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The Veela’s Champion - Prologue II
🕑 Added 2024-12-04 22:21:41 +0000 UTCThe Delacour Household was always calm and cool during the late summer, located in southern France and not far from the Mediterranean, surrounded by the rolling hills of vineyards as far as the eye could see. Fleur’s home had always provided her the much needed peace and quiet that she needed when away from everything.
Her life had always been exciting, filled with parties, boys, and academics. She was the most skilled witch to have come out of Beauxbatons in generations, and she had the trophies and records to prove it. And when she needed a break from it all, the cool breeze in the southern French countryside provided just what she needed.
And yet, Fleur had yet to feel any of the normal calm and serenity that was normal this time of year. She had not left her home in weeks, instead spending her days pacing through its grand hallways and rarely leaving her bed. The few friends she had, as well as family, went ignored as she underwent an internal struggle.
‘Harry Potter.’ And all of it went back to that handsome black-haired wizard she had met at the World Cup. ‘Just why can’t I stop thinking about him?’
It felt like every time she closed her eyes she could see his emerald gaze staring back at her. Even in her sleep she dreamed of the boy, waking up at odd hours and drenched in sweat. It had made her grumpy and ill-tempered, to the point she had even thrown out her sheets when they started to smell like him.
But it was her vanity that took the biggest hit above all, the confidence she possessed when it came to men had all but disappeared. Harry Potter refusing her advances had sent her on an emotional spiral that led to her questioning her appearance, and even going so far as to wonder if she was secretly ugly. All of this led to an angry, frustrated Veela that would snap at anyone who came too close.
“Tell me what it is that bothers you, my daughter?” Her mother finally intervened one day, seeing the sorry state that she was in. Fleur was a mess, with her frilly hair and ruffled clothing, looking more disheveled than any Veela had the right to be. Her family had avoided her because of her foul mood, but it seemed her mother had enough. “You have been like this for weeks now, rarely leaving the house and staying in bed late, does the upcoming year worry you that much?”
“Non, it is not ze upcoming year that worries me.” She folded her arms, conveying her irritation.
“Then perhaps it is ze tournament?”
“Non.” She shifted awkwardly, remembering the boy that simply refused to leave her thoughts. “It is because of a boy.”
“A boy?” Her mother’s brows raised, obviously not expecting that answer. Apolline Delacour frowned, looking concerned. “You are not being taken advantage of, are you? Blackmailed? Men love to take advantage of Veela when they can.”
“Non, nothing as dramatic as that.” Fleur looked to the side, feeling embarrassed. “It is a boy that I met at ze World Cup. He was able to resist my allure, and when I approached him, he didn’t show any interest in me.”
“I see.” Her mother slowly. “It is rare for men to be able to resist our allure, but even then you should be aware that most of them think the same. Surely you know by now what will get his attention?”
“Of course I am aware!” She retorted, feeling her ire grow. “I practically threw myself at the boy and yet he still refused me!”
Her mother smiled thinly, folding her hands in her lap. “Ah, ma chère Fleur. You sound like a fledgling who has never missed her prey before. Is that what you are?”
“Prey? He is just a boy! A shy, awkward boy. Why should he resist me? Me! Fleur Delacour!” She was yelling at the end, her frustration increasing.
Her mother only seemed to be more amused. “Perhaps he is not prey, then. Perhaps he is…something else. But let me remind you of what you are. You are Veela, Fleur. You are a bird of prey. We do not swoop too soon, nor do we falter at the first sign of resistance. Tell me, when a hawk sees its quarry hesitate, does it lash out wildly, or does it adjust its approach?”
Her frustration was still simmering, but she managed to reign it in for now. “It adjusts. It waits. Watches. But what am I supposed to do? He is not like other boys. He is…distant, almost wary of me, as if he does not trust me.”
“Then earn his trust. You are too quick to think that seduction is always the answer. Sometimes, mon ange, to get what you want, you must first disarm your quarry. Make yourself approachable, familiar. Do not swoop. Instead, glide closer. Befriend him.” Her mother said softly but with a firm edge.
Fleur’s eyes narrowed, clearly skeptical. “Befriend him? You think that will work? I am not some simpering girl who flutters her eyelashes and chats about meaningless things.”
Fleur knew exactly what she was. She was an experienced Veela who could have any man she wanted, a woman so desirable that boys in her school would fight over the chance to sit next to her. Someone who devoured full-grown wizards as a snack and ruined relationships with just a few teasing words. And the thought of throwing all of that skill away to degrade herself was repulsive to say the least.
Her mother only smiled knowingly. “And that is why it will work. Show him that you are more than a Veela, Fleur. Show him the girl who fights for what she wants, but also listens, learns. Men like you are describing are rare, they value honesty and depth, and are not the kind to fall for superficial charm.”
And yet her mother’s words held enough wisdom to make pause. Her interaction with Harry Potter had made it clear he was resistant to her normal methods of seduction, and possibly even to her Veela allure, and it was possible what her mother was saying could work. “So, I should be… less obvious? Spend time with him without making my intentions clear?”
“Exactly. Make him see you as an equal, not a predator. Let him lower his guard, and then, when the time is right, you strike.” Her mother leaned in, a predatory aspect in her features that wasn’t there before. “You are a Delacour. A Veela. A force to be reckoned with, and one that every man would give an arm and a leg to be with. Show this to him, and also be sure to demonstrate just how good Veela are in ze bedroom. Ruin other women for him, and he’ll be yours.”
She snorted in amusement, her earlier frustration forgotten. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is not easy, my dear. It is strategy. The best victories are the ones where your opponent wants to surrender. Make him want to come to you, Fleur. And when he does, you will find that he is yours completely.”
Fleur sighed, and decided that her mother was right on how to approach Harry. “Very well, Maman. I will try it your way. But do not expect me to wait too long. I am not as patient as you.”
Her mother let out a light laugh. “Patience, my dear, is the greatest weapon of all. Use it wisely.”
/////
The late summer sun cast a golden glow over the orchard behind the Burrow as Harry leaned against his broom, catching his breath. They had spent the day playing quidditch as the return to Hogwarts got ever closer, something Harry was anticipating. The makeshift Quidditch game had ended with Ron shouting at Fred and George for ‘cheating’ while Ginny hovered near Harry, her hair windswept and her cheeks flushed.
“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Ginny said brightly, stepping closer to him.
“Yeah.” Harry replied, still slightly winded. He smiled awkwardly but quickly looked away, focusing instead on the Quaffle lying in the grass.
Ron stomped over, still muttering. “I don’t care what you say, Fred, you used your elbow to knock it out of my hand!”
Fred landed gracefully beside them, smirking. “It’s called strategy, little brother. You’d know if you were able to keep your head in the game.”
“My head is always in the game.” Ron grumbled.
“It certainly didn’t seem that way at the World Cup.” George grinned. “You were one step away from throwing yourself off the balcony when those Veela appeared, dear Ronniekins.”
“I did not almost throw myself off!” Ron shouted, his ears turning pink.
“Sure you didn’t.” Fred said with a smirk. “Though you should’ve seen yourself, you were like this.”
He made an exaggerated face of slack-jawed awe, flapping his arms like a bird.
“No I was not!” Ron’s face was red at this point. He suddenly looked at Harry as if seeing a way to get the twins off his back. “And it’s not like Harry was any better than me!”
“Actually, Harry was much better.” George grinned devilishly. “Until Ms. tall, blonde, and beautiful arrived, and spirited him away.”
George’s words brought back memories of the girl he had met at the World Cup, along with the awkward conversation they had at the end before she stormed off. Fleur had been on his mind since he returned, rarely falling asleep without remembering her beauty. It didn’t help that she had also become one of the favorite subjects to talk about amongst the redhead boys.
A day didn’t go by without the twins teasing him about it, nor without any of the boys commenting about how beautiful she was. Not that any of them knew her name, as Harry had kept that to himself, along with their private conversation away from the others.
“If only all of us had the kind of luck you have, Harry.” Fred patted his shoulder. “So what was it that you and that blonde girl got up to?”
Fred’s words were very suggestive, wagging his eyebrows at him before George placed his hand on Harry’s other shoulder. “Maybe she wanted to see his wand?”
“It was nothing like that!” Harry said quickly, knowing he was in for another round of teasing.
“Ugh! You two!” Ginny growled at the twins. “Stop harassing him. And there’s no telling what that woman could have done to him!”
Every time Fleur came up as a subject, Ginny would almost always get angry. He guessed that it had to do with Fleur’s beauty in comparison to her own, something he was sure any girl would feel self-conscious about. But there was a certain amount of desperation to the girl about the subject, as if the mere thought of himself and Fleur being close scared her.
“Jealous, Ginny?” Fred asked, trying to goad her.
“I’m not jealous!” Ginny snapped back, her face turning red. “And it’s not like the two of you were any better than Ron. If I remember, Dad had to hold you back from jumping into the pitch to chase after the Veela.”
“Did not!” Fred and George simultaneously retorted.
“At least you weren’t as bad as some of the others. You remember that wizard in the top box, don’t you? The one who tripped over his own robes trying to impress them?” Harry said, trying to steer the subject away from Fleur.
Fred grinned. “Ah, classic. He looked like a flobberworm trying to dance.”
Everyone laughed, and for a moment, Harry felt like the tension in his chest eased. But then Ginny shifted closer, her arm brushing his.
“You were brilliant out there, Harry.” She said softly, her tone just loud enough for him to hear over the twins’ banter. “You’d make a great Chaser, you know.”
“Uh, thanks.” Harry replied, feeling his face heat up. He felt very awkward with her so close to him, and stepped away, pretending to inspect his broomstick. “You’re not bad yourself, Ginny.”
Her smile widened, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe you could help me practice sometime? I’d love to learn from you.”
Ron rolled his eyes, oblivious to Ginny’s intent. “Harry’s already got enough on his plate, Ginny. Leave him alone.”
Fred and George exchanged knowing looks but mercifully kept quiet. Ginny sent a scathing look at her brother, and Harry pretended not to notice.
“Anyway.” Harry said quickly. “We should head back before your mum comes looking for us.” He started walking toward the house, his broom slung over his shoulder, desperately hoping Ginny wouldn’t follow too closely.
Back at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley was bustling about, preparing dinner. As Harry sat at the kitchen table, trying to avoid Ginny’s glances, he couldn’t help but feel the odd tension in the air. The Burrow, usually warm and comforting, now felt stifling. Between the twins’ teasing, Ron’s obliviousness, and Ginny’s sudden attention, Harry longed to be at Hogwarts
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this year was going to be different.
A/N: I know this chapter was short, but I felt that I needed another sort of Prologue type chapter before Hogwarts begins.
Comments
Chris Marino
It may be a bit short but it's still a good story I can't wait till the next chapter
