Fleur De Lis Ch. 11 (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Teasing.

“Is she on fire, Potter?!” Professor McGonagall snapped in exasperation.

Harry blushed and shook his head, trying his best to ignore the laughter around him. His little proposal had been sufficient in making sure no one doubted the ruse of their romance. Unfortunately, it also ended up doing a lot more than just that.

Everyone from students to teachers were now interested in their romance. Sympathetic reporters talked about them like they were Romeo and Juliet while Skeeter alternated between writing disparaging articles about Fleur by claiming she was a scheming Veela trying to steal Britain’s most eligible bachelor and interviewing everyone who had something bad to say about them.

At least Fleur had found Malfoy’s claims that she was keeping him hypnotized with her boobs funny.

Students unashamedly stared at them in hallways and the grounds and they had to retreat to the Shrieking Shack of all places for time alone. As for the teachers… Harry hoped Gabrielle never found out about the advice Professor Flitwick had given him one day after a Charms class. If she did, he was absolutely certain she wouldn’t rest until he tried it out with her sister.

All in all, the constant attention was tiring and all Harry wanted was one blissful afternoon alone with Fleur so they could be their normal selves for a change.

Professor McGonagall’s voice dragged him back to reality.

“Then I think you’ll survive putting your hands on her waist. Your hands on her waist, her arms around your neck, Potter.”

“It’s okay,” Fleur whispered. She was blushing just as much as he was but she gently grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands from her shoulders down to her slender waist.

Harry could feel his face burning. It was their first lesson and after Professor McGonagall had led them all through basic etiquette and steps she had asked him and Fleur to step forward, mimicking what would happen on the night of the actual Ball. They, along with the other Champions and their dates would open the Ball while everyone else watched.

He hated it.

Fleur’s face was similarly red but she wore a determined expression. She gently coaxed him into tightening his grip on her waist, biting her lower lip as his fingers sank into her soft skin. He was holding her tighter than was necessary but she didn’t mind. A part of her already knew she would caress the faint bruises with her fingers every time she dressed until they faded.

“That’s better,” Professor McGonagall said, glaring at everyone gathered in the room. Gabrielle kept staring at her sister and her not-quite boyfriend with a shit-eating grin, completely undeterred by the Professor’s stern gaze.

“Just so you know,” she said in a theatrical whisper as she leaned closer to Hermione. “I’m going to have no problem placing my hands on your cute little waist sweetness.”

Lavender giggled loudly and Harry wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He had made the mistake of looking over at Gabrielle who winked and mimicked an hourglass in the air with her hands.

Fortunately, his torture was cut short by the loud ringing of the bell.

“Saved by the bell, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said tartly. “Alright. I want all of you here on time next week. You will practice what I’ve taught you until then.”

Harry stayed frozen in place as people started filtering out of the room, chattering excitedly.

“Harry?” Fleur whispered. Their faces were inches from each other, his hot breath tickling her as it brushed against her skin. She was, she realized, still biting her lower lip. Her body reacted to the unexpected intimacy and his firm grasp on her waist and her Veela physiology kicked in. Her nipples hardened under her powder blue robes, the stiff pink nubs pushing against the lace of her white bra. A tiny trickle of arousal leaked out of her and stained her matching panties and she knew her biology was preparing her to mate with Harry.

She clamped her legs shut, more than happy to live in denial. It wasn’t like she needed to mate. She definitely didn’t want his messy black hair to tickle her soft skin, to push his face into her chest, to moan his name as his lips teased the stiff nub pushing against the thin fabric of her bra…

“Hmm?”

His eyes were beautiful. Too beautiful. She could feel herself get sucked into their emerald depths and she knew she was seconds away from losing control over herself and her Allure.

“You can let me go now.”  She ignored the screech of protest from her body. Her core throbbed, a constant reminder of how close she was to pure bliss and pleasure.

Harry flushed. “Oh! R-right,” he mumbled, stiffly releasing his hold on her waist and taking a step away from her.

“Come on, lovebirds.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes and locked one arm with Fleur’s arm and the other with Harry’s. She looked back and smirked at Professor McGonagall as she led them out of the room.

The old Professor barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She waited until Hermione had followed them out of the classroom. Only as she shut the door did she allow her lips to curl into a small smile.

“You’re going to drive her crazy if you’re not careful,” Hermione warned as she ran to catch up with them.

“What did we do?!”

“Kept eye fucking each other instead of actually dancing,” Gabrielle said nonchalantly. She extricated herself from between Harry and Fleur and pushed them both towards each other before reaching out to take Hermione’s hand.

Hermione blushed as the shorter girl shamelessly threaded their fingers together and pulled her closer.

“We were not!” Fleur growled, her cheeks dark red. She didn’t know why she was being so defensive. Perhaps it was because that was exactly what it had felt like.

“Please. I’m waiting for the day you snap. It’ll be so much fun if it happens the night of the Ball. Between the stress and Harry looking like a greek god I bet biology takes over and you let him mount you like a stallion,” Gabrielle said with a smirk.

“Gabrielle!”

“I could smell it, sister.” Gabrielle dropped her voice to a whisper and winked.

“Smell what?”

“Nothing!” Fleur glared at her sister. “As usual Gabrielle has no idea when to keep her mouth shut. We’re walking down a public hallway.”

“People are staring,” Harry murmured, shifting uncomfortably as a pair of third-year Hufflepuff girls passed them and started giggling.

“I told you Malfoy was talking shit! They didn’t break up, they’re in loooove.”

Harry blushed at the girl’s dreamy sigh.

“Their babies are going to be so beautiful…”

“Okay, that’s it. I’ll be in my dorms for the rest of the evening if anyone needs me,” Harry said, his face burning.

Don’t think about making a baby with Fleur… don’t think about making a baby with Fleur… don’t think about making a baby with Fleur…

Suddenly, it was all he could think about.

He bit his lip to stifle a groan as his cock stirred, a dream he’d had a few days ago making its way out of his memories and back into his conscious mind.

“I thought you said you wanted to spend some time alone with Fleur after our dancing lesson,” Hermione said with a teasing smile. “Surely that’s a more enjoyable prospect than an evening with Ron? All you two do is bitch about how poorly the Chudley Canons have been performing.”

Gabrielle gave her girlfriend a look that clearly said; I’m so proud of you.

“Do you know someplace we can go where we won’t be gawked at like we’re museum exhibits?” Harry groused. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, pushing a particularly unruly fringe away from his forehead.

“People even discovered our spot by the lake.” Fleur tried her best not to sound annoyed. Using a dilapidated house that had initially been created to house a werewolf and now had moldy furniture and spiders the size of her fist was not her idea of spending quality time with Harry. “Someone finds us no matter where we are and then Skeeter turns up like an annoying bug we can’t get rid of.”

Gabrielle and Hermione exchanged glances.

“We uh, we might have a place for you two. It’s big enough that you can even practice dancing together in peace. Nobody ever goes there so you’ll be safe.”

“Mione, I’m not taking Fleur to Myrtle’s bathroom.”

“Who’s Myrtle?”

“A ghost girl who has a crush on Harry,” Hermione said in response to Fleur’s question.

Fleur looked at Harry with raised eyebrows.

“Long story.”

Fleur nodded and ruthlessly squashed the irrational jealousy that had flared up in her.

Get a grip, she groused to herself. She told the voice in her head that was asking her to find and threaten Myrtle to get lost.

I can’t believe I’m jealous of ghost girls now.

“I’m not asking you to take my sister to the bathroom of your creepy ex-girlfriend.”

“She’s not my-” Harry sighed and gave up. “Where do you want us to go, Gabrielle?”

“Do you remember the time Hermione and I overheard Snape and Karkaroff talking?”

“You mean the time you accidentally snooped in on a conversation where they confirmed Voldemort has returned and that all my dreams are real? Vaguely,” Harry said sarcastically.

He had tried his best not to dwell on it. Between a deadly tournament and worries that he was going to make a fool of himself and Fleur at the Yule Ball, he already had enough on his plate. It wasn’t like his dreams showed him anything useful that he could use or share with Dumbledore.

All he knew was that Voldemort was in a dilapidated room with Pettigrew and a large snake and that he was planning something. None of which could be used to actually find and catch him.

What could he do with that knowledge? Nothing. He had thought about going to Dumbledore or the Ministry but the former was busy with the Tournament and the latter probably wouldn’t believe him.

And with Skeeter breathing down his neck he had no desire to give her more ammunition to attack him. He could already imagine the headlines.

‘Troubled Man under Influence of French Veela has Nightly Dreams of Feared Dark Lord’

Or perhaps she’d spin it differently.

‘Harry Potter: Hero or Madman?’

Gabrielle’s voice broke him free from his reverie. They hopped onto a staircase together and allowed it to carry them down to the Atrium.

“Well, Hermione wanted to find a place where she could spy on Snape in her free time.”

“In case Karkaroff dropped by again. Maybe he shares something useful, you never know,” Hermione added with pink cheeks.

Harry chuckled and nodded. Despite his best friend’s love for rules he had realized she never let them stop her from doing what she thought was right.

“Did you?”

Hermione nodded. “You know the empty classroom next to his office?”

Harry whipped his head around to look at Hermione, staring at her like she had lost her mind. “Are you insane? That classroom has a door connecting it directly to his office! If he finds you snooping on him he’ll have you cleaning vats of bubotuber pus for the rest of the year.” Harry turned to Gabrielle. “And you went along with her insanity?!”

“Hey, don’t blame me! I just wanted a nice quiet place to play with Hermione’s… to spend some quality time with my girlfriend.”

“Look, I sealed the door with a clever bit of magic, okay? If he tries to open it and someone is in the classroom, it’ll feel like it’s jammed. He’ll need about three minutes to open it with magic and that’s more than enough time for us to leave.”

“What if he hears you two… spending quality time together?” Fleur challenged. She grabbed Harry’s hand tightly, still not used to having to hop from one staircase to another.

Fear of plummeting to my death isn’t irrational, she reminded herself as her eyes took in the distance between them and the floor below.

“Used a trick Professor Flitwick taught me. We can listen to everything that goes on in his office but he can’t hear anything from the classroom.”

“Can he detect it?” Harry asked, lacing his fingers with Fleur’s. He smiled at her reassuringly and she rewarded him with a small smile of her own.

“Not unless he sweeps the classroom for magic and he has no reason to do that,” Hermione answered proudly.

“I knew I liked you for more than your ass.” Gabrielle leaned up and kissed Hermione’s cheek before continuing in a whisper that both Harry and Fleur could hear. “I still plan to fuck it hard tonight.”

Fleur cleared her throat awkwardly.

“You can use it. We don’t need it till tonight. Hermione and I are going to the library. I need help with my Transfiguration homework.”

Gabrielle’s heated gaze made it clear that there would be little in the way of actual studying.

“What if someone else decides to use the classroom?”

“No one conducts classes there and all other students avoid it because it’s right next to Snape’s office. It’s hiding in plain sight,” Hermione replied.

The staircase landed on the floor of the Atrium with a loud THUMP. All four of them hopped off before it could make the return journey to the third floor. The Atrium was devoid of students and the Great Hall itself was sparsely populated.

“Alright, fine,” Harry said, suddenly eager to leave. He had spotted Skeeter and her creepy photographer talking to Pansy in the Courtyard and wanted to get away from the Atrium before she spotted them.

“Dinner at seven?” Hermione asked.

“Dinner at seven,” Harry confirmed. He tugged on their enjoined hands, leading Fleur towards the staircase that led down to Hogwarts’ basement and dungeons.

They settled into a comfortable silence as they walked down the steps. The staircases and hallways were empty, nearly everyone had decided to take advantage of the rare sunny day in November and spend time in the grounds or by the lake.

The mood shifted as they walked into the gloomy dungeons. It was much darker and as always, the temperature dropped noticeably. Harry glanced at Fleur, frowning when he realized she was shivering. He quietly took off his cloak and wrapped it around her, augmenting the protection offered by her thin silk Beauxbatons blouse.

“You really need to get warmer clothes,” he murmured, glad that it was too dark for her to see the blush on his cheeks. The back of his hand had brushed against the side of her chest while he was wrapping the cloak around her and he could only pray that she hadn’t noticed.

She had. Fleur’s heart skipped a beat and her Allure flared again, the throbbing in her core intensifying. She vaguely knew what was happening, but had steadfastly ignored the signs.

Le compagnon parfait. Her mother had warned them about them. Every Veela had one, though not every Veela was fortunate enough to end up with theirs. Her mother had been one of the lucky few to end up with the person best suited for her.

“What happened to the cloak I gave you?”

“Hmm?” Fleur faked ignorance, trying to pretend like she hadn’t worn it while not with him everywhere and every single day. His smell had slowly started to fade despite the preservation charm she had cast on it and she had finally folded it and carefully placed it under a pile of clothes in her chest, eager not to lose the small bit of himself that he had shared with her. “Oh,” she said after a few seconds, acting like she had just remembered where it was. “It’s in my chest. I’ll bring it with me tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

His smile caused her heart to hammer in her chest. Her heartbeat felt so loud that she was certain he could hear it.

It was unfair, the effect he had on her, especially since her own Allure seemed to barely affect him. If she didn’t know better she could have sworn he had the Allure too. She was too shy to ask Gabrielle if she felt the same way around Hermione.

Was this because he was her le compagnon parfait? She knew there was no actual magic binding them together, just a simple understanding that he was the person best suited for her. Neither of them was under any compulsion to act on it and she had every intention of taking advantage of that freedom until she knew for sure he felt the same way.

And the Tournament, she reminded herself. She wouldn’t allow anything to distract her from her goal of winning the Tournament, not even Harry.

“We’re here.”

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear his words and kept walking. Unfortunately, her hand was clasped in his and she could only go a few steps until she was unintentionally pulled backwards. She lost her footing and slipped, squealing quietly and grabbing onto the nearest thing she could find to avoid falling face-first onto the hard and dirty stone floor.

The nearest thing just so happened to be his shoulder. She landed into his chest with a groan, her cheeks turning scarlet when he wrapped his free arm around her body to help her keep her balance.

His heart was beating just as fast as hers was.

He freed his hand from hers and before she could stop herself, her now free hand reached up and grabbed his other shoulder. She was clinging to him like a Koala and her body ignored her mind’s frantic pleas to pull away. Slowly, reluctantly, she straightened, their noses brushing against each other as she did. She stayed rooted in place, captivated by his beautiful emerald eyes.

Just kiss me. Their lips were so, so close. All he had to do was lean in a little. I’m not brave enough to do it myself.

“We should get in the classroom,” Harry said hoarsely. He made no effort to actually move. His hands had wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer without even realizing it. “Snape’s office is right behind you and I don’t want him to catch us here.”

“We should,” Fleur confirmed breathlessly.

“Right.” After what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds he pulled away and Fleur bit back a disappointed groan.

That’s what she had wanted, right? Or had she wanted him to kiss her, to finally end their little dance?

I don’t even know, she groused in her mind as she followed him into the empty classroom. She resisted the urge to slam the door shut behind her, instead closing it as quietly as she could before turning around and looking at the room.

“It’s…”

“... a loveshack,” Harry finished.

There was no other way to describe what Gabrielle and Hermione had done. The desks and chairs had been vanished. In their place, in the very center of the room was a large mattress on the floor covered with red sheets and heart-shaped throw pillows. Instead of the candles that normally illuminated every classroom in the dungeons, strings stretched between walls. They had been charmed to imitate Muggle fairy lights and flooded the room with soft pink light.

“Those little shits, they’ve been planning this for a long time,” Fleur swore as she bent to pick up the note placed under a bottle of firewhiskey by the makeshift bed.

“You’ll need this,” she read it out loud, rolling her eyes. She turned red as she realized what the lacy strips next to the bottle were. Before Harry could notice them she pushed the lacy black lingerie under the mattress.

“I am not sitting down on that mattress. My sister and Hermione have done unspeakable things on it,” Fleur muttered as she straightened.

“How do you know?” Harry asked with a teasing grin.

“Have you forgotten the time they didn’t remember to put a tie on the door and we accidentally walked in on Gabrielle ‘inspecting’ her new French Maid?”

Harry shuddered. “I’m actively trying to block that memory, thank you very much. There are just some things about your best friend that you’re not supposed to know. I will say this; the costume choice was a bit on the nose.”

“A bit, yes,” Fleur giggled. The pink light disguised her blush as she moved closer to him. “Well, there’s nowhere for us to sit. Maybe we should just practice dancing? I have a feeling we’d enjoy it a lot more without a crowd.”

Harry gave her a bashful smile and nodded.

She made the first move. She walked over to him and took his hand, wrapping her other arm around his neck. She assumed the starting position McGonagall had taught them and waited for him to place his hand on her waist and lead her around on their imaginary dance floor.

“There’s no music.”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t need music to dance. Just you.”

Harry placed his hand on her waist, his grip gentler than what it had been before.

“One. Two. Three. Four.”

They slowly waltzed around the room. They were both tense and paid careful attention to their feet, neither wanting to step on the other’s toes.

“One. Two. Three. Four.” Harry repeated the slow waltz, leading her back to where they had started.

“Much better,” Fleur whispered, her heart pounding in her chest. They were nearly the same height and the dance position meant that their lips were, once more, inches away from each other.

“Thank you. Maybe I should tell Professor McGonagall that you’ll teach me. I am not looking forward to the next lesson.”

“I can’t teach you,” Fleur laughed and shook her head. “I don’t know how to dance.”

“But Gabrielle said-”

Fleur grinned at Harry’s confused frown. He was utterly adorable with his brow furrowed. “Gabrielle took lessons from the dance master mama hired to teach us. She loves dancing. I don’t so mama never forced me to learn. I spent that time watching papa duel with his dueling club friends,” Fleur explained.

“That oddly makes me feel better.”

“Oh?” Fleur quirked an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I thought you really cared about the Ball and our dance and I’ve been terrified I will mess it up for you.”

“I don’t. I have you.” Fleur paused, forcing her uncooperative tongue to speak the other two names. “And Gabby and Hermione. All I care about is getting through that opening dance without falling flat on my ass. After that, we can do whatever we want.”

“Gabby and Mione will probably want to dance some more.”

“They can.” Fleur shrugged. “We can have fun by ourselves.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

His crooked grin caused butterflies to flutter in her stomach. She had a strange tension building up in her core and it seemed to tighten with every passing second.

“Lead me around again. We need to keep practicing,” she commanded in a soft whisper.

“Yes ma’am.” Harry nodded. He took a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and tightened his hold around her waist. He pulled her closer, pausing only when her chest was touching his. She was pressed against him and she knew it was how they were supposed to be. The knowledge that they had just adopted the normal starting position did nothing to stop her heart from speeding up or her throat from growing dry.

“One, Two, Three, Four.”

The slow dance was infinitely more sensual than it had been in public. For one, they only had each other to concentrate on.

Fleur kept her eyes locked on his face, her gaze moving from the messy black hair that threatened to spill over his forehead and slowly making her way to his lips.

“Have you ever kissed someone?” His voice was so soft that she nearly missed his question.

“Do the cheek kisses I give my grandma count?” Fleur asked, gently resting her head on his shoulder. She looked up at him with a shy smile, enjoying the unexpected intimacy.

Maybe letting her sister trick them into coming to her love shack wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“No. I don’t think so.” Harry laughed and shook his head.

“You?” Fleur asked, afraid of his answer. Were they both worried about the same things? That the other was vastly more experienced?

She knew the kind of reputation Veelas had in Britain. But he didn’t seem the type to believe rumors and prejudices.

You’re guilty of doing the same thing, she reminded herself. Just because he was the Boy-Who-Lived didn’t mean he was drowning in girls before she came along.

“Uh… the closest I’ve come to kissing recently is watching Neville kiss Trevor.”

“His boyfriend?”

“His toad.”

Fleur giggled. “But you have kissed someone, non? Your ex. The girl who hit your friend Ronald. Not like me,” she said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

“Yeah. The first couple of times wasn’t anything like what I had expected,” Harry murmured, leading her around the room in a slow dance. “It was sloppy, messy, and I ended up using way too much tongue.”

“I always thought my first would be with someone special,” Fleur admitted shyly.

“Ditto,” Harry whispered. “But in a way, I’m thankful, because now I know what to do when I kiss that someone special.”

The romantic atmosphere was shattered in an instant at the sound of a door banging open.

Harry jumped away from her and turned, relaxing when he realized it wasn’t their door that had been opened.

“Snape,” Fleur mouthed, pointing at the connecting door that led into the Potion Master’s office.

“You don’t have to whisper.”

“Right. Forgot they couldn’t hear us,” Fleur muttered, rolling her eyes at her own stupidity. She grabbed a couple of throw pillows and followed Harry to the connecting door.

Harry sat down on one of the pillows she had placed on the floor before turning to look at her.

“Do you think it’s Karkaroff?”

His question was answered by Karkaroff’s rough, uncouth voice filtering through the door, Hermione’s charm amplifying it to make sure they could hear everything clearly.

“Severus,” he growled. There was a loud THUMP.

“Guess he dumped something on the table,” Fleur murmured with a small frown. Was Moody right? Had Karkaroff put Harry’s name in the Goblet? The man acted like he hated Harry but if he truly wanted to finish his master’s job and kill Harry why was he so terrified of Voldemort’s return?

They had so many unanswered riddles to solve.

“See it,” Karkaroff hissed.

“I don’t need to, Igor,” Snape answered, his silky voice filled with impatience and annoyance. “This is the third time you’ve shown it to me this week. I have one myself, you know?”

Harry and Fleur exchanged confused glances. What were they talking about?

“You can’t pretend it’s not getting darker anymore, Severus. It’s nearly back to its original color. He’s gathering strength. He’ll summon us any day now.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps the Mark just darkens with age. The Dark Lord never revealed to anyone the precise magic that went into its creation.”

“What will you do if he summons you?”

“Nothing.”

Karkaroff snorted. “You’ll stay? You won’t flee?”

“Why should I?”

“I… you’re not serious?!” Karkaroff spluttered. “I gave evidence against Lestrange! His beloved! Do you think he’ll forgive that? I’ve been watching Potter prance around for half a year and I’ve done nothing to him. Do you think he’ll let that slide? Hell, you’ve been teaching that brat for four years now! Do you really think he’ll forgive either of us?!” Igor screeched at the top of his voice, sounding more and more hysterical with every passing second.

Gabrielle and Hermione were right. He was clearly terrified at the notion of Voldemort returning.

What concerned Harry was the fact that Snape didn’t seem to care about that possibility at all. Was it because he was reformed, as Dumbledore claimed? Or was it because he knew Voldemort would welcome him back with open arms?

“Your incessant prattling tires me, Igor. Flee, Stay, do what you want. I will do what I must.” Snape paused. “I will say this. If you decide to flee, run fast and run far. Never stop looking over your shoulder. The Dark Lord isn’t known for his mercy.”

“Can the Potter boy stop him?”

“Dumbledore seems to think so,” Snape said in a mocking tone. Fleur scowled and had nearly climbed to her feet before Harry grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down.

“What do you think?”

“I think he’s an arrogant brat who has no magical talent or ability to lead. He’s exactly like his father. A garden gnome would be more dangerous to the Dark Lord,” Snape muttered bitterly. “Why do you ask?”

“I wondered… maybe we can throw our lot in with him? Help him in return for our safety…”

Snape laughed harshly. “You’re better off running, Igor. Now get out of my office.”

“He can’t speak about you this way,” Fleur growled once Karkaroff’s footsteps receded out of earshot. Her face was flushed with anger and her palms glowed, tiny flames springing to life and dancing along her fingertips.

“It’s alright,” Harry murmured. He wrapped his hand around her wrist, the pressure immediately calming her down. The moment of rage that suddenly threatened to consume her passed just as quickly as it had appeared.

“This isn’t even the worst thing he’s said about me. It’s fine, really. My dad saved him once and he has had a stick up his ass about it ever since,” Harry murmured. He grasped her hand and gently threaded their fingers together. “You don’t need to defend my honor,” he teased, bumping his shoulder against hers.

“Nobody speaks about you this way. You’re a smart, gorgeous, extremely skilled man. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life,” Fleur mumbled. She rested her head on his shoulder, blushing but not protesting when he wrapped his free hand around her waist and pulled her closer.

“At least one good thing came out of hearing Snape spout his usual nastiness.”

“What’s that?”

“We now know for sure that Karkaroff didn’t put my name in the Goblet and we don’t have to waste any more of our time looking into him. Someone else did and we have no way to find out who that person is.”

Notes:

I think one of my aims with this story is writing a very sensual Fleur but making it feel effortless. I don't want to achieve it by simply oversexing her. In my head she has this effortless sort of beauty and innocence where she'll take your breath away in pajamas and bed hair and I kinda want this story to show that. It makes for a great contrast with her sister's shall we say, more direct approach. Lol. I swear one of these days I am going to write a series of shorts that covers the story of Gabrielle aggressively seducing the cute bookworm (Hermione) she likes.