Harry had thought, as the rest had, that the pretty foreigner's skin was like porcelain, reflecting the light around her into a hypnotic glow.
Now, after running into her in a secluded alcove by complete accident, he had to disagree. Seing the rufous colour extending from the edge of her robe, up the curve of her neck, and to the tip of her.... The tip of her pointy ears....
That light did not came from mere reflections.
It came from within.
He ran after she started screaming at him in some barbaric tongue, his body jumpstarting from where it had frozen, ran until he got to the common room, huffing, and with a last effort dropped into a loveseat.
He breathed in and out, trying to get his breath back, but behind his closed lids, he could only see the red tips of those strange ears, exposed as they were by a tall, messy bun.
They made his breath hard to get back in check.
"Is everything alright, Mademoiselle?"
"Oui."
Fleur's head snapped back to the front of the room, where Dumbledore and Ollivander were talking.
Harry was a bit relieved, at least, by the fact that she seemed to be as caught up in their little incident as he was.
'Tsk. Get it together, Potter.' He whispered as he closed the door to the room and took the seat that Dumbledore was pointing him to.
He peeked quickly towards Fleur. Her hair was down, covering her whole face, and the side of her body, But he could still see the bright red spot that was the tip of her nose.
He smiled. She was wearing a hat too, today.
She turned towards him as if sensing his eyes searching for the tips of her ears. Fierce azure glared with absolute resonance. Do not say a word. To anyone. And she turned resumed facing forward as if it had never happened.
Somehow the sharp tilt she made towards a hallway telling Harry to follow was, so severe in it's movement that McGonagall's strongest stare would have wilted under Miss Delacour's look.
Harry imagined how would those ears feel if he touched them, he was specially curious about the tips
As he followed her, or, at least, her shadow as it disappeared around a corner, he found himself violently jerked into, yet another, secret alcove.
Her cool, blue eyes somehow burned ever hotter than her steamingly rufous complexion.
"You will tell no one of what you saw. No. One." She punctuated every Word with a poke on his chest. It felt like being poked with an ice pick.
"Understood?"
"Err... No?"
"Quoi?!"
"What?"
"Stop playing with me!" She stomped down on the floor. "You will not tell anyone about my ears, and if you do, so help me the ancient ones, I will show. No. Mercy."
Her voice got lower and lower towards the end, the rasp of 'Mercy' sending shivers down his back.
Giving him no time to answer, she stormed through the curtains and out the little alcove.
"Okay," He whispered to the ghost of her that lingered in the air. "It will be our secret."
He then hear what he had just said and facepalmed.
"Get it together, Potter." He said as he got out too.
"Had fun, I see?"
Harry jumped in time with his heart. The voice had come from the tapestry that was, from the other side, the curtains that gave the alcove it's privacy.
It was the likeness of Venus, as in that famous muggle painting.
"Oh no. It's not what it looks like."
"Sure thing, handsome. Sure thing. It is not a coincidence that it is me to be guarding this place, you know?"
"Oh no," he said again, "Please don't tell anyone. It really is not-"
"Oh, I would never!" Her hand flew to her chest, which made Harry take notice of the finer qualities of the painting, and without mediating another word, he turned and left, his ears as red as the ones firmly set in his mind.
Harry slipped out of the ball unseen, which was unusual for him, but a relief. It had been a dreadful evening, though he knew he would likely have to apologize to Parvati for his lousy company and even worse dancing. The calmness of the halls, so very different from the normal hustle of Hogwarts, brought him a sense of calm. Taking a deep breath, he was just about to head back to the common room when he was knocked aside, the sound of heels moving past him quickly.
Looking back up, he saw her, the silver blonde hair swaying back and forth and she stormed away towards the castle entrance, not even registering that she had pushed him down. Quickly he picked himself up and followed, his curiosity peaked, rounding the corner until he came upon the open castle gates, the light snow and gentle breeze biting hitting his face as he passed the warming magic of the castle innards.
Looking around, he saw her leaning over the stone bridge, hands gripping the edge tightly as she stared up at the night sky, the twinkle of the stars reflecting in her eyes. He approached cautiously, their interactions having resulted in a…mutual understanding, at best. Harry thought it more appropriate to say that he had learned she was scary and understood self-preservation, but calling it a mutual understanding made it sound less dramatic.
As he got closer he noticed she was shivering, clearly having forgotten to cast any sort of warming charms in her haste to leave the walls of the castle. Shoving off his coat, he opened it up and, as he reached her side, draped it over her shoulders, its short length doing little to cover her. She stiffened immediately and whirled around, fire in her eyes until she saw him, her features taking on a softer, more gentle look as he smiled.
“You looked cold,” he said awkwardly. Briefly, she simply stared at him, her gaze penetrating him and almost making him feel uncomfortable, until at last she gave a curt nod before turning back towards the sky.
“I was, thanks you,” she said. He stood there for a moment before moving next to her, his eyes going to the sky as well, a stiff silence creeping between them.
“I didn’t think you’d leave the ball until it ended,” said Harry. Fleur scoffed.
“Roger said something insulting about Centaurs,” she explained, “I decided to leave.” Harry didn’t know what that was about, and he knew better than to press her. Questioning Fleur Delacour had a tendency to earn him withering glares and sharp finger pokes. Unconsciously, he rubbed his chest.
“I met a Centaur once,” he said, not entirely sure of what to say. “His name was Firenze. He had an odd way of talking, but there was something…well, magical about him. I didn’t know anything about magic until I was 11, and there I was, talking with such a majestic creature. It was like a fairytale. Haven’t seen him since. Shame really, he seemed nice.” Next to him, Fleur laughed, a sound that filtered into his ears like music.
“‘Thank you, ‘Arry,” she, looking down at him with a small smile. He gave her a questioning look.
“For what?” She smile again.
“Oh nothing,” she said, confusing Harry further. Realizing he wasn’t going to figure it out, he turned to her.
“You know, if you want a good view of the sky, I can show you a better place.” Fleur raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?” he nodded.
“Yeah, it’s down by the lake. It’s quite, and not a lot of people seem to pass that way. It’s where I go when…” he trailed off, unsure of himself.
“When what?” she prodded.
“When I want to get away from the pressure,” he mumbled, a blush forming on his cheeks as he turned away. His ears warmed and he almost made to leave when he felt her grab his hand. Looking up, she smiled fully at him, a full smile that made the glow coming from her shine brighter for the briefest moment.
“Lead the way.”
She fell back against the damp earth with gentle aplomb, the force of which shook the coat he'd wrapped around her body and yet still managed to hide her tipped ears.
He opened and shut his mouth many times fearful that bringing up her ears once more would end the cesation of hostilities the night had insanely brought upon him.
Instead he looked up to the stars, murmuring the only thing he remembered from his conversation with Firenze. "Mercury shines brightly this night."