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Fleur De Lis Ch. 2
🕑 Added 2023-02-16 21:51:35 +0000 UTCContent Warnings: Nothing.
The Burrow:
“Harry Potter. Hero of Magical Britain since he was a baby. And here you are, having saved the world again,” Fleur murmured, carefully dabbing dittany on the many scratches on his arm. After exchanging pleasantries, her mild-mannered father and statuesque mother had left to retrieve their other daughter from a friend’s tent, leaving them alone in the one the Delacours had rented. It was similar in size and layout to the one Mr. Weasley had gotten for them, with the only differences that Harry could discern being the color of the furniture and the overabundance of books.
Harry playfully rolled his eyes. He’d heard that a thousand times before, but he didn’t quite mind it when Fleur said it. Perhaps it was because her voice was devoid of any hero worship. If anything, it carried a teasing lilt that let him know that she didn’t think of him as some untouchable hero. Just a man who was prone to brash actions.
“What will you do when I’m not around to patch you up, hero?” Fleur asked teasingly.
“You did say I’d see more of you this year. So I guess that’s next year’s problem,” Harry shot back with a grin.
“I suppose taking care of you shall be good practice for my future career.”
“You want to be a healer?”
“That is the plan.” Fleur smiled, securing the last bandage around his wrist. “Now remember, you can’t take the bandages off or let them get wet for six hours. The dittany needs to act,” she said sternly.
“Are you always this bossy?”
Fleur dipped a piece of cotton in the dittany, leaning closer to take care of the cut on his forehead. “Only with people I care about.”
Harry forced his eyes to focus on her face and not her chest, which was now pressing against his. “I thought I was a silly little man,” he murmured, echoing the words she had used to introduce him to her parents.
Fleur smirked. “You are, Harry Potter. But you’re also kind and brave, and you stood up for a Veela’s rights when you had no reason to. Very few men do that.” She bent, her lips inches from his-
A loud snore woke him up. He bolted upright in his bed, his heart hammering in his chest. He took a deep breath, turning to look at his best friend sprawled all over the bed next to his, snoring loudly as he mumbled something about the Chudley Canons.
Just a dream.
It was more than a dream. It was a memory, but distorted. Fleur had taken him back to her tent and patched him up. There had been teasing and he could have sworn, flirting. Unfortunately, her parents had never left the tent and she definitely hadn’t tried to kiss him.
As far as dreams went, however, it had been one of the more pleasant ones he’d had. He swore silently at Ron and his inability to sleep silently. Given that his dreams all summer had mostly consisted of malformed creatures and unearthly shrieks…
Damnit!
He plopped down on the pillow and closed his eyes, willing his brain to return him to his new friend’s teasing smile and enchanting eyes. He gave up after five minutes of trying, realizing that luck, as usual, wasn’t on his side.
He silently slipped out of bed and walked over to his desk, ignoring the temptation to give his best friend a nice, hard kick up the backside. He picked up the unfinished letter from the rough oak, slipping into his chair and scanning the words he’d penned before dinner.
Dear Fleur,
Harry paused. The words he’d written after that sounded far too formal for a letter like this.
Just crack on, he advised himself. It wasn’t as if he was writing a letter to Professor McGonagall. He scratched out the paragraph of flowery prose, dipping his quill into the inkpot so he could start anew.
I got your letter. I’m glad to hear you and your family got back to France safe and sound. As for me, Mr. Weasley woke us up at four in the morning and we took one of the first portkeys away from the stadium. Nobody wanted to stick around after what had happened, and I don’t blame them. I don’t see much of Mr. Weasley these days. The Ministry is in an uproar after Skeeter’s article and he says it's all hands on deck. He leaves before dawn and never returns before midnight.
The article your father made the Prophet publish certainly had the desired effect. Mr. Weasley tells me Madame Bones summoned Crouch before a closed session of Wizengamot and publicly raked him over metaphorical coals. Good, I say. That man needs to be knocked down a peg or two. They’re keeping his house elf’s involvement under wraps for now. I think Fudge just wants to avoid further embarrassment.
Harry glanced at his asleep friend and then turned his attention to the open window. The full moon shone upon the silent field behind the Burrow, the gentle gust of air blowing into the room inviting him to grab his broom and taste freedom. He shook his head. If Mrs. Weasley caught him there would be hell to pay, besides, he had a letter to finish. He dipped his quill into the pot and continued.
Mrs. Weasley was considerably less understanding about everything than her husband. She thinks they were targeting me specifically, and that there are assassins hiding behind every corner and every bush simply waiting for me to emerge from the house so they can finish the job. She didn’t even let us go to Diagon Alley with her to shop for our school supplies!
I can’t wait to board the Hogwarts Express tomorrow. As much as I love the Burrow and Mrs. Weasley’s cooking, staying cooped up in the house is driving me crazy. I miss Hogwarts and I miss Quidditch. I still don’t know how we’ll meet again this year. Unless you’re transferring to Hogwarts? Whatever the reason, I miss you and can’t wait to talk to you again.
Yours,
Harry.
Harry carefully enclosed the letter in an envelope and tied it to Hedwig’s leg. He took a second to run his fingers through her soft, white feathers, the owl hooting happily.
“Delacour Mansion,” he whispered, smiling when Hedwig tilted her head. He wasn’t worried about her making such a long journey. She had frequently carried his letters to Sirius over the summer, and given his cryptic description of warm, sunny beaches, Harry had a sneaking suspicion his godfather was living his best life in the South of France. If Hedwig could make that journey, she could certainly fly to a house on the outskirts of Paris.
He carried her to the window, watching as she flapped her wings and soared up into the air, gliding on the currents and letting them carry her south. He watched her turn into a speck in the night sky before returning to his bed.
Harry flopped down on the mattress, slowly pulling his blanket over his head to drown out Ron’s snoring. He closed his eyes, fervently hoping to return to the pleasant dreamscape he had been enjoying before he’d been rudely awakened.
Ten minutes passed and both sleep and Fleur’s visage eluded him.
Damnit!
---
Delacour Mansion:
“Well, this is a sight for sore eyes,” Apolline Delacour walked into the bedroom, her eyebrows raised. Both her daughters were already awake. “I usually have to drag you two out of bed. Excited about the new school year, my dear?” she asked, smiling at Fleur.
“She’s more excited about the letter she just got,” Gabrielle giggled. “Harry Potter wrote back to her.” The tiny girl twisted to avoid the pillow flung in her direction, humming happily as she hopped off the bed and walked over to Hedwig.
The snowy owl was perched on top of Fleur’s desk, silently surveying the scene in front of her. She was acting in a most dignified fashion, almost as if she knew Harry would want her to make a good impression.
“She’s read the letter three times now,” Gabrielle said in a sing-song voice, a huge grin on her face as she retrieved the box of owl treats from a drawer. She offered one to Hedwig, who carefully plucked it out of her fingers.
“That is why you make us take those calligraphy classes during summer, right maman?” Fleur said, sinking into her pillows and pulling her blanket over her head to hide her pink cheeks. “So that people don’t have to read our letters three times to decipher the chicken scrawl.”
“I think Harry’s handwriting is quite legible,” Apolline murmured, picking up the envelope from the desk and studying the name etched on it in neat cursive. “Fleur Delacour. Huh. Would you look at that daughter, I got it in a single try!” she teased.
“His letter contained concerning news, mama!” Fleur replied hotly from under the blanket. “I just wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”
“Concerning news?”
“Yes, mama.” Gabrielle grinned. “He misses her and can’t wait to see her again,” she cooed, making smooching sounds.
Fleur shot upright, pushing the blanket away from her face and glaring at her sister.
Gabrielle stared back with a smirk, completely unfazed by Fleur’s silent threat to murder her.
“He was such a polite young man.”
“And the eyes,” Gabrielle added dreamily.
“Mother! Not you too,” Fleur whined. “He is just a friend. That is all. I do not date anyone, remember?”
“You know, darling, your father was ‘just a friend’, once upon a time,” Apolline replied with a chuckle. “I had promised myself I wouldn’t be one of those Veela. I wouldn’t be the Veela that went and fell in love with a human male.”
“What changed?” Gabrielle asked.
“Well.” Apolline paused for dramatic effect. “We were in school together and oh, your father, he was a persistent man. He wrote me a letter. Then another. And then some more,” she murmured with a smirk. “Before I knew it I was accepting roses and dancing under the stars with the charming devil. Sometimes it all starts with a simple letter.”
“I’m hungry,” Fleur muttered, trying to change the subject. “Maman, we don’t want to be late for the carriage. I’m going to get ready and meet you downstairs for breakfast.” Fleur carefully folded the letter and placed it in the magically locked upper drawer of her nightstand.
“Can you make sure it’s a full English breakfast? She might as well start getting used to her boyfriend’s cuisine,” Gabrielle cackled, nimbly dodging out of the way of another flung pillow.
Apolline shook her head at her daughter’s antics, a small smile on her face. She extended her arms, letting Fleur melt into the hug. “Whatever you do, my dear, promise me you’ll follow your heart.”
“Yes, mother,” Fleur mumbled, her blush deepening. It wasn’t like she had a crush on Harry Potter. She couldn’t have a crush on him.
She had decided a long time ago that men weren’t worthy of her time or attention. And no amount of enchanting eyes or sweet letters would change her mind.
“I want you downstairs in half an hour. Come on, Gabrielle.”
“But-”
“Gabrielle,” Apolline said sternly, causing her younger daughter to pout and reluctantly follow her mother out of the room.
Fleur waited for them to leave before making her way to her desk. She pulled out her self-inking quill and a roll of parchment, the quill hovering inches from the aged paper as she thought about her reply.
Dear Harry,
Mrs. Weasley sounds like a wise woman. Perhaps you should listen to her. What if there are assassins waiting for you? I’m sure you’ll lead them on a merry chase, but I won’t be around to rescue you nor will I be able to patch up the numerous wounds you’ll surely suffer because of your ‘silly’ actions. Best then to stay cooped up in the house.
She paused. Could she tell him she missed him?
She slowly put the quill back down on the parchment, deciding to follow her mother’s advice and speak from the heart.
I miss you too. It will be some time before we see each other again, but I would love it if you wrote to me. Tell me about your friends. It feels strange I have seen you without your pants but know nothing more about you than your name.
Fleur cursed under her breath. Did she have to mention the pants? The only reason she had asked him to take them off was so she could take care of the wounds on his knees and thighs and she had given him a towel to wrap around his waist. Still, it had been a strangely intimate moment with a man she had just met.
I’ll do much worse when I’m a healer, she reminded herself.
True, but you won’t exchange letters with all your patients. Remember, it all starts with a letterrrrr, Gabrielle’s sing-song voice had wormed its way into her mind, a rather unfortunate development.
Shut up, Fleur told the voice grumpily. Her sister was a romantic. She, on the other hand, knew she had no future with Harry Potter.
They’d have a torrid romance. A beautiful wedding and an amazing honeymoon. But then he’d grow tired of the constant stares and all the men acting like a married woman would happily sleep with them just because she was a Veela. Not to mention all the snide remarks about the pedigree of their children. He probably wanted a normal wife, something she could never be. In the end, they’d both end up making each other miserable.
No, it was best not to willingly walk down a path of self-destruction.
Best to just remain friends with the one man who didn’t want to hump her on sight.
I cannot wait to return to school either. I love my sister, but spending the entire summer with only her for company is a punishment I wouldn’t inflict on anyone. Tell me more about Hogwarts, so I know what to expect. Is it terribly cold? Should I pack all my warm clothes?
Yours,
Fleur.
She folded the letter and pushed it into an envelope.
“You must be tired, yes?” Fleur cooed, gently petting Hedwig. Hedwig hooted in response, leaning into the girl’s touch. “I bet you are. There’s some water and food-” Fleur pointed to the empty owl cage, her own owl out delivering a letter to her grandmother.
“I’ll tie the letter to your foot, but you don’t have to leave right away. You can go once you’ve rested,” Fleur murmured, securing the letter to Hedwig’s foot. “Remember to deliver this only to Harry.”
Hedwig hooted in indignation, appearing offended that Fleur would even think that she’d do anything but that.
Fleur smiled apologetically. “I am sorry. I’m not used to… this.” She gestured vaguely in the air. “Thank you.”
She padded over to the bathroom and slowly stripped off her clothes, sighing softly as she stepped into the steaming water.
“Gabrielle, you absolute brat,” Fleur muttered as she grabbed the bottle of shampoo. Her sister had shoved some rather unladylike thoughts in her head with her incessant teasing. Thoughts that refused to go away, no matter how hard she tried.
Fleur closed her eyes as she massaged the shampoo into her scalp, trying her best not to imagine what it would feel like to have Harry Potter’s lips feverishly exploring every inch of her naked body.
---
The Burrow:
“You understand then, what must be done?”
The man standing in front of the crib bowed, his eyes shining with manic devotion.
“What you did at the World Cup… it was foolish,” the voice hissed. “Admirable, but foolish. We cannot risk showing our hand too early. We must work in the shadows to gather our strength until I am returned to my true form. Even those incompetent idiots at the Ministry can crush us if we’re not too careful.”
“Yes, master. I simply wanted those… those posers! Degenerates! Traitors!” The man spat the words out like it was physically hurting him to even think of the people he was talking about. “I wanted them to know you have not forgotten. And you will not forgive,” he growled, running a hand through his messy hair.
“All in good time, my child. For now, you must do exactly what I’ve asked you to do. It pains me to send you away, but Wormtail…” The voice paused, as if gathering up his strength. “WORMTAIL!” It screeched. “Where are you, you useless lump of flesh? It’s time to feed Nagini.”
The creature turned its attention back to the man standing in front of its tiny bed. “Wormtail cannot be trusted. Not with this.”
“I will not let you down, master,” the man vowed.
“Good. Now, before you go, I want you to remind Wormtail of the consequences of incompetence.”
The man nodded grimly and left.
“Sooooooon,” the voice hissed.
Harry woke up in a cold sweat, his panicked eyes roving around the room until they settled on Hermione looming over him, a worried expression on her face.
“Harry! Are you alright?”
“Y-yes,” Harry muttered, turning to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. The man from his dreams had looked familiar, but try as he might, he couldn’t conjure his face up in his mind.
“I was shouting your name for a good five minutes,” Hermione said skeptically.
“Sorry. Just a nightmare,” Harry mumbled, massaging his throbbing temples.
“Another one? You should talk to someone about it!”
“I’ve written to Sirius. I’m just waiting for his reply,” Harry replied, reluctantly climbing out of bed.
“Alright.” Hermione didn’t sound convinced, but knew better than to keep pushing. “You better get ready. It’s chaos downstairs.”
“Give me ten. We won’t miss the train, right?” He remembered his wild journey to Hogwarts at the start of their Second year. He was NOT keen to relive the experience.
“As long as Fred and George don’t blow up the house, I don’t see why we will, even with all the madness.” Hermione patted his arm, giving him a small smile before she left.
Harry looked at his bed, then at Ron’s empty one. He groaned quietly.
Oh, what he wouldn’t give to have Fleur back in his dreams again!
Notes:
I promised a slow-burn and no Life Debts or Veela Bonds. I never said they wouldn't be two idiots pining secretly for each other. Lol. Also, Ron, buddy, come on. Gotta let Harry have his dreams. Gabrielle is older in this AU simply because I want to write a fun sibling relationship, which I feel not a lot of fics do. A number of you have asked me for all chapters of my stories together to save you the trouble of going through so many posts. They can now be downloaded through the link in my pinned post! It won't have all the latest chapters because it's quite an effort to create them, but I will announce every time I add a new folder.
Comments
I am lord dems
Thank you thank you thank you. I mean the only time I like it is if harry and fleur have so far only met for the boubaise and the champion selection B4 then, and that is just because they haven't really met yet.
R. Collins
I can confirm I am not a fan of it and will not go that route.
I am lord dems
I hope you don't to the whole twt angst that a lot of flowerpot stories do
tornadoboy
Gabby is gold here. Well done. She's a lot more energetic than most fics make her, but it works beautifully here. The sibling dynamics are really well done. Harry does need to work on his letter writing skills though. If Gabby hadn't helped hype it up, it might been a little pedestrian lol.
adorsey
Love it!
Erinnyes
Thank you for not making them pining idiots!
Rann Organa
Sweet!
R. Collins
By next week! My tablet died and I had it on there, which means I'll finish it once it's repaired!
Rann Organa
Discord server when?
