying to impress her. He was simply looking at her.
"Pardon, I'm afraid that I did not recognize you, Harry. It is good to see you again." She said politely, her voice smooth and melodic. She then gestured to the bowl of bouillabaisse he had handed her. "Zis British food is a bit too uncultured for my liking, and I figured something more refined would be better."
"Um… yeah, happy to help." He cutely ran a hand through his hair. "I've never had any problems with the food though, its pretty much been the same every year."
"Every year." Fleur echoed in horror, her smile faltering ever so slightly as she imagined Harry eating food like this year round.
"Is something wrong with it?" he asked, his voice genuine. "I mean, it's not bad or anything—just not, you know, fancy."
She remembered her plan to get close to the boy in front of her, slowly adjusting and getting ever closer to him. And while her plan certainly seemed feasible, it seemed that food would not be something for them to bond over.
"I see." She said smoothly, her accent curling around the words. She straightened, crossing her legs under her. "That is unfortunate. But… perhaps I ask for too much."
Harry shrugged, clearly unsure how to respond. "It's no problem. Um… welcome to Hogwarts, I guess?"
His awkwardness caught Fleur off guard, and she found herself suppressing a smile. There was something disarming about his sincerity, his complete lack of pretense. She then realized that half the room was staring in their direction, and the sight of a beautiful Veela like her interacting with a celebrity such as himself had created quite a scene.
"Merci." She thanked him.
With that, she stepped back, her poise impeccable as ever. But as she returned to her seat at the Ravenclaw table, she allowed herself one last glance at Harry. He was already turning back to his friends, his laughter mixing with the chatter of the hall. Fleur's lips pressed into a faint line.
The feast continued on from there, with Gabrielle and Aimee sharing the dish of bouillabaisse she had procured. They too had noticed her interaction with the boy at the other table, and questioned her incessantly about what exactly happened. Fleur avoided their questions, and was eventually saved by the Hogwarts Headmaster formally announcing the beginning of the Tournament.
Madame Maxime had briefed them about the tournament, of course, but hearing Albus Dumbledore himself speak of it was another matter entirely. His voice commanded the room, resonating with the kind of authority that even Fleur, reluctantly, found impressive.
"The Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore began, his voice warm yet edged with strength. "is a test of courage, intelligence, and skill. A competition for those who wish to prove themselves among the best of Europe's magical schools."
Fleur tilted her chin slightly, allowing her expression to settle into one of absolute confidence. This was the reason she had traveled all the way to Britain, to win the tournament and the obtain the glory that came with it.
'I will win this tournament.' She thought, glancing over at a familiar dark-haired wizard. 'And then, you will finally notice me.'
Dumbledore's next words drew her back. "To ensure the safety of all students, only those who are of age will be permitted to place their names into the Goblet of Fire."
The whole room seemed to pause in shock, before a huge outcry of anger erupted, particularly from the younger students. The redheads she had seen before were the most angry of the bunch, making sure their frustration was heard. No doubt many of the younger students wanted to enter, and were making their frustrations known to any who would listen. She briefly glanced at Harry Potter, only to see that he seemed entirely uninterested about the whole ordeal.
"An Age Line will be drawn around the Goblet." Dumbledore continued on, speaking over the noise. "Anyone under the age of a grown wizard attempting to cross it will find themselves… most unpleasantly rebuffed."
The corners of Fleur's mouth twitched into the barest smirk. She had no need to worry about such restrictions. She was old enough, skilled enough, and determined enough to enter. Her name would be in that goblet before the end of the week, and the Triwizard Cup would be hers.
"They are like children." She said condescendingly to the classmates around her, watching as several Hogwarts students grumbled and complained. It didn't really matter that the younger students couldn't compete anyways, seeing as it was typically the older-years who were typically more skilled. 'None of them will be able to compete against the likes of me anyways.'
Her eyes flitted back to Harry. He was laughing now, talking animatedly with a bushy-haired girl and a red-headed boy. Fleur clenched her jaw, pushing down the flicker of irritation that crept in. He might not notice her now, but by the end of this tournament, that would change. He would see her not just as Fleur Delacour, the beautiful Veela, but as Fleur Delacour, the champion. The victor.
The feast soon ended, and she was making her ways through the various halls of the castle when a small redhead girl suddenly stepped in front of her. She went to pass her, only for the girl to move and stand in her path once again. The girl was ugly in her mind, having no physical traits that stood out with a disgusting frown on her features. Fleur was sure the girl would grow even more ugly with age, sprouting wrinkles and fat that would only make her poor body even more unappealing.
As she looked closer, Fleur recognized the girl. She was the annoying redhead that had been hanging off Harry at the World Cup, no doubt one of his admirers and probably someone who wanted Fleur to stay away from him. Fleur had been in situations like this only too many times over the years, where jealous girls tried to deter her from getting closer to men they liked. And as such Fleur knew exactly how to handle girls like this, or more specifically, how to crush them.
"Can I help you, leetle girl?" Fleur asked in her most condescending tone, looking down her nose at the small redhead.
The redhead girl fumed at her tone, her face becoming as red as her hair. Fleur could see the spark of anger in her gaze, and knew it would be that much more enjoyable to break her. "Listen here, Veela, I don't-"
"Ah, you know about me already, non?" Fleur interrupted easily with a smirk, throwing her hair over her shoulder. She was used to insults, especially ones related to her heritage, and it washed over her like water upon rock. "I should not be surprised, I am ze envy of most women, after all."
"I don't envy you!" The girl spat. "I saw you with Harry at the World Cup, and again just now in the Great Hall. And I want you to stay away from him!"
"You are afraid that I will take your wizard then?" She smirked confidently, getting to the crux of the matter. "I would be worried too, if I were you. I am a girl zat is used to getting what she wants, and if it is Harry zat I desire, then there is little you can do to stop me from taking him."
"You bitch!" She seethed. "Harry would never fall for some harlot like you!"
"And who should have him then? You?" She looked down at the redhead. "You're nothing more than a silly leetle girl. Flat-chested and without any curves to show, someone who will only grow wrinkly with age. I, on the other hand, am majestic, beautiful, and buxom, something that will be sure to get his attention."
"Stop! Just stop talking!" The redhead girl looked close to tears, making Fleur smirk. "I don't care! And neither does Harry pay any attention to those things!"
Fleur felt a flash of anger, knowing that it was somewhat true that Harry didn't value her looks as much as she wanted him to. It made her goal of winning the tournament that much more important.
"Oui, maybe zat is true." Fleur concealed, before leaning closer to her. "But I am sure zat I will have his attention when I win the Triwizard Tournament."
The look on her face was priceless, and Fleur continued on her walk back to the carriage with a smirk.
'I am going to win this tournament.' Fleur decided. 'And when I do… Harry will be mine.'
/////
"Fred and George said they got a plan to pass through the age line." Ron glared at the Goblet from his spot, as if it was his mortal enemy.
They were in the Great Hall, along with a significant portion of the school as they all watched the Goblet. Upper years entered sporadically to put their name in, along with various students from other schools. No one had yet to test the age-line, but Harry was sure there would be some who did by the end of the day.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's not going to work."
"And why is that?"
"Because Dumbledore himself made that age line." Hermione said simply. "And if Dumbledore made it, then no one will get past it."
"Still, it would be worth a try." Ron grumbled petulantly, before his gaze turned wistful. "Fortune and glory, think about it. You would be set for life!"
"I don't think it's all it's cracked up to be." Harry muttered from the side.
"Of course you would say that." Ron turned on him. "You already have fortune and glory, and that's not mentioning how you even have that French girl talking to you. For the rest of us, we would probably have to win the tournament to even get recognized!"
"It's really not that big of a deal, Ron." Harry said. "All I did was hand her some French stew, and before that we talked for a bit at the World Cup. It's not like we've even had a full-blown conversation or anything."
"But you've talked to her. And that's more than anyone else has done!" Ron retorted. "She even knew your name!"
"Do you hear yourself Ronald!" Hermione intervened, looking irritated. "You talk about her as if she's just some object! And at least Harry can look at her without drooling like an idiot, something you and the rest of the boys in this castle can't even do."
Ron's face reddened in embarrassment, and Harry had to fight down a laugh.
Hermione's face suddenly contorted in thought. "Now that I think about it, the men at the World Cup drooled over the Veela there as well. Maybe that's why they drool over Fleur? Because she's a Veela too?"
"Ginny actually said something about that." Ron grumbled. "She seemed quite irritated about it, but apparently Lavender already knew she was a Veela."
Harry didn't really know what to do with that information, instead opting to continue watching silently as different students continued putting their names in the Goblet. Ron's hostility when it came to the tournament was starting to get to him, and Harry really was ready for his friend to move on. He figured that his attitude would change when the Hogwarts champion was picked, but until then he would just have to get through it.
"Ah, Harry, there you are." A sudden accented voice called out from behind him.
Hermione tensed next to him, and Ron's eyes widened before he began drooling similar to earlier. Harry turned around to see Fleur Delacour headed their way, with a younger looking blonde girl walking next to her.
"Hey, Fleur." He greeted.
"Harry, this is my sister, Gabrielle." Fleur smiled at him before she nudged the small girl next to her forward, who looked very excited to see him for some reason.
"It's a pleasure to meet you." He nodded and shook her hand, with the tiny girl looking close to exploding with excitement. She didn't speak, nor did she seem capable of speaking, almost as if meeting him had rendered her comatose.
"And these must be your friends." Fleur smiled, showing off two perfect rows of teeth, and he felt Hermione stiffen from beside him. The girl was supposedly trying to be nice, but Harry couldn't help but mentally compare her to a shark in that moment. It was as if she was a predator examining her next meal, being himself and his friends.
"Err… yes, these are my friends Hermione and Ron." He introduced them, with Hermione nodding while Ron continued to drool.
"A pleasure." Fleur looked at Ron dismissively, before looking over at Hermione. "Perhaps you can take care of this one?"
Hermione seemed to get the message, and silently grabbed Ron to lead him away. He suddenly noticed that Gabrielle was missing too, having left , leaving just him and Fleur by themselves and separated from the rest of the students in the Great Hall. For some reason it made him feel isolated, like he was stranded on an island with a dangerous tiger for company.
"It was nice to meet your sister." He said awkwardly, trying to be sincere.
"Oui, I do appreciate that." Fleur suddenly moved closer, enough that he had to look up to meet her gaze. It was either that, or look down at the impression of her large breasts on her uniform. She had an uncanny way of making him feel small and awkward, even when she wasn't trying. "But there was something else zat I wanted to speak to you about, and not just to let you meet my sister or be introduced to your little friends."
He couldn't help but feel that himself or his friends were being subtly insulted, but her body being so close to his own and feeling her breath against his skin was too distracting. "What is it?"
"I wanted to tell you something." Fleur said, her voice shifting to a softer, almost conspiratorial tone. She stepped closer, her hands clasped behind her back. "I have decided I will win zis tournament."
Harry blinked at her, for once taken back by her arrogance. "You think you can win the tournament that easily?"
"I do not think, Harry." Fleur purred, leaning forward slightly, her icy blue eyes fixed on his. "I know."
He tried to avert his gaze, but Fleur was close enough that there was nowhere else to look but directly at her. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I want you to watch." Fleur said, her voice dropping slightly, almost as if she were letting him in on a secret. "I want you to see what I am capable of. Zat I am not just 'ze pretty girl', as so many seem to think. I will show all of you—especially you."
"Especially me?" He asked, feeling his cheeks heat up.
"Oui." Fleur replied smoothly, though there was a flicker of vulnerability in her expression, gone almost as quickly as it appeared. "You have a way of… not noticing things. And I am going to make sure that you start noticing me."
Harry didn't know how to respond. Part of him wanted to laugh off her arrogance, while another part wanted to see just what she was talking about. But before he could speak, Fleur turned on her heel.
"You will see me, Harry Potter." She said over her shoulder as she walked away. "I will make sure of it."
She marched directly away from him, spearheading through the crowd in the Great Hall who parted in her wake. She walked as if she was a fashion model on stage, the clacking of her heels and the rhythmic swaying of her bum getting his attention. She finally arrived at the Goblet, gracefully passing the age line with ease and letting the slip with her name slide off her hand and into the cup.
When she was done she turned around, her determined gaze locking onto him for only a moment before she left the Great Hall.
Chapter 4: Chapter 2Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text"The time has now come for the official start to the Triwizard Tournament, as the Goblet will be making its decision shortly." Dumbledore said from his place at the head table. "I would ask that our selected champions make their way behind the staff table and through the door into the antechamber."
All of the students from each school had gathered in the Great Hall for the selection ceremony, which would mark the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry sat at the Gryffindor table as everyone watched eagerly while sitting at the edge of their seats. Excited mutters of conversation and the swapping on galleons was taking place all around him, with everyone having their own opinion of who would be selected Champion. Of course, a betting pool had started on who would be selected Champion for Hogwarts, with Angelina having the highest chances so far.
They all sat and watched as the Goblet sparked and flashed vibrantly, every student leaning in eagerly to see who would be selected. The Gryffindor students around him were nearly vibrating with anticipation, as clearly all of them were hoping to be selected, uncaring if they met the age requirement or not. Finally, the Goblet spat out a piece of paper that sailed through the air and into Dumbledore's waiting hand.
The aging Headmaster unfolded the paper slowly, either uncaring or unaware of the building anticipation. "The Champion for Drumstrang… is Victory Krum!"
Cheers rang out throughout the Great Hall, as even the Gryffindor table cheered for the Drumstrang champion. Harry clapped along as well, watching as the various Drumstrang students congratulated Krum as he made his way forwards.
The Quidditch star made his way behind the staff table and out of the room as instructed, right as the next Champion's selection began. The Goblet's flames roared once more, and a blue parchment flew out before landing in Dumbledore's waiting hand once again.
"The Beauxbatons champion," Dumbledore began. "will be Fleur Delacour!"
Even if she wasn't as well-known as Victor Krum, the Great Hall was nearly as loud in its applause. The sight of such a beautiful girl made the boys cheer that much louder, while the French girls at the Beauxbatons table broke into tears over her selection.
Fleur stood up without paying attention to any of it, throwing her hair back and elegantly making her way forwards. She shook hands with Dumbledore and her own Headmistress, then made her way behind the staff table. But before she entered the exited the Great Hall, she sent one last look back across the room, making eye contact with Harry for just a moment.
"Did you see that!" Ron exclaimed from his side. "She looked at me!"
Harry opened his mouth to interject, only for Seamus cut in first. "No, she looked at me!"
"She was obviously looking at me!" Another boy said from further down the table.
"Idiots." Hermione grumbled from his side.
"Just think if we get selected Champion, we'll be able to talk to her!" Ron said excitedly.
"You've had the chance to talk to her already." Hermione said, sounding irritated. "And Harry talks to her already, and he's not going to be selected."
"But if we're selected Champion, then she'll know who we are." Ron explained. "The only reason she talks to Harry anyways is because he's famous."
Harry had to push down his irritation at hearing Ron's words, not liking the unsubtle jabs his friend kept sending his way. Hermione didn't look too happy about it either, her eye twitching in annoyance. The Goblet ended their talk however, flashing for the third and final time as a piece of parchment landed in Dumbledore's palm.
"The Hogwarts Champion, will be Cedric Diggory!"
The entire Great Hall seemed to leap to its feet with a roaring cheer, the Hufflepuff table loudest of all. It seemed rare for the Hufflepuffs to win anything of significance, and Harry couldn't help but feel happy for them as he clapped. Cedric cheerfully made his way forwards and behind the staff table and then out of the room like the others.
"Now then," Dumbledore began once the cheering subsided. "We have our champions, and this will conclude the selection ceremony. A few more announcements-"
The Headmaster suddenly stopped speaking as the Goblet became active once again, turning a violent red before it vomited out another parchment. Dumbledore looked bewildered as he grasped it out of the air, and the whole room seemed to take a deep breath as it waited for answers.
Dumbledore's gaze rose, moving across the room before making contact with his own, and Harry felt dread pool in his stomach. "…Harry Potter."
Harry gaped, his eyes widening as he looked at the headmaster with complete shock. In that moment the whole room seemed to go still, and Harry felt something inside him freeze. It was like he was petrified, unable to do nothing but stare in horror at the parchment held in the Headmaster's grip.
"~arry, Harry, go!" Hermione whispered from his side, getting his attention as she nudged him forward.
He stood, uncaring for all the silent judgmental eyes on him in that moment, finally gathering some semblance of control as he took the first few steps towards the Goblet. He could hear the reactions of the students, the sound reminiscent of a bunch of angry buzzing bees. Off to his side, his roommates all glared heatedly at him, with Seamus and Ron giving him particularly disgusted looks.
He made his way past Dumbledore, the Headmaster staring at him warily, as he awkwardly walked behind the staff table and entered the antechamber. After that came a stairwell that brought him to a room with the other champions.
"Hey Harry! Do they want us back in the great hall?" Greeted Cedric after he entered, but he was completely ignored as Harry became deathly still.
On the outside he was emotionless, unmoving, almost like a porcelain statue. Inside, his mind was in turmoil, a thousand different emotions from anger to confusion and everything in between as he tried to figure out what was going on. He could see the other Champions looking at him oddly, especially Delacour who looked at him with a confused frown.
"Oh my, what a sight!" Exclaimed a boisterous voice from behind him, and he turned to see Ludo Bagman. "A Fourth Champion has been chosen!"
The other champions paused, each looking at the man oddly as Harry continued to awkwardly stand there. It was Fleur who spoke finally, looking at him with a expectant frown as if what the man had said was impossible. "Haha, funny joke Meester Bagman."
The door slammed open in that moment, as multiple people entered the chamber, led by Dumbledore. The Headmaster looked into his eyes as the others maneuvered around the room, glaring at him.
"Harry, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?" Asked Dumbledore calmly.
"I did not." He managed to get out, keeping his gaze locked with Dumbledore as if they were having a staring competition. His job only became harder when Snape scoffed and made an ugly comment about his father.
Dumbledore didn't say anything, but it became clear what the aging Headmaster thought after some time. He sighed disappointingly and looked away, as if Harry had dumped the weight of the world on his shoulders. All it did was increase Harry's own vexation with the situation, bringing forth the feeling of not being in control.
"Clearly ze boy is lying!" Madame Maxime interjected, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
"Surely he could not have gotten past Dumbledore's age line!" Argued McGonagall back, and Harry felt glad that at least someone was defending him.
"Hogwarts cheated!" Yelled Karkaroff madly. "Re-ignite the Goblet, and we'll select new champions!"
"We can't Igor, the champions are already chosen." Said Dumbledore before turning to Crouch. "Harry does not meet the age requirement, surely he doesn't have to compete in the tournament?"
"He has to." Replied Crouch, "To refuse would mean he would lose his magic, being selected by the Goblet enters the Champion in a magically binding contract."
"What did you ssssay?" Hissed Harry, his anger making its way to the surface as the words came out in Parseltongue and English at the same time.
There was a small part of him that simply snapped as this charade went on. It was the feeling of being in a situation completely outside of his control, to the point where he was utterly powerless. The outright refusal of anyone to step up for him only made it worse, as even Dumbledore seemed think he was lying.
Almost all of the room's occupants reeled back in horror, each of them paling as their expressions shifted into shock. None were more drastic than Snape and Karkaroff, the both of them shaking at his tone of voice. Dumbledore looked at him closely in that moment, as if evaluating him, and having the least reactive response. The same could be said for Delacour, who was obviously surprised but not horrified like the others. Even Moody seemed out of it, but Harry ignored them.
"I never even entered my name, so how exactly am I bound in a magical contract?!" Demanded Harry, his temper straining its very limits.
"It does not matter." Argued Crouch back. "Your name came out of the Goblet, meaning it has chosen you as a champion, forcing you to compete."
"And what is to stop me from going out there and destroying the Goblet right now! Because I'll do it!" Yelled Harry, so enraged that the last part was a violent hiss.
"Don't be a fool Harry!" Ordered Dumbledore, more serious than Harry had seen before. "The Goblet is an ancient artifact, even attempting such a thing could end in an unimaginable disaster!"
Although incensed, Harry saw that Dumbledore was deadly serious. The old man actually did fear the repercussions if Harry did attempt such a thing.
"So then I lose my magic, is that it Headmaster?!" Snarled Harry. "Because there's no bloody way I'm competing in this damn tournament!"
Some of the rooms occupants gasped, shocked by Harry's threat. McGonagall almost seemed close to tears, and Harry reveled in the satisfaction of seeing Dumbledore's pale face at his threat.
"There's no need for that, my boy." Said Dumbledore, trying to de-escalate.
"Enough of this!" Snarled Karkaroff suddenly. "It's not fair for Hogwarts to have two bites at the apple while we each have one champion."
"Zat is right." Madame Maxime agreed. "Somezing must be done! Ze boy must not compete in ze tournament for Hogwarts, and at ze minimum he must be punished!"
Harry saw Fleur look sharply at her Headmistress then, before the French Veela looked at him. He could see so many emotions in her conflicted features, and couldn't help but feel sorry for her. The tournament was supposed to be her time to shine, not his, and the last thing Harry wanted was to take away the spotlight. 'This is supposed to be her moment, not mine.'
"I'm not competing for Hogwarts." Harry suddenly said, causing the conversation to come to a halt.
"Care to explain that, boy?" Professor Moody asked.
"The Goblet is supposed to select three champions for three schools, meaning I don't represent a school. Cedric already represents Hogwarts anyways."
"Zen who will you represent?" Madame Maxime asked.
"I don't know? Myself? It doesn't really matter to me." He shrugged. "You don't even have to give me any points."
"You act as if it ez a burden to be selected Champion." The woman sniffed. "Many of your classmates would do anything to be in your position."
"Then they would be fools. People has perished in this tournament, and Potter's reaction seems to be adequate for someone in his position." Professor Moody said darkly, his eye roaming over Snape and Karkaroff. "Maybe Potter's right about not putting his name in the Goblet, and someone else did. Especially someone who wants him to die in this tournament."
"And what are you suggesting, Alastair?" Karkaroff glared the the ex-auror. "That perhaps one of us did it?"
"If the glove fits-"
"Enough!" Dumbledore barked. "This matter can be investigated and decided upon later. For now, I believe our Champions have some things they need to be informed of, Ludo?"
Bagman moved forward joyfully as the conversation moved on to what they needed to know about the tournament. Harry barely listened however, instead trying to calm himself down as he acclimated to his new situation. While the others talked he could feel someone staring his direction, and he looked over to see Fleur staring over at him with concern.
/////
"Harry, wait!"
The yell made him stop as he turned to see Fleur heading towards him, walking as quickly as possible in her Beauxbatons uniform and heels. They had all left the antechamber after the whole mess with the selection, with Harry taking his time as he slowly made his way back to Gryffindor tower. It seemed that he wasn't alone however, as the French Veela had quietly followed him.
"Fleur, I-" He began as she got closer, but stopped mid-sentence as he didn't know what exactly to say. She got very close to him, and he could feel her warm breath against his skin once again.
"I'm sorry about all this." He finally settled on saying. "I know you wanted to be in the tournament, but the same can't be said for me. I honestly just wanted to have a relaxing year this time."
"Oui, I considered that after seeing ze reactions of all of them back there." Fleur said with a slight grin. "For someone so discreet, you sure do seem to attract a lot of attention."
"Trust me, it's not something I like." He replied tiredly. "Honestly, you wouldn't believe how often things like this happen to me."
"Getting placed in dangerous tournaments is something you consider common?" She raised an inquisitive blonde eyebrow.
"It's honestly not that far off." He tried to grin at his own ill-fortune, but it came out a grimace.
"Then you'll have to tell me about it sometime." Fleur threw her hair back, looking away with a sniff. "Perhaps we can work on ze tournament together."
Harry blinked. "Really?"
"Oui." Fleur shrugged casually, but he could tell she was tense for some reason. "If you are not going to actually compete against ze rest of us, then I see no problem with it."
"Umm… sure, that sounds great." Harry answered, feeling his cheeks getting warm. Fleur seemed somewhat similar, her own high cheekbones looking somewhat pink. "I guess I'll see you around?"
Fleur nodded before turning and heading towards the Beauxbatons carriage, and he felt his gaze fall down to her beautiful swaying hips before looking away. With a shake of his head, Harry began the journey back to Gryffindor tower, feeling lonely once again as he climbed the grand stair and arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait.
"It is an honor to have a member of House Gryffindor be a champion in the prestigious Triwizard Tournament." The Fat Lady said to him.
"It doesn't feel like it." Harry replied sullenly, saying the password before making his way into the common room.
The mood in the Gryffindor common room was stiflingly quiet, a silent condemnation of Harry being picked as Champion. It made him feel nauseous, like he was falling into an endless abyss that had been created just for him. He remembered back in the antechamber, and how everyone seemed to think he was lying about his name being chosen. It seemed that things were the same here, with no one giving him the benefit of the doubt.
"So the champion has decided to grace us with his presence." Angelina was the first to speak, glaring at him as he crossed the common room. "How were you chosen as Champion, Harry?"
"I don't know." He replied, holding back his anger. "I didn't even go near the Goblet and yet my name came out anyways."
"And that's just convenient, isn't it?" She grumbled back, with the rest of the room watching on in silence. "Don't bother showing your face around too much, Potter. And don't expect us to root for you either."
He grit his teeth in frustration, seeing even his quidditch teammates were against him. He buried his emotions deep, opting to head up to his dorm and get some rest. Sadly, when he arrived there it seemed that his roommates were already waiting for him.
"How did your name come out of the Goblet, mate?" Ron asked him as he entered, using a certain tone of voice that made his hairs stand on end.
"I don't know."
"It's okay, you can tell us." Ron replied, sounding whimsical. "I wish that you had given your friends a chance to enter too, that way we could all get fame and glory."
"I said I don't know!" Harry let some of his irritation show through.
"Well, that's convenient, isn't it?" Ron gave up on acting nice, instead sounding bitter.
"And what is that supposed to mean?!" He was sick of Ron's theatrics.
"It means that the famous Harry Potter is always chasing more fame while leaving us behind!" Seamus cut in from across the room, glaring at him.
"You think I wanted this?" Harry hissed. "The last thing I want is more fame and glory! I don't even know how my name got in the Goblet anyways!"
"It was that Veela girl, wasn't it?" Ron sneered. "She did it, didn't she?"
"Fleur?" Harry was genuinely taken back, feeling his heart beat faster. "You think she put my name in? That's ridiculous!"
"We've all seen the way she looks at you." Ron's words stank of jealousy. "How she approached you in the Great Hall the other day, and that's not mentioning the World Cup! You're out there parading around with the hottest girl in school while the rest of us are left with scraps!"
"You're delusional." Harry shook his head.
"Well it doesn't matter, does it?" Seamus asked. "You got what you wanted, so go enjoy your time in the spotlight while leaving us behind."
He didn't reply to Seamus, instead glaring back at him and Ron before moving over to his bed and shutting the curtains. He laid flat on his bed and stared at the ceiling in silence, his mind racing as he thought of all of the night's revelations. 'So much for having an easy year.'