JK Rowling owns the Potterverse, I'm just burrowing it for awhile. I can't be blamed for what happened in her last two books so don't even try.
Summary: For Veela, attention is expected. Mostly the unwanted kind. How will a lonely quarter Veela react when, for the first time ever, she is treated like a normal teen girl?
Chapter 1 - Arrival
The day that things started to change for me was the 30th of October, 1994. I had been in my seventh year at Beauxbatons that year, and usually by then I would have resettled into the routine of going to classes and ignoring the rest of the student population. Usually I would be missing my family and counting down the days until I could see them again. No, this year I had been cajoled into participating in that tournament. The Triwizards tournament. Ha. Even if it led to some of the best changes in my life it still brought up bitter memories of that awful year.
The day had started off bad and steadily gotten worse.
Three hours sitting on the hard seats of the school carriage, only to emerge into the bitting cold of Scotland late autumn would have had anyone's mood down. But I hadn't been at the cold, unfamiliar school for more than fifteen minutes before some boy was making a pass at me. I turned my head to make clear my disdain. As always. It wasn't me they were interested in. It was my looks. And the Veela charm.
It had always been this way. Since hitting puberty at the age of twelve I'd been hit on by the men and hated by the women for something I had no control over. The only way I could deal with it was to put up a façade of cold indifference. Only my family really knew me. The few friends that I had made in my first year at Beauxbatons had turned on me when I returned for my second year. The heartbreak of a twelve year old returning to school to see her closest friends for the first time in months, only to be glared at and resented was too much. Since then I had never been close to anyone except mama, papa, and Gabrielle.
And now here I was: in a different country, far from family, in a cold castle filled with strangers, and if my luck held, probably about to compete in an incredibly dangerous tournament.
Papa had not been happy to learn that I was going to enter. We had argued about it, but in the end he had folded to my wishes and agreed to drop it. It was my decision in the end, although I had quickly come to realise that I had been subtly manipulated into making it. Headmistress Maxime had only been thinking about the school and gaining a better reputation when she had convinced me that if I entered the tournament and won, then people would accept my intellect and skill, instead of accusing me of abusing my Veela powers. Like I had any control on it. They didn't know the first thing about Veela.
Moving with the rest of the Beauxbatons students into the great hall, I again returned to wondering why the English would want to live in a school that consisted, almost obsessively, of wall upon wall of bluestone and dolerite. Beauxbatons was a castle that had moved passed the medieval era styles, and it still managed to function perfectly fine.
I followed the rest of the group to one of the four tables, trying the whole time to ignore the stares from the surrounding students. Stares of lust from the males, and glares of hatred and jealousy from the females. Pushing down the pain, I managed to keep up the air of coldness and superiority as we sat down.
After a speech from the Headmaster of Hogwarts – where I couldn't help but laugh at the thought of enjoying my time around strangers who were just getting ready to start hating me for no particular reason other than my heritage – the food arrived. Happily surprised to see some French cuisine among the English food I reached for the bouillabaisse when one of the other Beauxbatons students grabbed it, moving it down the table towards the majority of the French students. It was childish and mean, but typical of the rest of the girls from back home. Ignoring the pain from the passive aggressive cruelty, I stood up and walked over to the nearest neighbouring table.
I pulled my scarf down off my face as I approached. The bouillabaisse was near three Hogwarts students whose robes were trimmed in a deep red, rather than the blue of the students sitting at our table. This must be the Gryffindor table. It was common knowledge to the wizarding world that Hogwarts thought of itself as the best school, and so it wasn't hard to read up on it before coming here.
"Excuse me," I said, hamming up my accent on purpose, in a competition any small advantage would help. "Are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"
One of the three, a red haired boy looked up before slowly flushing a deep purple. He was actually open jawed and speechless. The girl who was in front of me turned around and shot me a look of hatred, which I brushed off, ignoring the pain – if only there was no Veela charm. The third of the students just looked up, meeting my eyes, and passed me the fish stew.
"Yeah, have it."
"You 'ave finished wiz it?" Something strange was going on but I couldn't quite pick it.
"Yeah, yeah it was excellent!" the red haired boy seemed to be half choking out his words.
Ignoring him, I picked up the dish and turned away. I was halfway back to the table when it clicked: The black haired boy hadn't looked at me in the same way as everyone else. His eyes weren't the same lust filled gaze of his red haired friend, or the hatred of the girl at the table. No, If anything they had been apologetic, with a hint of laughter at the embarrassing antics of his friend. I almost tripped over in shock. Ignoring the stares of all the boys – and some of the girls – in the surrounding area, I made my way slowly back to my spot at the Ravenclaw table.
How was he able to look at me normally? It didn't make any sense. Being a quarter Veela didn't really change many of the usual aspects of being a Veela except one, one rather annoying aspect: the Veela charm. It wasn't really any less potent, but the difference in control I had over it compared to my grandmothers, and even my mothers, control was quite substantial. It could flare into full potency if my emotions got out of control, but I had learnt occlumency to try and manage that. But it also never really went away. Full Veela could just 'turn it off', but it was always around for me. It was quite horrible really.
But it still didn't explain why he was able to look at me without the usual unrestrained desire that men almost always had around me, in fact only Papa wasn't affected and that was because we were related by blood.
Could that be it? No, we look nothing alike. He doesn't look like my parents, and he's English. No, it must be something else. Maybe he is homosexual. That could explain it. But he would have seen me as a threat to him if that was the case like most girls did. Perhaps he was a master occlumens. But he looked to be only fourteen.
As I was pondering this, while idly poking at the stew which had led to this strange phenomena, I turned in my seat slightly, towards the young man of my thoughts. He was looking at me with the usual look of men – but wait! No. he wasn't looking at me. Following his gaze I saw a pretty Asian girl sitting two spots down from me talking to the girl next to her. I felt a brief wave of jealousy flare up before realising why, and I couldn't help but laugh at myself. Here I was, not thirty seconds before, complaining about the way men look at me. And now that, for once, someone looks at me like a normal person I get upset when they are looking at another girl like that. It was hilarious in an absurd way.
I looked back at the raven haired youth. I was sure I knew him from somewhere. He was talking to the girl opposite him and looking towards the front of the hall. It couldn't have been in person, so I must have seen a picture of him in a book or something. Then it all fell into place: black, unruly hair; brilliant green eyes hiding behind shoddy round glasses; Gryffindor house at Hogwarts. I glanced towards his forehead to make sure. Yes! There it was! The famous scar. So this was the garçon-qui-vécu, Gabrielle would be so jealous if she found at I had spoken to her child hood hero. Even in France he was famous.
My thoughts for the rest of the night centred around this strange young man and his ability to overcome, or ignore, the Veela charm. I wonder whether if it was conscious or unconscious? Whether he could teach others? Whether it worked on full Veela, or at full potency? I looked towards him one last time before following the rest of my classmates back towards the magical carriage and my room.
The memory of a man's eyes, other than papa's, looking at me with anything other than lust and desire was such a strange experience that it was almost scary. It was completely out of the norm for my life. All in all it took quite awhile for me to fall asleep.
I had never been a morning person. It was something Gabby teased me about constantly. Even though I didn't really have to do anything about my appearance – there were some okay things about being a Veela – I was still grumpy until I'd managed to have breakfast. And today was especially bad because Headmistress Maxime was forcing us to go up to the castle so that we may enter our names into the tournament.
I slowly made my way out of bed and towards the en suite. After showering and getting dressed I headed for the dining hall to have breakfast before we left for the castle. As usual I chose to sit by myself and eat a light breakfast of fruit and a cup of coffee. The real stuff, none of that English swill that they try and pass off as coffee.
Eventually it was time for us to walk to the castle. Maxime formed us into two lines and led us out of the carriage towards the huge front doors of Hogwarts.
As we walked through, into the great hall and towards the flaming cup, it was impossible to ignore the large group of Hogwarts students watching and whispering. It wasn't long before I noticed the scruffy black hair of Harry Potter who was standing by the same red headed boy from last night. The red head was blushing all the way to his ears, matching his hair colour very well I thought with a smirk, while Harry Potter appeared to be laughing at him while gesturing slightly towards me. I frowned slightly and was about to turn away when his eyes met mine.
He rolled his eyes, eyes full of mirth, towards me and mouthed 'sorry'. I was so shocked that I almost didn't notice that it was my turn to put my name into the cup. I answered him with a small nod before moving over the age line and placing the piece of parchment with my name and school into the cup. The flame turned a deep red, emitting sparks as it accepted my entry. Suddenly there was a lot of cheering from the surrounding boys, all with dazed looks on their faces. I turned towards Harry Potter and his friend. His friend was cheering with the rest, but Potter was just laughing at him.
I quickly threw up as many mind shields as I could to try and dampen the charm. It worked somewhat and the cheering quickly quieted down. Many of the girls were sending me murderous glares, as if I wanted that to happen. I looked back towards the spot where Potter had been but he had his back to me while he was laughing at his friend.
Turning sharply on my heel I quickly exited the great hall, trying to fight down the tears. I needed to speak to mama or Gabby. I made my way to the carriage and quickly into my room. I closed my door before throwing myself onto my bed and letting go of my tears for the first time in awhile.
That night we had to make our way up to the castle again for the choosing ceremony. We sat at the same table as we did last night. It looked like we would have to sit through another of their feasts before the champions were announced. At least it looked like some of the food would be lighter this time.
Eventually the golden plates disappeared and everyone turned up towards the front of the great hall where the goblet of fire had been relocated. Dumbledore got to his feet and moved around to the front of the staff table, silence falling as he did so.
"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said the Hogwarts headmaster, starting his speech. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions names are called…"
I tuned out and went back to my latest activity of watching the famous Boy-Who-Lived. He, along with the two students he seemed to be around most of the time, was watching the headmaster intently. Suddenly the hall was plunged into darkness and I refocused on the Dumbledore and the Goblet which had changed from the previous bluey-white to the same vivid red they had turned when I placed my name into them. A moment later a piece of folded parchment shot high into the air before slowly floating down towards Dumbledore.
"The champion for Durmstrang will be… Viktor Krum!"
His statement was met with loud applause and cheers from all, as Krum slowly made his way through the hall to the door behind the head table. He didn't really look like he wanted to be there. I was still wondering about this when I was forced from my thoughts by the Goblet turning red again. It repeated the process of shooting a piece of parchment into the air to be snatched by the hands of the headmaster.
"The champions for Beauxbatons is…" I held my breath along with the rest of my peers. I was both scared it was going to be me, and scared that it wouldn't be. The slight pause seemed to carry on forever, and I was just about to yell at him when he continued. "Fleur Delacour!"
My heart definitely stopped. My breathing hitched. I was scared and elated all at the same time. I slowly stood and made my way to the same door that Krum had just passed through, trying to keep up my usual air of superiority. Maman and papa would be so proud. Well, maman would be – papa would just worry. I hardly even noticed the roaring cheers from the male half of the population and the polite clapping of some of the females. As soon as the door had closed behind me all the noise cut off.
I continued on past Krum, still in a daze, towards the fire. He seemed to be ignoring me as much as I was ignoring him, so I just stood and watched the fire for the bit, desperately wanting to leave so I could send an owl home. I couldn't wait to tell Gabby about being the Beauxbatons as well as seeing her hero.
It was only a short wait until another boy entered. 'I guess this must be the Hogwarts champion' I thought to myself. He walked past me without saying anything. I was impressed, usually by now I would have been at least hit on, he was probably just to shaken by being chosen. Unless Potter wasn't the only person who could resist the charm. 'Maybe I should talk to this boy to make sure.'
I was about to approach him when the door opened again. Turning, expecting to see the professors and officials, I was instead shocked to see the boy whom I had been thinking of only shortly before hand walk in looking confused and upset. It didn't look like he was going to say anything so I thought it best to try and find out why he was here.
"What is it?" Oh, merde, ham up the accent. "Do zey want us back in ze hall?"
He just looked at me, still confused and upset although the corner of his mouth quirked up into what might have been a smirk if it hadn't been interrupted by the British official, Bagman, entering in behind Potter.
One of them came right up to him and started talking quickly, before grabbing his arm and dragging him towards us.
"Gentlemen… Lady, may I introduce – incredible though it may seem – the fourth Triwizard champion!" All this with a huge grin on his boyish features.
What? A fourth champion? But, it's the Triwizards tournament. Not Quadwizard, or whatever. Must be some of their British humour. Tossing my hair back and smiling in hopes of getting him to drop this farce I again spoke up. Accent in place this time.
"Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."
"Joke?" he looked shocked, like I'd accused him of some preposterous crime. "No, his name just came out of the Goblet of Fire."
It was ridiculous. Completely unfair. So really, I could do only what the situation warranted. I sulked. I'm not proud of it now – I wasn't then either really – but I was feeling childish. Someone who, for some reason, I thought I could trust had gone and cheated his way into the tournament. I mean, I hadn't spoken more than five words to him and I felt like he had betrayed some deep and solemn oath between us. Gabby was going to be heartbroken that her hero would do something like this.
So I sulked. I thought of all the mean and petulant things I could say to him. If I'd been paying attention I would have noticed that because I was losing control of my emotions, the allure was running more rampant than usual. The other two champions – for Mr. Potter didn't count at this point – were watching me with dazed expressions. But I was to far into my funk to really notice.
It wasn't until the rest of the professors and tournament officials came in that I snapped out of my reverie. Not that I really stopped sulking. I turned to Maxime and continued in English, probably hoping on some level to hurt Potter.
"Madame Maxime!" I could tell I was whining even then. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"
Throwing a glance over in his direction with this last quip to see if it had hit home. The anger and hurt that flickered across his eyes didn't make me feel any better for some reason which ended up further pissing me off. I went back to sulking and ignoring the rest of the people in the room. I kept this up until Potter's headmaster started questioning him. I wasn't going to miss his attempts at lying about everything. I wasn't disappointed.
"Did you put your name Into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?"
"No sir." He was going to lie his little arse off. Bastard. I was seething at this point. I was trying as hard as I could not to flip out and just scream at him.
"Did you get an older student to put your name in to the Goblet?"
"No." And there it goes. No point holding back anymore, I'd given up fighting it. Madame Maxime was about to say something but I cut her off. I didn't even have to fake an accent I was so angry.
"You are lying of course! You just couldn't let anyone else 'ave a chance of making somezing for zemselves. Non, ze Boy-Who-Lived just 'ad to cheat 'is way into ze competition. Not enuff fame already? You are nozing but a glory hound."
If I hadn't been so intently focused on the boy in front of me I would have noticed the faces of the others. I would have seen that most agreed with me although most of the Hogwarts professors seemed to share looks of doubt at my accusations.
But I was watching Harry Potter for his reaction. It had been shock and hurt which was bringing me a small amount of satisfaction this time. But as soon as I had mention the Boy-Who-Lived comment he seemed to shut down. All the light left his eyes and his face became an emotionless mask. It didn't change at all after that and the cold stare which he was giving me caused me to stop my barrage earlier than I had intended.
"I'm not sure how you expect me to answer to that Ms. Delacour," his tone was devoid of any emotion and seemed to be startling to more than just me. "If I uphold my claim of not entering the tournament, you will just continue to call me a liar. If on the other hand I say that I did enter, it would remove all doubt. Either way I am a liar and a cheat.
"Maybe think before you make these kind of accusations about someone you know absolutely nothing about. I have never given an interview so no book or newspaper article is likely to hold anything near the truth. Any rumours you have heard about me are just that: rumour.
"But if that is how this tournament is going to be than maybe I should even up the tables. Being of obvious Veela descent you 'probably' just used your allure to force the cup into accepting you. Maybe you have used it and your beauty in the past to get what you wanted," he paused here to gauge my reaction. It seemed he got what he wanted because he nodded before continuing. "See, we can all go around throwing completely unjustified accusations at each other, but it doesn't really get anything done. If that's all I think I'll return to my dorms where everyone else is just sure to react in pretty much the same way as you have."
With this he turned on his heel and prepared to stalk out of the room. His words were quite shocking. I felt my self going from angry to embarrassed and back to angry when he insinuated that I had used the allure in some way to cheat my way into the tournament just as much as he had. But I wasn't to sure about that either anymore. This was not the way someone would react if they were lying. I, along with everyone else it seemed, was in shock at his short speech. The teachers of Hogwarts especially looked quite affronted with his response. We all just stood there and it was only at the last second that Mr. Crouch remembered that the details of the first task were to be given out now.
"Mr. P-Potter," stammered a shocked Crouch. The boy in question stopped and turned around to meet our shocked faces with his emotionless stare still in place. "The first task will be held on the twenty-fourth of November and you are only permitted your wand."
Potter just nodded and turned back to continue on his way out. Just as he was reaching the door he turned back to us and met my eyes again. The first flash of emotion appeared in his eyes since my outburst, but I couldn't rightly place it.
"Ms. Delacour, one last thing. Might I suggest toning down the fake accent. It is insulting that you would think so little of our schools as to expect us to be hoodwinked by it: disarmed by the blonde with the silly accent as it were. On the other hand it probably works for the most part," he spoke in perfect French in a sophisticated dialect, without any mispronunciations. With that he left, slamming the door as he exited the small room.
The shock from his use of such good French was enough to leave me speechless as was his embarrassing outing of my accent. He must have noticed the slip up earlier when I was asking if he had brought a message. I could feel a flush of embarrassment at being called out rising up my neck which hadn't happened in a long time. It didn't do to blush if one wanted to appear the superior ice queen. But it was true. I had thought less of the other schools and had assumed that my charade of the dim witted blonde would convince them as easily as it had convinced the rest of Beauxbatons, even if I hadn't wanted to convince my own class mates. They just assumed because I was Veela that I used the allure to obtain my high marks.
But also what he had said in response to my rant. I didn't really know anything about him. I had assumed that he had used his fame to get what he wanted, much the same way people thought I used my allure to get what I wanted. And I hated when people did that. It was completely unfair and untrue, and I had just done the same thing. With that realisation my flush of embarrassment quickly turned to one of shame.
After that I just waited until the rest of the adults sorted everything out and argued about Hogwarts having two champions and about some kind of contract that we had all entered into when our names were selected from the goblet. I just wanted to run back to the Beauxbatons carriage, go into my room and burst into to tears for the second time that day.
Hey readers. I've always been interested in the less common 'ships in HP. Thought I'd try my hand at one of my favourites. Before I get a huge amount of complaints that Harry is OOC let me say this. Of course he bloody well is. Rowling's Potter is shit boring most of the time, and a retarded monkey with a stick the rest of the time. I don't think he really uses an offensive spell in any of the books. Except on Lestrange in OotP. But I'm getting off track here.
So I'll happily accept any and all reviews, be them good, bad, flames, or criticism. In fact, I'd prefer the last two as it's easier to see what should be changed from bad reviews than it is from glowing ones. Don't expect super regular updates, but I'll try and keep the waits less than a month. I have a few other plot bunnies I'm trying to pin down at the moment.
I fully expect no-one to read this far as I ignore A/N's for the most part. So whatever.