Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and the crew...

A/N: Woke up today with the strangest idea... so I opened up my notebook and started writing.



Chapter 1:

"Stupid English"

Fleur Delacour turned the water temperature to its hottest as she stepped in the shower. She let out a deep sigh; her shoulders sagging, as the hot water started to relax her aching and strung up muscles. For a while she just stood there, letting the water cascade down her back as she replayed the day's events in her mind.


Fleur gasps for air as she tries to catch her breath. She was hit by a bludger as she tried to disrupt the attacking formation of their opponents, to help her team.

'That'll leave a bruise' She thought as she felt her side to see if anything was broken. As she does this, she looked up at the scoreboard, England is up 450 – 320 against France. The English national team was known for their efficient and unstoppable chasers squad, composed of the three starting chasers from Holyhead Harpies: Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. Individually, they are good, but together, they are unstoppable.

She was brought out of her musings at the sound of a whistle being blown. The English have scored once again much to the appreciation of the crowd. The Puddlemere United stadium was filled to capacity, with more than three-fourths of the audience wearing white and red, showing their support for the English home team.

She looked at her dismayed and frustrated teammates and called for a timeout. She signaled the ref, who blew her whistle and Fleur flew towards the gathered French players in their team's mound.

"Franc! What the fuck are you doing?" One of the chasers yelled.

"What am I doing? What are YOU doing?" The keeper yelled back. "You're not even playing defense!" He yelled at the team's chasers.

The blaming and bickering have turned into a full blown yelling match when Fleur got there. "Franc! Jacque! Shut up!" She yelled, some of her veela aura bleeding out as anger and frustration started to get the better of her. Both men quickly shut up, as this angry goddess, took deep breaths, her breasts heaving.

Fleur opened her eyes, as she's finally reigned in her temper, while both men quickly looked up to her face. She expelled a deep breath before speaking. "Now, I know we're down, but we for sure as hell are not out. Look! Look at those English celebrating like they've won!" She yelled, pointing at the team who are playing the crowd. "We can still win this. Franc, you are the best Keeper in France which means you are the best in the world. Jacque, Franc has a point, you are playing lazy –" Fleur put her hand up as the man was about to argue. "– don't try to prove me wrong here, prove it in the pitch." She turned to the rest of the team. "You guys are too focused on offense, when we should be focusing on defense. You all know, that they are the best offensive team in the world, so we can't play them at their game. From now on, we play OUR game! FRANCE'S game!" She yelled, and her team roared in response. "Now, Let's go!" She yelled pointing at the pitch and watched as her team flew out of the mound, game faces on each one of them.

She took another deep breath and smiled at her coach sitting on the side. "Well done Fleur. I knew I was right choosing you as the team's captain."

"Merci, but wait until the end of this match. And tell me what you really think." The star seeker replied before she mounted her broom and dashed off towards the center of the stadium.


She finally opened her eyes and released a breath she didn't know she was holding. She quickly grabbed the shampoo and generously applied some to her silvery locks, and gently massaged her scalp. She then proceeded to wash herself with soap, wincing as she went over the big, purpling bruise on her side. 'I should put some healing salve on this.' She thought as she washed some mud and dirt away.

She stepped out the shower and wrapped herself in large, fluffy towel as she walked towards her locker. 'Magic would be faster, but nothing beats a hot shower after a long day.' She thought smiling as she started to put on clothes. She was brought out of her reverie when she felt a presence behind her.

Quick as lightning, her wand was out and she dropped into a dueling stance, as she rounded on her 'attacker' a curse at the tip of her tongue.

"Woah, Fleur! It's just me!" A surprised woman yelled, her hands up.

Recognition hit her, as she put her wand down. "I'm sorry Marie. You just spooked me." Fleur apologized to her teammate, Marie Boucher, France's Left chaser.

"It's okay. Coach just wants me to tell you that the press conference is in 10 minutes." The chaser said, who smiled before she left.

Fleur grabbed her wand casted a drying charm over herself. She then closed her eyes and focused on her hair. Her wet, damp hair slowly went back to its smooth and silky state. 'Perks of being a veela' she thought, a smirk on her face as she put on a pair of dark jeans and a simple white dress.

She walked out of the shower room, her white open-toed heels echoing in the empty corridor and walked straight to the conference room. She was surprised to see the room filled to the brim with reporters. Everyone in the room, stood up and started clapping as she walked in. She gave a polite smile before taking a seat at the front beside the team's coach, Paul Henri.

This started the grueling 2 hours of question and answer with the press, much to the annoyance of the part-veela. Everyone knows she hates the press and being in the spotlight, but her contract requires her to attend these things. Her hate of the press started couple of years back, as they sensationalized her break up with her ex-boyfriend, the former France's team captain, Pierre Renard.

The press also blamed her for France's loss and their captain's less than stellar performance at the Qualifying round against Ireland that year. "I was too distraught and heartbroken to focus on the match. All I can think of was how cold and an unforgiving bitch she was." Pierre told the press, with teary eyes, after the match. This made everyone forget the fact that Pierre cheated on her, and shifted their focus to the loss and their chances on taking the Quidditch World Cup that year.

"Last question." She said. She pointed at a man sitting quietly with his hand up. "You."

"Miss Delacour, How do you respond to Pierre Renards comment of 'They played the Brits, what's everyone so happy about? Come on, they're English.'?" The reporter asked, English based on his accent.

Fleur frowned before speaking. "The English national team is one of the best teams in the world. Their efficiency and team chemistry is comparable next to none. They are the runner-ups in the world cup for two consecutive years for a reason. We were lucky that we were able to rally back, thanks to the efforts of our keeper, Franc Fournier. He is the reason we won this game."

"Miss Delacour, Don't you think you're down playing your part too much in France's win in the Quidditch World Cup's quarterfinals tonight?" The now smiling reporter asked, happy with the respect Fleur is giving England. He pointed at a big enchanted mirror that kept replaying Fleur's winning catch.


Fleur was weaving through players, the English seeker on her tail as they both chased after the snitch. The golf sized golden ball suddenly changed direction and flew straight at England's keeper, Oliver Wood.

Fleur grabbed the tip of her broom with her right hand and stuck her left arm out. This made drag allowing her to change direction as fast as possible. This maneuver, called the Heigl Maneuver, made by the legendary seeker, Reginald Heigl in the 70's, was dangerous in the speeds she was flying. If done wrong, the amount of strain it puts on your joints could dislocate your arm. Paul insisted for her to practice this move every day, allowing her to pull it off, much to the approval of the crowd.

"Delacour just successfully pulled off the Heigl Maneuver! She just left the English Seeker in her dust!" The disembodied voice of the announcer yelled. "She's flying right in front of the French's attacking formation…"

Fleur looked back and saw Jacque holding the quaffle and the rest of their chasers behind her. Fleur smirked as she hugged the broom tighter, allowing her to fly even faster.

Oliver Wood nervously eyed the blue, white and red missile flying right at him. "Beaters!" He yelled. The two English beaters nodded and smashed the two bludgers straight towards the French star seeker.

Fleur saw the two projectiles in her peripheral, but her focus was solely at the snitch, hovering just behind the oblivious English keeper.

Oliver smirked as the bludgers closed in on the beautiful seeker in a way that it's impossible for her to dodge them without changing her direction. However, much to his horror and the crowd's approval, Fleur grabbed the broom with one hand and performed a one-handed handstand allowing the two bludgers to barely miss her.

Now nothing is stopping her from crashing into him, or at least that's what it looks like for him. He instinctively put his hands up and braced himself for impact, but the impact never happened as Fleur suddenly shot straight up.

Oliver barely had time to register France scoring a goal on him, before Fleur caught the snitch above him.

"Delacour caught the snitch! Delacour caught the snitch! The score is 530 – 520! France won!" The announcer yelled.


"No. My part? Catching the snitch was the easiest part. It was the Chasers, the Beaters and the Keepers who kept the team afloat until I could do my job." She answered. "That's it for the questions." She said with finality before getting up, and waved to the flashing cameras as she exited the room.

Fleur took a deep breath, exhaustion finally catching up to her, as she leaned against the wall in the empty corridor. She slowly walked towards the team's locker room, which was now empty. She went to her closet, which had her broom and her dragon-hide, leather jacket hanging on a hook.

She donned on her jacket before taking out a pair of Rayban aviator sunglasses. She slung her broom over her right shoulder as she headed for the pitch. She smiled as she saw her coach flying lazily around the stadium. She quickly mounted her broom and flew beside her mentor. He greeted her with a smile, but he didn't say a word.

Paul was the first to break the congenial silence, "You were brilliant today Fleur."

"Merci Beacoup." She answered with a Dazzling smile.

"How are you holding up?" He asked her, concern evident in the aged man's voice.

She looked at the man flying beside her, his face looking older than his real age. He was hired as France's coach this year, after the former coach was fired, due to France's terrible seasons twice in a row. Paul Henri was France's captain when they took the cup and defended their title three years in a row, from 85' – 88'. He is considered a legend among France's quidditch circles.

The first thing he did as a coach was to cancel the former captain, and star seeker, Pierre Renard's contract and put Fleur in his position. The French people and fans of the star seeker received this with outrage and anger. They voiced their opinions, the most polite being, that even though Fleur is a budding star, Pierre is the franchise player of team. To this he replied, that Pierre is the reason for the dissonance in the team. "Even though Pierre Renard is an amazing and incredible player, his temper and ego gets in the way of the team's game." Paul told the press.

Fleur was brought out of her musings as Paul cleared his throat. She gave him an embarrassed smile before answering. "I'm alright. My bruises will be healed by tomorrow."

"That's good. We'll be playing the Ireland in the Semifinals a month from now, so I want you at your best for that. Practice in two days." He reminded her, and got a nod from his star seeker. "I'm really tired, and my wife is probably already wondering what's taking me so long." The man said as he stifled a yawn. "It's been a really long day."

"Oui, it has." She answered. She followed him towards the exit of the stadium and they both dismounted their brooms. "Say hello to Dianne for me." She said as she kissed both the aged man's cheeks.

"I will. Say hello to your dad and sister for me." Paul said as he released her from a fatherly hug.

"I will." Fleur said smiling sadly.

"Don't stay up too late." He said, before leaving.

Fleur waited until he rounded the corner before stuffing her aviators into her jacket and mounting her broom again. She put all her weight on her legs and kicked off hard, speeding off towards the sky. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the wind rushing around her. She loved to fly, it's her escape from her rather, very hectic life.

She noticed that the lights of the stadium are now off, and that everything is now basked in the moon's light. She eased the broom towards the stands and she got off. She zipped her jacket up and sat down in one of the chairs, charmed to be both comfortable and warm. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the silence.

These moments of silence were rare for the French part-veela. She's always on the go, with the pressure of being a Quidditch Superstar and the daughter of France's Minister of Magic, her life is consisted of dignitary dinners, charity events and team practices.

Fleur is a strong person, so she was able to deal with everything. However, two years ago, her life got turned upside down with the passing away of her mother, Madame Apolline Delacour. This placed a massive strain on her family, as they each tried to cope with their loss. Her father worked day and night, as he immersed himself with the problems of the magical nation. The beautiful, young Gabrielle started to date guys who were much older than her, much to her sister's disapproval. She discovered her sister learning contraceptive spells and this led to a fight, which left both sisters in tears and made Gabrielle distant. Fleur tried to balance her Quidditch career while trying to keep her family from unraveling at the seams.

She then discovered Pierre's cheating affairs, that led to a huge fight and an epic break up, complete with aurors, broom chases and fireballs. The press had field day, and the scandal almost got the Minister booted, putting a wedge between her and Monsieur Delacour. Then, that same year, the French National team didn't make it through the Qualifying rounds and she was blamed for it. It truly was a series of unfortunate events, and she was in the middle of all of it.

The one bright spot amidst all of this was that she got to meet Paul Henri. Every member of the team received a personal trainer/coach, and Paul was hired as Fleur's. He was a legendary seeker in his prime and Fleur listened and absorbed everything he had to teach her. Paul worked her to the ground, but she persevered through his training regimen. People started to notice her elevated playing style and knew she was a superstar in the making. It was all thanks to him that she is where she's at. He was always there, to teach her when she needed it and support when things got hard.

She had teary eyes, but a big smile was on her face before she was snapped out of her reminiscing by a noise behind her.

"Hello?" She asked looking back into the darkness as she took out her wand. "Anyone there?" She waited for an answer but didn't receive any. She waved her wand and the time appeared in front of her. 'Wow, it's really late. I better get back.' She thought as she quickly mounted her broom and flew towards the exit of the stadium.

She quickly dismounted her broom and slung it over her shoulder as she exited the stadium. She slowly walked towards the edge of the anti-apparition wards placed around the stadium. You wouldn't want people to just start apparating in the stands; that's both chaotic and dangerous.

The French seeker was about to reach her destination when she saw a figure appear in front of her. It was dark so all she saw was the person's silhouette. She didn't have time to figure out who he was as her body started to move on instinct as a bright red bolt of light raced towards her. She dodged the spells as she took out her wand. She dropped her broom and started to fire spells back as she tried to close in on the edge of the wards.

Fleur saw another person appear beside the first man and immediately started shooting spells at her. She dodged a nasty looking orange curse and let another splash against her shield. She quickly rolled under three curses that hit the wall of the stadium, splashing against the wall's protective enchantments.

"Isn't there some kind of security around the stadium?" She asked as she fired a wide area blasting curse at her attackers to slow them down. "Stupid English." She muttered as she conjured a thick mist around her and transfigured two rocks into two tigers. She then compelled the two great cats to attack the two men as she ran towards the edge of the wards.

She heard two roars and a series of screams which made her smirk. 'I was Beauxbaton's Dueling champion for a reason.' She thought as she backpedaled, watching for anyone coming out of the mist. When she realized that no one was going to come out she nodded and felt a slight tingle on her body as she crossed the anti-apparition ward. She was about to apparate, but her vision clouded as she felt the impact of a spell hitting her back.

She groggily came to as she felt her clothes being torn off her. She slowly opened her eyes and saw four men, two of which had claw marks on their faces, huddled over her.

"Bloody bitch and her tigers." One of them spat as he tore her jeans off her legs.

Fleur started to struggle but realized that her hands were bound and her legs frozen. The men looked at her panicked expression and laughed.

"Oh, so you're awake Miss Delacour." One of the men said. "Do you know how much galleons we lost because of your little stunt?"

Fleur looked around and saw that they were in some sort of a forest. She saw the tips of the Puddlemere stadium with its white and red flags sticking out from the tops of the trees.

'We're not far from the stadium. If I screamed someone might hear me.' She thought. She quickly opened her mouth and screamed as loud as she could. This made the men laugh harder, as no noise came out of her mouth.

"It's the opposite of a sonorous charm Miss Delacour. No one's going to hear you." One of the clawed up men said as he made for her chest.

Having no other choice, Fleur released her aura, freezing the man from grabbing her breast. Her body became wrapped in a glowing aura, as the four men stared at her with glazed eyes. 'Fuck, I can't speak.' Kicking herself mentally with the fact that she forgot about the voice charm. 'At least my veela aura will hold them off for a bit. I need to try to get out of here.'

She slowly tried to crawl away, squirming against her binds and dragging her frozen legs. Nicks and cuts appeared on her soft, delicate skin as she crawled on the forest floor. Her energy was quickly leaving her as her aura started to become harder to keep up.

She was a couple of feet away from her attackers when her magic left her. Magically and physically exhausted, Fleur laid there, gasping for air. She saw the blank expressions leave the men, and they quickly looked around for her.

They spotted her squirming away, and they quickly grabbed her by her frozen legs and dragged her to the spot they were in before.

"We were going to be nice about this, but fuck it." One of the men said as he dropped his pants. He then roughly grabbed her exposed breasts while the other men laughed.

Tears started to fall from her eyes as the idea of her being raped by these pigs started to solidify in her mind. She futilely struggled as the man got on top of her. He felt the man lick her tears from her cheek as he positioned himself.

"I hope you enjoy this as much as I know I am." The man whispered.

Fleur closed her eyes and braced herself, the sound of men laughing and her heart pounding filled her ears, only to be silenced by a loud 'BANG' and the man slumped on top of her.

She quickly opened her eyes and saw a figure standing in the shadows, three green bolts flew from him, hitting the three surprised men around her, and they all fell lifeless in a series of thuds.

The figure walked away from the shadows towards her and she noticed a smaller figure walking beside him. She had time to register that the smaller figure was holding a smoking muggle weapon called a gun, before the figure levitated the man on top of her and threw him to the side. He looked down at her and asked, "Miss Delacour, are you okay?"

Fleur looked down at her body and realized she was covered in blood, but otherwise she was okay. She nodded to him as he unbound her wrists and unfroze her legs. She quickly got up, hugged the person and started to sob.

The man realized that no noise was coming out of her so he undid the charm on her voice.

"– you. Thank you. Thank you." Escaped from her lips as she cried on his chest.

Fleur felt a warm, fluffy blanket wrap around her, covering her entire body and she remembered that she was naked. The man casted a warming charm around her and led her through the forest, followed by the small creature. They silently made their way to a clearing; only the occasional sob escaping her lips, was the noise made. They stopped walking, and with the help of the moon illuminating the place, she realized they were at the spot where those men attacked her – beside the stadium.

The man took out his wand once again, and Fleur instinctively took a step back. The man noticed this and quickly explained. "Don't be scared Miss Delacour. I'm just going to summon your wand and broom." He said. "Accio Miss Delacour's firebolt and wand."

The two things zoomed towards him and he deftly caught both of them. He handed her wand to her, and he gave the little creature the broom, that's when she realized that the little creature holding a gun was a house elf, wearing a suit with 'P-BAW' written on top of the breast pocket.

He knelt on one knee, and asked, "Dobby, can you hold on to this for me?" and received a nod from the elf, who put the gun away from his jacket and grabbed the broom.

Fleur watched the man with jet black, unruly hair give instructions to the little elf. He was wearing a pair of black slacks, black shoes, a white shirt and a black skinny tie, all covered by blood from when she hugged him. He was also wearing a pair of black, thick framed glasses; behind them were the greenest eyes she has ever seen.

He straightened himself and turned towards her as the elf popped away. "I'm sorry Miss Delacour. We should've been here to help you earlier." He apologized to the French witch with tear stains on her cheeks. "Did… did they… rape you?"

Fresh tears fell from Fleur's eyes, but she shook her head. "They… only got as far as touching me. Until you… you came along and saved me." She sobbed.

The man nodded grimly and walked up to her. He placed his hand on her shoulder comfortingly and smiled sadly. "That's good…" He whispered. "Come. Let's take you home."

He pulled her body against his, wrapped his arm around her and was about to apparate both of them away, but she stopped him. "Wait, who are you?"

He smiled, "You're coach, Monsieur Henri, hired me. Starting tomorrow, I'm to be your bodyguard." He answered.

"What's your name?" She asked.

"My name's Harry Potter from the P-B Ass Watchers." He replied. "And as Sirius would say," He paused as he looked down over her shoulders while pulling the blanket tight around her waist. "Don't worry, we've got your ass covered." he said with a grin before they disappeared with a loud 'CRACK'.

A/N: What do you think? Leave your reviews.