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Fleur De Lis Ch. 6
🕑 Added 2023-04-27 02:20:15 +0000 UTCContent Warnings: Teasing.
“I think that’s a pixie.”
“Which one?”
“That one.” Harry extended his hand, pointing at the sky above them. “The one moving to cover the North Star.”
Fleur leaned closer to follow his gaze, their heads touching. They were lying on the grass on their backs, out on the grounds close to Hagrid’s hut. The couple had made Harry’s favorite oak tree by the lake their refuge from the madness that had erupted ever since their names had emerged from the Goblet and the drama that had ensued.
The people in Gryffindor had been elated, if somewhat confused, that the champion from their House wouldn’t officially represent them and their school. Fred and George had even thrown a party in his honor, something Harry had nimbly avoided by pretending to be fast asleep when they’d come to fetch him from his dorms. The reactions from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were much more muted, with the latter being somewhat mollified by the fact that the official Hogwarts champion would be from their House. Slytherin, typically, had taken its cue from the Head of their House and spent the entire day assaulting him with jeers and taunts in hallways and in classes.
Fleur hadn’t fared any better. Already quiet and reserved in nature, her reputation had taken a hit amongst the Beauxbatons delegation after the story of her defending Harry had inevitably leaked out. Her ‘dalliance’ with a foreign champion was seen by some from her school as a betrayal of the highest order, and only Madame Maxime’s outspoken support protected her from overt hostility from her classmates. Even then, they found ways to make their displeasure known, and Fleur’s day hadn’t been any better than his.
So they’d both retreated to the peace of the grounds as soon as classes were over for the day, with Hermione and Gabrielle promising to bring them something to eat.
“That’s a niffler.”
Harry squinted at the gray cloud floating listlessly in the dark purple sky. “No way. How is that a niffler?” He tilted his head to hide the faint blush on his cheeks when Fleur grabbed his wrist, making him trace out the shape of the cloud with his finger.
“See?” she said softly, pulling her hand away once she was done. “Niffler.”
“That’s a very misshapen niffler, Fleur.”
Fleur laughed and slapped his chest. She settled back on the ground, their arms touching as she moved closer. “Do you want to talk about your day? Or shall we try to find a cloud that looks like a pixie?”
Harry shrugged. “Nothing to talk about, really. Snape tried to poison me and Neville, Moody had this rather horrifying follow-up to his class on the Unforgivable Curses, and I learned that my dear friends in Slytherin have a genuine knack for coming up with some truly horrible nicknames,” Harry said dryly. “How was your day?”
“Sophia spent the entire day insinuating that I plan to fuck my way to victory. Apparently, I’ll bewitch Krum and Diggory like I’ve bewitched you and make you all my slaves,” Fleur snorted, plucking a blade of grass and twirling it between her fingers.
“Why are we talking about our shitty days?”
“Because that is what couples do, oui? I don’t really know. I’ve never been in a relationship before,” Fleur murmured, blowing on the blade of grass. The twig twirled magically in the air before slowly spiraling down onto Harry’s nose.
Harry sneezed, the twig tickling the delicate skin of his nose. “Why’d you do that?” he laughed, blushing lightly. He avoided the comment on their ‘relationship‘, not particularly keen on dealing with the potential minefield their little subterfuge had created.
“Your cloak smells of freshly cut grass,” Fleur laughed lightly, the blush on her cheeks mirroring hers. She pulled the warm garment tighter around her shoulders, sighing quietly. “Are you mad at me? I only wished to save you from something you did not want,” she whispered, her fingers gently brushing the back of his hand. “It was the only excuse I could think of.”
Harry turned to look at his friend, a small smile on his face. “I’m not mad, Fleur. I’ve miraculously avoided any punishment even though it’s clear that most of the teachers and students don’t believe that I didn’t put my name in that stupid Goblet. Something which I think is because none of them can think of a reasonable way to disprove your alibi and I’m damn sure Snape spent all night trying.” Harry turned on his side, shrugging slightly. “I just feel bad that you have to leverage your reputation just because fate can’t seem to abide me spending a quiet year in school.”
Fleur turned on her side to face him, frowning slightly. “You think my reputation is sullied because I claimed to have slept with you?”
“I’m not exactly the most popular person in the castle right now, am I? You should be celebrated as one of the champions. Instead, people are putting you in the same boat as me. You just told me Sophia-”
“Sophia is a talentless sack of… of… merde-”
“Shit?”
“Oui, shit. She is a talentless sack of shit who is jealous that batting her eyelashes at the Goblet didn’t work.” Fleur scowled. “I do not care about what she thinks. I do care about you.”
“Why?”
“We’re friends,” Fleur replied with an angelic smile. “I don’t have a lot of them, so I treasure the ones I do have.”
Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He shyly reached out with his hands, his fingers brushing against her arm. “I don’t have a lot of friends either,” he admitted softly.
“Then it’s decided. We shall pretend to be, ah, dating?”
“Full disclosure, I haven’t dated anyone either.”
“No?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“Even in France we have heard of the legend of the Boy-Who-Lived,” Fleur replied with a shrug. “I thought a lot of girls would-”
“They like the idea of it,” Harry explained, cutting her off. “In reality being famous isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’ve had partners and I tried going out with them, but both times it just didn’t work out. There was always something missing.” He shrugged. His relationship with Ginny had been unhealthy from the start. Her hero-worship had made him uncomfortable, and it had only gotten worse over the summer after he’d saved her and they’d tried to be a couple. As for the only other person he’d been with… he’d quickly broken up with Lavender after he realized he had no interest or desire in being paraded around like a show dog.
“Well, I hope there is nothing missing from our relationship, monsieur,” Fleur teased, gently brushing an errant lock of his messy hair that had flopped out of place and ended up over his glasses. Her fingers brushed his forehead, pushing the hair back in place. “Because we would both be punished ‘orribly if someone were to figure out I lied.”
“Uh, yeah,” Harry mumbled awkwardly, his throat suddenly dry. “We should, uh, we should definitely pretend to date. At least for a few weeks. Then we can break up and no one will suspect anything.”
“And how would you date me, Harry Potter?” Fleur asked shyly, her cheeks pink. “We need to come up with something. I have no experience and have never had any interest in the men around me. I’ve found they typically end up being terrible disappointments who only want one thing from me. Being a Veela is both a blessing and a curse,” she explained with a sad smile.
“We could always ask your sister for pointers?”
“Gabrielle’s solution would be to lock us in a room and invite half the castle to listen while we pretend to have sex,” Fleur giggled. Harry’s heart skipped a beat at the melodious tinkle. It was as if every part of his new friend had been crafted to act in perfect harmony with each other, the end result being a completely flawless individual.
“Really?”
“She hammered on the bathroom door this morning and demanded that I practice moaning in the shower.”
“No way,” Harry’s eyes went wide, not that he should have been surprised in any way or form. He was quickly getting used to Gabrielle Delacour’s larger than life antics.
“She refused to leave until I did!” Fleur exclaimed, laughing at the disbelieving look on Harry’s face. She puckered her face, frowning in concentration as she marshaled her acting prowess. “Oh, ‘arry,” she moaned breathily, biting her lower lip. “You are magnifique!”
Harry froze, certain his heart had stopped. His cock twitched in his pants and he turned further towards the ground, desperate to hide the suddenly growing tent in his pants.
“Right, uhm, no going to your sister for tips,” Harry said, his voice hoarse. “We should… we should hold hands. Go into the Great Hall together for meals. Maybe we go for walks in the grounds so people can see us?” Harry rambled, squirming uncomfortably as he tried to get his throbbing manhood to quieten down. “We could go to Hogsmeade.”
“‘Ogsmeade?”
“The village outside Hogwarts,” Harry explained, groaning quietly as images of Fleur moaning his name were branded into his mind. “Couples usually go there for dates on weekends.”
“I would like that.” Fleur reached out to grasp his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Is something the matter?”
“Just hungry,” Harry replied with a nervous smile. “I hope Mione and Gabrielle come back soon. We have our appointment with Professor McGonagall in fifteen minutes.”
“Do you think you’ll be in trouble if you take me along?”
“I don’t think so. Worst case scenario, she refuses to teach you and you have to leave. It’s worth a try,” Harry answered, glad that the conversation was moving back to safer topics. He relaxed, which was a mistake given the bombshell Fleur was about to drop.
“Good,” Fleur smiled before asking, “what about kissing?”
“What about it?” Harry mumbled, his breathing ragged.
“I have seen couples in those tiny spaces in the castle-”
“Alcoves,” Harry muttered.
“Oui, alcoves. They are squeezed together, kissing, uncaring of who is watching them. We would have to kiss too, non?”
“Not really.” He wasn’t sure he’d survive actually kissing her. The type of snogging that went on in alcoves and behind the tapestries of the castle? That, he was certain, would result in spontaneous combustion. “Neville started seeing a girl from Ravenclaw over the summer. We don’t even know her name till now. We could just be one of those intensely private couples,” Harry offered.
“That is a good idea.” Fleur smiled and leaned closer, her soft lips brushing against his pink cheek. “Although I do not mind this,” she whispered against his cheek. She slowly pulled away, freezing when her lips were inches from his. Her bright blue eyes locked with his emerald ones, both of them nervously frozen in place.
Harry licked his lips, breathing heavily. They slowly inched closer, shyly eliminating the distance between them centimeter by centimeter as the seconds passed.
“I would not mind-” Fleur started hoarsely, only to be interrupted by her sister.
“We come bearing gifts!”
Harry and Fleur jumped away from each other, blushing furiously. Hermione and Gabrielle emerged from around the tree, thankfully having missed the entire interaction. Their arms were laden with sandwiches, which they dumped in Harry and Fleur’s lap.
“Ham and cheese, your favorite,” Gabrielle said, sitting down next to Fleur. Hermione flopped next to Gabrielle once she had unloaded the sandwich in her hand on Harry’s lap, humming distractedly.
“What’s going on?” Gabrielle asked, looking at the blushing couple shrewdly.
“Nothing,” Fleur squeaked, scooting away from Harry.
“Just discussing strategies,” Harry chimed in, biting into the sandwich and chewing furiously.
“Strategies?” Gabrielle raised an eyebrow.
“Yhou knowh, fhor the thournamenth,” Harry mumbled through a mouthful of bread. Fleur followed his lead, stuffing half a sandwich in her mouth to avoid answering any more questions.
“What’s the hurry?”
“We have an appointment with Professor McGonagall. She’s not someone who tolerates her students being late,” Harry explained after swallowing. He bit into the other half of the sandwich, chewing as fast as he could.
“What will you do?” Fleur asked
“Thought I’d have a study session with Hermione.”
“And what exactly do you plan to study, dear sister?”
“Well,” Gabrielle glanced at the cute bookworm next to her, grinning wickedly. “I thought I’d spend an hour studying Hermione’s lips. What do you think?” she asked, leaning closer to Hermione.
“I think-” Hermione paused, slowly leaning towards Gabrielle. “I think you need to broaden your horizons,” she whispered, boldly kissing Gabrielle. It was brief and chaste. The first time she’d kissed a girl. “Play your cards right and there’ll be a lot more to study than just my lips,” she murmured, slowly pulling away from a stunned Gabrielle.
“What’s going on?” Fleur whispered, smiling as she watched her sister be stunned into silence for the first time in her life.
“I think they broke each other,” Harry replied, grabbing Fleur’s wrist and pulling her to her feet. Hermione and Gabrielle barely even noticed the movement next to them. “Come on. Let’s leave the lovebirds alone,” Harry chuckled, pulling Fleur towards the castle.
Fleur glanced back at her sister one last time, grinning at the furious blush on the normally unflappable Veela’s face. She let Harry lead her across the grounds, the two settling into a comfortable silence as they walked back into the castle. The Great Hall was mostly empty, with the few remaining students slowly filtering out after their dinner and making their way back to their Common Rooms and dormitories. Thankfully no one paid them much attention and they climbed onto a moving staircase, allowing it to carry them to the fifth floor.
Harry guided Fleur down the hallway to Professor McGonagall’s office, pausing in front of her shut door. He raised his hand and rapped his knuckles on the wooden door of his Professor’s office, chewing his lower lip nervously.
“I can-” Fleur offered, only for him to cut her off.
“It’s not you. I’ve been in her office exactly two times before today. Both instances were because I was in massive trouble,” he explained under his breath. He steeled his nerves as the door pulled open and they came face to face with the severe visage of Professor McGonagall.
She was dressed in her usual dark cloak, although the pointy hat that normally accompanied it was absent. Her hair was done up in a simple bun, reinforcing her image as a no nonsense teacher who refused to take anyone’s shit.
“Potter. Miss… Delacour.” She turned to the girl standing next to Harry, her momentary surprise fading to a look of resigned acceptance.
“It’s not technically against the rules for Fleur to sit in and learn with me, Professor,” Harry pointed out. He nervously grabbed her hand, blushing furiously as he threaded their fingers together. His heart was pounding in his chest, the thudding so loud he could have sworn Fleur and Professor McGonagall could hear it as well. “Please? I couldn’t bear it if something happened to her.” Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. In for a penny, in for a pound, Harry decided, squeezing Fleur’s hand to draw courage from his friend. “I love her,” Harry whispered, giving his Head of House the best version of puppy dog eyes he could muster.
Fleur’s face was just as red as his, the Veela shuffling her feet uncomfortably.
Professor McGonagall alternated between the two, rolling her eyes fondly. “Save me the histrionics Potter. You’re correct. Miss Delacour attending our lessons is not against the rules. She may stay.” The Transfiguration Professor paused, sighing softly. “Although I must advise you to keep this under wraps. Your classmates may not react well to you helping the Beauxbatons champion.”
“Of course, Professor,” Harry conceded, grinning from ear to ear.
“Thank you, Professor McGonagall,” Fleur chimed in, squeezing Harry’s hand excitedly. She had no doubt Madame Maxime would have been more than willing to bend (or even outright break) the rules to help out her school’s champion, but there was something exciting about learning with Harry. A sea change for a girl who had vowed to crush her opponents at the start of the school year.
“Well, come in. I don’t have all night.” Professor McGonagall turned and walked into her office, gesturing for them to follow her. She tilted her head, spying the couple exchanging shy glances with a small smile on her face. “Young love,” she snorted under her breath.
Harry and Fleur sat down on the chairs in front of her desk. They watched as the stern Professor took her seat, closing the door behind them with a flick of her wand.
“To begin with-” She cleared her throat. “I have spent the night unsuccessfully petitioning Albus and Barty to let you bow out of the tournament Potter. They did not agree. There is the matter of the covenant with the Goblet. Barty refuses to commit any Ministry resources to find a workaround. I asked Albus to go over his head but the Headmaster did not think it would be wise.” Her tone was neutral, but the slight flaring of her nostrils let them know that she disagreed with Dumbledore’s decision. “I plan to write to Fudge myself, but I doubt it will have the desired effect.”
“Crouch wouldn’t even look at the laws to see if there’s something that can be used to disqualify me?” Harry asked incredulously.
“That is correct, Potter. Barty has always been intransigent, but this decision is not only nonsensical, Barty sounded like a petulant child throwing a fit.”
“Of course he did,” Fleur growled.
Professor McGonagall turned to Fleur, an eyebrow raised at her outburst.
“He hadn’t taken kindly to us…” Harry paused, trying to figure out how to explain their altercation with Crouch. “You see, the last time we saw him was-”
“I’m well aware of what happened after the World Cup Final,” Professor McGonagall said briskly, cutting him off. “It was part of why I decided to tutor you and what motivated my decision to allow Miss Delacour to sit in on our lessons.”
Harry smiled. His Professor’s sense of justice was legendary.
“We’ll begin with the basics. The Triwizard Tournament will have three tasks.” Professor McGonagall flicked her wand again. Two ink pots complete with handsome eagle quills along with two rolls of parchment floated in front of Harry and Fleur, falling to the desk with a quiet THUD.
The implication was clear. They were to treat her lessons just as seriously as their regular ones. Harry winked at Fleur before picking up his quill, ready to take notes.
Fleur did not return the gesture. Her back was as stiff as a rod, the girl listening intently, determined to make the most of this unforeseen opportunity.
“To my knowledge, the tasks are all of uniform levels of difficulty. However, before the tasks even begin, the Tournament shall be officially opened by the Weighing of the Wands.”
“Weighing of the Wands?” Fleur muttered, biting her lower lip as she scribbled on her parchment.
“A simple test. More pomp and ceremony than anything else.”
“Test?” Harry asked nervously, eyeing his own blank parchment.
“A test of your wand, Potter, not your abilities,” Professor McGonagall explained, faintly amused. She glanced at the part of Harry’s wand sticking out of his cloak, her smile growing. “Although I do advise cleaning your wand. Even if you aren’t representing Hogwarts you are my student Potter, and I expect you to put your best foot forward.”
Harry glanced at his wand, noting all the finger smudges and tiny scratches on his hilt. He nodded furiously. His blush grew when Fleur presented her own wand. It was pristine with a gorgeously carved hilt made from white wood.
“Exquisite, Miss Delacour.” Professor McGonagall nodded approvingly. “Potter, if you can pick up Weasley’s worst impulses, I expect you to learn something from your girlfriend as well.”
It was Fleur’s turn to wink at a squirming Harry, who could only nod in response.
“As for the tasks themselves, I do not have any knowledge about them. I’m sure the judges will give you more information after the Weighing concludes.” Professor McGonagall continued, briskly moving on. She noted the exchange between the couple with quiet approval, glad that one of her favorite pupils had found genuine happiness after three years of trials and tribulations.
“How will you prepare us if we don’t know what to prepare for?”
McGonagall turned to Harry with a look that clearly said ‘this one is a keeper’.
“A pertinent question, Miss Delacour. I plan to teach you Advanced Charms and Transfiguration along with Defensive Spells, all of which will help you directly or indirectly to sucessfully and safely complete the Tasks.” She paused, turning to Harry. “Given Miss Delacour’s advanced education, she might have already learned some of what I’m about to teach you, so this is mostly for your benefit Potter. Pay attention, it will save your life.”
Harry nodded. His Professor wasn’t one for hyperbole. If she said he needed what she was about to teach him to keep himself safe, she meant it.
“Miss Delacour, I advise you to pay attention even if you’ve covered something I will be teaching. A little extra practice never hurt anyone.”
“Yes professor,” Fleur said.
“Very well.” Professor McGonagall leaned back in her chair. “We’ll spend today learning about the theory behind basic shield spells. Then the two of you can take turns casting the spell while the other person tries to get past the casted shield.”
Harry and Fleur listened intently and took notes as she launched into an explanation of shield charms, their applications and limitations. She then cleared a space in front of her desk, stacking their chairs in one corner of the room so they could practice what they’d learned in front of her.
They practiced for well over an hour, with Fleur having no trouble with spells she had studied before. It took Harry a few tries, but before long he had easily mastered Protego and all its variations, parrying Fleur’s Stinging Hexes with ease.
“I think that’s enough for the day,” Professor Mcgonagall said, nimbly ducking out of the way of a deflected Stupefy. The red jet of light slammed into the wall behind her, charring a brick. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was well past ten, and they’d have mere minutes to return to their Common Rooms before curfew. “Best get back to your dorms.”
Harry and Fleur nodded. They were both covered in sweat and utterly exhausted.
“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said. Professor McGonagall bowed her head in acknowledgement, watching him walk towards the door with a satisfied smile.
“Thank you, Professor McGonagall,” Fleur chimed in as well, moving to follow Harry, only to be stopped in her tracks by the older witch.
“Miss Delacour, do you mind waiting? I’d like to talk to you if that’s alright.”
Fleur turned and nodded, slowly walking back towards the desk.
Harry paused as well.
“Just Miss Delacour, Potter.”
Harry nodded, shooting Fleur a nervous glance as he left.
“You enjoyed yourself,” Professor McGonagall said with a small smile once Harry left, shutting the door behind him.
“It was fun. Harry’s a good duelist.”
Professor McGonagall nodded. “One of the best I’ve seen. He can be spectacular if he just applies himself. I expect you to push him to be better as payment for attending these lessons, Miss Delacour. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’ll be much more perceptive to you than he’ll ever be to me or his other teachers.” She slowly leaned back in her chair, sighing softly. “My husband once took me to a dueling arena for a date. It became a weekly tradition. There’s something quite intimate about sparring with your partner.”
Fleur grinned at the nostalgic smile on the woman’s face. “There is. I felt close to him in a way I hadn’t before.”
“Life always finds a way to bring us closer to the people we’re meant to be with. Even if it’s a dangerous Tournament Potter has no business participating in,” Professor McGonagall muttered, rummaging in the top drawer of her desk. She pulled out a small vial containing a bright green potion, holding it out for Fleur. “I know Beauxbatons and Durmstrang plan to use Hogwarts’ Hospital Wing and that you have not brought your own healer with you. However, I also understand how intimidating it is to approach a stranger for something like this. Let me reassure you that Madame Pomfrey is a consummate professional and a good friend. You can approach her without hesitation. Do you know what this is, Miss Delacour?”
Fleur blushed furiously as she accepted the vial of Birth Control Potion. “Yes, Professor,” she croaked, tucking it into her cloak.
“I understand the… rigors of young love and how one might get carried away,” Professor McGonagall said with a faint smile. “But it would be wise to take adequate precautions.”
Fleur nodded. She fled the minute Professor McGonagall dismissed her with a quiet ‘Goodnight’.
She appreciated the woman’s gesture, but she wished she could have told her it was wholly unnecessary. She didn’t need the vial tucked away in the pocket of her cloak.
Her mind conjured up an image of Harry’s messy hair poking out from between her thighs.
“No,” she growled to herself. “It’s not happening. I don’t need it,” she muttered, her cheeks burning.
Notes:
Who wants an omake where Gabrielle and Hermione don't interrupt Harry and Fleur? This story is going to build up the tension between them, but writing this chapter has put me in the mood to write a steamy, kinky Harry/Fleur scene. It won't be connected to this story, but if enough of you want to read it, I'll whip up a short scene! Let me know! I've been sick but I have so much exciting stuff in store for you next week, the updates are going to blow your minds.
Comments
Darth Reven
I'd also like the omake. It could be fun but probably make it as more of them seeing what they will do in the future that way it could be part of the story. Plus it makes it fun and it something I haven't really seen anyone do.
Erinnyes
Do I want a steamy, kinky scene between Fleur and Harry? My friend, the only thing I want more is to not be on fire. 😁
adorsey
Great chapter! I’d read the omake!
