"I don't know if I'm going to get this," Harry said, groaning in frustration as he trod on Fleur's toes. Again.
"It is okay," she said, leading him back to the center of the empty classroom they had co-opted for his lessons. "That is why we are not wearing our shoes, remember?"
He had arrived that evening as she had asked, only a handful of days before the Yule Ball. She had stacked all the desks at the back of the room. When he opened the door to find her standing in the middle of the floor, barefoot, he could only goggle at her. She wore a light robe as well, rather than the heavy cloak he had often seen her in, and she wore her hair tied behind her head with a simple black ribbon.
"Are you ready?" she asked, inviting him forward with a wave of her hand.
"I suppose so." He stared down at her bare feet. "Aren't your feet cold?" No sooner had the question left his lips than he realised he was beginning to sweat beneath his heavy robes.
"Hogwarts is not the…coziest of winter locations," she explained while he removed the heavy outer layer of his robes, leaving the normal one underneath. "I am not fond of winter," she said, gesturing to one of the frosted windows along the side wall. "While back home it can get quite cold, especially at night, it just never seems to stop here. It is as though it will keep going until we all freeze to death. Since I prefer to be warm, I have cast several warming charms around the room and on the floor."
She pointed down to the bottom of his robe, then offered him an embarrassed smile. "If you do not mind, please take off your shoes as well. Anyone who is learning how to dance will inevitably tread on their partner's feet. This way, it will not hurt."
The initial burst of mild indignation at her assumption was put swiftly to bed, as she had been correct in her prediction.
"Once more," she said after they had reset in the middle of the room. "Remember to count aloud if you are losing track of our steps."
He nodded, trying to force the sensation of her warm waist beneath his hand from his mind. He looked down at their feet and began counting. It was far easier to keep track of their steps that way, rather than looking up into her eyes, or directly ahead, awkwardly staring at her chest and shoulders.
"One, two, three-" he began under his breath. He stepped forward with his left foot, remembering to prompt her backward with his hand that rested on her waist. "One, two, three-" If he could push the distractions from his mind, the simple six-step movement she had taught him wasn't too challenging. The difficulty lay with forgetting the warmth beneath his hands, the sky-blue eyes that stared down at him, or the faint wisps of cinnamon that drifted to him on the steps where they were closest.
"Well done," she said after they finished their tenth flawless set in a row. Well, flawless in that he hadn't stepped on her foot even once. "You are a quick study."
He stepped back, nodding. "It's not as bad as I thought it was going to be," he said, rubbing his hands together in an effort to return the heat that had dissipated on their parting. He realized his feet were beginning to feel a chill as well.
A small squeal from Fleur told him she had noticed the same and she dashed for her wand. The rosewood wand rested on her folded cloak on a chair beneath one of the windows. Two warming charms later, they were back in their shoes and warm robes.
"I quite enjoy dancing," she said. "On the rare occasions I am able to participate, anyway."
"I thought it was going to be a lot worse," he said, straightening up as he finished tying his shoes. "I bet it'll be easier with some music. More fun too."
"It is," she answered, leading him out of the classroom. "You seem to be a natural." She looked over and smiled at him. "Perhaps the Ball will not be as bad as we are afraid it will be."
"Maybe not," he agreed. Though, he wouldn't have said no to more than one practice lesson.
"Then I will look forward to it," she said with a smile. "Goodnight, 'Arry."
He bid her goodnight and stared after her as she walked away to return to the Beauxbatons carriage. Thoughts and emotions whirled violently inside of him, though, as usual, he managed to keep them from his face. It was lucky she couldn't tell what he was feeling. He doubted it'd be a pleasant experience for her. He turned to make his way back to Gryffindor tower, the storm of thoughts settling into a small feeling of pride. He was the one who got to take Fleur Delacour to the Yule Ball, after all.
XxX
The final days until the Ball flashed by, dragging Harry along with them whether he was prepared or not. Ron had grown increasingly agitated as the twenty-fifth drew nearer. He hadn't had any luck with the girls he had asked to go with him to the Ball, and though he didn't say it, Harry could see the small spikes of envy directed at him whenever the topic arose. Hermione had been little help, her already high-strung attitude reaching new heights as she sifted through a half-dozen books that had even a bare mention of wizard dances.
Ron and Harry stood facing away from each other in their dorm room, each pulling on the final garments of their dress robes. Dean, Neville, and Seamus had left the two stragglers to finish on their own.
"Ruddy hell," Ron grumbled, swiping his hands down across his chest in a futile effort to make the large puff of frills lay flat.
Harry pulled the last item from his garment box, a small dark green tie that snaked itself out of his fingers and up his arm to tie itself around his neck in a sleek, simple bow-tie. He slid out of the room once he had finished, leaving Ron to his muted swears.
Neville waited for him in the common room, alternating between sitting and standing every few seconds. He shot Harry a nervous grin, sitting down on the edge of one of the cushioned chairs near the fire. Harry joined him, opting to lean against the back of one of the chairs, rather than risk wrinkling his robes. He somehow doubted Fleur would show up with a single thread out of place. He wanted to be as close to presentable as he could manage.
A door from the dorms slammed closed and Fred and George thundered down the stairs, offering Harry a simultaneous wink as they strode by, wearing identical robes. Next out was Lavender, who, perhaps unsurprisingly, wore a sleek dress the color of her namesake. She waved to Harry and Neville as she passed and slipped out the portrait hole, the click of her heels cutting off as the Fat Lady swung closed behind her.
Hermione joined them next, the red flush of embarrassment visible beneath the makeup she wore for the special occasion. Her dress wasn't nearly as form-fitting as Lavender's, flowing out at the waist in a waterfall of off-blue fabric. Most impressive was her hair, which she had somehow tamed into a reasonable bun at the back of her head.
"You look quite nice," she said lightly as she approached, though her voice trembled with nerves. "So do you, Neville. Are you ready?"
Neville nodded and his gaze darted over to the stairs to the boy's dorm. "S-shouldn't we wait for Ron?"
"I suppose we should," Hermione said. "I hope he doesn't take long."
A few minutes later he trudged down the stairs, the lace at his neck no less ridiculous for his prolonged ministrations.
"Well," Hermione said, her voice uncharacteristically high. "We had better get going!"
XxX
The four of them heard the gathering students outside the Great Hall long before they saw them. Indiscernible conversation reverberated up the halls as they walked. They turned the final corner to find a milling mass of students, each one in various states of fancy dress. Green and red streamers floated through the air, bending and folding themselves into various Christmas shapes. Amused laughter floated out of the crowd of students as confetti lifted itself off the floor only to rain upon the ball-goers again.
"That's pretty cool," Neville said as three of the green ribbons spun themselves together to form a floating Christmas tree. Ron grunted a reply, though his face had relaxed while he took in the impressive display.
Harry stared out at the assembled crowd. It was mostly made up of older students he recognized but couldn't name. They talked, laughed, and spun to show off their fancy dress to their friends. Movement on an older girl's dress caught his eye, and to his astonishment, the lace at the hem of her dress began to undulate across the fabric, weaving into different patterns as it moved.
He was pulled from his admiration by the distinctive sound of Professor McGonagall calling his name.
"Mr. Potter, this way please!" She stood out in the mass of students, not only for the years she held over them, but for the fact that she wore exactly the same robes as she did every day: a spartan black robe with a simple pointed black hat. "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Mr. Longbottom, please wait here with the other students until the doors are opened."
She led Harry away from his friends and around a corner that Harry vaguely recalled leading to the dungeons. The other Champions and their dates were waiting for him there. Cedric stared into the middle distance, flanked by Cho Chang. Both wore black robes with complimentary golden accents woven throughout. Cho's long dark hair was braided loosely, small golden baubles intertwined with her tresses.
Krum stood further down the hall with his date. His face was a picture of indifference above a fine set of blood-red robes. Next to him, wearing a complementary dark red dress, was an attractive brown-haired girl that Harry had not seen before. She seemed well-matched for Krum though, as she too seemed to wish she were anywhere else.
They stood in the hall, and then Harry's attention focused to a single point.
Fleur waited for him, standing off to the side with her hands clasped in front of her. Silvery threads were interwoven in her gray satin dress, turning the plain color into a shimmering dance as the light of the hallway reflected off its surface. Her hair glowed in the light, an effect only heightened when she beamed at him. The long fabric of her dress rippled as she stepped forward. It was not immodest and clung lightly to her figure. A lace band reached up and wrapped around her left shoulder, while the right was bare. Above it all, she wore a small nervous smile.
He shifted as he stared, suddenly feeling overdressed in his triple-layered robes and the sight of her spellbound him. He couldn't seem to breathe, let alone speak.
Professor McGonagall left as Fleur stepped up to Harry, who hadn't moved from where he'd frozen.
"We do not really match…" she said in greeting, her blue eyes scanning Harry's robes, then flitting over to the other two couples.
She turned back to him, her eyes narrowed as she stared. After a minute of close inspection, she produced her wand from behind her back and waved it across herself. As she did, the silvery color shifted into a deep green that perfectly matched the accents in Harry's outfit.
"Very impressive," Professor McGonagall said as she returned from the now-quiet corridor. "The control required for a gradual shift like that is not easily attained. Well done."
"Thank you," Fleur said, a faint blush touching her cheeks before she turned back to Harry. "That is better, even if it does not highlight my hair as much anymore."
"It's…good," he finally managed. He had the presence of mind to kick himself internally, but he still couldn't come up with a more well-thought-out reply.
"Champions," Professor McGonagall called, an official cast to her voice. "It is time. Please line up and follow me."
Harry swallowed as he and Fleur took a spot at the head of the line. He stole a glance over to her, and his anxiety settled a little when he found her biting her lip with nervous energy. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. A small, perfect smile appeared on her face and she squared her shoulders as they stopped in front of the open doors to the Great Hall.
A sea of expectant faces stared back at him. He missed the introduction of the Champions for the thundering of his heart in his ears. Fleur grabbed his hand, shocking him back into the moment.
"Are you ready?" she whispered, leading him out onto the floor ahead of the other three couples. When she stopped, she turned, readjusted her grip on his hand, and placed his other on her waist.
"As ready as I'm going to get," he managed, mimicking her deep breathing in an effort to ignore his rising panic.
At a word, the band began playing the opening waltz and Fleur began counting for him under her breath.
"One, two, three-" Thankful for her quiet count, he focused on his feet, now shod and all the more dangerous for it. "One, two, three-"
Their first set of steps completed without incident.
"One, two, three-" He pushed delicately on her waist, steering them in a slow circle.
"One, two, three-"
Cinnamon wafted to him, stronger than it had been during their lesson.
"One, two, three-"
His mind began to clear as he chanced a glance up at Fleur to find her perfect smile gone, replaced by a genuine one.
"One, two, three-"
They spun and the gazes of the other students began to melt away.
"One, two, three-"
His eyes slid out of focus as he gave his attention to her soft count and the careful movement of his feet. The tension left his shoulders and he relaxed. The simple dance filled his mind, only allowing room for the faint touch of cinnamon.
"One, two, th…"
His strange trance was broken when Fleur's count faltered. His vision snapped back into focus to find her staring at him, wide-eyed. He cursed himself, hoping he hadn't stepped on her foot too hard while he hadn't been paying attention.
After a moment, he picked up where she left off. The music hung in the air among the whispers and quiet conversation of the onlookers. Despite her wide-eyed stare, Fleur still followed his gentle prompting, turning as they moved across the floor.
"One, two, three-"
Step forward, then right. Don't step on her toes.
"One, two, three."
The song drifted away, ended by a smattering of applause from the assembled students. Harry echoed a sigh of relief from Fleur, glad to be finished with his requirement for the ball. It hadn't been as bad as he had feared it would be, if only he hadn't…
He snuck a glance over at Fleur and jumped a little in surprise when he found her staring at him with that same curious gaze from the World Cup months ago. He opened his mouth to apologize for whatever he had done when a flood of new dancers moved into the center of the room. Hermione gave a nervous wave as she dragged Neville along behind her, his eyes glazing as he passed Fleur.
"Please feel free to stay with your friends if you would like," Fleur said, leaning down to be heard over the beginning of an up-tempo rock song. "We were only required to do the first dance together." She cast her gaze around them to where a small handful of boys had begun to approach. "I do not wish to be the subject of any further attention, be it adoration or ire. I think I will be leaving now."
"That sounds good to me," he said. "Er, that is, if you want me to come with you. Hermione will want to dance and I don't see Ron. If you want to be alone, I don't mind. Not that you'd need my…" He trailed off as Fleur smiled warmly at him.
"I have spent plenty of time alone, 'Arry," she said, giving him strange chills as her accent ran across his name. "Your company would be most welcome."
She led them through the crowd, ignoring any squawk of surprise or call for her attention with practiced ease. Her hair streamed behind her as she strode on, breaking through the wall of students to the mostly-empty Entry Hall. Krum and his date exited the Great Hall behind them, both striding out the front doors and disappearing down the path to where their ship sat upon the shore of the Black Lake.
Harry and Fleur followed suit, though they stuck nearer to the castle walls, using the building as a windbreak against the winter breeze. Snow dusted the grounds, a thin sheet that still allowed the longer tufts of grass to poke through the top. The stalks of dead grass reached through the blanket of snow like a hand grasping for air, a final rebellious act against the inevitability of the coming winter. Fleur shivered violently and produced her wand, casting a quick warming charm over herself, then Harry. He thanked her, picking up the pace as they passed an amorous couple hidden away in one of the alcoves. By the time they found an unoccupied spot of their own, their faces burned with a mix of embarrassment and the chill air.
The alcove they found had a stone bench sitting inside. Its legs were carved into detailed recreations of griffon's feet, unweathered by its life out in the elements. The arched stone walls offered welcome shelter from the crisp winter wind and the light snow that fell in easy, gusty sweeps. Fleur shivered again as she sat, mumbling a curse before casting a warming charm on the bench, then herself.
Harry shrugged off his outer robe and offered it to her, vague memories of half-heard forbidden television shows guiding his actions. The wind bit at his exposed skin but everything else was covered by multiple layers and he found paradoxical relief in removing the outermost layer. Fleur accepted his offer with a grateful smile and slung it over her exposed shoulders. Though her dress was beautiful, the thin fabric offered little protection, no matter how it glimmered in the moonlight.
They sat in silence for a time, their breath rising out of the alcove to be carried away on a breeze. Fleur's gaze was distant, fixed upon the visible portion of the starry sky. Steps crunching on the snow announced the arrival of another couple before they were visible.
"Well," he said, trying to modulate his voice to sound as normal as he could manage. "That wasn't quite as bad as I expected it to be."
"No. It was not."
Her voice was as distant as her thoughts and the fledgling conversation slipped away.
The snow redoubled its attempts to blanket the grounds, muffling the occasional drifting sounds from inside the castle. He glanced over to Fleur and found her gaze upon the falling snow.
"Sorry if I stepped on your foot in there," he tried again.
His comment grabbed her attention and she turned to him.
"You did not," she said. "Not even once." She considered him for a moment before turning back to face the snow. "I was surprised by something. That is all. You did not step on my foot." A cloud of steam left her parted lips as she let out a sigh that mingled with the occasional stray snowflake that dropped into their alcove. "I had a good time too. I would never have expected to be able to enjoy myself at a ball like that, no matter how briefly. Thank you for coming with me."
"I should be the one saying thanks," he said, rubbing his hands together as an excuse to look away from her intense eye-contact. "I wasn't looking forward to asking someone to the ball."
"Surely it would not be difficult for you to find someone to go with."
"People want to go with the Boy-Who-Lived, not with me," he answered, his voice quiet.
"Ah. I see." She paused a moment before speaking again. "It seems as though you quite like dancing," she observed, her blue eyes still focused on him. The snow had slowed its descent, leaving a pristine blanket across the courtyard in front of them.
He nodded, his mouth turning up in a small smile. "It's sort of fun. I like it when there are steps and rules you can memorize. It makes it hard to mess up. Plus," he added, fighting through the embarrassment growing inside him, "it's nice to get lost in the music…a bit."
She shifted on the bench and stood, holding a hand out to him.
"Once more?"
He stood and took the offered hand, watching as she drew her wand yet again and bounced it three times in the air.
" Melodiam Stabilis." With the final bounce of her wand, the whistle of the wind shifted into a gentle three-beat song.
They spun to the tempo of the wind, the light snow swirling around them as they moved. Harry's cloak billowed out behind Fleur as she spun, though if she noticed the chill wind on her exposed legs and torso, she didn't show it. Their second dance was shorter than the first, the wind tapering away to noise rather than finish its song. They stopped moving and Harry stepped back, his hands going instantly cold for the lack of the warmth from her waist and hand.
She stood still in the lazy snowfall, the snowflakes melting the moment they touched her hair or skin. Moonlight reflected off the new-fallen snow, casting a glimmering light across her dress, and making her hair glow with its luminescent light. He blinked, noting with surprise that she stared back at him, nervously chewing on her lip.
He frowned. "What's wr-"
"I could sense you," she said, her words tumbling from her mouth to fall flat on the silent grounds around them. "During our dance, that is what surprised me. Every time I have seen you, my abilities slid off of you, but for a moment in there…I could sense you."
His thoughts stumbled over one another as he fought the urge to recoil. Even through the hazy fear of vulnerability, he knew such a thing would hurt her. "But I didn't…" he tried, whetting his dry mouth. "My mind didn't go all fuzzy. I didn't start to act strange."
"No…no you did not," she said, the corners of her mouth turning up in a smile. "Even when my allure could latch on to you, it still could not turn your attention to me."
He shrugged, trying and failing to plaster a smile on his face. "I was pretty focused on making sure I was dancing right."
"But you should not have been able to," she said, her smile growing wider, more excited. "There are grown wizards who work in the government that are less accomplished at keeping my allure at bay than you are, and none that I have met can then ignore it when not shielding themselves."
There was nothing to say. Through the tumult inside of his mind and the fear that she could sense it all, he could not find any words.
She straightened, her enthusiasm breaking against his frozen wall.
"I…I am sorry, 'Arry." Her eyes shone wet in the moonlight as she wrapped her arms around her middle. "I promise you that I have not lied to you. I could not sense you before and I have never encountered anything such as this." Her speech grew rapid and her accent thickened. "I could tell you did not like the idea, so I did not wish to keep it from you. I did not want to lose-" she hesitated, her voice wavering. She took in a breath and let it out slowly, the mist rising on the frozen breeze.
He trudged through the molasses of his mind. His thoughts were a mess, his heart beat against his chest in what felt like an escape attempt. Inside the prison that his secret had built inside him, he raged at himself.
She couldn't read his mind. And she could only read his emotions for one small moment. But most importantly, she had told him the truth. There were precious few that he trusted to do that and half as many who did so on purpose. He could fight through the fear and phantom pains to reassure her. To say anything.
"I am sorry," she repeated, her voice no longer tremulous, but flat. "I had hoped that what I am would not-"
"It's okay," he managed, his words alien to his ears. "I don't…It's not your fault."
Her mouth snapped shut and she stared at him, her arms dropping to her side.
"You can't…sense me now?"
She shook her head, her hair swaying behind her with the motion. "I promise that I will tell you the moment it happens again."
"Thanks," he said, blowing out a shaky breath that fogged his glasses. "I'm sorry I…It's a little…"
"It is okay. I am aware of how I am an…invasion of privacy."
He frowned up at her, his glasses slowly clearing. "It's not your fault," he repeated. "It's not like you…turned it on, or something. Did you?"
"No," she said with a small smile. "I would give anything to control my abilities."
She lifted her hands, frowning at them for a moment before letting them fall back to her sides. She shivered and produced her wand, waving over herself, then again over the cloak which she handed back to him once she had finished. Wisps of steam rose from her exposed skin, casting her in reflected ethereal moonlight. She smiled at him and motioned for him to follow her as she turned toward the entrance to the school.
They walked without speaking, their footfalls crunching in the ankle-deep snow. It wasn't until the din of the ball-goers had become audible that Fleur breached the silence.
"I had a nice time," she said. "Worrying you not-withstanding, of course."
"I did too. And, er…same, I suppose. Sorry."
"I grew used to people being either afraid or jealous of me years ago," she said, her voice still light, but carrying an undertone of steel. "I have experienced far worse reactions than that."
"That doesn't seem very fair."
"No," she said, stopping as they reached the entrance to the castle. "Which is why I appreciate your understanding, 'Arry." She turned to look over her shoulder, where the twinkling lights of the Beauxbatons carriages shone through the persistent snowfall. "I believe I shall retire for the evening," she said, turning back to him. "Social gatherings are…tiring, no matter the company."
He nodded his agreement, though he had expected to feel a much greater sense of relief once he had been finished for the night.
"Thank you for a wonderful night," she said. "When I heard of this event, I had expected to loathe it. I am glad to have been wrong."
"Me too," was all he could manage.
In the light that spilled out from the castle, he could see snowflakes melting as they hit her shoulders and face, one vanishing as it fell upon her lips. He swallowed and focused on her forehead, not trusting himself to stare at her any longer.
"Good night, 'Arry."
"Good night," he said, and watched, rooted to the spot, as she returned to the carriages. A sharp wind pushed him through the doors and into the relative warmth of the castle. The fire in the common room called to him.
It was a long walk back to Gryffindor Tower but at least it gave him the opportunity to remember how to think.
XxX
Maman,
Something happened at the ball last night, and I wanted to know if it was something you may have encountered before.
You remember when I told you Harry was unaffected by the allure? During the ball, while we were dancing, I could suddenly sense him. And yet, it still did not latch on to him. I was so surprised that I nearly stepped on his toes, and when he noticed, it vanished.
Any ideas?
Love,
F
Merry Christmas!
Apolline Delacour dropped her daughter's letter on the table next to her and breathed out a slow sigh. What she wouldn't give for Sebastian to be home more often for things like this. Every letter Fleur had sent her since she had arrived at Hogwarts had some mention of Harry Potter in them. Apolline wasn't surprised in the least by her daughter's excitement at finding a peer that was unaffected by their Veela abilities. She remembered the multitude of letters she had sent home from Beauxbatons herself when she had first experienced the same. Though, she hadn't had to see that same friend burned near to death in some ridiculous tournament.
She shook her head, attempting to dispel the images Fleur's letter had painted for her. It was no wonder her daughter had been so distressed.
She re-read the short letter before considering her answer. Sure, there had been a handful of people with immunity to her abilities, though most had been Occlumens like Sebastian. She doubted Harry was a fourteen-year-old Occlumens. She thought back to the stories she vaguely remembered at her mother's side, only heard with the scattered attention of a child. Perhaps something could have happened to Harry on that fateful night, so many years ago?
She shook her head and sighed. If she tried to speculate, Fleur would never give Harry a moment's rest. She slipped from the dining room into Sebastian's often unused office and penned her reply from behind his massive mahogany desk.
Fleur,
In your other letters, you at least pretended to care about how I was doing before you told me about Harry. Not even a pretense anymore?
I'm joking, of course. I know full well how special it is to have someone you can be genuine with.
As to your question, I have met a few people that have been unaffected by the Veela Charm but none that happened quite as you described.
Apolline paused in her writing, leaning against the padded back of the chair. She didn't want to mislead her daughter but she also didn't want to caution her and poke the fires of Fleur's curiosity with vague warnings. Making up her mind, she leaned forward to finish.
I am sorry that I'm unable to help you with this. I don't expect that I need to tell you to treasure this friendship and don't let your desire to understand the 'why' of his immunity get in the way of enjoying your time together.
Love always,
-A