Part 1: First come First Serve
“Fleur? What do you think of me as a person?”
Harry’s voice pulled Fleur from her book. She glanced up, her eyes narrowing as she took in her friend, reclining as much as he could on the chair, his book laying open on the table, forgotten.
His hands were buried in his messy raven locks, those breathtaking green eyes of his seeming to bore into her.
“That…. Is a weird question,” She replied, putting her book down, “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “I… don't know. I just wanted to ask, I guess? Humour me, please?”
She smiled, shaking her head. It was so like him to be uncertain, even for an everyday question.
“Well… I think you’re an amazing human being,” Fleur replied resolutely.
And he was, to her. Before they’d become friends, she had always heard of him as The Boy Who Lived. She’d had an idea of what he would be like, an image, probably an unfair one, of how he’d be.
Harry Potter was nothing like she thought he’d be.
Their friendship had begun in an unconventional manner, with The Incident, something they;d both sworn to never speak of, ever.
She still shuddered at the thought of it.
But it was something she treasured now, just as she treasured Harry Potter, with his quiet strength and steadfast loyalty.
He snorted at her words, chuckling. “I’m not that good, Fleur.”
She frowned, leaning forward to grasp his hands, meeting his eyes, “Harry James Potter. You are a wonderful individual. You are a person who treasures every bond he makes. You are a person who is passionate, and loyal, and caring, and compassionate, and warm, and so many other amazing things, and I am thanking my lucky stars that I can call you a friend.”
He smiled, that lovable, warm smile that did things to her, that made her heart flutter a bit as he spoke softly. “Thank you Fleur. I… thank you.”
A comfortable silence stretched over them, as she released his hands, reluctantly, leaning back in her chair as they sat, the cold of scottish winter outside kept at bay by the warmth of the room.
“Hey Fleur,” Harry spoke up suddenly, “Do you know the Yule Ball is in only two weeks?”
She did know, in fact. She’d been turning down offers left and right, trying to build up the courage to ask one person, the only person she could consider ever taking as a date, the person sitting across from her, in fact, ever aware of the impending deadline.
“Yes?”
“Guess what?” He said, straightening up in his seat, “I… got a date.”
And with those words, her heart crumbled.
“W.. what?” She choked out, disbelieving. She didn't understand it. He’d been turning down offers as well, and she… she’d hoped…
“Yep,” He continued, “Daphne… Daphne Greengrass asked me to the ball, and I saw no reason to say no.”
Her heart clenched at his words, as she forced a smile onto her face, trying to appear happy for him, “T.. That's wonderful, Harry.”
“Isn't it?” he said, smiling dreamily, seemingly unaware of her plight, “We’re going to be practicing together as well. I do need help with my dancing, you know.”
Fleur wanted to scream, she wanted to tell him that she could have helped, that she could have gone with him, but instead she kept smiling, as she cried inside for the chance she had missed.
Fleur tried her best to hide her disgust at her partner, one Roger Davis, who leered at her body as they swept across the dance floor with the other champions and their partners.
Hermione looked resplendent, slowly maneuvering the floor with Viktor, both novices in the art of dance.
Cedric Diggory danced with Cho Chang, the pair managing to keep well in sync, moving easily in concert.
Her heart clenched as her eyes fell on the final champion and his date. Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass were dressed in matching greens and golds, the pair owning the ballroom floor as they gracefully moved with the music.
Harry was smiling broadly, his green eyes locked on his partner, looking positively ravishing, cleaned up in those robes, as he held his partner.
A partner that should have been her.
Daphne Greengrass smiled primly as the pair moved, yet she could see the genuine happiness in the girl’s expression whenever she gazed at Harry.
Yet, when their eyes met, Greengrass’s eyes turned hard, a wicked smile appearing on her face as she locked eyes with Fleur.
As the dance wound to a close, and the champions bowed as one, Fleur heard Greengrass speak, as they stood near each other, her voice soft, yet bearing an undertone of malice.
“First come, first serve, Slag.”
Roger Davis’ eyes widened in pain as her grip tightened, her palm beginning to smoke as she seethed internally.
‘GREENGRASS!’
Part 2: Finders Keepers
“Welcome back Daphne!” Astoria’s voice was peppy and light, her smile brightening up the room as Daphne stepped out of the fireplace, the roaring green flames receding to their normal warm orange.
“Glad to be home, Astoria,” Daphne smiled, as she stepped forward, her arms open, staggering back slightly as her younger sister rocketed into the embrace.
She nodded in greeting at the young man in the room, Draco Malfoy returning the nod as he watched his fiance attempt to hug her older sister to death.
“It's been so long! I missed you so much!” Astoria said as they separated, “So many things have happened in four months! I have so much to tell you!”
Daphne smiled indulgently at her excitable sister, “Of course Tori, but…. Later, maybe? I’m a bit tired from the journey. It's not like I crossed the Atlantic by Floo, you know.”
“Of course. My bad. You must tell me more about New York though. It sounds wonderful,” Astoria said, calming slightly.
“Mipsy!”
A loup pop sounded to Daphne’s right, as a female house elf, dressed in a clean pillow cover, appeared. The elf gasped as she noticed Daphne, her large eyes brimming with tears, “Oh it's Mistress Daphy! Mistress Daphy is homes! Mipsy is missing you lots when you was gone Mistress!”
Daphne smiled genially at the excitable elf, “I missed you too Mipsy. Could you prepare some tea and put it in my study? Bring any correspondence that hadn't been forwarded to me yet there as well.”
The little elf nodded enthusiastically, squeaking, “Of course Mistress! Mipsy will get on it right away mistress!”
Daphne sighed as the elf popped away, turning back to her sister and her fiance, “I’ll be heading to my study then Astoria. I’ll join you for dinner in a bit.”
The younger girl nodded, “Of course. We do need to go shopping soon, Daphne. We’ll need new dresses, and Draco needs to pick up his suit.”
Blinking in confusion, Daphne nodded hesitantly, unsure, “Of… of course.”
As she made her way down the ornate hallway, lined with portraits of her ancestors and masterworks by decorated artists, she ran a hand through her blond locks, teasing her hair free of its braid.
Stepping into the familiar, cozy atmosphere of her study, she sighed in comfort, spotting a pot of tea and a steaming cup, beside which were stacked a smile pile of letters arrayed on a small table near the fireplace, in which a flame already crackled.
She smiled at the sight, silently thanking Mipsy as she settled into the nearby couch, snuggling into its softness. She sipped at her tea as she flipped through the letters.
Magazine, Letter from Pansy, Brochure, Letter from Harry, another magazine…
Wait.
Eyes widening, she pulled out the letter from Harry, a soft smile adorning her face at the thought of her once boyfriend.
She recalled the Yule Ball, where she’d asked him out just to spite the French Champion he always hung around with, the saddened expression on the floozy’s face still fresh in her mind till this day. She remembered how dapper he’d looked in those black robes that they’d chosen together, how he;d grown on her as they’d danced and talked.
She remembered the relationship they’d pursued long after the French contingent had left, the longing looks that Delacour had sent her Harry as she stood beside him, supporting him after his terrible ordeal at the end of the third task.
The dates, the smiles, the laughs that they’d had until their sixth year, until he’d had to run, along with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, two people she’d gotten to know more than she ever would have guessed.
She hadn't seen him much since then, having been absent from the Battle of Hogwarts, and being unable to find time to meet him before she’d left for New York.
Daphne Greengrass.
His writing had improved, a far cry from the chicken scratching she remembered as she opened the envelope, pulling out a letter, her eyes flickering over the first line.
You are cordially invited to the Wedding of Harry Potter and Fleur Delacour….
What.
Pffffff
She spit out the tea, wiping her mouth distractedly, as she read the rest of the invitation, eyes wide and frantic.
Her hands trembled as she fell back in her seat, the invitation slipping from her grasp. So that's what Astoria meant by needing new dresses.
She couldn't… she just couldn't understand it! When had this happened? How had this happened?
Unnoticed by her, the objects in the room began to tremble as well, her magic simmering and bubbling with emotion.
She noticed a glimmer inside the envelope, discarded by her forgotten cup of tea. Hesitantly, she lifted it, shaking it slightly, as a piece of paper fluttered out onto her lap.
Slowly, she picked up the paper.
It was a photograph, depicting a naked Harry Potter (oh god, he looked so yummy), laying on a bed, cuddled up to the equally naked form of Fleur Delacour, covers drawn to their waist, as he slumbered. Fleur was holding up the camera, a wicked, knowing smile on her face as she stared at it.
On the picture were words, written in bright blue ink.
Finders keepers, bitch.
Daphne’s scream rang through the estate, the objects in the study rattling and flying as her magic lashed out. “DELACOUR!”