You are the only Flower of my Life

Hello, Drinor here. I'm happy to publish a new Chapter of You are the only Flower of my Life.

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Chapter 6 (A Veela's Heart) and Chapter 7 (The Dragon Was Easier) are already available for Patrons.

The Great Lake glimmered as Harry and Fleur stood on a grassy hill, their wands at the ready. His attention was entirely on Fleur. They had been practicing dueling spells for the past hour, and she had been merciless.

"Zis ees ze famous Harry Potter? I expected more fire," Fleur teased, twirling her wand between her fingers as if this were all just a game.

Harry grinned, breathless but determined. "Oh, I've got plenty of fire. You just haven't seen it yet."

Her blue eyes sparkled with amusement, the afternoon sun reflecting in her silvery-blonde hair. "I 'ope so, Arry. Eet would be disappointing if zis were all you 'ad to offer."

She flicked her wand, and before Harry could react, a bolt of blue light shot toward him. He barely managed to duck, the spell whizzing past his ear and striking a nearby tree with a loud crack.

"Alright, alright!" Harry exclaimed, straightening up. "I was just warming up."

Fleur smirked, clearly enjoying herself. "We 'ave been warming up for over an 'our. At zis rate, I will 'ave to cool you down."

Harry rolled his shoulders, his heart racing not just from the dueling but from the way her words always carried that sly, teasing edge. "You won't get me that easily," he muttered.

They circled each other slowly, their wands raised. Harry knew she was better than him—her spells were sharper, quicker, and she had an arsenal of hexes he hadn't even heard of. But that didn't stop him from enjoying the way she teased him, the way her lips curled in that smirk when she thought she had the upper hand.

"Come on, Harry," Fleur called, her voice lilting, her French accent making everything sound like a song. "Don't make me wait forever."

Harry smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."

He flicked his wand and sent a Stupefy her way, but she deflected it with a casual flick of her own. The spell ricocheted off her shield, sizzling into the air harmlessly.

"You 'ave to be faster zan zat," she purred, stepping closer, her wand poised.

Her closeness made his pulse quicken. "You say that like I'm not just getting started," Harry shot back, stepping sideways, his gaze never leaving hers. He wanted to catch her off guard, to give her a taste of her own playful taunting.

Fleur raised an eyebrow, her eyes dancing with laughter. "Is zat a challenge?"

In response, Harry shot another spell, this time a Disarming Charm. But Fleur was too fast; she sidestepped it effortlessly, her robes swirling around her as she moved with an elegance that made his breath hitch.

"Too slow," she chided softly, her voice a silky caress.

"Or maybe you're just too fast," Harry countered, unable to keep the grin off his face.

Their flirtation layered itself seamlessly into the duel, each spell they cast dripping with tension that went beyond just magic. Fleur shot a jinx his way, and Harry ducked, but her laugh followed him, bright and light. She clearly enjoyed every moment of this, and despite how hard she was pushing him, Harry couldn't help but enjoy it, too.

"You are at ze mercy of ze best dueler in Beauxbatons," Fleur said, her wand pointed straight at him. "What will you do now, Arry?"

"Whatever I need to," Harry replied, dodging another jinx. "Maybe I'll surprise you."

Fleur's smile widened. "Oh, I like surprises."

With a flick of her wrist, she cast a spell Harry had never seen before. Vines shot up from the ground around his ankles, wrapping around him tightly before he could react. He stumbled, falling to one knee as the tendrils tightened.

"Merlin's beard!" Harry grunted, struggling against the magical restraints. He raised his wand, trying to cast a Severing Charm, but Fleur was already in front of him, her wand tip hovering just under his chin.

"You are at my mercy now," she whispered, her voice low and filled with teasing triumph.

Harry looked up at her, their faces inches apart, his breath catching as her intense gaze bore into his. "So, what are you going to do with me now that I'm helpless?" he asked, his voice equally playful, daring her to continue.

Fleur's lips curled into a wicked smile. "I could do whatever I want with you, Arry," she replied, leaning down so her lips were almost brushing his. "Ze question ees... what would you want me to do?"

His mind raced, a thousand responses flickering through his head, but all he could think about was how close she was—how her scent filled his senses, how her lips were just a breath away.

"Well," Harry began, his voice low, "I wouldn't mind seeing what you'd do with someone completely at your mercy."

Fleur laughed, the sound soft and melodic, but her eyes gleamed with lustl. "You 'ave no idea what you are asking for, Arry."

"Maybe I do," Harry shot back, his lips quirking into a grin.

Fleur's wand flicked in an instant, and the vines holding him released. But before Harry could get to his feet, Fleur was on him, pressing him back against the nearest tree, her hands sliding down his chest as her lips found his in a heated kiss.

Harry moaned softly into the kiss, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her closer as their lips moved together in a frantic dance. Fleur's body pressed against his, her curves molding to his. Her hands slid up to his hair, fingers tangling in the messy black strands as she deepened the kiss, her tongue flicking against his lips, coaxing them open.

Harry responded eagerly, his own hands moving to cup her face as he kissed her back with everything he had, their breaths mingling. Fleur moaned softly into his mouth, the sound sending a shiver down his spine, making him want more—so much more.

Harry's lips trailed down from hers, tracing along her jawline, his breath hot against her skin. Fleur's fingers tangled in his messy hair, guiding him as his mouth found the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. A shudder ran through her, and she let out a breathless sigh, her body responding eagerly to every touch.

"Arry..." Fleur whispered, her voice husky, the French lilt in her tone making his name sound like a plea. "You are... surprising me."

Harry chuckled softly against her skin, kissing his way back to her lips. "Told you I'd surprise you."

Her hands, now impatient, slid down his back, pulling him closer, her nails grazing lightly across the fabric of his shirt. She pushed against him, her body full of heat and tension, as if she wanted more, needed more.

Fleur's breath hitched as Harry's hands dipped lower, settling just above her hips, gripping her tightly as his kisses grew more urgent. He could feel the rapid thrum of her heartbeat under his fingertips, the rise and fall of her chest pressed against his.

"You're... incredible," Harry whispered between kisses, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her even closer.

Fleur's eyes fluttered open, her gaze heavy with desire as she looked at him. "And you, mon ange... you 'ave more fire than I thought."

Her words sent a thrill through him, and Harry responded by capturing her lips again, his kisses turning hungry, almost frantic. He wanted her to feel just how much she affected him, how much he wanted her. Fleur's moans grew louder as his hands roamed her body, feeling every inch of her soft curves.

She pulled back slightly, gasping for air, her chest heaving as she looked up at him with those beautiful blue eyes, darkened with lust. "You... are getting too good at zis, Arry."

"Just good at following your lead," Harry murmured, his forehead pressed against hers as they both caught their breath. His hands were still on her waist, holding her steady, though he could feel his own heart racing.

Fleur chuckled, her voice low and sultry. "Zen I 'ave taught you well."

Harry grinned, his hands sliding up her back, feeling the way her body shivered under his touch. "Maybe next time, I'll be the one in control."

Fleur raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "Oh, I doubt zat, mon cher. I 'ave you exactly where I want you."

"Ohh, then how about we have another, let it decide which one is in control, hmm?" Harry asked, and Fleur hummed pleasantly, liking the idea.

Later

Harry had become more confident with each duel, his movements sharper, his spells quicker. But Fleur was still faster, more experienced. She countered every hex he sent her way with ease, her body moving like a dancer.

"Stupefy!" Harry shouted, his wand aimed at Fleur.

But Fleur sidestepped with ease, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Too slow, Arry," she teased, flicking her wand and sending a Disarming Charm his way.

Harry blocked it just in time, but she was on him again in a heartbeat, casting a jinx that nearly knocked him off balance. He gritted his teeth and tried again, but Fleur disarmed him effortlessly, his wand flying from his hand.

Fleur lowered her wand, her chest rising and falling with her controlled breaths, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You are getting better, but I still 'ave ze upper hand," she said, a playful lilt in her voice.

Harry bent to retrieve his wand, shaking his head with a grin. "One day I will give you a proper challenge."

They both sat down on the grass, feeling the tension slipping away like sand, regaining their breath. The sky was painted with hues of pink and orange, and the air was cool but comfortable. Fleur stretched her legs out in front of her, leaning back on her hands, her gaze turning toward Harry.

"You fight well, Arry. But you 'ave to learn to trust yourself more. You 'ave so much talent, but sometimes I feel like you 'old back."

Harry glanced at her, his green eyes thoughtful. He knew she was right, but it was something that was easier said than done. "I guess I still have a lot to learn," he admitted.

Fleur nodded, but her expression softened as she looked at him. "You are very 'umble, Arry. Zat is why I like you. But... I 'ave been wondering something."

Harry raised an eyebrow, curious. "What's that?"

Fleur shifted slightly, her gaze becoming more serious. "Why do you not want ze others to know about your voice?"

At the mention of his singing, Harry's expression changed, his body tensing. He averted his eyes, suddenly finding the grass in front of him much more interesting. He didn't want to talk about it. Not now, not ever. It was something he had buried deep, a part of him he kept hidden for a reason.

Fleur noticed the change in him, her brow furrowing in concern. "Arry, you do not 'ave to 'ide it from me," she said gently. "I 'eard you sing... your voice is... magnifique. But you seem to fear showing eet to ze world."

Harry's jaw clenched, and he remained silent, unsure how to respond. He could feel Fleur's eyes on him, but the weight of the memory—the shame—made it hard to speak.

Fleur leaned closer, her voice soft and full of warmth. "You can tell me anything, Arry. I will not judge you. I want to understand."

Harry swallowed hard, his heart racing. He had never told anyone about what had happened, not even Hermione or Ron. It was a part of his past he preferred to forget. But with Fleur, it felt different. There was something about the way she looked at him, something that made him feel safe. Like she wouldn't turn away, no matter what he said.

Taking a deep breath, Harry finally spoke, his voice quiet. "It was when I was nine years old."

Fleur stayed silent, listening intently, her eyes never leaving his face.

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to find the right words. "I was in primary school... a Muggle school. They were having this event—like a talent show, I guess. I didn't want to do it at first, but... one of the teachers overheard me singing once and signed me up without telling me."

Fleur tilted her head, her expression curious. "Zat doesn't sound so bad."

Harry nodded slightly, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "It wasn't, at first. When I got up on stage... I sang in front of the whole school. Teachers, students, the staff... even the Dursleys were there."

He paused, his face hardening at the mention of his aunt, uncle, and cousin. Fleur didn't miss the change in his tone when he spoke their name.

"And... zat is bad because?" she asked gently, her confusion evident.

Harry hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I didn't know they were there at first. I was just... singing. I loved it. It felt good. Like, for the first time in my life, people were actually paying attention to me in a good way, you know? I could see people smiling, clapping along... for once, I felt like I wasn't just... invisible."

Fleur's expression softened, her heart aching for him. She could see how much this moment had meant to him, but she knew this story didn't have a happy ending, she placed her hand on his shoulder, hoping it would make him feel better.

"But then..." Harry's voice faltered. "The Dursleys... they weren't happy. They didn't like me getting attention. Especially not positive attention. After the show, when we got home... Uncle Vernon—" His voice caught, and he closed his eyes briefly, the pain of that night still fresh in his mind.

Fleur's breath hitched slightly, and she reached out, placing a hand gently on Harry's arm. "Arry..."

"They made sure I knew that I wasn't supposed to stand out. They told me I was a freak, that no one wanted to hear me sing." Harry's voice was tight, filled with anger and hurt. "Uncle Vernon said it was embarrassing, that I was embarrassing them. He... locked me in the cupboard for three days after that."

Fleur's hand tightened on his arm, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "Zey... zey locked you in a cupboard? For singing?"

Harry nodded, his jaw clenching again as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "It wasn't just about the singing. It was... everything. They didn't want me to be anything other than what they thought I should be—small, invisible, and quiet. After that, I stopped singing. I didn't want to give them another reason to hate me."

"Arry..." she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I... will..."

Harry looked over, and his heart skipped a beat. Fleur was no longer calm next to him. Her normally beautiful features had twisted with anger, and her blue eyes had changed, the pupils narrowing into slits. Her Veela nature was surfacing, her rage evident in every inch of her body. A faint glow seemed to radiate from her, and then, as if by instinct, a red fireball appeared in her palm.

Harry blinked in shock, sitting up quickly. "Fleur? What—what are you doing?"

Fleur's chest rose and fell with deep, angry breaths. Her usually soft and musical voice came out low and seething, with an edge Harry had never heard before. "Zey... zey locked you in a cupboard? And zey said your voice was 'orrible? Je vais les brûler vifs! (I will burn them alive)" She cursed under her breath in French, her eyes blazing with fury. "Where do zey live?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up, completely taken aback. "Wait—what?"

Fleur stood up abruptly, her Veela features more pronounced now—her skin glowing faintly, her hair seeming to swirl with the fireball in her hand. "I said," she growled, her accent thick with anger, "Where do zey live?"

Harry, still trying to process the situation, asked cautiously, "Why... why do you want to know where they live?"

Fleur's lips curled into a sharp, dangerous smile. "Je veux juste leur parler," she said, her voice dripping with menace. (I just want to talk to them.)

Harry's eyes widened. "Fleur... I don't think that's a good idea." He had seen angry people before, but this—this was different. Fleur wasn't just angry—she was furious, and Harry had a feeling that "just talking" wasn't on her agenda. He sat up, trying to calm her down. "I'm okay now. It was a long time ago."

But Fleur wasn't hearing it, the fireball in her palm growing slightly larger. "Zey locked you in a cupboard for years and told you zat your beautiful voice was embarrassing? Zey deserve far worse zan a talking to!"

Harry quickly got up and moved to block her path, holding his hands up in surrender. "Fleur, really, it's fine now. I don't even live with them anymore. I live with Sirius now, remember?"

But Fleur was shaking her head, her face still twisted with rage. "Non, Arry, eet ees not fine. Eet will never be fine! No one treats you like zat and gets away wiz it. Personne!" She growled, her accent becoming even thicker, her eyes still blazing as she stared at him.

Harry's heart pounded, but he couldn't help the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The fact that Fleur was this angry—angry for him—made him feel... strangely loved.

"Okay, okay," Harry said, reaching out to take her free hand, his voice calm and soothing. "Listen to me, Fleur. I appreciate how much you care. Can we talk later about this? When you are much calmer, and then we can 'Talk to them.'

Fleur hesitated, the fireball in her hand flickering one last time before she finally let it dissipate. Her Veela features slowly faded, her pupils returning to normal as her expression softened into one of concern rather than fury. She looked up at Harry, her lips trembling slightly. "I just... I just don't want anyone to 'urt you," she whispered, her voice losing its earlier edge and becoming vulnerable.

Harry smiled, pulling her into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her. "I know. And that means more to me than anything. But I'm okay, Fleur. I've got you now."

Fleur exhaled slowly, resting her head against his chest, her anger ebbing away completely. "I will made sure zey regret everything," she mumbled against him, half-serious, half-pouting.

Harry chuckled softly, kissing the top of her head. "It's fine. I got used to it. Eventually, Hogwarts happened, and I didn't have to deal with them as much."

Fleur shook her head, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "No, eet's not fine. No child should 'ave to go through zat." Her hand sliding down to intertwine with his. "You are not invisible, Arry. You 'ave so much talent, so much light inside you. Eet breaks my 'eart zat zey tried to snuff zat out."

Harry glanced at her. There was so much compassion in her eyes, so much understanding.

"I... didn't want anyone else to know," Harry murmured, his voice quieter now. "I didn't want people to think I was... showing off. Or that I wanted attention."

"Non," Fleur said firmly, her hand squeezing his. "Zat is not what eet would be. Singing... sharing zat gift... eet's not about attention. Eet's about expression, about letting ze world see a part of you zat is beautiful."

Harry stared at her, something shifting inside him as her words sank in. For so long, he had believed that sharing his voice would bring nothing but trouble. But the way Fleur was looking at him now, the way she spoke so earnestly, it made him wonder if maybe... just maybe... it didn't have to be that way.

"I... I don't know if I can," Harry admitted, his voice shaky.

Fleur smiled softly, her thumb brushing over the back of his hand. "You can. And I will be zere wiz you, if you want."

Harry's heart swelled at her words, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Fleur leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "You are brave, Arry. And I believe in you. When you are ready... ze world will be lucky to 'ear you sing again."

Later

The night of the Yule Ball had finally arrived, and Harry was staring at his reflection in the mirror, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves. His initial anxiety about looking like a complete disaster had been relieved thanks to Sirius, who had sent him a package the day before. It contained a stunning set of dress robes, much better than anything Harry could've ever imagined. They were deep emerald green, perfectly tailored to fit him, with silver accents that shimmered under the light.

Even the rest of the boys were impressed when Harry stepped out of the dressing room, looking like a proper champion. The contrast between Harry's robes and some of the others was stark—particularly Ron, who looked positively miserable in the ridiculous old-fashioned hand-me-down robes from Great Aunt Tessie. His robes were maroon, covered in hideous lace and frills, and no amount of hemming had made them look any better. He was glaring at Harry from the moment he stepped out.

"Wow, Harry," Seamus said, giving him a low whistle. "Sirius really came through for you, didn't he?"

Dean, adjusting his tie, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, mate. You will make all the girls run after you!"

Harry tugged at the collar of his robes and shrugged. "Sirius has good taste, I guess."

Ron, however, was less than thrilled. His mood had been steadily souring as the rumors about Harry's date spread like wildfire. Practically everyone at Hogwarts knew by now that Harry was dating Fleur Delacour, the beautiful Beauxbatons champion. And it seemed the entire school had taken an interest in seeing the two of them together tonight.

"Must be nice," Ron muttered bitterly, adjusting the itchy lace collar around his neck. "Having someone send you fancy robes. Some of us don't have rich godfathers to play dress-up with."

Harry, used to Ron's grumbling by now, just glanced at him. "You could've gotten something decent if you'd planned ahead."

Ron scowled. "Not everyone has people lining up to help them out like you, Harry, and not everyone have a vault overflowing with gold."

Dean shot Ron a look. "Mate, it's not Harry's fault your mum sent those... things. Anyway, it's not like clothes are the most important part of tonight, right?"

"Easy for you to say," he snapped at Dean before glaring at Harry. "You've got Fleur bloody Delacour as a date. Half the school's already talking about it."

"That's enough, Ron," Neville said softly from the corner, though his voice lacked its usual timidity. He was fidgeting nervously with his own dress robes, which were a modest but respectable dark navy blue.

Ron turned toward Neville, his glare shifting. "Oh yeah, and who are you going with, then? Still keeping it a big secret?"

The other boys joined in, chuckling lightly and teasing Neville, but he remained tight-lipped, his cheeks turning slightly red. "None of your business," Neville muttered, looking anywhere but at the others.

"Come on, Neville!" Seamus grinned. "You've been dodging the question for days! Spill it—who's the lucky girl?"

Neville flushed even more but still didn't answer. 

"Leave him alone," Harry said, shooting the others a look. "He'll tell us if he wants to."

"Yeah, right," Ron muttered, though his attention was still more focused on Harry. "And you—are you actually going to walk into the ball with her on your arm, or are you just stringing everyone along?"

Harry's jaw tightened, but he refused to rise to the bait. He knew Ron was frustrated, and while he wished his friend would just drop the bitterness, he also knew that trying to explain himself would only make things worse. Instead, he adjusted his collar again, ignoring Ron's glare.

"You'll see," Harry said simply, his voice even. "If you're that curious, just wait."

Ron grumbled under his breath, pulling at his ridiculous robes again, but said nothing further.

As they finished getting ready, the rest of the boys continued to chatter excitedly, going on about what to expect at the ball—who they thought would be wearing what, who might dance with whom. Seamus was still trying to guess Neville's date, while Dean talked about how he was planning to ask Ginny to dance.

But Harry remained quiet, focused on the night ahead. His thoughts kept drifting to Fleur. He wasn't nervous about being with her—not really—but there was a small part of him that was anxious about the spotlight that would undoubtedly follow them.

Finally, the boys were ready to head downstairs. Seamus patted Harry on the back as they made their way toward the door. "You're going to knock 'em dead, mate. Just watch out for all the jealous blokes—you know half the school wishes they were in your shoes tonight."

Harry smiled faintly but didn't respond. He wasn't looking for admiration or envy. He just wanted to have a good time with Fleur. "Thanks man,."

"Hey, Harry," Dean called, glancing over as they reached the top of the staircase. "You never told us—who are you going with? Everyone's saying Fleur, but is it true?"

Harry's response was simple. "You'll see."

With that, he pushed open the door and walked out of the boys' dormitory, heading toward the common room. The others followed, still chatting away, but Harry was already in his own world, his mind focused on the night ahead, on Fleur.

⚯ ͛

The castle was alive with excitement as Harry made his way toward the Main Hall, surrounded by students from all four houses, as well as the visiting students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. The winter chill was in the air, but the atmosphere was warm. Harry's dress robes made him stand out even more than usual.

Whispers followed him as he walked, heads turning. Normally, this kind of attention would make him want to hide behind his fringe, but tonight, he felt different. Maybe it was the confidence Fleur had given him over the last few weeks, or maybe it was the way Sirius's gift fit him so perfectly, but he felt... ready.

He walked with steady steps, nodding politely to the students who greeted him, though his thoughts were focused elsewhere. The giant doors leading to the Main Hall loomed ahead, and the hum of conversation grew louder as they got closer.

As he passed a small group of Beauxbatons witches, their laughter caught his attention.

"Oh là là, look at 'Arry Potter," one of them whispered, her French accent lilting and teasing. Her friend, a tall girl with long, dark hair, giggled.

"Yes, he looks très magnifique ce soir. Perhaps we should steal him away from Fleur, non?"

Another girl smirked, glancing at Harry with appraising eyes. "I think he would look better on my arm than hers."

Harry kept his eyes forward, resisting the urge to respond. Normally, comments like that would make him feel awkward, but tonight he found himself unfazed. Fleur had made it clear how she felt about him, and that was enough. He let their teasing slide off him like water off a duck's back as he continued toward the grand doors.

As he neared the entrance to the Main Hall, he spotted Cedric Diggory standing near the doors, looking handsome in his deep-blue dress robes. Beside him was Cho Chang, her dark hair pinned up elegantly. She smiled up at Cedric as he whispered something in her ear.

Harry remembered a time when he would get angry to see something like this, but right now, he felt nothing.

Cedric caught sight of Harry and waved him over, his smile broad. "Harry! You look great, mate," he said warmly as Harry approached. Cho gave Harry a friendly nod, her eyes bright with excitement.

"Thanks," Harry replied, returning the smile.

"So," Cedric continued, a cunning smile growing in his face, "we've all heard the rumors. Is it true? Are you going with Fleur Delacour?"

Harry, not wanting to ruin the surprise, merely smiled and shrugged. "You'll see soon enough," he said, keeping his voice light.

Cho raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Keeping secrets now, are we? Well, either way, I think a lot of people will be shocked."

Before Harry could respond, Viktor Krum appeared nearby, his expression as sullen as ever. He was walking with a tall, blonde witch—one of the Durmstrang girls—but there was a noticeable distance between them, like he was completely uninterested in his date. His eyes scanned the crowd as if searching for someone else entirely. Harry didn't need to guess who it was—he had seen how often Krum had been watching Hermione lately.

Krum gave Harry a stiff nod, though his mood seemed to worsen as soon as Cedric brought up the subject of dates. "You are late," Krum grumbled, his thick accent making his words sound harsher than intended.

Harry nodded politely in return but remained silent.

Another familiar voice cut through the air. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Saint Potter," drawled Draco Malfoy, his voice dripping with smugness. Harry turned lazily and saw Draco approaching, his arm wrapped around Pansy Parkinson, who was clinging to him like a barnacle. Pansy wore a sickly-sweet smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Draco, of course, was dressed in impeccable black robes, tailored perfectly, though his usual sneer was firmly in place. "I was wondering when you'd show up. Heard you're bringing a certain Beauxbatons champion to the ball tonight. You really do love making a spectacle of yourself, don't you?"

Harry met Draco's sneer with a calm gaze. "Nice to see you too, Malfoy. I'm surprised you managed to convince someone to come with you."

Pansy let out a high-pitched giggle, clutching Draco's arm tighter. "Draco's a perfect gentleman," she said, though Harry wasn't sure if she believed it herself.

Draco's eyes flicked to Harry's robes, a glint of annoyance passing through them. "Quite the outfit, Potter. Bit flashy, don't you think? Trying to show up the rest of us?"

Before Harry could respond, Cedric stepped in. "Everyone's looking great tonight, Malfoy. Let's just enjoy the evening, yeah?"

Draco scoffed but didn't push the issue further. Instead, he tugged Pansy toward the doors. "Whatever. Just don't trip over yourself when your date doesn't show up, Potter."

Harry watched them go, shaking his head slightly. "He never changes."

Cedric chuckled, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Ignore him. Everyone's waiting to see you and Fleur, anyway. You're the one everyone's talking about."

Harry smirked, though his heart raced a little faster. "I guess we'll find out soon."

The murmurs of the students in the hall behind Harry suddenly fell into a hushed silence. It was subtle at first, but then he felt it—that familiar feeling. His skin tingled. He didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. Fleur.

He turned, and there she was, descending the grand staircase like a vision out of a dream. Harry's heart skipped a beat. She had always been beautiful, but tonight, she was something else entirely—a goddess come to life.

Her dress was a shimmering silver that hugged her figure perfectly, catching the light as she moved, making it seem as though she was glowing. Her silvery-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, soft waves framing her face, and her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires. Every head in the hall turned to look at her, but her gaze was fixed solely on Harry, her smile bright and warm.

"Arry," she called softly, her voice carrying over the murmurs, and Harry felt affection as she made her way toward him, her movements drawing even more attention.

Fleur reached him, her smile widening as she slipped her arm through his. "Bonsoir, Arry," she said, her voice as smooth as silk.

Harry, feeling his heart racing in his chest, managed a smile. "Tu es... incroyable (You look... incredible.)"

Fleur looked impressed and hummed when she heard him speak French. Despite not knowing it well, his accent was quite good, her fingers gently brushing against his arm. "And you, mon cher, look quite 'andsome yourself." Her eyes roamed over him appreciatively, the teasing lilt in her voice making him blush slightly.

As if on cue, Cedric cleared his throat behind them. "Wow, Harry," Cedric said, looking genuinely impressed. "I have to say... I didn't think you'd pull it off, but... well done."

Cho, standing beside Cedric, beamed. "Fleur, your dress is wonderful. You're glowing!"

Fleur turned toward her, smiling graciously. "Merci, Cho. You look lovely as well," she said, eyeing Cho's elegant dress robes with a nod of approval.

Beside them, Viktor Krum remained silent, though the witch he had brought with him—a tall blonde girl from Durmstrang—was not as subtle. She was glaring at Fleur with clear jealousy, her lips pursed tightly as if suppressing a comment. Harry noticed, but decided to ignore whoever she was.

"You ready?" Fleur asked softly, her eyes gleaming with warmth as she looked up at him.

Harry smiled, feeling unusually confident. "Yeah," he replied. "I'm ready."

Just as they turned toward the entrance of the Main Hall, a loud scoff broke the moment, and Harry glanced over lazily to see Draco Malfoy standing nearby, looking as furious as ever. Pansy Parkinson was clinging to his arm, glaring daggers at both Harry and Fleur.

"Well, if it isn't the half-breed and her knight in shining armor," Pansy said, her voice dripping with disdain. "Guess it makes sense, Potter. Can't do much better than a half-creature, can you?"

Oh, boy, Harry thought, knowing that Fleur despised many things, but calling her a creature' or 'half-human' was a big NoNo. 

Fleur stepped forward, her gaze locking onto Pansy's with a cold, steely focus.

"Ah, who even are you?" Fleur began her voice smooth and deadly calm. "But whoever you are, you must not be that important. You ees famous for... what exactly? Being a background decoration in someone else's shadow? Or was eet ze way you cling to Malfoy like a leech, hoping to find some worth?"

Pansy's face flushed a deep crimson, her sneer faltering for a moment as she sputtered. "W-What did you just—"

"Oh, I remember now, Pansy, was eet?" Fleur tilted her head, as though Pansy's name was only vaguely familiar, she had heard Hermione mention it once. "But your name doesn't really matter, does eet? Ze only reason anyone even knows you exist is because you cling to Draco like a cheap handbag that doesn't match ze outfit."

The crowd around them burst into laughter, but Fleur wasn't done yet.

"Half-creature, you say? Zat's quite bold, coming from someone whose personality is only 'alf-formed. At least I 'ave something of worth to offer, but you? I bet ze most exciting thing you've ever done is order Draco's pumpkin juice for 'im at breakfast."

There was a stunned silence. Pansy's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, her eyes wide with shock and fury. "You... you—"

"Yes?" Fleur tilted her head, her smile sweet and condescending. "Do continue. I'm sure we're all dying to 'ear what insult you 'ave left. If zere's anything in zat small mind of yours."

Pansy's face twisted in anger, but she seemed like she didn't know what to say. Her mouth snapped shut, her glare shifting to Draco, who was glaring at Harry with equal venom.

"You're always hiding behind other people, aren't you, Potter?" Draco sneered, his pale face flushed with anger. "First your friends, and now this—"

"Funny you should say that, Malfoy," Harry cut in smoothly, not missing a beat. "You've spent the entire night hiding behind your father's money, and Pansy there looks like she's holding you up. Not to mention, at least my date came willingly."

Draco's face turned beet-red, and before he could snap back, Cedric let out a loud, genuine laugh. "I know to admit defeat when I'm beaten," Cedric said, grinning broadly.

The students around them began to snicker, and Draco's scowl deepened as he looked around, realizing he had lost the upper hand. Pansy, still glaring at Fleur, tugged at his arm, trying to salvage her own dignity.

"Let's go, Draco," Pansy hissed. 

Fleur, with a satisfied smirk, leaned back into Harry, and they walked away from the scene without another word.

As they moved toward the grand doors of the Main Hall, Harry could feel Fleur's arm tighten around his, and he glanced down at her, catching the proud gleam in her eyes.

"Thank you for that," Harry said softly, leaning in slightly so only she could hear.

"I told you, Arry," she whispered, her voice playful yet affectionate. "You are mine, and I do not let anyone speak poorly of my... mon ange."

Harry chuckled, feeling a surge of warmth in his chest. "Well, I'm glad I'm on your good side, then."

Harry and Fleur were just about to step into the Main Hall when the chatter and music fell into an unexpected silence once again. It wasn't the allure of Fleur this time—this was something different. Harry turned, and saw what had captured everyone's attention.

Hermione was walking toward Neville, who was standing a few steps ahead, looking like he was about to melt into the floor. His cheeks were an alarming shade of red, but his eyes were wide, staring at Hermione as though he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise too. Hermione looked... stunning. She wore a flowing periwinkle-blue gown that moved like water as she walked. Her usually bushy hair was tamed into elegant curls that cascaded down her back, framing her face.

"Wow," Harry breathed, barely realizing he had spoken aloud.

Beside him, Fleur smiled knowingly. "She looks magnifique," she commented, her voice filled with warmth. She glanced at Harry, her smile widening. "Go ahead, Arry. Zere's nothing wrong with complimenting 'Ermione."

Harry blinked, torn between wanting to tell Hermione how great she looked and the small twinge of guilt about whether Fleur might take it the wrong way. He glanced at his girlfriend, trying to gauge her reaction.

Fleur giggled softly, clearly reading his thoughts. "Arry, eet's fine. You can tell your friends zey look beautiful," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She leaned in closer, brushing a playful kiss on his cheek. "As long as I'm ze only one who gets to kiss you and sleep wiz you."

Harry chuckled, feeling a rush of relief. "You've got nothing to worry about there," he said, grinning. "That's a deal I'm more than happy to stick to."

Fleur laughed, her hand tightening around his arm as they turned their attention back to Hermione and Neville. As they approached, Hermione looked up, her face brightening when she saw them.

"Harry, Fleur!" Hermione greeted, her smile wide but a bit nervous. "You both look amazing tonight!"

"Merci, 'Ermione," Fleur replied, her voice warm as she gave Hermione an approving look. "But you, ma chère, look absolutely stunning. I'm impressed."

Hermione's cheeks flushed with pleasure, her hand instinctively brushing a curl behind her ear. "Thank you, Fleur. That really means a lot, coming from you."

Harry nodded, his smile genuine as he took in Hermione's transformation. "You really do look great, Hermione. You'll have all eyes on you tonight."

Hermione's blush deepened, but there was a glint of pride in her eyes. "Oh, stop," she said, though she couldn't hide her smile.

Before Hermione could respond, Fleur turned her gaze to Neville, who still hadn't said a word, his face as red as a tomato. Harry stifled a grin as he gave his friend a light nudge on the shoulder. "And Neville," Harry said, "You look great. Don't think I've ever seen you look so put together."

Neville gave a nervous laugh, tugging awkwardly at his collar. "Thanks, Harry. I, um... I wasn't sure if I'd be able to pull this off."

Hermione smiled up at Neville, clearly proud of him. "You look wonderful, Neville," she said softly, and Neville's blush deepened even more.

Fleur, always perceptive, leaned closer to Harry and whispered, "I zink zey are cute together. 'Ermione looks very 'appy."

Harry nodded, watching the way Hermione and Neville exchanged smiles. "Yeah," he whispered back, "I think so too. Neville deserves this."

They stood there for a moment, a comfortable silence settling between them as the crowd began to return to their conversations, and the music from the hall resumed.

"Well," Fleur said with a playful grin, "shall we go inside? I zink we 'ave kept everyone waiting long enough, non?"

"Yeah, let's go," Harry agreed, squeezing her hand gently.

As they moved toward the grand doors, Harry glanced back at Hermione and Neville, giving them an encouraging smile. "See you guys inside?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "We'll be right behind you."

Fleur, led Harry through the doors and into the brilliantly lit hall. The moment they stepped inside, all eyes turned toward them, and Harry could feel the weight of the room's attention shift once more. But this time, he didn't mind.

As they entered the ballroom, Fleur leaned in, her voice low and teasing. "You 'ave made quite an entrance tonight, Arry."

Harry smirked. "I think it's mostly because of you."

Fleur gave him a coy smile. "Maybe... but you look quite dashing yourself, mon cher."

Harry walked beside Fleur, Cedric with Cho just ahead, and Krum with his date trailing behind. The hall was bathed in warm light, shimmering off the enchanted ceiling, which mirrored the crisp winter night sky. Students lined the sides, eyes following the champions as they moved toward the front of the hall.

At the far end, behind a long table, Dumbledore stood, flanked by the Hogwarts professors, as well as representatives from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. The Minister of Magic was present too. Percy Weasley, sitting beside her, looked unbearably smug, puffing out his chest as if he were the most important person in the room.

Harry leaned closer to Fleur. "Looks like Percy's been promoted to the Ministry's king of pompous twats."

Fleur stifled a giggle, covering her mouth as they stopped near the head of the hall. "Oui, zat is one way to put eet."

Dumbledore raised his arms, signaling for silence as he prepared to speak. The room quieted, but Harry noticed a shift in Fleur's demeanor as the headmaster's deep voice filled the hall. Her smile faded, her expression hardening as her gaze landed on Dumbledore. She seemed like she was glaring at the headmaster.

Harry leaned toward her. "Fleur... you alright?"

Fleur's lips pressed into a thin line before she whispered, "Dumbledore... he should be ashamed of himself."

Harry blinked in surprise. He remembered Professor McGonagall telling him that it had been Dumbledore's decision to leave him with the Dursleys, believing it was for his protection. Harry had long since buried his resentment, but seeing the look on Fleur's face now, he knew there was more to her feelings about the headmaster. Still, tonight wasn't the time to dwell on it.

"I get it," Harry murmured. "But let's not let that ruin tonight."

Fleur glanced at him, her features softening slightly as she nodded. "You are right, Arry. Zis ees our night." She said, while thinking of ways to punish the stupid Headmaster.

Dumbledore's speech continued, filled with the usual platitudes about unity and the importance of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry barely listened, his focus on Fleur. He could feel her frustration simmering just beneath the surface, but he was determined to change that.

As the speech concluded and the music began, Harry didn't hesitate. He turned to Fleur, holding out his hand with a smile. "Care for a dance?"

Fleur looked at him, the tension in her posture melting away as a slow smile spread across her face. "With you? Always."

Taking her hand, Harry led her onto the dance floor. The music was soft at first, but it quickly picked up in tempo as more couples joined them. He didn't care that he wasn't the best dancer—Fleur's presence made everything feel effortless.

Fleur's mood brightened as they moved, and her laughter came more freely with every turn. Harry twirled her, enjoying the way she threw her head back, her blonde hair catching the light. For a while, it felt like it was just the two of them in the room.

"You are getting better at zis," Fleur teased, her eyes twinkling as Harry spun her again.

"Only because you're not stepping on my toes this time," he shot back with a grin.

Fleur laughed, her earlier frustration all but forgotten. "Zat is because I am a good teacher, non?"

"Best one I could ask for," Harry agreed, squeezing her hand as they danced.

The music flowed around them as Harry and Fleur continued to dancee. Fleur's hand rested lightly on his shoulder, her other hand entwined with his, and Harry felt a sense of calm, something almost magical, settle over him.

Fleur's blue eyes softened as she gazed up at Harry. She had only known him for four months, but it felt like much longer. There was something about him—something kind, and deeply genuine—that made her feel as though they had been connected long before they met. His emerald green eyes, met hers, and her heart fluttered.

As the band picked up the tempo, the lead singer's voice filled the hall, crooning in a rich, deep baritone. The crowd cheered as the melody picked up, but Fleur tilted her head and gave Harry a mischievous look.

"You know," she said, her lips curling into a playful smile, "you are much better zan zis singer. I zink you should be ze one singing tonight."

Harry laughed. "Trust me, I'm not cut out for this kind of thing," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not really a fan of being the center of attention."

Fleur's smile widened. "Oh, really? But you are already ze center of attention tonight, Arry."

"Yeah, but not because I'm singing," Harry teased back, his grin widening. "Besides, if you want a song from me, I think I'd rather sing it to you in private."

Fleur's face brightened at his words, she leaned in closer to him. Her face came to rest gently against his shoulder, and their dance slowed down.

"I would love zat," Fleur murmured, her breath warm against his neck.

Harry's heart skipped a beat, the warmth of her body against his suddenly making the room feel hotter. He tightened his grip on her hand slightly, guiding her gently as they swayed to the softer beat of the music.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Fleur's head remained resting on Harry's shoulder, and he could feel her breathe steadily, their steps in perfect sync.

"You know," Fleur said after a while, her voice softer now, "I've never danced like zis with anyone before. It feels... different. It feels... right."

Harry's heart raced. He knew exactly what she meant, but he didn't have the words to say it. So instead, he just smiled, keeping her close as they moved together in silence.

⚯ ͛

After what felt like hours of dancing, Harry and Fleur finally took a break and made their way to one of the tables near the edge of the hall. As they sat down, the empty plates in front of them magically filled with a spread of food. There were dishes Harry recognized—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin juice—but mixed in were an array of sweets and delicacies he had never seen before. Fleur, however, smiled brightly as she noticed the assortment.

"Ah! Zese are French sweets," Fleur said, her eyes lighting up as she reached for a delicate, pastel-colored macaron. "You must try zis, Arry."

Harry eyed the small, colorful pastries curiously. "What's it called?"

"A macaron," Fleur said with a grin, holding one out to him. "Eet's sweet, but light. Go on, taste it."

He took the macaron from her hand and took a bite. The crisp outer shell gave way to a soft, chewy center, and the flavor was incredible—sweet, with a hint of almonds and fruit.

"Hmm," Harry hummed, closing his eyes as the flavor melted on his tongue. "That's... amazing."

"Zis is an éclair," she explained as she told him to try something else, placing it gently in his hand. "Eet is filled with crème pâtissière, a rich vanilla cream. You must eat eet in one bite to get ze full experience."

Harry chuckled, though he wasn't sure how he was going to manage that. But trusting Fleur, he took her advice and popped the éclair into his mouth in one go. The moment the pastry hit his tongue, the smooth, rich vanilla cream burst forth.

"Oh, Merlin..." Harry mumbled through a mouthful, his eyes closing in bliss. "That's... incredible."

Fleur giggled again, delighted by his reaction. "See? I told you! Zere ees nothing quite like a French éclair."

Harry swallowed and nodded, already reaching for another sweet. "I think I could eat a hundred of those."

Fleur picked up another treat, this one a small, glossy sphere that looked almost too perfect to eat. "Now, zis is a truffle," she said, handing it to him. "Made of dark chocolate, with a soft ganache inside. But zere is a surprise inside—try eet."

Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He bit into the truffle, and his senses were immediately hit with the taste of dark chocolate. As he chewed, the smooth ganache melted on his tongue, but then, just as Fleur had promised, there was a surprise—a hint of orange zest.

"That... that's amazing," Harry said.

Fleur's face lit up with pride. "I told you! Zese are some of ze finest sweets from France. I grew up eating zem."

Harry smiled, reaching for another. "I could get used to these."

Fleur's expression softened, clearly pleased. "I am glad you like zem. Eet means you will love France when you visit."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "When I visit?"

Fleur nodded, her smile widening. "Of course! You should visit France soon, Arry. I will show you everything—ze beautiful cities, ze countryside... and, of course, ze best places to eat."

Harry chuckled, the thought of seeing Fleur's home country sending a ripple of excitement through him. "That sounds... incredible. I'd love to visit France."

Fleur's eyes gleamed mischievously as she leaned closer. "You know," she said, her voice soft and warm, "you could come wiz me during ze summer. To my 'ouse. My family 'as a lovely villa near ze coast. We could spend time on ze beach, relax... eet would be perfect."

Harry's heart swelled at the idea. He hadn't thought much about his plans for the summer, but the thought of spending it with Fleur, in France, was more tempting than anything he'd ever imagined. His smile grew wider than it had all night. "That... that would be amazing, Fleur."

Fleur's hand rested on his, her thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. "Zen it's settled," she said with a soft laugh. "We will 'ave a summer together in France."

But as the words settled, Harry's thoughts quickly drifted to something else—something that made his stomach tighten slightly. "What about your parents?" he asked, his voice quieter, the nervousness creeping in despite himself.

Fleur's eyes sparkled with amusement, clearly picking up on his nerves. "My parents? What about zem?" she teased, her grin widening as she tilted her head.

"Well..." Harry scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling that going to France wasn't the best idea. "I mean... they're your parents. What if they don't like me? I'm just... me."

Fleur laughed softly as she leaned in, her face close to his. "Arry, you are wonderful. Zere ees nothing for you to worry about. My parents will adore you. My maman ees very kind, and my père... well, he may be a bit protective, but he will see what I see."

Harry's nerves didn't exactly vanish, but Fleur's words reassured him more than anything else could. Still, the thought of meeting her father—someone who would no doubt be as fierce as Fleur could be—made his heart race a little.

"I'm not sure about being 'wonderful'," Harry muttered, though there was a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "But... I'll do my best not to embarrass myself."

Fleur laughed again, a sound that made Harry feel lighter. "You are adorable when you are nervous, Arry," she teased, giving his hand a light squeeze. "But you 'ave nothing to fear. You will see. My parents will love you."

Harry sighed. "Well, if you're sure," he said with a small chuckle, "then I guess I'll be alright."

Fleur smiled, her gaze softening as she looked at him. "You are more than alright. You are perfect, mon cher."

Harry's heart skipped at her words, and for a moment, he couldn't quite believe how lucky he was to be sitting here, with her.

He reached for another macaron, biting into it with a thoughtful look. "Alright, then," he said, his voice light. "I'll visit France. And you'll introduce me to the best food, the best places... and your parents."

Fleur laughed again, leaning in to kiss him softly on the cheek. "Zat is a promise, Arry."

⚯ ͛

Harry and Fleur made their way through the buzzing crowd, finally spotting Hermione and Neville standing off to the side near one of the tables. Neville looked flushed but happy, while Hermione seemed to be enjoying herself as well.

"How's your night going?" Harry asked as they approached. He was glad to see Neville looking so at ease—Hermione had clearly done wonders for his lack of confidence.

Hermione smiled brightly. "It's going really well, actually. Neville's been a fantastic dance partner." She gave Neville a proud look, and Neville blushed even harder.

"Yeah, it's been... great," Neville said, sounding a bit out of breath but happy. "How about you two?"

Fleur beamed. "We are 'aving a wonderful time, non?" she said, glancing at Harry with a fond smile.

Harry nodded, but before he could respond, Fleur turned to him. "I will get us something to drink," she said, placing a light kiss on his cheek. "Zere is a special punch, and I 'ave a taste for something a bit stronger." Her eyes glinted playfully as she slipped away toward the drinks table.

As Fleur left, Harry turned back to Hermione, who was watching Fleur with a curious smile. "You two seem really happy together," Hermione said warmly.

"Yeah," Harry admitted, his smile softening. "She's... amazing."

They chatted for a few moments, catching up on the night's events, when suddenly Harry felt something strange. A wave of... something hit him, like an invisible force slamming into his senses. It was a familiar feeling, but not quite the same as Fleur's allure. He turned around, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Standing behind him was a witch with a sultry smile and a dress that left little to the imagination. Her long dark hair flowed over her bare shoulders. The moment Harry saw her, he could feel the allure radiating off her in waves—thick, almost overwhelming. Her smile widened as she stepped closer, her voice low and smooth.

"Bonsoir, Harry Potter," she said, her accent dripping with seduction. "I 'ave been looking for you. Come... dance wiz me."

Harry blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He could feel the weight of her allure pressing against him, trying to pull him in, but to his own surprise, it barely fazed him. He knew he could not be affected by allure, but it had never felt this easy to ignore it. He felt a slight tug, but it was easy—almost instinctive—to shrug it off.

"Er, no thanks," Harry said, taking a step back. "I'm here with someone."

The witch's eyes flickered with surprise, as if she hadn't expected her allure to be brushed aside so easily. Her smile faltered for a brief second before she recovered, stepping closer again. "Oh, do not worry about zat," she purred. "I can show you a much better time."

Harry was about to firmly tell her that Fleur was his date when, out of nowhere, Fleur reappeared, carrying two glasses in her hands. Her eyes immediately locked onto the witch, her expression darkening in an instant. She moved swiftly, placing the drinks on a table, slipping her arm through Harry's possessively, her posture tense.

"Que veux-tu, Lysandra?" (What do you want, Lysandra?) Fleur asked in a low, dangerous tone

Lysandra's smile faltered, her voice dripping with feigned sweetness.

"Oh, Fleur. Je ne savais pas qu'il était avec toi. Je voulais juste être amicale." (Oh, Fleur. I didn't realize he was with you. I was just being friendly.) Lysandra replied in French, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

Fleur's eyes flashed dangerously as she stepped closer, keeping Harry close by her side.

"Amicale? Tu appelles ça amicale?" she hissed, her voice low and threatening. "Tu sais très bien ce que tu faisais, Lysandra. Ne fais pas l'innocente avec moi. Utiliser l'Allure pour essayer de séduire quelqu'un. Ta personnalité est-elle si vide que tu dois te reposer sur l'Allure pour attirer quelqu'un?" (Friendly? You call that friendly? You know exactly what you were doing, Lysandra. Don't play innocent with me. Using Allure to try and seduce someone. Is your personality so hollow that you must rely on Allure to seduce someone?)

Lysandra's smile turned into a smirk, her voice taking on a mocking tone.

"Ohh, Fleur. Nous savons toutes les deux que tu es venue ici si vite parce que tu savais que ton petit jouet m'aurait choisi. (Ohh, Fleur. We both know you came here so fast because you knew your boy toy would have chosen me.)" Lysandra let out a soft, mocking laugh.

"Allons, Fleur. Ne sois pas si protectrice. Tu ne crois quand même pas qu'Harry va rester intéressé par toi éternellement? Après tout, je pourrais lui offrir... plus d'excitation." (Oh, come now, Fleur. Don't be so protective. Surely you don't expect Harry to stay entertained by you forever? After all, I could offer him... more excitement.)

Fleur's grip on Harry's arm tightened even more, and her voice dropped into a dangerously quiet growl.

"Si tu crois une seule seconde que je vais te laisser t'approcher de lui, tu te trompes lourdement. Dégage, Lysandra. Ou je te ferai regretter d'avoir essayé." (If you think for one second that I'll let you get anywhere near him, you are sorely mistaken. Get lost, Lysandra. Or I'll make you regret it.)

Lysandra's eyes flickered with frustration, but she seemed to think better of pushing the confrontation further. She shot one last look at Harry before turning on her heel.

"Très bien. À une prochaine fois, peut-être." (Very well. Until next time, perhaps.)

Fleur let out a breath, her body still tense as she watched Lysandra leave. Harry, still trying to catch up with what had just happened, turned to Fleur, confusion clear on his face.

"What... what was that all about?"

Fleur sighed, turning back to him with a mixture of frustration and apology in her eyes. "Zat was Lysandra," she explained, her voice quieter now. "She ees... how do I say... a very dangerous Veela. She likes to use 'er allure to get what she wants, and tonight, she wanted you."

Harry raised an eyebrow, still processing. "And you two... know each other?"

Fleur grimaced, nodding. "Oui. We went to Beauxbatons together. And she is one of my...cousins. She does not like me much, and ze feeling ees mutual."

Harry nodded, understanding now why Fleur had been so protective. "Well, I think she got the message," he said, squeezing Fleur's hand reassuringly. "And for the record, she didn't stand a chance."

Fleur's expression softened, a smile tugging at her lips. "Zat ees because you are immune to zat kind of manipulation, Arry. You see me for who I am, not just what I can do."

Harry smiled back, leaning in to kiss her gently on the forehead. "Exactly. You're the only one for me."

Fleur's smile widened, her eyes filled with warmth as she looked up at him. "Good," she whispered, her voice playful again. "Because I would 'ave to curse anyone who tried to steal you from me."

⚯ ͛

As the final notes of the Yule Ball's music faded, Fleur tugged his hand, her smile had turned a little sultry. They slipped from the Great Hall and headed toward the Beauxbatons carriage. It loomed ahead.

Fleur led him inside without a word, her grip firm but warm. Her room was quite beautiful, and Harry was sure he had never seen a more beautiful room. Before Harry could fully take it in, the door clicked shut behind them, and Fleur turned, her blue eyes ablaze.

She didn't hesitate—her lips found his in a heated, hungry kiss. The taste of her lips was amazing; he could taste the sweets she ate with him and the alcohol she had drunk.

Harry's breath hitched, his mind spinning. "I can't believe this is really happening," he muttered between kisses, his voice thick with excitement and disbelief.

Fleur pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her smile wicked. "Oh, it's 'appening, 'Arry," she whispered, her accent curling around his name like a spell. Her fingers moved deftly to his robe, slipping it off his shoulders, her hands already working on the buttons of his shirt. "Relax, let me take care of you."

Her touch was electric, and Harry's heart pounded harder as she undressed him with ease, every brush of her fingers against his skin leaving him more breathless. When she finally helped him step out of his pants, his cock sprang free, thick and eager, standing tall. Fleur's eyes gleamed as she looked him over, her tongue flicking across her lips as she took him in.

"Mm, magnifique," she purred, her voice low, dripping with desire.

Harry swallowed hard, every nerve in his body aflame as Fleur's hands roamed over him, her fingers tracing a path that left him trembling. Her touch felt like soft flames touching him everywhere, and when her hand finally wrapped around his cock, a moan escaped him. The sensation of her skin on his shaft sent a shiver of pleasure racing through him.

Fleur leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as she stroked him slowly, deliberately. "You like zat, don't you?" she murmured, her breath hot against his skin.

Fleur dropped to her knees before him with a grace that sent Harry's heart racing even faster. Her eyes gleamed as they traced up his body, lingering on his cock, hard and ready, before locking onto his gaze. A slow, teasing smile curled her lips. "Tell me, 'Arry... do you still remember the first time I took you in my mouth, do you dream of that moment?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. He swallowed, his pulse roaring in his ears. "Y-yeah," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I did."

Fleur's laughter was soft and sultry, her fingers lightly brushing along his thighs as she leaned in closer. "Mm, no need to dream anymore," she purred, her voice dripping with playful wickedness. "I will make sure...you will never have to dream of this again."

Before he could respond, her lips wrapped around the head of his cock, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through him. The warmth of her mouth, the slickness of her tongue as it swirled around him—it was almost too much, too perfect. His knees nearly buckled as she took him deeper, her hand gripping the base of his cock while she bobbed her head, her mouth working him in ways that left his mind spinning.

Harry moaned, unable to hold back as the pleasure hit him like a train. "F-Fleur..." he gasped, his fingers tangling in her silky hair as she took him deeper still, her throat relaxing to let him slide in further. Every movement of her mouth was precise, deliberate, as if she knew exactly what would drive him mad. And she did.

Her Veela nature seemed to heighten every sensation. Every flick of her tongue sent sparks of pleasure racing through his body. He couldn't stop the way his hips bucked toward her, craving more of that warmth, more of her. Fleur hummed around him, the vibration making his legs shake, her eyes fluttering up to meet his as she continued to suck him like a woman possessed.

"Fuck," Harry groaned, his voice strained with the effort to hold himself together. The pleasure was too intense, building too quickly, and he could feel the tightening in his core.

Fleur's hand squeezed his thigh gently, her lips releasing him with a wet pop just as he thought he was about to lose it. She looked up at him, grinning wickedly, her mouth glistening with saliva, her cheeks flushed. "Oh, 'Arry... you're already so close." Her voice was playful, teasing, as if she enjoyed watching him struggle to keep control. "You 'ave lasted too long for a man with a Veela."

Harry's breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling as he fought to hold back, but Fleur was relentless. Without warning, she leaned forward again, her lips wrapping around his cock with renewed hunger. This time, she didn't hold back. She took him deep, all the way to the base, her throat tightening around him as she swallowed him whole.

A guttural moan tore from Harry's throat, his hands gripping her hair tighter as she moved faster, her mouth and tongue working in perfect rhythm. Every flick of her tongue against the sensitive underside of his cock, every pull of her lips as she sucked him harder, sent wave after wave of pleasure crashing through him.

"F-Fleur... I'm gonna—"

She didn't stop. She didn't even slow down. Instead, she sucked him even harder, her hand pumping at the base while her mouth took him deep again and again. Her eyes flickered up to meet his, gleaming with amusement as if she already knew he couldn't resist her.

Harry's world shattered as the orgasm hit him. His hips jerked uncontrollably as he came, spilling hot and thick down her throat. Fleur moaned around him, swallowing every drop, her tongue still teasing him even as he pulsed in her mouth.

When she finally pulled back, Harry was left panting, his legs weak, his mind trying to think and work after such pleasure. Fleur licked her lips, her smile smug and satisfied as she looked up at him, her fingers still trailing lightly over his thigh.

"Mm, zat's better, no?" she teased, her voice full of triumph.

Fleur's eyes darkened with lust as she knelt there, still catching her breath from the way she had just blown his mind. The thought of having Harry take her, fuck her right then and there, flashed through her mind, a hot wave of desire surging through her, but before she could act on it, Harry was already moving. He reached down and gently helped her up.

"I would love to tear this dress off of you, but it's too beautiful." Harry teases, much to Fleur's amusement. His fingers slid to the ties of her Yule Ball dress, and with each pull, he unraveled her, piece by piece. Fleur's breath hitched when the fabric loosened and slipped down her shoulders, the cool air brushing her skin as her dress fell away, pooling at her feet. Her breasts spilled free, large, full, perfect, catching the light as they bounced slightly with the release. Harry's eyes were locked on her, and she felt the burn of his gaze, the way his breath quickened at the sight of her.

His hands moved up, palms warm against the soft skin of her breasts, and Fleur moaned, her body arching into his touch. His fingers squeezed, gently at first, then firmer, his thumbs brushing over her sensitive nipples, sending jolts of pleasure racing through her. She gasped, biting her lip as her nipples hardened beneath his teasing touches.

"Arry," she whispered, her voice thick with need, but he only smiled, leaning in to capture her lips in a searing kiss. Fleur melted into it, the heat of his mouth, the way his tongue moved with hers, igniting a fire deep within her. But it wasn't enough—she wanted more.

Harry pulled back, his lips leaving hers only to trail down her neck, kissing a path that made her shiver. He found the sensitive spot just below her ear, the one that always made her weak, and bit down softly. Fleur moaned, her hands gripping his shoulders as his teeth grazed her skin, his mouth working against the pulse point in her neck. She tilted her head back, giving him better access, and he took full advantage, nibbling, sucking, driving her mad with every kiss, every bite.

"Mon dieu, 'Arry..." she breathed, her body trembling as his mouth left a trail of heat down her neck.

Harry didn't stop. He kept kissing, working his way lower, pressing her back gently until her legs hit the edge of the bed. Fleur let him guide her down, her body falling back onto the soft sheets, her dress abandoned on the floor. She quickly got rid of her panties. She spread her legs for him, her pussy already aching, already wet, glistening as she watched him between her thighs. She knew what was coming next.

But then, to her surprise, Harry didn't dive in. Instead, he knelt down at the edge of the bed, his hands sliding over her calves, and leaned in to kiss her feet.

Fleur blinked, surprised, but a soft giggle escaped her, a teasing edge to her voice. "Mmm, I didn't expect zat," she murmured, watching as his lips pressed against the delicate skin of her arch, sending a strange thrill through her body. "You 'ave a thing for feet, 'Arry?"

Harry didn't answer, not with words. Instead, he kissed her again, his lips trailing up her foot, his hands massaging her calves as he moved. Each kiss was tender, his breath hot against her skin, and Fleur found herself relaxing, sinking deeper into the bed, her pulse quickening with every inch he climbed.

"Aphrodite..." she whispered, her voice shaky as he kissed his way up her leg, his lips leaving a burning trail behind. He took his time, teasing her, and Fleur's breath grew heavier, her chest rising and falling as she waited, as she craved him. His mouth reached her knee, then higher, brushing along her inner thigh, so close to where she needed him but still taking his time.

The slow torture was driving her wild. "'Arry," she moaned, her voice a little more insistent, her body aching for him. She spread her legs wider, pushing her hips up slightly, offering herself to him. "S'il te plaît...(Please)"

But Harry was enjoying this, teasing her with every kiss, every slow, tantalizing brush of his lips against her skin. He didn't rush. His mouth lingered on the soft flesh of her inner thighs, kissing, licking, his fingers tracing light patterns on her skin. By the time he was inches away from her pussy, Fleur was trembling, her body on fire, her need for him almost unbearable.

"Please, 'Arry..." she whispered again, her voice a breathless plea.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his lips brushed the crease of her thigh, so close to her dripping core she could almost feel it. But even then, he hesitated, his eyes flickering up to meet hers, his smile devilish, teasing. Fleur could barely take it, her body desperate, aching, and Harry seemed to know it, his fingers stroking the skin just above her pussy, his mouth hovering tantalizingly close.

Harry could feel the heat radiating from Fleur's body as he lowered his face between her thighs, the scent of her pussy reaching his nose before he even touched her. He inhaled deeply, his eyes widening in surprise. "It smells like... honey," he murmured, his voice filled with wonder.

Fleur giggled breathlessly, her head falling back against the pillow, her hair spilling around her like a golden halo. "Mmm, Veela magic," she teased, her voice dripping with lust. "Special, just for you."

He pressed his lips against her pussy, his tongue slipping out to taste her for the first time. The flavor hit him like a drug—sweet and addictive, like honey, but richer, more decadent. It was unlike anything he'd ever tasted, and he couldn't get enough. His tongue delved deeper, licking along her slick folds, savoring every drop of her arousal as it coated his tongue.

Fleur moaned loudly, her thick, beautiful thighs trembling before they closed around his head, pulling him deeper into her. "Oh, mon dieu," she gasped, her voice shaking as Harry's tongue worked expertly against her. "C'est si bon..." Her fingers found her breasts, squeezing them as her hips bucked against his face, her body overwhelmed with pleasure.

Harry groaned into her pussy, the vibrations sending more waves of pleasure through her, his hands gripping her thighs tightly as he worshipped her. He wasn't just eating her out; he was devouring her, his tongue flicking over her clit before plunging back inside her, chasing more of that sweet, intoxicating nectar.

Fleur's moans turned to soft cries as Harry's tongue teased her mercilessly. She pinched her nipples between her fingers, arching her back off the bed, her body writhing in pleasure as she felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge. "'Arry... oh, oui, oui... plus, mon amour... more..." she begged, her French flowing freely in the heat of the moment, her voice thick with need.

Just when she thought the pleasure couldn't get any more intense, Harry's tongue began to move differently. At first, it was subtle—but then the sensation shifted, his tongue vibrating against her inner walls with a power that made Fleur's entire body jolt. He was speaking Parseltongue, the words slipping from his mouth and into her pussy, the strange, hissing vibrations reverberating inside her like magic.

Fleur's eyes flew wide open, her back arching violently off the bed as the pleasure hit her like a freight train. "Oh, mon dieu! 'Arry! Mon dieu—fuck!" she screamed, her hands flying to his head, holding him in place as her body convulsed with the most intense orgasm of her life. Her thighs closed even more tightly around his head, her muscles quivering as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through her.

Harry didn't stop. He kept licking, his Parseltongue still flowing as his mouth latched onto her clit, his tongue vibrating against the sensitive nub in a way that made Fleur see stars. Her orgasm hit her so hard that she almost couldn't breathe, her body shaking uncontrollably as her juices spilled over his face, coating his chin and cheeks. 

"Putain! Oh, putain, c'est bon! Tellement bon! Aphrodite! Arry!!" She screamed again, her voice hoarse, her body trembling as the pleasure consumed her completely.

Harry licked eagerly, savoring the taste of her, the sweetness of her juices filling his mouth as he drank her in.

Fleur collapsed back onto the bed, her body spent, her chest heaving with each labored breath as the last tremors of her orgasm faded. Harry continued to lick her softly, his tongue gentle now, soothing her oversensitive body as he cleaned her with slow, deliberate strokes. He could feel her thighs loosening their grip around his head, but he didn't pull away. He couldn't. The taste of her was too divine, too addictive, and he wanted every last drop.

When he finally pulled back, his face was slick with her juices, his eyes dark with satisfaction. Fleur's eyes fluttered open, her body still trembling as she looked down at him, her lips parted in disbelief.

"Mon dieu," she whispered, her voice weak but filled with awe. "Zat... zat was... incroyable." Her French accent was thick, her words slurred with the afterglow of the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced.

Harry grinned up at her, leaning up to kiss her softly on the lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

Her thighs trembled slightly, her skin slick with sweat, and her pussy still sensitive, but the heat between her legs was already building again, the need for him growing with each passing second. Her eyes locked onto his, and with a sultry, desperate edge to her voice, she begged him, "S'il te plaît, 'Arry... baise-moi... maintenant.(Please, 'Arry... fuck me... now.)"

Harry loved her French accent; it was driving him wild. He didn't need a translation to understand what she wanted. And he was more than ready to give it to her. His cock throbbed with need, already slick from her juices, aching to be buried inside her.

Without another word, Harry positioned himself between her legs, his hand guiding his cock to her entrance. She spread her legs wider, offering herself to him completely, and whispered, "You can be as rough as you want, 'Arry... I'm a Veela... I can 'andle anyzing you give me."

Harry's mind spun at her words. He pressed the tip of his cock against her slick, waiting pussy, the heat of her entrance making him groan aloud. Slowly, he began to push inside, the tightness of her walls gripping him immediately, pulling him deeper as the pleasure hit him like a wave.

"Fuck," Harry groaned, his voice strained as he sank deeper, his cock sliding inch by inch into her welcoming heat. The sensation was overwhelming, her pussy clinging to him in a way that made his entire body shudder with pleasure. Fleur was watching him, her eyes dark and full of lust as she saw the pleasure wash over his face.

"Mm, you feel it, don't you?" Fleur murmured, her voice a seductive purr as she arched her back, pushing her hips up to meet him. "My Veela pussy is made for zis... for our mate to feel... immense pleasure."

Harry could only nod, unable to form words as he slid deeper inside her, the tight, wet heat of her pussy gripping his cock so perfectly, so intensely that it felt like nothing he had ever experienced before. Every inch he sank into her, the pleasure mounted, his cock twitching, throbbing, desperate for release even as he tried to hold on, tried to savor the feeling of being inside her.

Fleur moaned beneath him, her hands gripping the sheets as she felt him fill her completely, her body stretching around him, her pussy walls squeezing him in a way that was driving even Fleur mad with pleasure. She could feel the thickness of his cock inside her, the way it pulsed with need, and she knew he was close, could feel how hard he was trying to hold back.

But her body had other plans. Her pussy clenched around him, the velvety walls rippling and squeezing his cock in a way that made his control slip. "F-Fleur..." Harry gasped, his hips jerking as the pleasure became too much. He could feel his release building, rising up fast, the tightness in his balls making it impossible to hold back.

Fleur's eyes widened, a wicked smile crossing her lips as she felt the way his cock twitched inside her. "Oh, 'Arry... it's okay," she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "You don't 'ave to 'old back... let it go, mon amour... cum inside me."

That was all it took. Harry's body tensed, his cock throbbing violently as her pussy squeezed him tighter, milking him, and with a guttural moan, he came, hard. His hips bucked uncontrollably, his cock buried deep inside her as he spilled himself, his cum flooding her warm, welcoming pussy. Fleur moaned, her own body trembling as she felt him fill her, the warmth spreading through her as his release coated her insides.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him inside as his body shook, his face buried in the crook of her neck as he gasped for breath, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

Fleur's fingers ran through his hair, her voice soft and soothing as she whispered, "Mm... c'est parfait, 'Arry... so good..."

Fleur lay beneath him, her chest rising and falling as they both caught their breath, her legs still wrapped loosely around Harry's waist. She could feel the warmth of his cum deep inside her, her pussy still clenching gently around him, savoring the feeling of being filled. She grinned up at him, her hand sliding down his back as she whispered, "Mmm, 'Arry... zat was a lot of cum... you must 'ave been very pent up, non?"

But when Harry didn't respond, when his gaze shifted away from hers, something changed in the air. Fleur's brow furrowed, her teasing smile fading as she noticed the way he seemed to withdraw. He wasn't looking at her, and she could feel the tension in him, the way his muscles had gone rigid.

"Harry?" she whispered softly, concern lacing her voice. "What's wrong?"

His jaw clenched, and he let out a frustrated breath, his eyes flicking to the side, avoiding hers. "I... I only lasted fifteen seconds," he muttered, his voice heavy with disappointment. "That's... that's pathetic."

Fleur blinked, surprised, and for a moment, her heart ached for him. She wasn't having any of it. She cupped his face, turning his head so he had no choice but to meet her eyes, her fingers stroking his cheek as she smiled up at him lovingly.

"'Arry, look at me," she said, her voice tender but commanding. "You are not a failure." Her thumb brushed along his lips as she continued, her words laced with affection. "Do you 'ave any idea 'ow good you made me feel? You made me cum so 'ard zat I couldn't even think... you are incroyable, mon amour."

Harry's shoulders eased a bit, but he still looked uncertain. Fleur leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips, her mouth warm and sweet against his, her hands holding him close as she poured all the reassurance she could into that kiss. She kissed him like she was trying to stitch his broken confidence back together with every brush of her lips. Slowly, she felt him respond, his tension melting as he kissed her back, his hands sliding over her body again, pulling her against him.

As they kissed, Fleur felt the subtle twitch of his cock inside her, and then another, and before long, he was growing hard again, still deep inside her pussy. She smiled into the kiss, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. His expression was one of surprise, his brows raising as he realized what was happening. He was getting hard, his cock swelling back to life inside her, still slick and warm from his release.

Fleur winked at him, her teasing grin returning. "Mmm... looks like you 'ave some more in you after all," she whispered playfully, her hand trailing down his back, her fingers curling slightly, nails grazing his skin. "Now, fuck me, 'Arry."

Something ignited in Harry at her words, his hands gripping her hips tightly. With a grunt, he thrust into her, hard and fast, his cock sliding deep into her wet heat with a force that made her gasp, her nails digging into his back instinctively.

"Oh, oui... 'Arry!" Fleur moaned, her head tilting back, eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he pounded into her, his body moving with all his strength. Her legs wrapped tighter around him, her hips bucking to meet his thrusts, her pussy clenching around his cock as he drove into her over and over, faster, harder, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through her.

Fleur's nails raked down his back, her body arching beneath him as she moaned loudly, her voice slipping into French, her words spilling out in breathless gasps. "Oui, plus fort... mon dieu, 'Arry, fuck me harder... je t'aime... mon dieu, Aphrodite, oui!" She could barely think, barely breathe as he thrust into her with all his strength, her body responding to him like it was made for him.

Harry groaned, his grip on her tightening as he lost himself in the feeling of her, the tight, wet heat of her pussy squeezing him with every thrust. He could feel her nails digging into his back, could hear the way she moaned his name.

He thrust harder, deeper, the sound of their bodies slapping together filling the room, her moans mixing with his ragged breaths as he gave her everything he had. Fleur's body rocked beneath him, her nails leaving red trails down his back as she gasped his name over and over, her voice trembling with pleasure.

Harry thrust into her harder, his name falling from her lips like a song, and it made his heart race. "Fleur..." he moaned, his voice heavy with need, the feeling of her body beneath his, wrapped around him, overwhelming. Each thrust sent ripples of pleasure through both of them, their bodies moving together in perfect, passionate sync. Fleur reached up, pulling him down for a kiss.

The kiss was tender, full of love. Harry could feel her warmth, the softness of her lips, her breath mixing with his as they kissed deeply, their tongues meeting in a slow, intimate dance.

Fleur's moans grew louder beneath him, her voice rising in pitch as she felt the pleasure building inside her again. Harry could feel it too—the tightness in his balls, the tingling in his spine. The

"Arry..." Fleur gasped between moans, her voice trembling as she spoke in French. "Mon amour... cum with me... ensemble, together..."

Her words sent him over the edge. He could feel the tightness in his core snap as the pleasure exploded through him, his hips jerking forward in one final, deep thrust. "Fleur!" he cried out, her name a desperate shout on his lips as his orgasm ripped through him. His cock pulsed inside her, spilling his cum deep into her body, filling her with his release.

Fleur screamed his name in return, her nails digging into his back as she came with him, her body trembling beneath him, her pussy clenching tightly around his cock, milking every last drop from him. "Harry! Mon dieu!" Her voice was full of ecstasy, her breath coming in gasps as her orgasm rocked her to her core.

For a brief moment, neither of them noticed the small symbol that appeared on Harry's chest—a delicate, glowing mark of a woman with the sun behind her head. At the same time, an identical symbol appeared on Fleur's belly, the glowing light fading into her skin just as quickly as it had appeared, unnoticed by either of them.

As they both came down from the high of their orgasm, their bodies still trembling, they looked into each other's eyes, breathless and dazed.

Harry leaned down, his forehead resting against hers as they caught their breath together. Fleur's hand reached up, brushing his cheek gently, her eyes soft and full of love. They kissed again. Their lips moved slowly, tasting each other.

Fleur whispered against his lips, "Je t'aime, 'Arry...Potter"

Harry's heart swelled, and he kissed her again, softly, reverently. "I love you too, Fleur...Delacour."

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