Hey all, new chapter is out! Is it corny as hell? Yep. Is it the fluff that all of our inner cuddlebears crave? Absolutely.
Now I said this story would be four chapters, but as I was writing I figured it wouldn't conclude naturally without another chapter or two, so let's make it 6 chapters. I know I also planned this as a oneshot, but I digress. I'm currently fleshing out my truly novel-sized story that I'll start after this one finishes, and I think it will be much better since I'm not just winging it like I'm doing with this one, so stay tuned for that.
As always, my loveliest thank you's to the folks over at the Harry/Fleur discord, especially x102reddragon who handled the beta work this time. If you're at all interested in the Fleur/Harry or just want a bunch of awesome people to nerd out with, they're your people.
The link that'll get you there is
discord. gg / gsxM3aca7U
Alright, on with the show!
Hogwarts Grounds
The year's first snow flurries twirled and danced amongst each other on their gentle path to the earth, falling, landing, and almost instantly melting away as soon as they touched the ground. It would not be long before their accumulation would overwhelm the dirt and grass and cover the landscape, but for now, the last remnants of Autumn held firm. A tentative tentacle tested the air above the Great Lake before withdrawing into the depths; the Giant Squid was no fan of Winter and its strange squirming energy seemed to groan in disappointment.
Harry Potter smiled as he ran. The more time he had spent around the lake the more he had appreciated the squid's familiar presence as it was more intelligent and expressive than most gave it credit for. Of course, not many could claim to share Harry's unique connection to the magical energies, a connection that he himself was just beginning to understand.
His smile fading, he pushed himself to run faster. Unlike the creature under the lake, Harry was grateful for the nip in the air and the chilliness of the snow; it made it easier to run. The easier it was to run, then the harder it was to think, and he needed the solace of a clear head for his upcoming meeting with Fleur.
Now that was a mistake, he grimaced, as the raven-haired teen could not stop the influx of emotions and images that coincided with the mere mention of the French Veela's name. He ran faster. It didn't help.
The brush of her fingernails as she clutched his shirt for comfort, the smoky sweetness of her scent, and by gods her magic , the rightness of it mingling with his own… Were all things that he should not be thinking about. So, he ran faster.
Harry tried to focus on the chill in the air, the soft sound of his footfalls on the wet ground, and the pleasant glow of the sun at dawn, but he could not. There was too much to think about.
Of course, his budding attraction to the beautiful witch was only half of his burden. He was a sky elemental. He held a position that was unknown to the Wizarding World at large that was evidently vital to the magical ecosystem. He had no idea how any of his powers worked or even what exactly he was responsible for… But still he pushed these thoughts away as well. And ran faster still.
The ache in his legs, the rapid thump of his heartbeat, his straining lungs, these were what were important in this moment. Still, he pushed himself, his feet barely touching the ground before launching forward again, a desperate rhythm that he could not hold for long. But with the defiance and determination that had served him so well throughout his life, he prolonged the inevitable for as long as he could.
Only to trip over a protruding stone, fly head over heels, and plummet to the ground with the force and grace of a tumbling water buffalo. Harry closed his eyes and braced himself for the impact.
He had been falling for a while, he realized a few seconds later. Shouldn't my face be a pancake right about now, he thought?
"Vell, vell, vell. Are you not lucky that I vas here?"
Harry opened his eyes and took in the rather close perspective he currently had of the grassy ground as he hovered inches above it. Was that a dung beetle? Crawling on… dung? As soon as he processed this information, the magic surrounding him vanished and he completed his downward trajectory with what could only be described as a splat.
"Then again, maybe you vere not that lucky." The Bulgarian's booming laughter rumbled throughout the countryside, startling a few crows that had been perched in a nearby tree and they took flight.
With a face red with both exertion and humiliation (and brown with excrement), Harry raised himself from the ground and pulled out his wand to clean himself. Viktor Krum had doubled over in renewed laughter when he had taken in his poor competitor's disturbed expression, and Harry reluctantly admitted to himself that it was a pretty hilarious situation.
Nonetheless, he gestured at the Bulgarian with a crude two-fingered salute, "Laugh it up Krum, I'll be having the last, and you'll be the one eating shite when I win the tournament."
Tears were pooled in the corners of Krum's eyes and he chuckled as he spoke. "Very vell, and I vill know exactly who to ask vhat vine to pair vith it! Vhat do you think, vhite or red?" With that he snorted and yet again fell victim to his laughter, unable to speak.
After a moment of stern scowling, Harry joined in with his fellow champion and their jovial chortling was able to achieve what his furious sprint could not. It was with a distinctly lighter heart and mind that Harry regarded Krum with a smile. "Thank you, Viktor. As embarrassing as that was it would have been much worse if you weren't there."
Krum clapped Harry's back with a friendly punch, "It is not a problem. You vere running so fast you nearly caught me, it vas as if there vere something chasing you."
Harry gave a sigh. "In a sense there was."
"Ah, I see. You vere not running from something out here," Krum tapped his head lightly with a pointed finger, "the demons in here are sometimes just as scary, da?"
Fleur, her soft platinum tresses, soulful blue eyes and magic full of warmth. "I wouldn't call them demons," under his breath he continued, "maybe a siren, or a succubus."
Unfortunately, Krum still heard him. "Oh, so the boy is having girl trouble. Now this is a good reason for a lesser man to run like a lunatic," said the older teen with a knowing, teasing smirk.
"At least I can say her first name, Viktor," Harry retorted with a blush.
"Vhat are you talking about? I no longer have trouble with Hermy-owny-owny's name."
Harry snorted, "That was even worse than usual."
"I know, you looked like you could use another laugh." Krum's grin faded as he shrugged with an awkward but genuine expression that seemed like his face hadn't had much practice with.
After a moment of surprise, Harry smiled back, grateful for his new older friend, and an easy silence fell between them. It was strange, the foreign students had come to compete in a tournament under the guise of 'international friendship and cooperation,' yet most had understood that this was the polite way of saying 'bragging rights.' However, the two champions had proved that cooperation was not so far-fetched after all.
Harry and Viktor finished their workout in relative quiet, only the sounds of their grunts and heavy breathing permeated the early-morning air, and this time Harry was able to focus for a short while. Soon, however, the time had come to finish as Viktor had breakfast on his ship to get to, and Harry had a date with destiny.
Krum had said goodbye already and turned to leave, but after a dozen or so paces he stopped in his tracks and looked back. "Potter, I vould like to give you some advice. If only to have an honorable competition. I vould not have my victory tainted by your voman troubles." The teasing smirk was back on his face, but his eyes were somewhat serious.
"Sure, Krum. I would still beat you anyway, but whatever makes you feel better." Despite his outward confidence, Harry could feel his nervousness mounting.
The familiar tree that had become so important to his future was only a few hundred meters away, and he could feel the slight shift of magic in the Beauxbatons carriage as students began stirring and preparing for the day. He would be meeting with Fleur in mere minutes.
Krum spoke, ignoring Harry's jab. "It is easy to run from vhat scares you, but you may still fall on your face, da?" Krum gestured to the site of Harry's humiliation with a grin before continuing.
"It is much better to meet things head on, that vay if you fail, you fail vith honor. Tell the truth, do not hide yourself, and listen to her. If it is right then it is right, da?" Without waiting for a response, Krum turned back to the Durmstrang ship and walked away without glimpsing Harry's look of incredulity.
Overcoming his shock at the Bulgarian champion's kind words of wisdom, Harry turned to lock eyes with a certain tree, an optimism and resolve growing in his heart that coincided with a hum of approval from the depths of his belly. He could feel the familiar heat of a remarkable blonde-haired witch emerge from the Beauxbatons carriage, but he did not waver. Harry Potter was never one to run from a challenge, after all.
Fleur's Bedroom
Fleur Delacour paced in her room, her eyes supported by uncharacteristic dark shadows and her beautiful blonde hair unkempt and in disarray. Her dreams had been plagued with doubt; she remembered a green-eyed man sneering in disdain, her grandmother staring forward with soulless apathy, and the overwhelming sensation of impotence. She hadn't slept much after that.
What was worse is that logically, she knew that she had reason to worry. She had entrusted the secrets of her race to a wizard she barely knew. She was placing her hope on a young man that had not proven himself worthy of such a burden, or even that he had the character to uphold his responsibilities. And yet…
Green eyes deep as the sea that called out to her, the unmistakable comfortable ease that she felt when around him could not be ignored. He had seemingly understood her humor and was able to speak to her on a level that was only matched by her lifelong best friend. He had not cowered when faced with her anger, instead he matched her, allowing both to say what needed to be said before apologizing and accepting hers as well.
He had held her for hours when she needed comfort, yet never pushed her boundaries or selfishly claimed her for himself. She couldn't help but feel in her core that she was making the right choice by trusting him. And yet…
The importance of her cause could not be undercut by her feelings for a boy.
A boy who could be her salvation.
A salvation that may just be a fairy tale.
A fairy tale that her people deserved.
Fleur growled in irritation, her head and heart at conflict, pushing back and forth at each other and driving the young Veela to anguish. Thus, her pacing.
Outside her window, the sound of an avian screech shook Fleur from her inner torment, and she turned to look; it reminded her of her mother the few times the older Veela had lost control of her anger. However, it was not a Veela that was the source of the screech, it was an ordinary, if not magnificent, eagle hovering above the shore of the lake, eyes cast downward in focus.
As if spellbound, Fleur gazed at the bird of prey, knowing in the back of her mind what was about to happen, but still finding it necessary to watch and confirm. Sure enough, the eagle gave another piercing cry and dove at the water, talons scraping the surface and grasping for its goal, but it rose back into the air without its prize.
Fleur couldn't help but feel disappointed but continued watching the eagle to see what would happen next. She could almost feel the eagle's fury as it circled the lake, its powerful wings pushing against the air as it gained altitude until it paused again, hovering. Its single-minded focus was undaunted by its previous failure as its confident eyes scanned the water for its next meal.
Fleur held her breath. The wind seemed to calm, and the echoes of her thoughts had been all but quieted, all that was left was the eagle and its prey. In an instant it happened. Another cry, another dive, but this time the great bird was victorious, a writhing silvery fish caught firmly in its claws.
Fleur could not help but cheer for the predator as the eagle gave one last victory call before soaring high into the air, flying back to the mountains that cradled the far side of the lake.
Fleur watched it depart with renewed enthusiasm and a firm determination had settled her bewildered thoughts. Her instincts were telling her to trust Harry for a reason, it was time to trust herself. Even if she were wrong about Harry, she would live to hunt again and she would find the true air elemental regardless.
Her mind made up, she strode to the door of her bedroom with conviction, waving her wand to smooth out the wrinkles in her robe and tie her hair back into a functional yet alluring braid. She would secure the fairy tale ending that her grandmother, her people, that Fleur Delacour deserved.
The Tree by the Lake
Two figures met under the gnarled white branches of a birch tree, and surrounded by brilliant orange and rose red leaves, they regarded each other in silent reverence. Both bore the telltale signs of a restless, sleepless night, yet they drank in each other's presence as if parched.
From the moment they laid eyes on each other, any doubts either champion had harbored were dashed. Blue met green in a flash of emotion, communicating soundlessly of their respective burdens and the shared jubilation that they were no longer struggling alone.
They slowly gravitated towards each other until they were at arms-length, pulled together as if by a magnet, yet this connection was unacknowledged by either teen. Despite the necessity they faced, neither seemed in any hurry to speak, content to simply be with each other.
The wind whistled through the leaves above them, pushing a fair few from their branches and sending them on a floaty, meandering trip to the ground. One leaf in particular rode on the wind until it seemed to pause above a messy head full of wild raven-black hair, before it dropped, nestling itself in the wavy dark tresses.
Without a word or thought, Fleur Delacour reached out with a gentle hand and plucked the leaf out of its nest.
Harry Potter's eyes widened in surprise, and Fleur couldn't help but giggle, and with that the spell was broken. Their magic swirled together in greeting, fire and lightning, igniting in quite different fashions but sparking together just the same.
"I should 'ave just left it zhere, it looked at 'ome in zat tangled mess you call 'air." Fleur was waving the offending leaf with a coyness that was only matched by her teasing grin.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll be sure to straighten it before we meet next time."
Fleur grimaced, "Please don't 'Arry, you'd look like one of zose 'orrible-looking muggle rock stars."
With twinkling eyes reminiscent of his mentor, Harry pursed his lips in imitation of a certain Rolling Stone and strutted once or twice for good measure. He spoke in an exaggeration of his own British accent, "What, love, this doesn't do it for you? Feel free to get off of my cloud then, little bird."
"First of all, 'Arry, do not call me zat again, it is offensive to my culture. Second," she punctuated this statement with two raised fingers, "Zat was without a doubt, ze worst zing I 'ave witnessed. I must soap my eyes."
"Bleach, Fleur. I must bleach my eyes."
"Excusez moi, have I offended your Breetish sensibilities?" Two simultaneous voices, two identical teasing grins met each other, followed by two pink blushes, and a chorus of two ringing out with laughter.
"Am I really zis predictable already, 'Arry?"
"I don't know about predictable; you caught me by surprise yesterday, that's for sure." With that the air between the two sobered a bit as they were reminded of the gravity of their situation.
Fleur sighed, "I may 'ave surprised myself as well." After a moment, she gestured questioningly with her off hand towards the trunk of the tree, and with a nod Harry followed her to a sitting position. As they both leaned against the wood, they subconsciously scooted towards each other so that their legs and shoulders touched as they gazed out over the lake.
The sun was out in full force and had fully chased away the fledgling snowflakes, yet the November air was still frigid and the gentle breeze chilled both teens.
"Fleur?"
"Oui, 'Arry?"
"Do you think you could make us a fire?"
Fleur was surprised at the suggestion at first, but soon turned to the boy next to her, their faces oh so close she smiled. "Of course, 'Arry."
A snap of her fingers. The ignition of a spark. The glowing warmth of a private fire soothed the two and once again they were content.
Her magic is so full of life, thought Harry, as he stared transfixed at the ball of fire in Fleur's outstretched palm. He felt as if it was calling out to him, begging him to join. He reached out his own hand and held it close to the flames as if to be warmed and he felt his magic push . Several sparks began to dance around his fingers and intermingle with the fluttering tendrils of fire.
Harry swallowed as his magic and heart rejoiced as one at the joining of their energies. He turned toward the beautiful French witch, her face pink and just as enraptured by their intermingling elements. And oh, so close.
Harry felt as if he were dreaming as voice spoke out in a whisper, "Do you feel it too, Fleur?"
Bright blue eyes met his own green. "Oui, 'Arry. I did not zink it would be like zis. I zought it would be more…" She paused, searching for the word, "Airy?"
Harry tossed his head back and laughed, "Airy? What because I'm a sky-elemental? Or 'Arry?" he imitated her French accent, "Because my name is Harry?"
Fleur blushed and the fire in her palm flared, "Don't make fun of me, especially since I already 'ave my fire out. It would be so easy to roast zis ' Arry au poive as you so delicately put it."
One hand was raised in capitulation, but he instinctively kept his other hand close to hers. "Truce, truce, I surrender!"
Her eyes narrowed in mock anger, "Now you are making fun of ze French? Tu es impossible ! I will 'ave you know zat ze French military record is among ze most respectable in ze 'istory of ze world."
"Now you're just being silly, you know that's not what I meant."
"Now 'ow am I supposed to know what you mean when you've proven to be such an uncouth, barbaric prankster?" Fleur's reprimanding words were contradicted by her wide smile as she rubbed her shoulder against Harry's own.
"Oh I'm sorry, have I offended your French sensibilities?" Again, they spoke with two voices joined into one, and again they giggled, and their heads came to rest against each other.
"Now I'm the predictable one, huh?" Harry didn't have to speak very loud, and he could feel Fleur nod in agreement against his own head. Her hand was still holding the fire, but Harry's had wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her towards him, the sparks that he was producing embraced her and danced on her skin and she gasped at the sensation.
She leaned into his touch, "I never could 'ave predicted zis. Ze one person I was looking for, 'e was 'ere in Britain of all places. No wonder my Mamie never found what she was looking for. It was a stroke of luck zat we were picked for ze tournament together. Would we 'ave even spoken if zis were not ze case?"
A thought occurred to Harry, which in it of itself was a miracle considering his circumstances, "Speaking of strange coincidences, do you remember how I told you I first discovered my connection to the sky last week during that storm?"
Fleur nodded, her eyes closed in contentment. "Oui, you said you 'felt ze intent of ze sky to give life to ze Earth.' Zat was when I first knew you weren't ze typical uncivilized man I am used to dealing with.' She smiled, "You 'ave a little poet inside you, 'Arry."
Harry chuckled and the sound sent vibrations through Fleur's body, the sparks caressing her arm jolted with excitement at her complement. She knew that there was something important they should be talking about, but it didn't matter in this moment. All that she could feel was the wizard holding her, how right it felt to have him close. Oh, so close.
"Well, thank you, glad to know my artistic talents are up to your standards."
"Don't push it."
Harry smiled, his heart in his throat at their intimacy, but he continued. "Well, that night, when I shot that lightning, it was right under this tree."
He felt her jolt in surprise and their heads separated for a moment. She had turned her face toward his, and he could see a wide array of emotions play out like a motion picture in her eyes; shock, realization, warmth, affection, and joy as droplets of tears sprang from the corners of her eyes.
Fleur slowly raised her hand to Harry's face, brushing his cheek with her thumb as if to make sure he really existed. With a whisper that quietly escaped from the very depths of her soul she exclaimed.
"It was you."
Time stood still. She could see Harry's own realization dawn like twin stars in his own eyes, and their magic froze in anticipation. His face was quite striking, she thought absently. Deep, kind green eyes, hair wild like a storm, lips full and gorgeous and… Oh. So... Close.
Their magic erupted in triumph as the two finally kissed, Fleur's hand reaching into his thick locks of black hair and grasping him tight, her act of passion only matched by Harry's own; his arm pulling her tightly against his body as if trying to encompass her whole being. Fire and lightning encircled them in a multi-colored firework display sending shivers down both of their intertwined bodies.
They lost track of time, kissing, nipping at each other's lips and necks, and giggling, each unwilling to leave the other's arms now that they had found each other. The reasons for their personal connection could no longer be attributed to their respective heritages; their magic had already met, danced, and found each other worthy. As if ordained by past lives, their familiars and energies had loved each other before the two even realized, and now they reveled in that truth.
Harry was sure that he had never been quite so happy, and the stress of the last day melted away into an afterthought as he was miraculously embraced by this wonderful person. He found himself in the midst of a familiar act, his fingers weaving soothing patterns in Fleur's hair like a comb. Hadn't it been in a braid at one point? When did that change?
Fleur could only sigh in contentment at the feeling of her partner's strong fingers intertwined with her blonde tresses. What exactly had she been so worried about this morning? Oh well, it didn't matter in this moment. Deciding that she couldn't sit idly by while Harry turned her into a melted lump of putty, she devised a counterattack. What she could do wasleave a trail of kisses down his face and into his neck, so that's exactly what she did.
"Fleur, that tickles!"
"Zat is too bad, you 'ave to make up for taking advantage of zis poor Veela."
"Me? You're the one who kissed me! Besides, you're the older one, you're supposed to be responsible." He stuck his tongue out.
"Zat is simply a lie, 'ow dare you accuse me like zis?" She poked him in the ribs and the armpits to accentuate her point causing him to cry out in undignified protest, "You evidently could not control your teenage urges. It is a disease zat is rampant amongst your people."
Harry grabbed her hands as she tried to prod him again and fixed her with a faux stern glare. "Fleur, I'm warning you, don't poke me again."
She stuck her own tongue out, "And what exactly are you planning on doing about zis if I do?"
With a challenging smirk Harry sent a jolt of his magic through his hands and commanded it on a whim, and his bright green sparks danced about his partner's sides and chest until she was bursting with laughter.
"Non, stop 'Arry, zis is enough! No more, I beg of you," Fleur was gasping for breath in between peals of laughter.
Deciding to take mercy on the captivating Veela in his arms, Harry loosened his hold on her hands and stopped his outpouring of magic, his sparks fading away rapidly. Fleur sighed in relief and collapsed into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder.
They stayed like that for a long time; Harry had missed most of his classes for the day at this point, but he couldn't bring himself to care. If it were not for a privacy charm that he had cast hours before when he hadn't been, ahem, distracted, he and Fleur would surely be the center of attention for the many students enjoying the sunny day on the school grounds. Thank God for magic.
The sun had already reached its zenith and was beginning to fall on the far side of the horizon when Fleur sighed from her position and Harry could hear her muffled voice, "As much as I love zis, 'Arry, we do need to get up at some point."
"What gave you that idea?" He grumbled half-heartedly.
"I still 'ave not told my family about you. Zey will need to know."
Harry grimaced, glad that Fleur could not see. That was exactly what every young man wanted to hear after spending hours vigorously snogging his new love interest. However, it would be smart to be diplomatic about this. "You can take Hedwig, you'd be doing her a favor, she doesn't get to deliver many messages."
Fleur disentangled herself from Harry's chest and with a smile, gave him pecks on the nose, the lips, then his chin. "Zat is kind of you, but I 'ave another plan. I will be taking a portkey to France later zis evening and returning before nightfall wiz my mother and grandmother."
Harry looked to Fleur in askance, "What do you think they'll think of me… Us?"
"Well, what do you zink of us?" Fleur made a point to look directly into his eyes, her own sharp blue gaze seeming to pierce his heart.
Now that was a loaded question if there ever was one. Harry's first thought was to hide his feelings, to play it cool for God's sake, he didn't want to come off as desperate. Not to mention the complications it would bring about with his newfound duties as the vehicle of salvation for the Veela race.
Another ugly part of his psyche wanted to push her away, not believing himself worthy of her affection; the neglected boy in the broom closet was still a part of him, no matter how hard he tried to outgrow it.
Then Viktor's words echoed in his head, 'be honest, don't hide, and listen.' With Gryffindor resolve he decided that he would not be falling on his face again today. He took a deep breath.
"I… Haven't been the same since I met you. Well, since Prongs met you… Well, you know it's confusing, but we'll figure out that part later." Great start Potter, he thought as he suppressed the urge to hide behind a rock, but he persevered.
"I feel alive when I'm around you. I think you're wonderful and brave, and you make it easy for me to be myself. You're beautiful and kind, and I like that you're not afraid to be angry at me and can treat me like an equal. I am captivated by your passion and I find myself just wanting to be around you, to get to know you."
His face fell somewhat, "But… I'm also scared. I have this tremendous responsibility that you've entrusted me with, and first and foremost, I don't want to let you down in that regard. I am worried that if we're together it would complicate whatever my duties to your people are. It makes me want to put some distance between us."
Fleur broke eye contact, fighting tears from forming and her lips giving the barest of quivers, but was prepared to agree with him, for her people. But Harry wasn't finished.
With confidence he didn't know he had he reached out with both hands to cup her cheeks and gently tilted her face so that they were making precious eye contact, and he was on the brink of losing himself in the cerulean blue sky of her eyes.
"Then I remember your story. Your great-grandmother was married to the last sky elemental."
Fleur's eyes widened, unbridled emotions raging behind her gaze. Harry could not tell what she was thinking, but the only way forward was to speak his mind and hope the beautiful witch in his arms would understand.
"I know we barely know each other, like, I know that on a logical level. But I also know what my magic is saying and from what I can tell, it is the purest, truest version of myself that there will ever be, and I know the same goes for yours. And it's telling me that I am where I should be, that I could dance with you forever, that I've found my partner, I…"
He was silenced with a blazing kiss; Fleur had again pulled him by his hair and he could feel her fingers trembling as he wrapped her in his arms. He could feel her tears against his face, and he knew that his own eyes were far from dry as well.
Fleur, hands still in his hair, pulled his face away from hers and spoke with a shaking voice, "Silly boy, I am Veela . I 'ave known zat zis is true since I invited you into my room. I would not 'ave done it if I 'ad not seen your goodness, zat was enough for me. Zat it was your stag merely confirmed it for me; I wanted to wait, but in zat moment you told me, I could not 'elp myself. I knew it was you."
Harry laughed and cried, simply overcome with emotions he had never felt, and the only thing he could think of doing was to hold Fleur tight. Fleur Delacour simply felt like home in his arms, and if he ever had anything to say about it, that was where she would stay.
Beauxbatons Carriage
Night had come again, and it brought with it another furious storm. In the daylight, the thick grey clouds would have dominated the sky, obscuring the light from the sun and covering the land in shadow. However, the only signs of their presence in the dark night sky was the absence of the stars and the moon, the rolling thunder that rumbled in the distance, and the dense sheets of pouring rain.
Sheltered from the storm in a cozy sitting room in the Beauxbatons sat three individuals, their impassioned French matching the intensity of the weather outside. Fleur had returned from France with her mother, Apolline, and her grandmother, Fey, in tow. Two had not stopped arguing since they had arrived, and one presided over the events deep in thought.
The three were unmatched in their beauty, perfection personified across three generations and they resembled a disassembled Russian doll in their similarities. Each had the same startlingly enchanting blue eyes and shimmering silvery-blonde hair, though Apolline's figure was the slightest bit fuller, and Fey's features were a touch greyer.
Fleur's frustrated cries rang out, "Just give him a chance, Maman, you will see that I exaggerate nothing!"
Apolline was in a similar state. "Your grandmother has been filling your head with foolish stories of the past, and you've let this silly infatuation cloud your judgement, my daughter, I taught you better."
"Get off your nest, Mother! Just because you gave up hope does not mean that it is not possible! I know what I felt, and I trust him."
"That is enough ! I will not have you talk to me this way, you have crossed the line by bringing us here tonight and you will not step further by insulting me!"
Suddenly, a soothing voice from the eldest of the three quieted the two angry veela."If you were so adamantly against this, then why did you come, Apolline?"
Seeing that her daughter had no retort Fey continued, "My dear daughter. You did not raise a fool, I know this, because I did not raise one either. If our Flower feels that she has stumbled upon something grand, I choose to listen. Will you?"
The redness from Apolline's face faded as she regarded her mother's kind but stern eyes. "You are right, of course Maman. I simply worry for you; I do not wish for you to suffer the heartbreak again."
Fey's wry chuckle rang like a bell, "Trust me my daughter, one more disappointment will not undo me, and I have a feeling that my granddaughter would not bring us here on a whim. In the worst case, we will meet the rare man that has intrigued our dear Flower here." She turned to Fleur, "Now, mon petit , tell me. Is he handsome?"
Fleur' blushing face told both older Veela what they needed to know, and the tension slowly evaporated like smoke from the dying embers of a fire. Apolline and Fey laughed at the younger woman's embarrassment, and for a moment, things were as they should be.
A knock at the door drew their attention, it was time. Fleur's nervousness began to mount again, she had been so sure of what she believed, but now her trust would be put to the ultimate test. Was Harry really the one?
Apolline, eager to find the truth, was the first to rise from her seat to open the door to their sitting room. Standing in the hall was Harry Potter, hair dark and wild as ever, a slight look of surprise in his glimmering green eyes. He had evidently been expecting the youngest Delacour, but now he came face to face with the icy cool countenance of her mother.
Regaining his proverbial footing, Harry spoke, "Hello, Mrs. Delacour. It's a pleasure." He reached out awkwardly to shake her hand.
Apolline stared down her nose at the offered hand and Harry suddenly knew exactly where Fleur had gained her haughty outer shell. Nonetheless, Apolline accepted the gesture and replied, "'Arry Potter. My daughter 'as told us much about you. Come in." Her words were pointed like a shower of hailstones.
As he walked into the sitting room, he locked eyes with Fleur and she gave him a small, apologetic smile. However, it was the oldest Veela sitting in a plush armchair in the corner that called out, "Apolline, stop intimidating ze boy!" She turned to Harry with a warm smile, "Please sit dear, and forgive my daughter. She 'as not ze most open-mind about your claims, but I would very much like to meet with you."
Harry nodded appreciatively at the older witch and returned her smile as he sat across from her. "You must be Fleur's grandmother. Fleur has told me of your story, and you have my sympathies. I know what it's like to grow up without my parents as well."
Apolline remarked snidely, "It was a story zat she was very unwise to tell," but a sharp look from the Veela matriarch quieted her.
"No matter, young 'Arry, it was long ago. I do appreciate your kindness, 'owever. Oh, and do call me Fey."
The four sat in an awkward silence for a few moments, none quite sure how to begin. The musical sounds of raindrops falling against the window, the ground, and the trees outside were all that could be heard for a few moments, until the youngest Veela spoke.
"'Arry, why don't you tell zem of what you feel with ze magic around me. Possibly around zem too?" She spoke slowly, as if unsure of the words coming out of her mouth.
Harry could see the older Veela women studying him with interest, and he turned to Fleur with a look of familiarity. For a moment it was as if they were the only two people in the room. "Well, you know what I feel from you Fleur, the fire of your magic is warm and comforting, and mesmerizing. It's like a campfire on a cool Autumn day."
Apolline scoffed and spoke to her daughter in French, "I see why he has caught your interest, Fleur. You always had a thing for the poetically inclined."
This caught Harry's attention and he turned to the older witch with a sharp focus that surprised her. "And you, Mrs. Delacour, do not trust me." 'Be honest, don't hide, and listen,' he thought as he gathered the courage to say what was on his mind.
"Your irritation flares every time I open my mouth; it is visible on your face but even more so in the cold blue flames of your magic. It is beautiful as well, but it is more contained than your daughter's, less passionate. You may not believe me, but I promise that I do not make my claims lightly."
Chiming laughter pulled his attention away from the steaming Apolline Delacour, and he turned to Fey. She winked at him coyly.
"And moi, Mr. Potter?" Despite her light-hearted tone there was an intensity in her eyes that he had not been present before.
He took in the countenance of the eldest Veela. "And you, Fey… I don't see much of anything. You are warm, but you have no fire about you, and I don't sense any of your feelings and feel only the barest trickle of magic."
Fey raised an eyebrow and gave him a wry smile. "Is zat so?"
Suddenly it was everywhere . A flash of bright pink light, more intense than an inferno and more captivating than even Dumbledore's rainbows, and all other magic in the vicinity was drowned out by Fey Celine's energy. It sang to him as a heavenly chorus, begging him to drink in the appearance of the older witch and wrapped around him as a lover would, tempting him with a tantalizing beckoning finger. The sweet scent of caramel overwhelmed him, he stared forward with glazed eyes, wanting nothing more than to please the woman in front of him.
But then, he stopped. The aura was no less powerful, Fey was no less enchanting, yet it was the magic itself that had his attention now. It swirled around the woman, a pleasantly mild heat that shimmered and glowed pinks, yellows, and oranges, and he could not help but look around the room in awe.
As he turned, he locked eyes with Fleur, and gave her his most brilliant smile, his eyes shining in warmth and affection. With a burst of tingling electricity in his chest, he could see his emotions reflected in her beautiful face as well.
As suddenly as it began, it receded, the room less saturated with magic, yet he was still spellbound by the sight of one Fleur Delacour.
Fey's laughter broke him out of his trance. "Well, zat proves zat you at least can perceive our magic. Any other man would 'ave crawled on 'ands and knees to me, a slave to 'is lust. But you… You looked around me, and what is more, you looked to our Flower. Zat should not 'ave been possible, ze thought of any other woman should 'ave paled in comparison."
Harry couldn't help but look back at Fleur, and they shared a quiet, knowing smile.
Fey continued, gazing at the two with affection. "At ze very least, you two 'ave a very special bond zat will not break under any normal means." She looked past them for a moment, lost in time. "I… It reminds me of ma Mama et mon Papa…"
Apolline had sat in private contemplation; she had not been blind to the young wizard's impressive display, and her own heart warmed at what her daughter had found. Yet she still had her reservations.
"Maman, does this really mean that he is who they think he is? Could he really be the sky elemental that you have been looking for?"
Fey broke out of her own trance and looked to her daughter with a hint of a challenge. "There is only one way to find out, non?"
Alright, there we go! Some thoughts about this chapter from my POV
-This story has a whole lot of plot crammed into a little bitty body, so I honestly think the pacing is off. Definitely has to do with me not having a plan for this story, but I've still loved writing it so far
-I wanted to stay away from the whole Veela Bond type of thing, but I also needed an excuse for them to be all lovey dovey with each other after not much interaction, hopefully the compromise was believable
-Fey is the old French grandma that I never knew I needed in my life