Fleur De Lis Ch. 4 (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Teasing.

The Courtyard:

“It’s so cold,” Gabrielle whined, wrapping her arms around her shivering body and rubbing her hands up and down them. She hopped down from the last step of the castle, her feet crunching against the frozen earth of the courtyard. “Why are we out here again? It’s warm in the castle, let’s go back to it,” she mumbled as they walked through the courtyard. She and Fleur were walking back to the Beauxbatons carriage, graciously accompanied by their new friends from Hogwarts. The rest of the delegation had stayed back to put their names in the Goblet under the watchful gaze of Madame Maxime. Her sister had slipped away, and Gabrielle knew she’d return to the Great Hall and enter her name in the middle of the night when there would be fewer eyes on her.

“Our carriage is out by the caretaker’s hut,” Fleur said briskly, trying to ignore the biting wind slamming against her thin silk uniform. While fashionable and comfortable to wear, it provided no protection against the chilly air. “It is where we have to sleep. And to get there, we have to walk across the grounds.” Every day. Fleur did not relish the prospect.

“We don’t have to.” Gabrielle grinned, eyeing Hermione. The brunette was silently walking next to her, still thrown off by the blatant flirting and absolute disregard the Veela had for the normal rules of the game. “We have new friends in the warm, cozy castle. Hermione, you’d let me sleep in your bed, won’t you?” Gabrielle batted her eyelashes, looping her arm through Hermione’s, her lips molded into an innocent, yet sultry pout. “I bet Harry wouldn’t mind you sleeping in his bed, sister,” Gabrielle added slyly, her grin growing wider at the sight of her sister and her crush blushing wildly in the pale moonlight bathing the silent grounds.

“And where would Harry sleep?” Fleur asked hotly.

“Why, in bed with you!” Gabrielle shot back, resting her head on Hermione’s shoulder. “I bet Hermione won’t mind sleeping with me. Do you mind, Hermione?”

“S-sleeping?” Hermione squeaked, her eyes growing wide. Women were supposed to be immune to the Allure, weren’t they?! She glanced at her best friend, her chest heaving. She was having difficulty breathing, it was suddenly far too warm, and all she could think about were Gabrielle Delacour’s pink lips and how they tasted.

“Yeah. You know, the thing we’ll do to rest after all the fucking,” Gabrielle replied with a shrug. “Cause I don’t know about you, but railing a cute tush like yours all night really tires me out.”

“GABRIELLE!”

“It’s the truth, sister!” Gabrielle shot back, before adding under her breath, “you’d know if you got your ass railed.”

“I heard that.”

“Well, you should! It’d do wonders for your sleep problems.”

“Sleep problems?” Harry asked quietly, having silently enjoyed the flirting and banter till that moment. He slowly pulled his cloak over his head as they climbed down the hill to Hagrid’s dark and silent hut.

“I… I have trouble sleeping. When I do fall asleep… nightmares,” Fleur admitted.

“Same. Nearly every night over the summer. They’re so vivid-”

“You think they’re real,” Fleur whispered, cutting him off.

Harry nodded and smiled. “Although, things have been getting better.”

“Have they?”

“Some dreams have been far better than others.”

“What’ve they been about?”

Harry’s cheeks turned the color of beetroots and he desperately racked his brain to come up with a good, safe, neutral topic. “Uh… Quidditch. We won the House Cup last year and it felt so good that I keep dreaming about it,” Harry said lamely. It seemed to satisfy Fleur, although judging by the look on Gabrielle’s face, he hadn’t exactly succeeded in fooling the younger Delacour. Before she could say anything he extended his heavy woolen cloak towards Fleur. “Here. It’ll keep you warm,” Harry murmured with a shy smile.

“I cannot accept this.” Fleur frowned. Why was he offering it to her? In her experience, men seldom did things that did not directly increase their chances of getting into her pants. Inviting her to spend the night in his dorms… now that she’d have understood. Why give her his cloak and suffer the cold himself? “You will be cold if I take it,” she murmured, feeling strangely protective about her new friend.

“I’ll live. I’m used to the cold,” Harry replied, keeping his hand extended. “Keep it. I have several back in my dorms and it’ll save you the trouble of going to Hogsmeade to get yourself new clothes.”

Fleur grasped the cloak, trying her best not to blush when their fingertips brushed. “You are a good man, Harry,” she whispered, pulling the cloak over her head. “Thank you,” she added with a smile, the chilly night suddenly feeling much warmer and her new surroundings, far more hospitable.

“D-do you want my cloak too?” Hermione asked.

“Not really. I prefer more… direct methods to stay warm,” Gabrielle whispered, snuggling deeper into Hermione’s side. The bushy-haired brunette looked like someone had hit her on the head with a hammer.

“Is… this… is Gabrielle… uh…” Harry mumbled, trying to figure out the most delicate way to phrase his question.

“The Allure?” Fleur asked with a quiet chuckle.

Harry nodded sheepishly.

“Non. The Allure does not affect other women, even when we Veela want it to,” Fleur explained, eyeing her sister and her new crush with amusement. “Besides, Gabrielle is very good at controlling hers. If she was using it, you’d know.”

“So why…” Harry discreetly gestured at the two girls, who were now walking the last few steps to the carriage with their arms wrapped around each other.

“Just a good old-fashioned crush, Harry Potter,” Fleur murmured, her vivid blue eyes glinting with amusement. “My sister has that effect on people.”

“I didn’t… I never knew Hermione liked-”

“Girls?”

“Yep.”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“Not at all. It’d do her good to let her hair down after the stressful year she’s had.” He had been glad when Hermione had told him she had surrendered the time turner back to the Ministry. All it had done was drive her crazy, and she had seemed much happier over the summer with an actually manageable schedule of classes.

They paused when they reached the silent carriage. The giant horses had been unhitched from it and now roamed in a new pen constructed behind Hagrid’s hut, happily trotting around the enclosure and munching on the apples scattered on the ground. Fleur grasped the golden handle of the door, the metal glowing for a second as the wards recognized her. The lock clicked and the door swung open.

Gabrielle reluctantly freed herself from Hermione’s side, turning to the girl and leaning up on her toes to brush her lips against Hermione’s. “Au revoir, madame,” she whispered, pecking her cheek. “I wish you a very good night,” Gabrielle added, slowly pulling away.

Hermione squeaked and mumbled a quiet ‘good night’, frozen in place.

“Really?” Harry teased as Gabrielle passed him and grabbed the handles to pull herself up into the carriage.

“It’s the French way of saying goodbye, my sister’s oblivious crush,” Gabrielle said, rolling her eyes. “The proper way. None of that handshaking nonsense.” She whistled happily as she walked deeper into the dark carriage, slowly receding from view.

“Isn’t… it’s supposed to be on the-”

“Cheek.” Fleur nodded, finishing his sentence once more. “My sister plays by her own rules.”

“You can admire his charmingly messy hair and beautiful eyes later, sister!” Gabrielle shouted from inside the carriage. “I am not getting out of our warm bed to open the door for you once I climb in.”

Fleur scowled, her expression softening once she had turned back to Harry. She leaned closer, blushing wildly as she brushed her soft lips against his cheek. “Goodnight,” she whispered, ducking her head and climbing into the carriage. She hastily shut the door before Harry could respond.

“Goodnight,” Harry whispered back into the silent night.

He shook himself free after a minute, turning to his best friend who still stood rooted in place, wordlessly opening and closing her mouth.

“Mione, you alright?” Harry asked, chuckling quietly.

“Mhm.” Hermione blushed and nodded, but made no effort to move. She kept staring at the carriage with a silly smile on her face, acting in a decidedly unHermioneish manner.

Harry rolled his eyes. He walked up to her and looped his arm through hers, guiding the reluctant girl back towards the castle. “Come on, lover girl. We’re spending the entire day showing them around the castle tomorrow. Let’s get us both in the warmth of our Common Room before we freeze to death.”

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m screwed, aren’t I?” Hermione asked, some of her usual frankness returning.

Harry snorted, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Big time.”

                                                         ---

Beauxbatons Carriage, The Delacour’s Room:

“What does he smell like?” Gabrielle asked, sprawled out on the bed. She studied her sister as the woman stood with her back to Gabrielle by the window, peering out into the silent grounds.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Fleur muttered, blushing furiously. Gabrielle simply chuckled at the sight of her red neck.

“Well, you’ve been walking up to the window and pretending to look out into the grounds while you bury your face in your boyfriend’s cloak so I’m pretty sure you know what he smells like by now,” Gabrielle shot back, lazily flipping through the pages of a magazine.

“I’m just looking to make sure the grounds are quiet and empty so I can go put my name in the Goblet,” Fleur replied hotly.

Gabrielle stayed silent, knowing her sister would break sooner or later. And, judging by how she had acted around Harry Potter, she was certain it would be sooner rather than later.

“Peppermint,” Fleur mumbled, turning her head and burying her nose into her shoulder with a sigh. “Freshly cut grass. Broom handle polish.”

“Merlin woman, you have it bad,” Gabrielle cackled.

“You’re the one who kissed a girl!”

“And I liked it.”

“So why am I the one being interrogated here?!” Fleur flopped into bed and buried her face in a pillow. “We should be talking about Hermione and you.”

“We’re talking about you because there’s nothing interesting to talk about when it comes to Hermione and me. I’m going to pin that cutie against a wall and rail her till she screams my name. We’re talking about you because we need a way to make your English cutie realize he needs to do the same to you.”

Fleur turned to shoot a half-hearted glare at her sister. “We’re just friends,” she hissed, slapping her knee.

“Is that why you keep sniffing his cloak and sighing like a love-crazed idiot?”

Fleur didn’t have an answer to that so she resorted to flinging a pillow at her sister.

“Besides,” she said finally, coming up with the perfect excuse for not pursuing anything with Harry. “I’ll be too focused on the tournament. Do you think Madame Maxime will tolerate me dating a student from a rival school if I’m champion?”

Gabrielle sighed. “Are you sure you want to, sister?”

“Face our Headmistress’s wrath? I just told you I don’t want to, which is why Harry and I can never happen.”

Gabrielle rolled her eyes and flung the pillow back at her sister. “The tournament. Don’t act obtuse. You know you don’t have to put your name in the Goblet. No one will know. Just have a normal year with a nice man who seems to really like you.”

“I have to, Gabby,” Fleur murmured, crawling over and resting her head on Gabrielle’s knee.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Of course. To prove yourself. To show the world you’re not just another pretty blonde Veela on an important wizard’s arm.”

“So you understand why the tournament takes precedence. I have to focus on it, Gabby, and nothing else.”

“Do you think the idiots salivating over us in that hall will give you the respect you deserve even if you win?” Gabrielle asked softly. She pushed a hand through her sister’s silky platinum blonde hair, gently running her fingers through it. “Maman is the preeminent expert in soul magic on the entire continent. People still treat her as little more than Papa’s arm candy,” Gabrielle reminded her sister with a sigh.

“I have to,” Fleur replied stubbornly, pushing herself away from Gabrielle’s lap. “Alright, everyone will be asleep by now. I’ll go put my name in.”

“You sure?”

Fleur nodded.

“Then I wish you luck. I know you’ll be the champion and I know you’ll win. I just hope it brings you the happiness you deserve,” Gabrielle said softly, leaning over to kiss her sister’s cheek.

Fleur beamed and returned the gesture, before grabbing the piece of parchment with her name on it from the nightstand and slipping into her shoes.

She was halfway out the door before Gabrielle called out, a familiar smirk gracing her face, “oh, by the way?”

“Yes?” Fleur asked, already wary. She knew her sister well. Too well, in fact. That smile, oh that smile heralded trouble.

“You might want to cast a Smell-Preserving Charm on that cloak,” Gabrielle said, hiding her grin behind a hand. “It’d be quite embarrassing, asking Harry for a new cloak every three days because his scent faded away.”

“Gabby?”

“Yes?” Gabrielle asked, her grin only growing at the sight of the deepening blush on Fleur’s cheeks.

“Shut up,” Fleur growled and shut the door, silently stomping through the dark carriage, muttering about insane sisters and their insane plans under her breath.

She took a deep breath as she stepped out into the chilly winter night, the cold air feeling more refreshing than uncomfortable now that she had the warmth of the cloak around her. She pulled the garment tighter around her body, burying her nose in her shoulder once more and taking another deep breath.

Peppermint. Freshly Cut Grass. Broom Handle Polish.

Fleur sighed and pulled out her wand, casting a Smell-Preserving Charm quietly before making the long and lonely trek up to the castle.

                                                    ---

The Great Hall:

“So, you put your name?” Harry asked, walking into the Great Hall with Fleur.

Hermione and Gabrielle followed behind them. The younger Veela was unashamedly holding Hermione’s hand. Hermione was blushing furiously but grasped the dainty hand with the same determination.

They had spent the day showing their French guests around the castle and the grounds. They had even sneaked in a visit to Hogsmeade using one of the many secret tunnels (all of which Harry knew well by now, thanks to the Marauder’s Map) when Gabrielle declared she was peckish and wanted some chocolate. Given that it was a Sunday and none of them had classes, it had been a much-needed mini-holiday and served to distract a nervous Fleur. It also served to provide ample opportunities for Gabrielle to flirt with Hermione. Which she had. All day, and without a shred of shame.

“I did. Last night. Funny thing was, I wasn’t the only one,” Fleur said as they took their seats at the very end of the Gryffindor table. They were early, with the table sparsely populated. At the other end sat Fred and George, both still long-bearded and gray-haired from their attempt to fool Dumbledore’s age line. They were surrounded by a group of younger Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, all eager to hear them recount what had happened that morning. “I thought nobody would drop by after midnight.”

“But they did?” Hermione asked.

Fleur nodded.

“Who?” Harry asked, buttering up a roll for Fleur.

“I don’t know. The person was wearing a hooded cloak. I think it was a man. Maybe someone from Hogwarts who didn’t want to enter in front of everyone else, just like me? He pushed past me just as I was entering the Great Hall. The strange thing was… I felt like he was watching me even as he walked away.”

“Creepy,” Gabrielle muttered, looping her leg around Hermione’s and locking their ankles together. She gently tugged, pulling Hermione’s legs apart.

Harry glanced over at Hermione’s desperate squeak, his brow furrowed. “You alright, Mione?”

“Yes,” Hermione gasped, glancing at Gabrielle. The girl was whistling in between sips of her soup, acting like nothing was going on even as her fingers danced on Hermione’s skirt. “Hot,” Hermione mumbled, gesturing at her soup.

“How hot?” Gabrielle asked, her eyes gleaming.

“Flaming,” Hermione mumbled, biting her lower lip.

“How is your friend now?” Fleur asked in an attempt to distract herself. Her eyes kept wandering to the pedestal at the very top of the room, and to the simple, unassuming wooden Goblet resting on it. The Goblet still had blue flames dancing merrily along its rim, and Fleur watched as a heavy-set Hogwarts student in green robes shuffled up to it and dropped his name inside minutes before the deadline.

Harry turned away from Hermione and Gabrielle. “He’s alright. I saw him last night, today before breakfast, and again just now, while you and Gabrielle were getting ready for dinner. The hex hit him right in the eye, unfortunately, so it’s taking longer to heal than it normally would.”

“I’m sorry,” Fleur murmured, reaching out to pat Harry’s hand.

“Don’t be. He has an eye patch and is having a fun time pretending to be a pirate. Plus, Krum came to visit and to thank him personally for trying to shield him from Parvati and Lavender.” Harry grinned. He glanced over to the surly Quidditch star sitting by himself at the Slytherin table, before turning back to look at Fleur. “And while Krum might have misunderstood what Ron was trying to do, his visit made Ron’s day. So all in all, he’s doing well.”

“That’s good,” Fleur said, chewing her lower lip nervously.

“What’re you worried about?” Harry asked softly, leaning closer so they could talk without being overheard.

Fleur’s breath hitched as the familiar scent hit her nose. The cloak around her was no match to the real thing and she leaned in subconsciously, possessed with a sudden desire to find out if he tasted just as good as he smelled. All around them the conversation and hubbub reached a crescendo as students filtered in and took their seats. Nobody bothered with dinner, all eyes with few exceptions trained on the Goblet of Fire, everyone waiting with bated breath to find out who would represent their school in the Triwizard Championship.

Their lips were inches away when Dumbledore walked up to his lectern and cleared his throat, the sound magically resonating around the entire room. Harry and Fleur both jumped away from each other, blushing furiously as a hush descended on the room.

“The moment that you have all been waiting for… is here,” Dumbledore said, peering benignly into the crowd. “All eligible participants who wished to enter had twenty-four hours to drop their names into the Goblet of Fire. They have done so. Those who were ineligible and yet persisted have found out that it is not easy to fool age lines.” Dumbledore’s electric blue eyes flitted over to Fred and George for a second before he cleared his throat and continued. “In a minute, the Goblet shall reveal the names of the people chosen. If your name is announced, please walk up to that door-” He gestured to the half-ajar door behind the teacher’s table, “and wait in the room for further instructions.”

Dumbledore walked down the raised dais and to the pedestal that held the Goblet, staring at the wooden cup expectantly. The flames inside it flared and turned bright orange the minute the clock struck nine, a charred piece of parchment shooting out of it into the air. Dumbledore plucked it as it fluttered to the ground, peering at the name written on it.

“The champion for Durmstrag… VIKTOR KRUM!”

The entire Durmstrag delegation and half the school erupted in cheers as the burly Bulgarian got to his feet and walked up to Dumbledore, accepting a handshake before continuing to the door that led to the room reserved for the Champions.

The Goblet erupted again after a minute, shooting out another piece of parchment.

“The champion for Hogwarts… CEDRIC DIGGORY.”

The Hufflepuff table collectively lost its senses at the declaration. Their Quidditch captain got to his feet amidst rousing cheers, hoots, and clapping, with every Hufflepuff excited to finally get their due from the rest of the school. Harry could have sworn he saw Ernie MacMillan crying.

A hush settled back in the Great Hall as the last parchment was plucked from the air by Dumbledore.

“The champion for Beauxbatons… FLEUR DELACOUR.”

Fleur turned to Harry in stunned silence, her eyes wide.

“Go,” Harry whispered with a huge smile as he joined in on the clapping. The Beauxbatons delegation had lost its composure for once, whistling and clapping loudly, spurred on in part by the Gryffindors applauding a champion that had been adopted as one of their own.

Fleur stood up on unsteady feet, reminding herself to hold her head high as she walked down the table to Dumbledore. The entire school stared at her, taking in her beauty, her grace, and the unmistakable Gryffindor cloak wrapped around her body. She shook Dumbledore’s hand and walked over to the door, turning back to smile at her sister and Harry.

“Now that we have our champions-”

Dumbledore was interrupted by the Goblet erupting unexpectedly, the orange flames shooting out yet another piece of parchment. The Headmaster grabbed the paper and stared at the name scrawled on it, his wizened face marred by a frown.

“Harry Potter,” he whispered. The room was deathly silent, all eyes shifting from Fleur to Harry. Dumbledore cleared his throat and repeated, louder this time, “Harry Potter!”

Notes:

I am so glad a Patron used their Supervote and commissioned this story. If you couldn't guess, I'm having a lot of fun writing it. Now I just need someone to ask for a Gabrielle/Hermione one shot (Hello, new awesome ship alert?) and my life will be complete. I'm really glad I made the decision to have Gabrielle be Harry and Hermione's age in this AU, since her dynamic with everyone (especially the sisterly bond with Fleur!) is amazing. If you'd like to talk to me and discuss my stories, use the invite link in the pinned post for my Discord Server!