Disclaimer: HP isn't mine
AN: Welcome to a silly little non-magic college AU story. This idea came about on the Flowerpot discord and wouldn't let me go until I wrote the whole thing.
Thanks to L3den for the cover art.
Thanks to Proctor_32, Kellar, zamub, and Tahsky for contributing to the original idea (double thanks to Tahsky for providing a few scenes throughout the fic).
Thanks to DJKopper for assisting with rough drafts and some of the nerdy references.
Big thanks to OfficeSloth, who generously took the time out of his day to beta read my garbage and help me improve it.
Last, but most certainly not least, a massive thank you to Foreal the Chronicler for putting this idea into the universe and being instrumental in my drive to continue it. Your constant encouragement and assistance with my rough drafts fueled my creativity like nothing else. You are an absolutely outstanding human being and this fic would only be a fraction of what it is without you.
You can find all these amazing people, and more, on the Flowerpot discord. Come check us out!
discord .gg / f4a9Cg8rpB
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Fleur adjusted her backpack as she leisurely made her way through the row of trees alongside the science building, the gentle breeze caressed her skin. It was one of those perfect days, where you found yourself taking deep breaths to savour the fresh air. She could hear the hustle and bustle of campus all around her, the normal overwrought excitement of the school year in full swing.
Students lounged about the arts building, its old architecture and weathered stone walls, the perfect backdrop as someone painted a landscape for the crowd. Old friends hanging out with each other, eager to have what fun they could before exams. New acquaintances, still getting to know each other, hopeful that they'll form lasting friendships that will carry them through the years.
Fleur hated it.
They'd been back at school for less than two months and it was already brutal for her, every professor said the same thing. They expected great things from her this year, because that's what Fleur Delacour did. She gave academic greatness. No less than perfection, no less than was expected of her. In previous years it hadn't happened so early, the expectations, but this year seemed to be completely different, each new class determined to make her claw her way across the finish line to her career dreams.
As she made her way towards the towering computer center, she grimaced as she recognized the form bounding towards her, a huge smile on her face.
"Fleeeeeur!" shouted Angelina, enveloping her in a tight hug, doing her best to squeeze every last drop of air out of the taller blonde's lungs. After a moment she let go, stepping back and putting her hands on her hips.
"Where've you been, girl? I haven't seen you all week and we share a room!" whined Angelina.
Fleur gave her best friend an apologetic look. She wasn't avoiding her, she really wasn't. Their schedules just didn't mesh well this year and they'd seen little of each other as a result. Fleur had been so focused on classes that she'd yet to put in any real effort to rectify it.
"It's been crazy," explained Fleur, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I've been trying to get ahead of things before we all start drowning in exam prep. How's things?"
Angelina smiled, gripping Fleur's arm tightly as she allowed Fleur to continue walking. Fleur chose not to point out that they were now walking in the direction Angelina had come from…the opposite of whatever her intended destination had been.
"Great! Went to a party off campus last week and it was awesome. They had an actual bartender and the drinks were amazing. It was just about the best thing I've ever done. You should've come with!"
Fleur grimaced slightly. It did not sound like the sort of thing she would have enjoyed.
"I saw your faaaaavorite person while I was there," Angelina continued, "Ran into Percy, was a surprise, really."
The mention of the Weasley pain in her side drew a growl out of her. Percy Weasley. Ugh. The only person in their year who could potentially rival her academically, he'd been a thorn in her side since they'd gotten to the university. He was driven, just as she was, and if she were being honest, brilliant, but he was just so…ugh. It seemed like every professor on campus was watching to see who would be the valedictorian of their class.
"His brother is a freshman this year," explained Angelina, ignoring her obvious irritation. "Some big sportsball player. Supposedly very good."
Fleur raised an eyebrow. "And?"
Angelina gave an innocent look. "And what?"
As they made it to the expansive quad, students lounging or throwing the sportsball, Fleur half turned to her roommate. "You didn't tell me about seeing Percy because you like him. Which one of his brothers did you hook up with?"
Angelina's look of mock hurt was all Fleur needed to know. "Miss Delacour, I'm hurt," she said, throwing herself away from Fleur in an overly dramatic display. "What do you think, I'm some sort of scarlet woman?"
"Yep," said Fleur, popping the end for emphasis.
Angelina huffed and slapped Fleur's arm lightly. "Bitch. But I miiiight have been introduced to his older brother, Bill. Fleur, William's dreamy." Angelina got a predatory glint in her eye. "And he fucks like a god."
"Yeah, that's one of those things we keep to ourselves, in here," said Fleur, tapping her black haired friend's head. "Not share with your roomie."
Angelina laughed in response, giving Fleur's arm another squeeze. "He had to go back to Egypt, unfortunately," she said, with sadness in her voice.
Fleur knew Angelina would forget Bill Weasley's name by the end of the month, so she simply shook her head.
"He's an archaeologist," Angelina continued, "Unearthing tombs and ancient relics." Finally, they had reached the brown stone columns of the computer center, stopping at the foot of its stairs.
"And how much older was he?" Fleur asked with a smirk. Angelina simply glared at her.
"I don't see how that's relevant."
Fleur laughed, her first real laugh in a while, lifting her mood after her first days of classes had been brutal. She patted her friend on the shoulder.
"Too old," she said, before turning away, intent on heading inside.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Angelina called, causing Fleur to look back. "Cedric and his buddies are hosting a party on Friday at Badger have to be there, you've missed all the others, you can't miss this one!" Fleur shook her head. "No, I'm good," she replied, causing her friend to pout.
"C'mon, we're seniors! We've gotta live it up while we still can. Besides, you and Cedric have been over for two years. I promise it won't be awkward!"
Fleur shook her head again. "I can't make any promises."
"Just say you'll think about it. Pleeeeeease?" said Angelina, bringing her hands together in a begging motion.
Sighing, Fleur gave a small nod before turning back around. "I'll think about it," she said over her shoulder, a casual wave behind her as Angelina gave an excited "YES!" that faded as she stepped through the doors.
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Harry sighed, letting his bag drop to the ground with a thump, and plopped onto the couch.
'Comfy couch,' he thought, closing his eyes.
He didn't have long before he had to be back on his feet and off to work, but he wanted a few minutes to himself at least. His first taste of college had been almost overwhelming, professors drilling into them just how unlike high school it was. How they were expected to do better than what they'd done before, make a better effort now that they were adults. With enough homework to make a grown man cry, he'd tried to get everything done while in Ron's dorm, but the redhead had made that impossible.
He loved Ron like a brother, he really did. He'd been Harry's friend for the longest time, seen him through some tough moments, and his family had been amazing, but Ron was just so…Ron. Harry was grateful to his friend for offering his dorm room as a place to study, the downtime between classes and his evening shift didn't leave enough time for him to make his way back to his own place. What had started as a quiet evening of studying ended with him trekking out to the computer center. His sportsball prodigy friend couldn't keep a quiet atmosphere if his life depended on it…
"Ron, can you please turn that music down? I'm trying to study," complained a frustrated Harry from the couch, looking over at his friend as the music blasted from the bluetooth speaker. Ron was currently doing overhead dumbbell presses, which made Harry wonder where Ron had even pulled the dumbbell from. Looking down, the redhead shrugged and gave a wide smile.
"The athlete's gym doesn't open until Saturday, they're not done fixing the water leak, and the community gym is closed until next month," explained Ron. "I gotta keep up with my routine, man! For the team…and the ladies."
Harry rolled his eyes as Ron attempted his smoothest look before lowering his arm and bending over to begin his next set.
"C'mon Harry, let me work out. I promise, once the gym opens up, I'll never do it again and you can use my room to study to your heart's content. Unless I got someone over, of course, don't think you wanna be around for that," added Ron with a smirk.
Harry sighed, "It's fine, you do your thing. I'll just head out for now. I need to go print some things anyway."
He walked over to the computer center, intent on printing out the report he had finished that afternoon before finding a nice corner to study in until his shift. The computer center was impressive, the entire ground floor filled with sleek workstations that students could use, though Harry was less awed by the amount of computers and more grateful they didn't make you pay for printouts.
After finishing his work, he wandered up to the second floor, seemingly dedicated to the IT staff that ran the network and various applications the university relied on to function. It was quiet, peaceful even, the noise of campus fading out, replaced with the soft hum of idling computers, it was relaxing. He didn't see any students, making him briefly wonder if he was supposed to be up there before he shrugged, figuring there'd be a locked door or at least a sign preventing entry if it were so. Across the hall, against the window with the perfect view of the quad, was the couch he found himself on.
Looking down at his bag, Harry chewed his bottom lip, weighing the options in his mind for a split second.
He shouldn't be doing this.
It wasn't the right time or the right place. She just made it so difficult to stop, so enticing to continue.
Harry was enraptured.
Even though he had but a few moments to spare before he would need to leave, moments that would be better used studying, he took the moment to sit in the computer center and read Hermione's latest manuscript.
Pulling out the paperback book, he opened it to where he had left off, instantly being transported to the fascinating and immersive world on the pages. When she had given it to him, he almost cried, giving her the tightest hug he could and repeatedly thanking her, much to her embarrassment. It was everything he'd hoped it would be and more.
He was so engrossed in the book that he didn't even hear the footsteps nor feel the withering glare being directed at him. Didn't hear the annoyed clearing of a throat or the disgruntled noise that followed. It wasn't until she spoke that he was broken from his trance.
"You're on my couch."
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Fleur loved the computer center, though not for the reason most found themselves within its walls. For most, it was a place to hunker down, get work done, or print out a last minute assignment that was due in the next ten minutes. The ground floor was filled with the rhythmic sounds of mouse clicks and keystrokes, a reminder of all the other people neck deep in assignments, just as she was. Fleur, herself, had no need of the computer center, really. She always favored a good pair of headphones and the comfort of her room as the location to complete her work.
No, her destination was on the second floor, the absolute best location on campus. Up there r were the offices for the university's IT staff. She had discovered it during her freshman year, when she'd asked the first person she saw wandering the halls of the floor, for a quiet place. She had to admit, she'd been rather intimidating.
What she found was perfect, it was a peaceful little bubble in the wide gulf that was campus life.
And it was home to her couch.
She had found it just a few weeks into her freshman year here. The combined stress of her immense course load and Angelina being Angelina had driven her from the confines of their dorm in search of quiet refuge. She had stormed out, taking just her laptop and key, wandering around campus until she had somehow ended up on the second floor of the computer center, staring out at the setting sun over the quad, dropping onto the couch positioned in front of the wide window.
It was love at first lounge.
It was her hideaway, her little slice of heaven that seemed like it was built only for her. It was always unoccupied, allowing her to get the peace and quiet she needed, either for working or simply getting out of the dorm while Angelina had yet another man over, her couch welcoming her each and every time. Like an old friend giving her shelter from a storm.
And someone was currently occupying her spot.
Someone was on her couch.
She stared at him for a moment, taking in his appearance. He was unfamiliar to her, which meant he was likely a freshman. Fleur may not like to party with Angelina but that didn't mean she wasn't aware of the who's who on campus. It was expected of her, after all. The mop of messy black hair and baggy clothes, at least one size too big if her keen eye for fashion was correct, was unknown to her. She saw his faded, patched up bag on the floor, right where she would put her own bag, stuffed with books, another clear sign he was new. A freshman.
She couldn't quite make out the book he was reading, but his deep emerald eyes danced across the page, alight with passion and excitement. Whatever he was reading, he was truly enjoying it. She wondered what it was for the briefest moment before banishing the thought, remembering he was currently in claimed space.
She approached him with a determined stride, knowing that it was her territory he had invaded. Stopping just shy of him, she folded her arms across her chest, putting her weight on one hip as she glared at him. It took a moment for her to realize he wasn't paying attention.
She cleared her throat loudly, figuring he wouldn't ignore her again, and yet, he continued to be engrossed in the book. She let out a disgruntled noise. How rude of him! Finally having enough of being ignored, she spoke.
"You're on my couch."
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Harry was pulled from the book by the voice and looked up, instantly freezing. Tall, with silver blonde hair, perfect styling, and an immaculate outfit, she looked as if she would be right at home with any of the most beautiful models in the world. He knew her. Everyone knew her.
Fleur Delacour was looking at him.
Correction, she was glaring at him, with the brightest blue eyes he'd ever seen.
"I'm…I'm sorry?" he asked, unable to comprehend why one of the most popular students in the school was here, now, talking to him, a nobody. She rolled her eyes.
"Every single day since my freshman year, I'm on that couch." She checked her watch, "..You've already taken seven minutes of my time on it, now move, my next class is at six, I'll let you use it then." She was still glaring at him. He blinked twice, wrapping his head around her words.
"Is she serious?" he thought. Not wanting to make any waves, he was good at that, he held his hands up in surrender.
"Fine, fine," he said, but not able to fully mask his irritation."I'll leave you to your couch." He placed the book face down on the couch, fishing around on the floor where his bookmark had fallen. As he leaned back up he noticed she had frozen and her eyes had gone wide. She was staring at the book and pointing. She had only now seen the cover.
Tears at the Edge of an Empire: Nightfall
"What? What is that?" Fleur asked, wide eyed.
"Just a book," he said, purposefully not looking at her, attempting to remain casual as he placed the bookmark and closed it.
"Obviously." she spat out. "What book is it, specifically?" she asked, though it came out at more of a demand.
The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood up and he felt his cheeks flush. He realized that this was probably why he shouldn't have been reading it in public. He'd managed to keep his eyes off the book until he was safely in the confines of his room until now, so why had he felt the need to break that today?
"Oh, it's by an author named Hermione Granger. She's–"
"I know exactly who Hermione Granger is, I've read every word she's ever published. That…" she interrupted, pointing at the book, "Should not exist. Not for another few months at least."
Harry blushed, placing the book back into his bag and closing it, running a hand through his hair as his heartbeat quickened. Hermione was going to kill him.
"Oh, well, yeah I kinda…got an early copy. I know…"
"How much?" Fleur interrupted, uninterested in what he was saying, giving him a blank stare.
Harry's face scrunched up in confusion. "I'm sorry, what?" he replied.
She sighed, though he suspected it was more out of annoyance than anything else. "How much? For the book," she clarified. "Name your price and you'll get it."
Standing up, Harry shook his head. "No. No, I…I can't sell it. That wouldn't be right. I promised her I wouldn't even show it to anyone," he managed to get out before she leaned in, her lithe frame seemingly towering over him despite their shared height. Fleur Delacour was intimidating when she needed to be. The way her blue eyes bore directly into him made him feel as if she could see straight through him.
"Everyone has a price," she insisted, "So, how much do you want? $200? $500?"
Harry shook his head rapidly as he attempted to navigate around her. "I said it's not for sale," he ground out firmly, "I've got to go or I'm going to be late for work." Quickly making his way out of the common area and down the stairs, he didn't turn around when she called after him, clearly offended at his refusal to sell to her.
Harry felt sick as he walked quickly through campus towards work, thoughts of dropping his bag at Ron's long forgotten. At least he could lock the bag up when he got there. Nobody would be able to get to it. Regardless, someone had seen the book, the one Hermione had given him in secret. The one that wouldn't be released to the public for months. The one that, he realized idly, meant Fleur Delacour was a fan of Science Fiction.
That would have been interesting, but he could only think of one thing.
Hermione was going to kill him.