Harry had heard of Fleur Delacour. How could he not. There was scarce else upon every males lips from the moment Beauxbaton’s carriages set foot on Hogwarts greens. It wasn’t until the selection of champions however, that he first laid eyes on her.
She was not at all what he was expecting. Large doe eyes shielded by the largest pair of glasses Harry had ever seen. Piercing innocence shone through her lenses, a contradiction, Harry thought but no less was accurate. It wasn’t until she stood upon her selection, tucking into herself with slight self deprecation that he saw the curvaceous body that was the conversation of the castle.
But it was the eyes that held Harry’s attention. Blue in a way the sky surely was envious.
"Omg I love your glasses!" They burst, uncharacteristically for them. With nary a thought fingers find the rim of beautiful lenses, centimetres away from wide, mesmerized eyes. The rose sprouting at the intimate contact breaking the capricious bout.
"Oh.' said the other, an interjection filled with unspoken questions, but also, with subdued glee of its own. "Thanks, I guess." They said with a small loopy smile, eyes lowering, embarrassed at their own pleasure.
The movement made free of locks that were equal to none in colour, making them brush agile fingers.
Another blush, another smile.
"Ahem." A third interjected, and the closed off world they had lived on for those unmeasurable seconds disappeared. The world around them started to move again.
Harry's smile turned down under the weight promised danger, but Fleur's suffered not of such a weight, and as he looked at that rémanent of a world made, they both knew.
It had not been destroyed, it merely flee, hidden on the most recondite parts of the chambers of what was now a single heart.
Broken from their reverie, Dumbledore slamming Harry into the awards case was shocking. The release of her Allure was immediate and unconscious. Even the great Albus Dumbledore was not unaffected. Graceful as was her nature, she gently pulled Harry back to rest on his own feet, straightening his glasses in a way which nearly brought upon them once more the révenant they had parted from.
“Thank you,” their eyes holding a million conversations, countless connections contained within two words.
(A take on love at first sight at the selection of the champions, or “Love Through Untinted Glasses”)