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Fleur De Lis Ch. 9
🕑 Added 2023-06-27 15:45:47 +0000 UTCContent Warnings: Teasing.
“Dragons,” Harry muttered under his breath, glancing at the girl leaning against him. The week preceding the task had gone by in the blink of an eye. Professor McGonagall had taken the news that they were to face a dragon as calmly as Harry had expected, but he noticed a subtle change in the woman in their lessons. She pushed Harry harder while at the same time letting him rest in his regular classes, which was just as well. Between everything she and Hagrid were teaching them about dragons, having to dodge Skeeter’s repeated attempts to corner him, and the need to keep up the charade of being in a relationship with Fleur, he was absolutely exhausted. He noticed other teachers pitched in and let him sleep in their classes as well, with the notable exception of Snape, who had given him detention for falling asleep in the dark and gloomy potions classroom.
“Dragons,” Fleur echoed, her eyes fixed on the sandy-haired Hufflepuff pacing in front of them. Cedric was burning a hole in the carpet, covering the floor of the tent with his pacing. On the other hand, Krum sullenly stood by the exit and stared out at the rapidly filling Quidditch stadium in silence. She glanced at the entrance of the large tent and out at the sunny grounds beyond, wondering what consequences she’d face for simply grabbing Harry and running away. He’d had enough danger and pain to last him a lifetime.
“We stick to our plan.”
“Play to our strengths,” Fleur murmured, remembering the most important piece of advice Professor McGonagall had given them. Which, given the fact that she was a creature invulnerable to fire, was easy advice to follow. “There’s still time for me to knock you out. You won’t have to participate if you’re unconscious,” she offered playfully. She was only half-joking. Somewhere along the way, protecting her friend had become more important than the Tournament. She didn’t care if her actions disqualified her as long as it kept him safe.
“I’ve faced a basilisk, remember? Everything Professor McGonagall and Hagrid taught us about dragons makes me think they’re just basilisks with wings.”
“That can breathe flames hot enough to melt the flesh off your bones.”
“At least they don’t have a stare that can kill.”
“I knew there was a silver lining there somewhere,” Fleur teased nervously, bumping her shoulder against his. She turned to him, finding her lips inches away from his once more. Her breath hitched, and she subconsciously leaned closer, only to jump away in surprise at the sound of Ludo Bagman’s bombastic voice.
“Champions!” Ludo yelled, his belly jiggling as he bounced into the tent. His face was animated with excitement, a stark contrast to the expressions the champions sported. “You’re all here! Good. Good.”
Fleur bit back an involuntary groan. Any special moment she shared with Harry was interrupted without fail, much to the amusement of her sister. She didn’t quite understand what she had with Harry, and given the insanity that was their lives, she feared she’d never find out. For now, she was happy to be his friend, and she suspected he felt the same.
“Gather around. I need to give you instructions for the Task!” He beckoned them to him with an indulgent wave of his hand.
Harry hopped to his feet and offered his hand to Fleur. She reluctantly grabbed it and pushed herself off the wooden bench, glaring at Bagman as she walked towards him.
If the man noticed her displeasure, he did not show it.
“The First Task will be a test of your bravery, and as previously instructed, you will only be armed with your wits and your wand,” Bagman said, bouncing on the soles of his feet excitedly. “Every champion will face a dragon and steal the golden egg she is guarding in her nest. The judges will give you a score out of ten based on your performance, and your ranking at the end of the First Task will be determined by the sum of all those scores.”
He looked around at the champions, deflating a little when he did not get the reaction he expected. Cedric had gone pale, and Krum looked surlier than usual while both Harry and Fleur sported expressions of resigned determination.
“Well,” he said, clearing his throat after a minute of awkward silence. “If no one has any questions, I suppose I should let you choose your opponent.” He held out the hand that held the small velvet bag. “Reach in and pull out a model. Ladies first,” he added, smiling at Fleur.
Fleur did not bother to return the smile. She reached in and pulled out a tiny model of a Welsh Green. A tiny placard with the number four was attached to the tail of the docile green dragon. It promptly huffed, blowing out smoke from its nostrils before curling up in her palm. Fleur breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped away to allow the men to approach Bagman. She’d go at the end, which meant she could watch Harry’s performance and intervene if needed. She watched as Krum pulled out a Swedish Short Snout, followed by Cedric retrieving a Chinese Fireball.
Finally, it was Harry’s turn. He pushed his hand into the velvet bag and removed the only model that remained. Fleur cursed under her breath as she watched the Hungarian Horntail on Harry’s hand shoot a tiny jet of flame into the air. The placard bearing the number three rattled as it thumped its spiked tail against Harry’s palm. Fleur watched Harry wince as the tiny pinpricks in his skin oozed blood.
“Looks like Mister Krum will go first, followed by Mister Diggory, Harry, and finally, Miss Delacour,” Bagman said, beaming cheerfully at the champions. No one bothered to return his smile. “Well, I must go join the other judges. Mister Krum, please exit the tent and enter the arena at the sound of the horn.”
Krum nodded wordlessly.
Harry rejoined Fleur on the bench, setting his dragon down on the polished wood. He watched as it walked up to Fleur’s model, the two dragons immediately curling up with each other. “I hope the real ones are just as adorable as these,” Harry murmured, sighing softly. He rubbed his bleeding palm, deciding not to mention the fact that he found even the tiny model of the dragon he was to face terrifying.
“You’ll do great,” Fleur whispered, reaching out to take his uninjured hand. She gently squeezed it, bolstering his courage. “Did you tell Cedric about the dragon?”
Harry nodded. “How did you know?”
“He didn’t seem surprised when Bagman revealed what we’d have to do.”
“The fact that he wasn’t the only champion not to know about dragons didn’t seem fair, so I told him,” Harry explained with a shrug. “Hagrid told us, and you told me you saw Karkaroff follow Hagrid and Madame Maxime into the forest the night of their date. He must have followed them to wherever they were keeping the dragons and would have told Krum what he saw. Once I told Cedric, it became a level playing field once more.”
“You are a decent man, Harry Potter,” Fleur murmured and left it at that. It wasn’t something she would have done.
“You helped me. I’m just paying it forward. You’d have done the same.”
“Not really.” Fleur scoffed. “I care about you. I don’t care about Cedric as much as I do winning the tournament.”
The loud blast of a horn caused them both to look up at the tent’s entrance.
Krum had walked through the tent’s flaps to the sound of loud cheers. Fleur debated walking over to the parted tent flaps and standing next to Cedric to watch Krum’s performance. But when Harry showed no indication of moving, she simply leaned her head back down on his shoulder.
“What’re you thinking?” Fleur asked.
“I’m wondering if my luck is finally about to run out,” Harry murmured, balling his fists to stop his hands from shaking. “By my count, I’ve narrowly escaped death at least five times now. Even a cat would start to be cautious by this point,” Harry teased, resorting to the gallows humor he used as a crutch to help him cope with his messed up life. “Maybe this is the end. I’ve survived Acromantulas, Basilisks, and Werewolves. Maybe I have no luck left for this,” he murmured, gently stroking the spiky ridge of his sleeping dragon. It huffed in annoyance and buried its face under the wing of its newfound friend.
Fleur pondered his words for a minute before slowly pulling away. She turned to face him, sitting crossed-legged on the bench. She had ditched her uniform and the cloak he had given her (which was safely tucked away on the bottom shelf of her cupboard) in favor of a practical loose t-shirt and leggings. Not that it had stopped people from staring. She hated the attention but had been secretly pleased when Harry had told her she looked ‘cute.’ She was just thankful her sister had been too preoccupied with keeping Hermione calm to notice the faint blush on her alabaster cheeks.
"No."
"No?" Harry raised an eyebrow, watching her pull the simple ponytail she had secured her hair in over her shoulder.
"No," Fleur repeated, calmly slicing off a fistful of her silvery hair with a quick spell. Her hair now looked choppy, but she didn't care. It would regrow, and in the meantime, if people found her less appealing, all the better. Her nimble fingers expertly twisted the hair into knots. Completely engrossed with her task, she didn't notice the stadium erupt into cheers. By the time she was done, Cedric had left the tent at the sound of the horn blasting once more.
"There," Fleur said, slipping the handmade bracelet onto his wrist. "Veela hair is considered lucky. Many men in France pin a lock of hair from their Veela mistresses to their cloaks before doing something important. You have your luck again, Harry Potter. You will live," she whispered fiercely.
"You're not my mistress," Harry teased. He slowly turned his wrist, admiring how the shimmering hair caught the sunlight and exploded into a bevy of colors.
"Which is why I will beat you in the task," Fleur replied with an impish grin. "Can't let you have all the luck." She leaned forward instinctively, only for him to whip his head around at the sound of loud groans emanating from the stadium.
"Cedric," Harry muttered, losing what little color remained in his cheeks. He didn’t know why he was worried. It wasn’t death; no, he had long resigned himself to the prospect of being in danger for the rest of his life. It was more the fear of failure and of embarrassing himself in front of an entire stadium full of people and, more importantly, in front of Fleur.
Draco’s taunts that he needed to hide behind his Veela girlfriend’s skirts stung more than the stupid ‘Potter Stinks’ badges he had designed. At least he’d gotten the satisfaction of watching the idiotic Slytherin run screaming across the courtyard, trying to dodge the fireballs Gabrielle lobbed at his head.
While he had started out not caring what happened and how he performed in the Tournament, a part of him now wanted to prove he was capable, not only to the doubters who were even now taking bets on how long he’d survive before dying a horrible death but also to himself. In all his previous adventures, he had the help of his friends. This would be the first time he had to face danger on his own, and he was suddenly highly motivated to come out victorious.
“I should get ready,” Harry muttered, hopping off the bench and walking over to the exit with a determined expression on his face. The entire arena was covered with thick black smoke, and it was almost impossible to make out anything except the dragon’s massive silhouette.
Fleur turned and watched him rotate the bracelet around his wrist absentmindedly. “Harry?”
“Yeah?” He didn’t turn to look at her. His eyes narrowed as his gaze tried to pierce the smoke. He was trying to see if Cedric was alright, but the dragon roared and turned, its massive wings blocking most of his view.
“You can do this.”
“I know,” Harry replied, finally turning to her with a confident smile. He turned back towards the stadium at the sound of loud cheers, breathing a sigh of relief. It appeared Cedric had pulled through. Which meant it would soon be his turn. He pulled his wand out of his pants, his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip on the polished wood.
“Is everything ready?”
“Hermione kept it in the Gryffindor Changing Room and charmed the door to make sure it stayed open. I’m just praying I can manage to pull off the charm at this distance.”
Fleur nodded. “Best of luck,” she murmured, paling at the sound of the loud trumpet. She debated running over and giving him a hug before he left but restrained herself. He needed every bit of concentration for the challenge that lay in front of him. A hug would only distract him, even if he was remarkably resistant to her Allure.
“It’s not about what you want,” she reminded herself. She had to do what was best for him. So she simply dug her nails into the wood of the bench, tiny splinters breaking off under the pressure of her fingers and burying themselves under her nails. Harry had simply given her a nod and left the tent.
She waited for a few minutes before hopping off the bench and making her way to the tent’s exit on shaky legs. Instead of waiting by the tent flaps like the three men before her, she walked across the short tunnel and perched herself right at the edge of the arena, ready to intervene if needed.
She did not know the consequences of helping another champion in their task.
She doubted it would be anything pleasant, but she did not care.
The arena was still shrouded in smoke, and she could barely make out his silhouette as he made his way through the maze of singed and soot-covered rocks toward the nest placed right in the center of the transformed Quidditch pitch. She wondered where the dragon was until a blood-curdling roar made her turn her attention to the far end of the stadium.
The Horntail was massive. So massive, in fact, that when it unfurled its wings, it blocked out an entire wing of the stadium from view. Harry was weaving his way through the rocks, keeping his head low to make sure the dragon did not spot him.
“No, don’t try it,” Fleur shouted in a futile attempt to reach him over the din of the crowd. She knew what he was thinking. He wanted to remove the uncertainty of having to cast a spell he had recently learned and just sneak into the nest, grab the egg, and sneak out. It was his lack of self-confidence that was making him take an unnecessary risk, and she knew exactly who to blame. He hadn’t told her a whole lot about his relatives, but if she ever met his Aunt and Uncle, she planned to take a leaf out of her sister’s book and spend an entire afternoon lobbing fireballs at their heads.
For a minute, it even seemed like his new plan would work. The dragon stayed at one end of the arena, sniffing the air. He was close, barely ten feet away from the nest, when it all went horribly wrong.
The disoriented Horntail finally got over the confusion of its new surroundings and the minute it caught Harry’s scent, the dragon’s maternal instincts kicked in, and it zeroed in on the threat to its children. Its massive muscles coiled as it tensed in preparation to pounce and make a meal of the puny human who had dared to intrude on its territory. The baleful red eyes roving over the arena caused Fleur to shudder, and she whispered a silent prayer, hoping against hope that Harry would make it to the nest before the dragon decided to pounce on him.
The dragon roared and pounced, gusts of wind slamming against Fleur’s face as it flapped its wings to stay aloft. Rocks crunched under the weight of its feet, the creature landing right above the hole Harry had been crouching in. Fleur watched with bated breath as Harry rolled under the Horntail’s body and made a mad dash for the nest.
Five feet.
Four feet.
Three feet.
“HARRY, WATCH OUT,” Fleur screamed, but her voice was lost to the wind as the dragon roared and swept its tail, using it as a club. The entire stadium erupted into groans as the spiked tail slammed into Harry’s back, propelling him off the rock he was standing on and into the air.
Fleur watched with wide eyes as Harry finally raised his wand in the air and shouted something. His Firebolt zoomed into the arena within seconds, and not a minute too soon. He grabbed its handle with his free hand moments before he was going to hit the rocky ground, something that would have surely resulted in at least several broken bones, if not something much worse.
He was already on the broom by the time the dragon turned its massive body around to face him. He shot off in the air like an arrow but stayed just within reach of the Horntail, acting as bait and drawing it away from the nest it was guarding. He shot up higher into the air seconds before the Horntail snapped its massive jaws shut around thin air.
The dragon roared in frustration and unfurled its massive wings, gusts of wind buffeting Fleur as it lifted off into the air and in pursuit of its prey. Harry stuck to the strategy they had originally decided on, flying in slow spirals, staying just out of reach of the dragon’s teeth and flames.
Fleur watched as the dragon followed Harry higher and higher, its red eyes moving rapidly in an effort to keep track of Harry.
It’s working; she realized with a grim smile as she watched the dazed creature slow down, the flapping of its wings gradually getting more and more erratic. Just as Fleur was starting to worry that Harry would not be able to get any higher and would have to abandon the plan for something new and reckless, the dragon, now in a trance, stopped its pursuit and plummeted back to earth.
Harry stayed in the air while the dragon fell, but from the way he clung to his broom, Fleur could see he was barely holding on. Drops of blood dripped from his shoulder and down onto the arena as scarlet rain, staining the rocks around the nest. The earth shook under her feet as the dragon slammed into the ground.
It was then that Fleur understood why people spoke with such awe of his flying skills. Harry shot towards the ground like a bullet, determined to grab the egg and complete the task before the dragon recovered. The air around him whistled, and for a minute, Fleur was afraid he would crash into the ground just like the dragon had. But at the very last moment, he pulled up, reached out with his hand to pluck the golden egg from the nest, and landed with the perfect roll. With no desire to stick around, he dragged his injured and exhausted body to the tent Madame Pomfrey had set up at the other end of the Arena for injured champions as the stadium erupted into loud cheers.
All Fleur could feel as she watched the team of dragon handlers immediately spring into action to carry the nest and the dazed Horntail out of the stadium was massive fucking relief. Harry had made it through safely and had even completed the task in style!
She wondered if the judges would agree to delay her task so she could check on his wound.
Before she could even think about dashing into the arena to make her request, a new nest appeared in the exact same spot the old one had been placed. It had its own golden egg, surrounded by grayish shells that Fleur knew to be dummy dragon eggs.
The Welsh Green was let into the stadium, and the trumpet blasted once more.
Fleur tuned out the noise and Bagman’s commentary as she strode into the arena, knowing exactly what she had to do. Distract, Daze, Dash. She kept repeating the mantra in her head as she weaved through the blasted rocks, waiting until she was halfway to the nest before she focused on the memory of spending an entire afternoon cloud-watching with Harry.
“Expecto Patronum!” Fleur yelled, watching as three bright silvery swans shot out of the end of her wand. They gracefully floated through the air around the confused dragon. It roared in displeasure and snapped its jaws around one, only to flail and screech in pain as its entire mouth went numb.
Fleur made her way to the nest, singing the songs of her people at the top of her voice. Fleur could hear Bagman’s voice start to slur, and she smiled, knowing her singing would affect not just the dragon but the entire stadium. She kept singing, walking fearlessly towards the nest.
The massive creature was swaying where it stood, still distracted by the swans. It knew better than to try to eat them now, and so it turned its attention to Fleur, who was nearly at the nest by this point.
Fleur only noticed when the ground under her shook as the dragon made its way to her on unsteady feet. Despite the fear clogging up her throat, she kept singing melodious words about love, loss, and heartbreak, her voice filling the now nearly silent stadium. The only thing that could be heard over her songs were the dragon’s roars, and they were getting quieter by the minute.
She ducked and rolled just as the dragon closed its jaws above her head. She crawled in between its legs, her throat parched and itchy. Still, she kept singing, ignoring her heart pounding in her chest and her scraped and bleeding elbows and knees.
Gotcha.
She grabbed the egg, pushed herself to her feet behind the dragon, and ran to safety.
Except she had made one fatal mistake. In her jubilation at having completed the task, she forgot to keep singing.
The dragon turned and loosed a jet of flame directly at her. She was too slow to outrun the fire, and it enveloped her, the warmth tickling her skin but otherwise leaving her unharmed. The stadium groaned as one, and the dragon handlers jumped into action even before she had cleared the stadium, stunning and subduing the dragon.
Everyone was afraid a champion had died in the very first task, but she was completely unscathed.
The stadium erupted into cheers as Fleur emerged unharmed from the plume of flame, the golden egg safely clutched in her arms. She was barely two feet away from the tent when she ran free of the fire and she dashed inside, not bothering to look back and see that the dragon handlers had heaved a sigh of relief when they realized she had survived and went back to their task of removing the now-stunned Welsh Green from the noisy stadium.
She did not bother to stick around and wait for the judges to score her performance; her mind focused on one singular detail.
Harry was hurt.
Fleur looked around the quiet tent. Krum was nowhere to be seen, but she could spot Cedric lying down on a cot, his arm in a sling and eyes closed. Harry was on the bed closest to the tent’s entrance, fighting an attempt by Madame Pomfrey to wrestle him onto the mattress so she could tend to the wound on his shoulder.
“I need to-”
“Mr. Potter, you have a barb stuck in your shoulder. You will let me take a look at it!” Madame Pomfrey said sternly.
“It doesn’t even hurt anymore,” Harry lied, biting back a groan as he tried to get up. His face was pale, the upper right of his gray shirt stained red with blood. Madame Pomfrey sliced open the garment with a quick spell, leaving him shirtless. “I just need to see how she’s doing.”
“Mister Potter-”
Fleur set the heavy egg down on the ground before walking over to the bed. “Ma’am?” she asked, gently tapping Madame Pomfrey’s shoulder. “Can I?”
“Fleur!” Harry perked up immediately at the sound of her voice. “How did it go?”
“Perfectly,” Fleur grinned, even though he couldn’t see her from behind Madame Pomfrey. “Got the egg without any injuries. Unlike someone I know,” she teased.
“Not fair. My dragon was the only one with bloody spikes on its tail!”
Madame Pomfrey tried one last time to get Harry to settle down before getting up with an annoyed huff. “He needs to drink the Blood-Replenishment Potion, Miss Delacour,” Madame Pomfrey said without turning, still glaring at an obstinate Harry. “Press the QwikKlot bandages on his shoulder to staunch the bleeding. Perhaps you’ll have better luck than I did.” She sighed. “I have to check on Mr. Diggory’s burns, but I will be back in five minutes.” She walked around the bed and towards Cedric’s cot, muttering under her breath, “young love, turns everyone into idiots.”
Harry’s heart stopped in his chest when he slowly pushed himself to a sitting position and turned to face Fleur. She was… a vision. Completely naked with only black soot covering her flawless porcelain skin, her silvery hair tumbled over her shoulders and down her bare back in waves. The only thing that had survived were her tall dragon-skin boots which covered her legs up to her thighs. Harry wasn’t quite sure why, but it somehow made her seem sexier than if she had been completely naked.
Harry tried, oh, he tried so hard not to stare. But it was impossible to stop his eyes from wandering to her bosom, to pull his gaze away from the gentle sway of her heavy breasts as she leaned over him and gently pushed him back down on the bed. He licked his dry lips as he traced the curve of her mounds with his eyes, brutally suppressing the urge to pepper the rim of her large pink areolas with his lips. How would it feel, he wondered, to suck on the stiff rosy peaks that capped her creamy mounds?
Her breast brushed against his cheek as she reached over to grab the bandages from the other side of the cot, and he was rock hard within seconds, no longer in any pain.
Fortunately (or unfortunately, Harry wasn’t sure), Fleur was too worried about him to notice her state of undress. She wrapped the bandages around the barb sticking out of his shoulder and glanced at him, her brow furrowing in concern at the dreamy expression on his face. Was he no longer lucid due to blood loss?
“I’ll try to be gentle,” Fleur muttered, reaching out to push a stray lock of his messy black hair away from his glasses.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Harry murmured, and this time he wasn’t lying. He groaned quietly as Fleur yanked the barb out of his wound and tossed it into the empty tray on the stand next to the cot. “Okay, it hurts a little,” he said with a breathless chuckle, the tightness in his pants growing as his eyes accidentally traveled lower, and he caught a glimpse of her pink lips nestled in between her slender thighs.
“You’re an idiot,” Fleur groused, packing his wound with clean bandages. She gathered up the bloody ones and dropped them into the tray that contained the barb. “Why didn’t you stick to the plan?”
“I dunno. I didn’t think I could pull it off after just a week of practice,” Harry admitted, confirming her suspicions.
“But you did, didn’t you?” She helped him up to a sitting position before leaning closer and brushing her lips against his cheek.
She was kneeling in front of him, naked, a goddess of beauty in mortal form, and Harry decided he had actually died and gone to heaven.
“I hope you learned your lesson,” she murmured, pressing the vial containing the Blood-Replenishing Potion against his lips. “Open,” she ordered gently.
Harry complied, swallowing the potion she dripped into his mouth.
“Did you?” Fleur pressed, frowning when Harry simply kept staring at her with his mouth open. His breathing grew heavier, and Fleur panicked, poking her head up over the partitions separating the beds. “Ma’am?! There’s something wrong with Harry!”
Madame Pomfrey hurried over, glanced at Harry, and finally paused for long enough to assess Fleur’s condition. She chuckled. She reached out and pushed a finger under Harry’s chin, closing his mouth before he started to drool.
“There’s nothing wrong with Mister Potter, Miss Delacour. Other than the fact that he has a very beautiful girlfriend with whom he must avoid doing… strenuous activities for three days until his shoulder heals.”
Harry blushed and averted his gaze.
“Would you like a blanket, my dear?”
It was then that Fleur took a moment to study herself, her cheeks turning dark red when she realized she didn’t have a stitch of clothing other than her boots covering her body. She snatched the offered blanket and wrapped it around her body, giving Madame Pomfrey a grateful smile.
“You did good work, Miss Delacour,” Madame Pomfrey said, studying the way she had packed Harry’s wound. “I suppose you did not bandage his wound because you knew it needed to be properly disinfected first? I just sent an elf to get me the supplies I need from the Hospital Wing.”
“Yes.” Fleur nodded proudly. “I want to be a healer when I graduate,” she added, sitting on a stool next to Harry’s bed.
“Well, if you ever want more hands-on experience, you’re more than welcome to intern with me. I could do with some help.” Madame Pomfrey sighed tiredly. “You’re in good hands, Mister Potter. I’ll be tending to Mister Diggory’s burns if you need me.” She shot Fleur a grateful smile, then left.
“You and Harry are tied in the first place,” Gabrielle said, walking into the tent. She raised an eyebrow at the sight of Fleur fussing over Harry while wearing only a blanket. “He lost points for getting hurt, and you lost some for causing the dragon to accidentally crush some of the fake eggs it was guarding. Also, are you naked under that blanket?!” Gabrielle asked with a huge grin.
Fleur breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed that the crowd hadn’t gotten a good look at her through the smoke and the flames during her adrenaline-fueled dash into the tent.
“I forgot to make sure my clothes were fire-resistant. The dragon burned them away,” Fleur mumbled, a heavy blush coating her cheeks. Harry was comfortably propped up on two pillows, still staring at her with a mixture of awe and reverence. Gabrielle’s words finally broke the spell, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, tugging the blanket draped across his legs up to his chin to make sure the younger Veela didn’t spot the massive tent in his pants.
“You know, if you needed an excuse to shed your clothes around your boyfriend, you should have just asked me for suggestions,” Gabrielle teased, winking at Harry. “Next time, just play strip chess with Harry instead of going up against a dragon.” The normally unserious girl unexpectedly wrapped her arms around her sister and pulled her into a hug. “I was so worried,” she mumbled, pulling away with unshed tears shining in her eyes.
“I’m alright,” Fleur whispered, pulling her sister into another hug. “Just-”
“Embarrassed that you played nurse with your boyfriend while being completely naked?” Gabrielle teased, grinning as she playfully poked Fleur’s side. “Thank gods, we walked in when we did. I doubt Krum and Diggory want to hear you ‘taking care’ of Harry. I wonder what is more uncomfortable, his hurt shoulder or that massive erection he’s trying to hide.”
“Hermione, you alright?” Harry asked in a desperate attempt to steer the conversation away from Fleur’s nakedness and his reaction to it. Hermione stood behind Gabrielle with unfocused eyes and a dreamy smile on her face and had not spoken a single word since entering the tent, which was highly unlike her. Harry took in her haphazardly buttoned blouse and messy hair and smirked, correctly guessing why his best friend seemed out of it. “Gabrielle, what did you do?”
“Hermione was panicking, and I just helped her destress.” Gabrielle shrugged innocently.
“By-” Harry prompted.
“Fucking her brains out,” Gabrielle replied without an ounce of shame. “Fleur, I need to tell you something.” She pulled her sister to her feet and to the corner of the tent, conversing with her in rapid French.
Hermione sat down at the edge of his bed with a sigh. “You alright?” she asked softly.
“Yeah. Fleur saved my ass in more ways than one,” Harry murmured, glancing at the bracelet on his wrist. It was completely unharmed, and he decided he had no intention of taking it off until the year was over. “We’re fucked, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” Hermione confirmed, staring at Gabrielle. “Yes, we are.”
Notes:
Fleur Delacour, First of her Name, lol. As was rightly pointed out by a Patron, it seems strange to give Veela weakness in water but not strength against fire. Thank you for the idea about the clothes, it made for a unique First Task! I also feel like the most important way Fleur can help Harry is give him confidence and motivate him to work harder. He's an incredibly powerful wizard, he just lacks those things (for obvious reasons) and someone to motivate him would be amazing for him.
Comments
Robert
Yeah I don’t think I can read this story anymore until there is actually progression that isn’t teasing. It’s starting to make the story less enjoyable to read. It’s a great story but this is just frustrating now. I’ll just wait for the content warnings to not say teasing. I know the person who commissioned it wanted exactly what you’re doing and it’s really well written. I just don’t like the stagnation and mutual obliviousness and refusing to move forward aspect of it. As always great writing!
tornadoboy
Nice idea about them being fireproof. The fireballs should make it work too. A way for the Veela to be unable to hurt each other. Maybe they even used Dragons in some symbiotic way in the distant past. You could really do some interesting things with Veela history and culture in this story
