HP: Panem et Circenses

Mai 13th, 1996

A massive crowd cheered down at him from amidst the tall stands. Their yells mixed with the rumble of countless feet stomping on wood and the rhythmic drum of fists on rails.

'It's time.'

Tristan spun his wand between his fingers and took a deep breath, craning his neck to the towering hedges on the quidditch pitch. Thick gray mist loomed over it like steam above boiling water, obscuring his view after the first few meters.

His pulse began to race and a soft thrill swelled within him. 'Finally.'

A strong, warm hand came resting down on his shoulder. "How are you feeling, son?"

He turned around to face his parents. "As ready as ever." A fierce flare of ambition rose in his chest, burning as bright as the gleam in his father's green eyes. "This is exactly where I wanted to be, facing the very best of my age."

'This is where I'll prove that I'm great...'

His mother let go of the slightly grown curve of her belly and dashed forward, engulfing him tightly and pressing kisses to his cheeks and forehead.

"Go in there. Take the bloody cup. And get back out. You hear me?" She brushed a curl from his forehead. "Don't mess around with either Krum or Fleur and don't underestimate any of the obstacles!"

"I won't," Tristan murmured. "I won't be stopped." 'Especially not by William fucking Weasley.'

"Champions, over here please!" Bagman's amplified voice boomed over the noise of the crowd.

"Good luck, Tristan." His father clapped him on the shoulder as Tristan gently pried himself out of his mother's embrace. "We're very proud of you, son."

He shot them a short nod and stalked over to the opening of the maze.

Krum and Fleur each separated from their families as well; the three Bulgarians shot him hostile glares. Fleur's parents watched him like a pair of hawks; only her sister grinned at him mischievously.

"Uhm... What's up with Gabby?" Tristan asked Fleur as she joined him.

She rolled her eyes. "The little harpy heard us out in the hallway when you stayed over the night of the ball."

"Oh." Heat invaded Tristan's cheeks. "I really wish I didn't ask now." He shot a sideways glance at her. "Somehow you don't seem all too concerned by it."

A faint smirk crept onto Fleur's red lips. "I don't mind the idea of someone hearing us together too much. And I know neither do you..."

'Damn it.' Tristan flushed.

Bagman's grin had never been more cheerful. "This is finally it, folks." He rubbed his hands in childlike excitement. "The Triwizard Cup has been placed in the center of the maze. Whoever gets there first will win the tournament. Unfortunately, the rather awkward failure of the rings means we won't be able to follow along your journey past the obstacles this time."

'Perfect.' A sharp smile played on Tristan's lips as caught the brief twitch in Krum's perpetual scowl. 'Whatever happens in the maze stays in the maze...'

"But fear not. If at any point you get stuck or require rescuing you only need to let us know like this." Bagman pulled his wand and raised it, shooting red sparks into the night sky. "Now then. Two more minutes until Ms. Delacour will start. Get ready everyone."

'I am ready.'

Tristan rolled up his sleeves and spun his wand through his fingers in a shower of sparks. His eyes roamed from Krum stretching his limbs against the stands to Fleur, who shrugged off her long blue cloak and secured her platinum hair in a tight plait with swift twists of her wand.

She caught his eye and smirked up at him. "Don't get distracted now, Tristan."

"Oh, don't worry about me." He winked at her. "And remember that even when you lose, I'll still buy you some chocolate from the prize money."

"One more minute, Ms. Delacour!" Bagman shouted.

A shadow flickered through her eyes. "I don't lose, Tristan." She cupped his jaw and rose to her tiptoes, tilting his head down to hers. "I always come first."

Tristan circled an arm around her waist and drew her in. "Are you going to kiss me, petite Fleur?" He smiled into her warm, fluttering breath and brushed noses with her. "It'll probably take more than kisses to distract me."

She grazed her lips over his. "Be careful," she whispered, her eyes flickering to Krum. "This is his final chance. He's most dangerous now."

"Ten seconds!"

Tristan breathed in her sweet vanilla scent. "Don't worry. I have a plan for him." A hot flare of affection sneaked its way through the fierce tangle of ambition in his breast and flooded his heart with warmth. "Good luck, Fleur."

She squeezed his hand gently before drawing away with a small smile. "Bonne chance."

Tristan watched her stride past him with her head held high in determination and her wand drawn, readying herself at the opening to the maze. With the shrill blow of Bagman's whistle, she skipped off in a sprint. Her footsteps quickly faded behind the first hedge, leaving a strange sense of melancholy where the warm glow had spread in his breast.

"Mr. Krum, one minute until you're up!"

Tristan hardened his heart and strolled past the Bulgarian. "I'll close my eyes and count till ten," he murmured. "I suggest you hide quickly because ready or not, I will come for you."

Krum's thick brows drew further together and his jaw clenched tight. He darted off the moment the whistle sounded.

"Mr. Peverell, on my signal!"

The thrill swerved into a sweet rush of adrenaline. It whispered through Tristan's veins and honed his senses, letting his blood pound as loud as war drums in his ears. He dived into a sprint at the cue, catching the brief flash of Krum's white trainers as he skidded around the first corner of the maze.

Tristan zig-zagged past the towering hedges and leaped over roots and grass through the faint mist that slowly drowned the cheers of the crowd. He chased the Bulgarian's heavy breathing like a predator chasing their prey until he encountered the first fork.

A set of thick footprints led into the track on the right.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Tristan called as he clutched his wand tighter and stepped around the hedge.

"Crucio!" A red beam of light flashed from the opposite end of the aisle.

Tristan swerved and let it sizzle past his cheek, then unleashed a storm of curses. They missed Krum by an inch as he dived around the corner, scorching deep black crates into the hedges of the maze.

Tristan hurdled after him and flicked his wand, wrapping the air around the Bulgarian's ankle before he managed to escape behind the next fork.

Krum staggered and smacked face-first into the hedge with a howl.

"Why are you even trying to run?" Tristan chuckled coldly and curled the fingers of his left hand, summoning Krum's wand when he scrambled to his knees and made a dive for it. "Did you really think I was going to let you escape into the maze to sneak up on Fleur or me and curse us in the back?"

Cold rage swelled his breast, clawing from a dark spot beneath his heart. "Did you think I forgot what you did to my sister?"

Krum clutched his bleeding nose and spat a mouthful of crimson. "Fuck you, Peverell."

"Get up," Tristan tossed the wand back over and twisted his wrist, straightening Krum's spine like he was one of Aurelia's muggle dolls. "You will die standing, knowing I was greater than you."

Krum threw himself forward, snatching his wand mid-roll, and leaped back up to his feet, his dark eyes burning with raw hatred. "Crucio!"

Tristan ripped patches of grass from the ground and flung them into the paths of the red beams of light like muggle frisbees. "Are unforgivables all they teach at Durmstrang?"

Krum growled like a threatened dog. Sickly orange bone-breaking curses and jagged pink lightning of blood-boiling curses arced from the tip of his wand, flashing through the mist of the maze like fireworks.

Tristan twisted on his heels, dodging spells and batting them aside as he closed the distance with each step. He let the sharp sweet trill sing through his veins and forced his arm faster, upping the pace until the pale length of elder blurred in his hand and heat haze shimmered in the air around him.

"Fuck!" Panic crept into Krum's ash-wide face, gleaming with a faint film of sweat. He staggered backward into the next aisle of the maze, fleeing until he met a vine-infested dead end.

"Nowhere to run now, Krum."

A wild, desperate glint crept into Krum's eyes. "Then I vill take you vith me to hell!" He thrust out his arm with a roar, pouring flickering tongues of cherry red from his wand in furious whispers.

Tristan adjusted his stance and washed his magic into the fiendfyre, wrapping it tightly around it before hisses could turn into screams. He crushed Krum's furious intent beneath his own, like a candlewick between wetted fingertips.

"My turn."

His spells punched through Krum's silver shield like needles through a bubble of soap, slicing deep crimson lines across his forehead and lower thigh. Tristan banished him down the length of the aisle over a net of dark green vines and pinned him against the opposite hedge with his limbs flattened out.

"You never stood a chance, Krum." Dark mist bled from his wrist in faint whispers, curling around the wand of elder. "This was always about Fleur and me. Yet here I am wasting my time with you while she chases the cup."

"You... cannot... kill me," Krum coughed, spitting a mouthful of blood over his robes. "Durmstrang... vill always know... it vas you."

Smooth, cold laughter bubbled from Tristan's lips. "Oh, will they?" He pointed his wand at the vines creeping up Krum's legs. "That's a Devil's Snare, probably one of Weasley's fucking traps. A simple lumos or incendio would keep them at bay but..."

He summoned Krum's wand from underneath the vines into his palm and snapped it like a twig, sticking the upper half into the soft grass. "What if you stumbled just incredibly unfortunately and fell on your own wand?"

"No!" The vines crept up Krum's thighs and over his torso as he screamed, dragging him deeper into the hedge. The more he squirmed and kicked, the tighter they tugged, splintering his ribcage like dry brushwood, wrapping themself around his neck and squeezing until cries turned to hoarse wheezes.

"One less obstacle." Tristan turned away when Krum's face turned purple and blood trickled from his eyes and nose. "And one step closer to victory." He broke back into a run, following the gentle curve of the maze's aisle.

Another fork stopped him dead in his tracks. Tristan placed his wand flat on his palm, giving it a mild spin. "Point me south."

The piece of elder stilled, pointing neither left nor right, but straight at the towering hedge ahead of him.

Tristan sighed. "Well… Time to figure out how resilient you truly are."

He prodded a hole into the hedge with the tip of his wand. Branches stabbed back at him with small, tongue-shaped leaves and repaired themselves in a soft green glow.

"Alright then." Tristan pictured a crest of crossed rapiers and let the annoyance flare into churning hatred. "You deserved your little head start, petite Fleur. No doubt..."

Smooth elder snapped up, bright flames billowing from its tip with a roar, and searing heat washed over his face. The fiendfyre burned through the hedge in a torrent of hungry whispers that echoed from deep within the crackle and hiss of the fire, piercing effortlessly through the tight net of wards and magical leaves.

"But now I'll even out the playing field." He took a deep breath of scorching air and allowed himself a small smile as he leveled the raining ashes with a wave of his wand, then strolled through the smoking gap in the hedge towards the maze's center.

A black-robed figure curled together from the dark mist in his path, slowly turning towards him. Their deep hood obscured their face and a crest of golden rapiers gleamed on their chest like liquid gold.

Aurelia's terrible screams tore through the silence and Tristan's heart froze. Fear crushed over him like the avalanche of inferi hurling themself at Northdawn Manor. It clamped a cold fist around his heart, dragging everything around him but the black-robed figure into a dizzying blur.

The musketeer thrust out their arm. "You're too late, Tristan Peverell," they whispered in their distorted metallic voice.

Three identical amulets dangled from their wrist on slim golden chains, crimson sparkling on the engraved crest of his family. "You failed to save them." They dropped the amulets into a pool of blood by their feet, one by one, then lifted their arms to their hood.

"No." Tristan raised his wand. Words welled up on his tongue. Cold as the icy fear clutching his heart, yet churning in his throat with rage as scalding as fiendfyre. "Avada Kedavra!"

Emerald light washed through the aisle, tearing through the black-robed figure in a spray of dark dust that rained down onto the grass.

Deep, ragged breaths gradually loosened the tight knot around his heart. Tristan inched over and shuffled through the pile of ash with the tip of his boot, searching for the amulets.

"Nothing." He forced the fear back, crushed it down so deep it disappeared. "It wasn't real." Clarity struck him like a lightning bolt. "It was just as boggart."

The lofty hedges around him suddenly jerked with a ripple, bleeding little leaves. The entire maze rippled, roots swerving beneath the grass, and Tristan was yanked a few meters to the right, his head spinning in dizziness.

"I'm so fucking done with this maze." He dragged himself back up to his feet and waited for his wand to stop spinning in his palm, glaring at the imposing hedge it pointed to.

Crimson flames roared from the elder wood, writhing and coiling in the form of a white-hot basilisk. Tristan sent it lunging forward with its maw torn open and its fangs a blaze, stepping after it through smoldering hedges and brushing away cherry-tipped tongues of fire with waves of his hand.

The molten remains of sharp spikes sparkled from a deep hole in the ground like stalagmites, weeping gleaming tears of iron.

Tristan snuffed out the fiendfyre in a flash of annoyance. "Weasley's design." He wrapped the air around himself, lifting himself up and over the gap.

Heavy footfalls thudded up ahead of him. Tristan disillusioned himself and peeked around the corner.

A ten-foot-long mixture between a scorpion and a lobster stalked the path before him, shooting a shower of sparks from the long sharp sting curled over its back.

"Could be one of those Blast-Ended Skrewt from Hagrid's class Valeria always complains about." Tristan stepped into its path and abandoned his charm. "It doesn't matter. It's just another obstacle."

The Skrewt shrieked and charged, sending a blast of golden fire from its sting.

Tristan parted the flames with a smooth wave of his wand to either side of him, letting the heat whisper past his face. He stepped through the smoke and twisted his wrist into the motion of a piercing hex, aiming between the beast's eyes.

The Skrewt drew its head back past its scales and the purple bolt of lighting bounced off its thick armor with a sizzling hiss, like a droplet of water from a steaming pan.

"Fantastic," Tristan muttered, diving into a roll to dodge the blow of its sting.

He touched his wand to the ground, raising thick roots that snared for the Skrewt's many limbs, and hurried out of its sting's range in the time it took the beast to tear itself free.

Tristan thrust out his arm. "The armor's gotta go first." His magic bled from his wrist and soaked over the beast's scale like a tide of dark mist, seeping deep into the tiny cracks and scratches.

"And now..." He curled his fingers into a tight fist before flexing them apart, ripping off chunks of scale and gobs of flesh in a spray of red.

The beast's furious roars thundered in his ears as it charged again.

Tristan threw himself to the side and wrapped his magic into the air around the massive sting, tightening his hold before he yanked his arm down. The Skrewt pierced itself with its own weapon, driving it like a stake deep through its raw, weeping back and into the ground.

"Good riddance." Tristan put a duo of piercing hexes through each eye and twisted his wrist, smashing the Skrewt's skull like an egg.

"I really hope this doesn't get any messier." He vanished the blood off his face and robes with a flick of his wand. "It'd be quite embarrassing to run into Fleur looking like this when she won't have a single speck of dust on herself."

Another fork lay at his feet behind the next corner. Tristan consulted his wand and picked the left course, creeping deeper into the thickening mist of the maze.

His breath began misting and each of his steps emitted a faint crunch of frozen blades of grass. "This fog is definitely unlike the rest." Tristan clasped his wand tighter with a frown and peered into the obscured end of the aisle.

Rattling breaths echoed from amidst the dense fog and coldness crept over his skin like ice crystals spreading over a thin glass panel.

"Lumos!" Tristan sent three bright orbs of light zipping forth.

Two cloaked figures emerged from within the fog, their hoods drawn deep and their withered, skeletal hands looming from tattered back sleeves.

The cold went deeper than his skin, clutching his very heart. 'Dementors.' Tristan's breath froze in his lungs and his stomach churned.

Sharp panic seized him and he staggered back as the dementors hovered closer. He clawed through foggy memories for his sister's beaming smiles and delighted giggles as he spun them around but all that came echoing from the back of his mind were Aurelia's terrified screams.

A dead, slimy hand slid out for him under the tattered cloak and their deep rattling breaths rang through his ears. Despair and hopelessness rose like a wave within him, snatching the half-familiar syllables of an incantation from his tongue and yanking him down into a deep dark dwell to drown.

'But I don't need hope to fight.' Tristan let their effect seep through him, feeding it to the raging storm beneath the emptiness of his heart. 'Not anymore.'

He faced the dementors head-on, trailing the thin tip of his wand over his chest before thrusting it out.

Ebony flames sent steam hissing from the frozen blades of grass around him. Countless flickering tongues oozed together into a wrenching shadow, bleeding wisps of magic from its large wings, slim feathered shape, and razor-edged talons.

The white-eyed raven coiled together and locked eyes with Tristan, letting out an eerie crow that froze his blood. Black vapor poured from its crooked beak as it turned on the closest dementor, shredding through its chest in a spray of black mist.

Tristan directed it at the other dementor with his wand. The raven screeched and flapped its steaming wings, then a swell of black magic blurred through the aisle of the maze and scraps of torn, dark cloak and a thick tar-like substance rained down on him, burning through his shirt and into his skin.

Eerie white eyes locked on him next. He wrestled back his control, quenching the raven's furious intent, and dispelled the creature with a flick of his wand, black mist bleeding away in all directions.

"Damn," Tristan gasped as he straightened, drawing quick shallow breaths. "That's a lot more demanding than a patronus."

New pink skin stretched over raw flesh anywhere the dementor's cloak had touched him and he grimaced. 'I'd bet the entire price fund Crouch set them in here for me. Father did say that it's an open secret that dementors don't like us.'

He tiptoed down the aisle over their smoking remains, smothering a stab of anxiety. "Let's hope Fleur didn't find a way to easily avoid whatever they've placed in here for her…"

Rippling waves of fiendfyre burned him a path straight towards the center. 'I have to be close now.' His wand's calibration grew more sensitive every time he checked and the distinct lack of obstacles gnawed at his strained nerves like ravenous rats.

Tristan edged around the corner into a square clearing. A marble pedestal rose at the center and a silver cup stood on it, gleaming through the faint mist of the maze.

Ecstasy burst through his heart like fireworks in a hot rush. 'I did it.'

"Bonsoir, Tristan." Fleur's silhouette shivered into view on the step of the pedestal, her light blue uniform without a single wrinkle or speck of dirt. "Ca va?"

'I knew it was too good to be true.' Tristan staggered to a halt, the sight of her snatching the joyful bliss from his breast. "Fleur..."

His gaze dipped from her cool blue eyes to the slim rosewood wand she twirled between her fingertips and a faint, ominous chill fell upon him. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long?"

"Non. Only a minute or so." She tilted her head, glimpsing past him into the maze. "Where is Viktor?"

Sweet satisfaction spread into a small smile on his lip. "He's... out of the race."

"Bon." Fleur rose to her feet, tossing her long braid over her shoulder. "It's just the two of us then."

A grim suspicion crawled from the depths of his mind. 'I really don't like where this is going...'

"What are you doing here, Fleur?" Tristan sighed. "You won. Just take the bloody cup so we can get this over with."

She turned towards the trophy. "Je sais. I could just take." A dark gleam of hunger crept into her eyes as she held out her hand a finger's length from the sparkling silver. "But do I really win if I haven't beaten you?"

Tristan grimaced. "According to the rules, yes."

"I care as little about the rules as you do, Tristan." Fleur patted down the steps of the pedestal and stepped in between him and the cup. "Winning is not the same as beating everyone else." She took a deep breath, her shoulders tensing. "I know you know what I mean..."

Gentle rain began falling in a cool veil, drenching the grass and soaking through his robes. Little droplets trickled over his forehead and ran down the gleaming surface of the Triwizard cup.

Tristan stared at her through the rain, trying to catch the fierce, determined gleam in her eyes, but only saw summer-sky blue, smirking up at him through long lashes from a tangle of silver bed sheets.

A soft pang knotted beneath his ribs. "It was always going to end this way, wasn't it?"

"Oui." Fleur nodded, a small, sad smile straining her red lips. "Je suis désolé, Tristan."

Tristan wrestled with the wave of melancholy. "We shouldn't do this, Fleur." Something desperate crept into his voice. "This might ruin everything we've built together."

Her slim eyebrows curved down into a vee. "The only way you could ruin things is by holding back on me now, Tristan." Her knuckles whitened around her wand, shimmering with faint haze. "I need this. You know I do. You're different."

'If she's anything like me, she won't stop.' Tristan dragged her warm smile, the touch of her creamy soft skin, and the sweet lingering taste of her kisses down into the abyss, hardening his heart. "You might not like the outcome."

"I have never lost before." She tore her eyes from the cup. "I won't lose now."

Tristan spun his wand through his fingers, showering the ground with bright silver sparks. "So you've said." A flare of ambition rose in his breast. "Perhaps it'll be a good lesson then."

Fire flashes through Fleur's eyes and her wand snapped up in a blaze of azure flames, searing at his eye. Tristan moved his wand in a wide arc, conjuring a thick wall of white magic and wincing as her spell burst against it in a bright flash and deafening clap.

Blue and yellow hexes exploded against his shield in showers of sparks, each blow pushing him back until his elbow poked into the hedge behind him. An orange spell pierced through with a screech of metal over glass, tearing open his shirt and searing a shallow line of fire across his rips.

'Fine.' Ice flashed through Tristan's veins as he watched the cut creep back closed. 'Have it your way then.' He leveled his shield, swatting aside a curse, and twisted around, thrusting out his wand.

A ripple of magic blurred through the square, vaporizing the raindrops in its wake. Fleur parted it with a sharp slash of her wand, though the blow drove her back several feet, her heels digging deep into the muddy ground.

"Bon." A faint gleam of admiration shone in her blue eyes. "And now we duel." She unleashed a trio of red jinxes, twirling the wand motions together.

Tristan batted two of them back and let the last one sizzle past his cheek. He curled his fingers, collecting the dampness from the surrounding grass, pooling droplets of water into razor-thin blades of ice, and sent them hissing at her with fast flicks of his wand.

Fleur twirled and swayed through the storm with the grace of a dancer, batting away anything that came too close as she skipped back past the marble pedestal and along the edge of the perimeter.

Her long platinum braid billowed as she bent over backward like a gymnast, palms touching the ground before she bounced back up off them and shattered the final projectile in a burst of icy shards.

"Very impressive." Wry humor twisted Tristan's lips. "And here I thought I knew all about how flexible you are..."

The ghost of a familiar smirk fluttered over her red lips before her eyes darkened. "Why would I give away an advantage that early already?" Her features turned avian, tiny feathers flickering along her pale arms. Azure flames burst to life on her open palm and she hurled a handful at him.

'You have your fire. And I have mine.'

Tristan closed his eyes and dragged the crossed rapiers to the forefront of his mind, letting the fury surge through his veins until the elder wood between his fingertips buzzed angrily.

Bright tongues of cherry coiled together into the scales of a blazing basilisk, swallowing the flashes of blue with its maw torn open. It twisted around and reared back, then lunged across the square with a furious roar.

Fleur clutched her rosewood wand with both hands and brought it swinging down like an ax. Azure flames washed into the fiendfyre and exploded in a flickering, howling flurry of color that tossed the Triwizard cup from its pedestal.

'More!' Tristan mirrored her and clutched his wand with both hands, wisps of black magic swirled around his wrists and crimson trickled from his nails.

The storm churned, bulging and rippling, flashing with stray arcs of magic and melting the white marble pedestal beneath it into a bubbling pool of magma.

A dull, low throb settled in Tristan's limbs, biting deeper with every second and sweat trickling down his forehead, but he clung on and clenched his jaw tight, pouring magic through the wood until it grew hot and steamed.

The storm exploded with a deafening roar, launching both of them off the ground and tossing them into opposite hedges like rag dolls.

Pain exploded through Tristan's back as he hauled himself up on the twigs and summoned his wand into his palm, his ribs aching with each gasp.

Fleur dragged herself onto her knees, coughing blood and wiping a thin trickle of crimson from her forehead. She ripped off the sleeves of her scorched uniform, which clung to her in tattered rags.

Ashes rained down onto molten marble and blackened grass; the reek of ozone was so strong it coated his tongue.

"Enough!" Tristan wheezed, gesturing at the destruction between them. "Look at us, Fleur. Look at us! What are we doing?!"

She drew ragged breaths. "Whatever it takes to win." A fierce gleam crept back into her smoldering blue eyes and she leveled her wand at him. "Fleur Delacour doesn't lose."

Tristan bit his lips until a coppery taste washed away the uncertainty. 'If we push this any further, one of us will lose the other.' A grim realization rose from the dark dwell beneath his heart. 'I need to stop this now.'

Bright spells arced from Fleur's wand. Tristan let them burst into his blinding wall of white magic in a shower of sparks, jaw clenched tight and wincing as he set one foot before the other. He wrapped the air around himself, floating over the bubbling pool of magma that was the marble pedestal.

Fleur's face lost its remaining color. "Incroyable," she gasped and retreated, desperately slashing her wand at the scorched grass.

A carpet of ashes swirled in a vortex, spiraling together and freezing over with a metallic gleam. She sent the sharp spikes hissing toward him with stabs of her wand.

"Enough, Fleur." Tristan's magic erupted in an aura of furious whispers, flaring into a dense veil and melting the steel in twisting storms of dark wisps while he continued walking towards her uninterrupted.

Fleur's back met the hedge and she stumbled, determination still sparkling in her teary eyes. Vines, thick as snakes, lunged from the green, snatching for his limbs.

"I said. Enough!" Tristan curled his fingers, tearing the magic from within her transfiguration and letting them hit the floor like dead weight. He twisted his wrist, ripping the slim rosewood wand from her grasp.

"Non!" Fleur cried, her chin shivering into a sharp beak. Azure flames burst on her palms and ignited her uniform.

He wrapped his magic around her, smothering the flames and locking her arms behind her back as she trashed against his binds.

"Look at me, Fleur," Tristan whispered.

She stilled, chest heaving and falling with unnaturally short breaths. Her summer-sky blue eyes glanced up at him from beneath a disheveled veil of silver hair. A deep sorrow hung in them and a single tear ran down her pale cheek to her quivering blood-smeared lips.

"Je suis désolée, Fleur." Tristan swallowed the hot lump in his throat, wrestling with sharp thorns caging his heart. "Je suis désolée." Hot tears prickled in his eyes as he leveled his wand at her heart. "Stupify."

A red flash sparkled in the wet leaves of the hedges and Fleur's head slumped to her chest.