HP: Panem et Circenses

May 29th, 1996

Bright sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the library, overlooking the blooming highlands surrounding the castle. A blank piece of parchment spread over the wide table, thick kinks from over a decade of folding ran through it like lines across a chessboard.

Fleur twitched on his lap. Her eyes flickered behind closed lids and her lips moved in a silent incantation as she trailed the thin tip of her rosewood wand over the parchment, twisting her wrist in short counter cloak rotations.

"Et voilà," she whispered, giving it a final tap with her wand and opening her eyes.

"Wait..." Tristan blinked past her shoulder at the blank pages. "That's it already?"

Fleur tossed her braid over her shoulder and regarded him coolly. "Bien sûr." She tilted her nose up. "I know what I'm doing, non? So give it a try."

'She does sound rather confident.' Tristan slipped his wand into his palm and nudged the center of the Map with the tip of it. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

Black ink ran over the yellowed parchment in thin lines, leaving footprints and name tags in its wake.

"It works." He inhaled sharply, gaping at the small dots of himself, Fleur, and Madam Pince in the otherwise abandoned library. "You did it, Fleur." He checked the grounds, spotting Valeria within a cluster of Slytherins girls by the shores of the Black Lake and Galahad with some first years by the Whomping Willow. "Incredible. You actually did it."

Fleur crossed her arms over her chest and turned in his lap. "Vraiment?" She shoved out her bottom lip. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

Tristan chuckled and drew her head down to him. "Desolée. I sometimes forget how bloody brilliant you are with charms." He kissed her until her pout curved into a small smile, then he pecked the tip of her nose. "Merci, petite Fleur."

"You're welcome." Her smile grew warm like the summer sun and she nestled herself back against him, circling his arms around her midriff with a content sigh.

"I admit it was a tad more difficult than expected," she hummed, tapping the Map with one crimson-painted nail. "The complexity grows exponentially with every enchantment one adds and this parchment holds a lot of different charms that I had to knit back together individually. I'm surprised your father created it as a student, non?"

The smile melted off his face. 'And apparently, he'd even been a year younger than me...'

Tristan swallowed his pride. "I'll make sure it doesn't get damaged again." He tracked her finger down to his siblings' names and chuckled. "Yeah, exactly. Galahad and Valeria can't wait to get their hands on the Map once I leave Hogwarts. They'd find very creative ways to make my life miserable if I didn't take good care of it from now on."

Fleur's finger drifted up the courtyard and she tensed on his lap.

Tristan brushed a silver curl aside and caught her nail digging into Abraxas Malfoy's name tag. "We don't know if it was them yet, Fleur," he murmured into her ear.

She glared at the group of Slytherin footprints with pitch-black eyes, heat radiating off of her. "I can feel their looks on us anytime they're close by. I know they know something."

Tristan ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I don't disagree, but we still need proof before we can act. It's pretty much impossible to isolate and interrogate just one of them these days so we'll have to show a bit more patience."

Fleur drew a deep breath and balled her fists. "We would've almost died in their trap and now they get to walk around freely, leering and sneering at us." Tiny white feathers prickled along her forearms. "Je déteste ça."

"I know, so do I," Tristan murmured and hugged her back against his chest. "But if it was really them, then we'll have our justice soon enough. Je promets."

Her eyes bored into him, a sharp, stubborn gleam dwelling in their dark depths. "I don't want justice, I want revenge." She cupped his jaw and kissed him, the heat of her red lips burning against his. "And you'd better take me with you when the time comes."

Tristan swallowed hard as he held her gaze. "I promised I would. I'll keep that promise."

'But I'll still make sure you're safe.'

Behind them, Madam Pince audibly cleared her throat. "No public display of affection in my library! Champions are not exempt from that rule."

She watched them with pursed lips, tapping a stack of books with her short wand and sending them floating up to fill gaps in the shelves. "Besides, our Headmistress will hold her speech for the end of the year and the departure of our guests soon."

Fleur elegantly rose from his lap and flattened out the wrinkles in her blue skirt, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "D'accord Madame Pince. Nous sons désolé."

Madam Pince huffed. "I suppose it can hardly happen again unless you decided to suddenly transfer, Ms. Delacour." Her eyes landed on the Map sprawled over the table and sharpened like a hawk's. "What. Is. That?!"

'Fuck.' Tristan quickly locked it with a tap of his wand. 'That's something your loverboy Mr. Filch is definitely not supposed to know about...'

"Just a personal project, nothing was taken from your reign, Ma'am." He folded it and stored it in his robes. "I suppose we'll see you down in the Great Hall in a bit. Unless you'd like to walk with us?"

Her lips thinned. "Get out of here, Peverell."

"Right away, Ma'am." Tristan snatched Fleur's hand and hurried towards the exit.

Clutters of students from all years streamed through the giant oak doors leading from the courtyard back into the entrance hall, their heads snapping towards him and Fleur as they joined the main throng.

Gleams of awe rose in his peers' eyes and they pointed their fingers at him. The amiable buzz of conversation shifted into exciting whispers.

'Come on, guys...' Tristan rolled his eyes and quickened his step past them into the Great Hall. 'It's been like over two weeks already.'

Silver-highlighted, dark green drapes sporting the huge crest of Hogwarts hung from the walls behind the teachers' table.

He cast a careful glance down at Fleur, wincing at her tensed shoulders and tight jaw. 'I bet she hates this.' A stab of guilt laced through his stomach as he led her towards the end of the Slytherin table, feeling countless stares burn into his neck from all across the hall. 'Her colors were supposed to hang here. They were supposed to look like this at her, not me.'

Tristan sat down and circled one arm around Fleur's waist. She allowed him to draw her closer, drumming a little tune with one crimson-painted nail on the tabletop.

"Hey there, brother dear. Long time no see," Valeria giggled, slipping onto the bench opposite them and waving at a trio of Slytherins from her year. "Over here, girls." She patted the empty spots to her left and right. "Stop fretting and let's just sit down together. My brother and Fleur don't bite." A sparkle of mischief dwelled up in her eyes. "Merely each other perhaps..."

Tristan snorted, watching as Valeria's friends approached together and eyed him in mixtures of curiosity and excitement.

Valeria smiled happily and gestured to each of them. "Yep, that's my brother Tristan and Fleur Delacour. And here we have Lily Moon, Tracey Davis, and Daphne Green-"

"-actually, we've met at Professor Slughorn's party already." The third and most composed girl out of the trio gracefully took her seat. "And congratulations on your victory, Tristan." She tossed long curls of strawberry blonde over her slim shoulder and smiled at him. "I'm so glad it was a Slytherin that won the Triwizard Cup."

The steady drum of Fleur's finger picked up a pace and one of her delicate eyebrows rose a fraction.

'Oh, oh.'

"Thanks, Daphne," Tristan said, his lips twitching. "I do appreciate the support."

"You're very welcome." Daphne cocked her head, curling a single lock around her finger like a band of molten bronze. "With what you've shown during the first task, I'm surprised you're not part of the Hogwarts Dueling Club already. I bet you'd quickly rise through the ranks... Perhaps even become the next champion..."

"I'm not sure if dueling is really my forte." He shrugged. "There's probably too many rules for me."

Daphne's light green eyes ran him up and down. "The goal is to overwhelm your opponent with your wand; you seemed pretty good at that. Perhaps you just need a taste of it." Her smile widened a fraction. "I'm captain of the fourth-year team by the way. If you want, I'll get you in next term. Just let me know over the summer."

Fleur's finger paused its drum. A small goosebump straightened the tiny hairs on her arms and the heat of her burned against his side.

'Careful now Daphne.' Tristan squeezed Fleur's hand underneath the table, holding back a grin. "I'll keep it in mind, thank you."

Valeria cringed. "Alright Daph, could you please stop trying to flirt with my brother now..."

A faint hinge of pink crept up Daphne's pale cheeks. "I wasn't trying to flirt with him," she murmured. "I just offered some help."

"Yeah… sure," Valeria rolled her eyes. "Anyway, what are you lot up to this summer?"

The girls immediately began chatting about the places their families were visiting over the coming months.

Tristan cast a careful glance down at Fleur, catching her dark blue eyes resting coolly on Daphne. "Everything alright?" He playfully bumped shoulders, unable to keep the grin at bay any longer as he whispered in her ear. "For a second I was afraid you'd go all feathery there…"

A small, sharp smirk spread over Fleur's lips. "You're playing a dangerous game trying to tease me like that." She leaned up and brushed her lips over his jaw, leaving a searing tingle on his skin. "She's a pretty little girl, but she's still a little girl, non? It'll take more than that to get me all riled up. Besides, you'd be an idiot to throw away what we've built together after everything we've been through already..."

A soft warm glow rose beneath his ribs. "Exactly." Tristan kissed her with a small smile.

Fleur drew his head back down again, tracing the tip of her tongue along his lower lip as her fingers grew hot near the point of lite pain. "And it goes without saying that you'd be an even bigger idiot to try anything behind my back, non?"

Tristan chuckled. "Don't worry. I generally prefer to stay out of the line of fire."

His easy grin slipped the second she glanced away and he grimaced. 'She's so much better at this than I am.' A sharp tangle of guilt twisted in his breast. 'I went all jealous because of her one dance with Weasley already.'

"Welcome everybody-" McGonagall's amplified voice boomed over the buzz of conversation as she stood up by the teachers' table and the Great Hall fell silent.

"-welcome to the end of one of the most extraordinary years students and teachers alike could ever witness at Hogwarts." She paused, her eyes resting on the green banners along the walls. "Whereas usually, we'd announce and celebrate the winner of our House Cup during this occasion, this year all of Hogwarts has a different reason for celebrations."

Countless stares began prickling on Tristan's skin. Some students started whistling and cheering; others followed quickly.

'Here it comes again...' he clutched Fleur's hand tighter underneath the table.

McGonagall's gaze drifted past Madame Maxime to Karkaroff's empty chair and from there to the gaps by the head of the Slytherin table where the Durmstrangs had sat. "However, before we do so, I must first acknowledge the loss of a young man who should be sitting here among us, enjoying this feast with us." She flourished her wand at the walls, transfiguring the Slytherin-green banners to plain black. "Please stand and raise your glasses to Viktor Krum."

The benches scraped as everyone in the Hall stood, and raised their goblets, echoing in one loud, low, rumbling voice. "Viktor Krum."

Tristan mirrored their movement but kept his goblet an inch from his lips. 'No. Never.' He exchanged a glance with Valeria and Fleur; neither drank.

A swell of sweet satisfaction spread into a small smile on his lips. 'Krum deserved everything he got for what he tried to do to my family. For becoming just too much of an obstacle.'

"There's no doubt that Mr. Krum was one of the most formidable athletes of his generation, with a very bright future ahead of him." McGonagall continued, her voice solemn. "The Triwizard Tournament was reintroduced in the belief that we had learned from our past mistakes and that no champion will ever be at risk of life. The fault of what happened lies with no one but us." She pointed at herself and the other judges. "We failed Viktor Krum and because no apology could ever rectify our wrongdoings, we will live with that guilt, every day, for the rest of our lives."

Tristan's eyes flickered to Minister Crouch whose jaw twitched in either boredom or annoyance. He leaned down towards Fleur's ear but already found her staring at the judges' table, her eyes darkening to midnight blue.

Tristan followed her line of sight to Bagman and frowned. "Something wrong?"

A shadow spasmed over Fleur's delicate features. "Ludo Bagman was the one who placed the Triwizard Cup at the center of the maze. He mentioned so right before the start of the third task, non? And now look at him..."

Bagman shifted on his chair, fingers fiddling with the stem of his goblet while his eyes darted from McGonagall to Crouch and back.

"He looks anxious." Clarity struck Tristan. "But why?"

"There were five judges; one of them must have caught something," Fleur murmured, slipping her fingers through his. "Igor Karkaroff crawled back to scheme behind Durmstrang's walls the moment Krum died." She curled one of his fingers inward. "Two of the remaining judges are our headmistresses and one is your Minister of Magic." She curled three more fingers, leaving but one remaining. "Ludo Bagman is the weakest link and now he's also acting suspicious..."

"I see." Firm determination took hold of Tristan, like a fire flaring in his breast and burning further through his veins with every breath. "We will wait for him after the feast. I'll find out what he knows."

Fleur turned to him. "And how will you do that?" She murmured. "He's still a high-ranking employee of your Ministry, non?"

"I have a way. And I'll know if he lies to us."

The darkness drained from her eyes, replaced by a curious little gleam. "D'accord."

McGonagall flicked her wand again up at the teachers' table. The banners changed color once more and the plates filled with dishes.

"From the very beginning, the Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding and cooperation between the young pupils of our world." Her eyes landed on Tristan and Fleur, softening as she raised her cup once more. "It warms me to see that perhaps not all our efforts failed in that regard. Here's to Fleur Delacour, Beauxbatons' Champion, and Tristan Peverell, our very own Hogwarts Champion and winner of the Triwizard Tournament."

The mood flipped abruptly. Triumphant roars and the stomps of hundreds of feet shook the Great Hall in its foundation as the crowd thrust their goblets high, shouting his name over and over again.

Tristan studied the gleam of admiration in the eyes of his peers. 'Look at you all... cheering me on like I'd always been one of you...'

Utter revulsion clenched in his gut so tight, the faux smile threatened to melt from his face any second. 'But it won't make me forget how you treated me the night my name was read out.'

Anger boiled through his veins and wisps of black magic churned out from underneath his sleeve, swirling around his wrist. 'It won't make me forget how you treated me for five long years...'

"Calm," Fleur whispered in his ear, her fingers twitching as she ran slow circles over the back of his hand. "Focus on my voice, Tristan."

Tristan took a deep breath and clenched the storm in his breast, blocking out the great noise around them. He blinked and glanced down, wincing as his magic seeped back into his wrist and left her fingers sickly pale. "I'm sorry."

Fleur offered him a small smile. "It's okay. You've held my hand through worse. Let's just eat something and wait for Bagman."

He nodded and loaded his plate with dishes, forcing them down as the feast picked up speed.

After dessert was served, the clatter of cutlery eventually stilled and McGonagall rose again. "Tomorrow at noon Minister Crouch and Mr. Bagman will return to the Ministry, as will our guests from Beauxbatons back to France. I'm sure we will all use this last night to foster the friendships that grew between our schools."

'Back to France.' A cold sick feeling settled at the pit of Tristan's stomach and he caught Fleur's gaze.

"Don't fret, Tristan." A brief smirk danced over her features. "I won't return to France just yet."

The benches were pushed back with a scrap of wood on stone and the students streamed out of the Great Hall, still cheering his name and offering him their congratulations as they passed him.

"Good," Tristan murmured, smothering a flash of irritation. "We can use this last night for something besides sharing how terribly we'll miss each other then."

"Oui. But we'll have to be quick." Fleur nodded over the heads of the students towards the teacher's table where Bagman rushed off into the antechamber.

"The guest quarters are on the first floor of the west wing." Tristan slipped his fingers through hers and quickly led her out of the hall to the giant staircase. "We can check on the Map in a moment." He tugged her through a tapestry into a small hidden alcove.

"There." Fleur pointed at a tiny name tag rushing out of the entrance hall toward the west wing.

"Let's cut him off by his quarters." Tristan handed her the Map. "I'll ask him some questions while you check if anyone's coming."

"D'accord." Fleur twirled her rosewood wand over herself, fading from view. He copied her before slipping back out into the corridor, taking the shortcut behind the portrait of Timothy the Timid to the west wing of the castle.

A single pair of footsteps echoed loudly over the mosaic-patterned tiles and a cloak billowed behind a corner a few meters ahead of them. Tristan hurried after it, tightening his hold on his wand as the spark of excitement ignited and sweet adrenaline whispered through his veins to the quickening beat of his heart.

Bagman skitted to a halt by a blank stretch of wall and glanced over his shoulder. "Come on... Come on, now." He tapped the smooth stone with his wand repeatedly until a golden doorknob appeared, wrenching at it impatiently. "Finally!"

Tristan tiptoed up behind him and grabbed him by the collar of his robes, shoving him roughly through the open doorway into the room.

Rich red carpets extended to tall twin windows and a wide canopy bed by the opposite walls. A half-packed trunk spewed dress shirts and robes from the room's center to a table loaded with empty bottles of fire whiskey.

"What-" Bagman wheezed, rubbing his throat as he staggered over the carpet. "Who the hell-"

Tristan abandoned his disillusionment charm. "Us."

Fleur's form faded back into view and she locked the door with a tap of her wand, then joined him.

Bagman inhaled sharply. "Peverell." Panic sprang into his wide eyes and his hand twitched into his robes.

Tristan curled his fingers, yanking Bagman's wand from his grasp. "Let's be reasonable here..."

"How dare you?!" Bagman howled in indignation. "I'm the Head of the Department for Magical Games and Sports. The Minister will learn-"

"Crouch won't learn of anything," Tristan interrupted him, calmly stepping forward. "Sorry for the rough treatment, we actually just want to talk."

"I don't know anything!" Bagman blurted, edging backward until his back met the pillar of the canopy bed.

"That's curious because we haven't even asked you a question," Tristan snorted. "I'd like you to tell me about the night of the third task... Starting from when you took the Cup into the maze."

A desperate gleam flickered to life in Bagman's eyes and he lurched.

Tristan's magic erupted in a cloud of black mist, wrapping itself around Bagman's limbs and pinning him flush against the wall. "Let's try that again, shall we? And don't lie to me... I'll know."

Fleur moved closer in the corner of his eye as Bagman began stuttering. "Fine. I- I took the cup into the maze before the start of the task. The- then I explained the procedure to you before we all waited for the win- winner to reappear. That's it. That's all of it. I swear!"

Tristan wiped his mind empty as a blank canvas, studying the gleam of panic in Bagman's eye. A smooth, high voice whispered with iron-clad confidence from the back of his head. 'No...'

"You're lying to me, Bagman," he murmured, suppressing a flash of annoyance. "And you're wasting our time."

"I swear I don't-"

"Legilimens!"

Tristan merged their thoughts, diving headfirst into a tangle of fear, disorder, and churning guilt. He slipped in an image of the Triwizard Cup and towering green hedges.

Silver flashed before his inner eye; thick white fog swallowed it, blurring the image of the maze, smothering everything but the overwhelming, thrilling urge to take the cup in his hands towards the center.

Tristan traced the urge back through a blur of faces and distorted voices to its origin but only found the same whirl of fear hovering at the edge of an endless dark abyss.

He ripped their thoughts apart, grimacing. 'Fantastic...'

Fleur stepped beside him, cupping his jaw with one warm hand. "You're a Legilimens," she whispered, her blue eyes widened with a soft gleam of admiration. "Did you find anything?"

"No." Tristan ground his teeth and swallowed his disappointment. "Someone used the Imperius on him and altered his memory. I could probably dig around some more, but that'll create obvious damage."

"So he's a dead end." Fleur's red lips thinned. "And now a risk..."

"Not for long," he murmured, turning back around.

"That- that was mind magicks," Bagman coughed blood onto the floor, his white knuckles clutching the side of his skull as a thin trail of crimson leaked from his nose. "The Ministry has forbidden them by law. I'll see you in Azkaban for that, Peverell!"

"By law?" Tristan smiled coldly and curled his fingers, dragging him over the red carpet to his feet. "You don't quote laws to men with swords, Bagman." He raised his wand in a flood of black mist, tasting the sweet thrill of his magic and pointing the slim tip of elder at Bagman's temple. "Obliviate."

He wiped the past minutes away up until the moment Bagman opened the door to his private quarters, sweeping the suffering of his intrusion from his thoughts.

"Imperio!" Tristan's will seeped through Bagman's consciences, washing away everything but a burning thirst for fire whiskey.

He eased his hold and watched as Bagman stumbled to the table with bottles. "By tomorrow, he won't remember any of this. The alcohol will do the rest."

"Bon," Fleur hummed, pocketing the Map and unlocking the door. "We should leave now. It's all empty outside."

Tristan nodded, leading the way back to the Giant Staircase and up to the seventh floor, where Fleur took charge of the secret room. He dropped down onto her chair, swiping aside boxes of glowing enchanted trinkets to spin his wand on her desk.

'There has to be something I'm missing. No one just leaves behind nothing.' Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose and stifled a flash of irritation as he watched the elder spin. 'And I need to solve this quickly so I can get back to figuring out those bloody Musketeers before they hurt my family again.'

A warm weight slipped onto his lap and gentle fingers caressed his hair. "It wasn't a complete waste of time, Tristan. Whoever set that trap for you is very good at covering up their tracks-" Fleur's cool blue eyes bored into his, "-including mind magic and alternating memories, non?"

Tristan smothered a tiny stab of guilt. "Are you upset I didn't tell you? I promise I've never used it on you before."

A soft burst of laughter broke from her red lips. "Oh don't worry, we wouldn't be here if you had tried to enter my mind at any point." She tilted her nose up. "Besides, I'm quite proficient in Occlumency myself."

"But not Legilimency?" He raised an eyebrow. "I bet it doesn't pair well with your nature, does it?"

Her red lips curved down into a small pout. "Non."

Tristan chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. "Hey now... there's plenty of stuff you're leagues better at than me." He rummaged through one of the boxes with faintly glowing trinkets, fishing out a rune-covered ring with the tip of his wand. "I probably couldn't tell what half of these do, let alone recreate them."

Fleur slipped the ring onto her finger with a small smirk. "This one is the latest addition." Pride flashed brightly in her blue eyes. "I managed to replicate the rings your Bureau D'Enigma gave us for the second task. The ones creating a hologram... Just that mine doesn't fail randomly."

His breath set out and ice flashed through his veins. 'This could be it. This could be the clue I missed.'

"Tristan?" Fleur's fingers cupped his jaw, trying to elevate his head to hers. "Ca va?"

"It wasn't randomly," he murmured, tearing his gaze from the ring on her finger and following her light pull. "Those rings didn't fail randomly."

Her fingers grew warmer in his hair. "Explain."

Tristan swallowed thickly. "Less than a minute after the rings failed, I was attacked in the Forbidden Forest," he said. "There were two of them, and they somehow knew exactly where I was."

Fleur's eyes flashed dark. "Who were they? What did they want?"

"They spoke English and were male. Some sort of assassins with empty blank faces," he admitted. "I was too worried about Valeria to waste more time on them."

Her brows drew into a shallow we. "And what exactly did you do to them?"

'Is she disgusted by me?' Tristan avoided her penetrating gaze and remained silent, his stomach churning like a bubbling potion. 'Will she leave me if I tell her the truth?'

"You killed them, non?" A small shiver rippled through Fleur and she twitched on his lap. "Like you killed Viktor Krum."

A blade of ice tore through Tristan's breast and he tightened his hold on her waist. "Please, Fleur, I-"

She silenced him with a warm, slim finger. "It's fine. I would've done the same to Viktor Krum had he attacked Gabby. He deserved it." She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "And so does anyone else who tries to take you away from me."

'She really understands.' Relief fluttered through him in a cool rush and he sagged against the back of the chair. 'And she stays.'

"I knew you were different," Fleur murmured, cradling his head against her breast and stroking through his hair. "And I told you I was too, non?"

"Thank you, Fleur," Tristan whispered, taking deep breaths as his heart settled, matching the rhythmic drum of hers.

"Those assassins and the trap during the second task are probably somehow connected, non?" She hummed as she continued to massage the back of his head. "Is it too late to learn anything about them from their bodies?"

"Yeah, I immediately burned them both," Tristan admitted with a low groan. "There's nothing left but-"

He paused and his eyes went wide, staring up into hers. "Their wands. Their wands are still in the forest."

Fleur's chest rose in a deep breath. "Where?"

"By the boulder where we fought the acromantulae," Tristan said excitedly. "I remember pocketing both wands, but they weren't with me by the time we escaped. I must've lost them during the fight."

Fleur's lips pursued in disgust. "I can't believe I'm willing to go back into that forest and fight those nasty spiders again for you."

He snorted. "Don't worry. There are no acromantulae left. My parents saw to that already." A little twist of anticipation coiled tight in his chest. "And that means we could go now and-"

"Non." Fleur silenced him again. "I'm definitely not setting foot into that forest tonight." She wriggled on his lap, a small smirk quivering over her red lips. "Feel free to go by yourself if you want to miss out."

"Oh?" A little heat crept south and he grinned. "Are you at least going to tell me what I'll miss out on?"

"Non." Fleur's lips caught his in a soft, long kiss as she arched herself into him, hands sliding up into his hair. "You'll have to stay for that."

"Stay again?" Tristan returned her kiss, tangling his tongue with hers, spurred on by the whispers of heat racing through him.

"Oui," she breathed, dragging his mouth back against hers as her breath quickened.

"But I already stayed last night." He lifted her by her thighs and carried her over to the bed. "And the night before that." He pulled back a fraction, brushing his nose with hers, and grinned. "Perhaps the rumors about the inherent sex-craving nature of veela are true after all?"

Fleur offered him a wicked little smile, heat smoldering in her bright blue eyes.

"Talking is not what I want you to do with your mouth, mon coeur." She toyed a finger under the straps of her uniform, letting light blue fabric pool down to the swell of her breasts. "And I want much more than just kisses tonight."