In most stories Fleur embraces her veela heritage and the idea of mating for life. I thought Fleur has a strong personality and is stubborn, wouldn't it make sense if she'd be repulsed by her 'mate' first? If you wondered too, this is you story :) Enjoy!


Unlike most of these Hogwarts students seemed to think there had been a reason Dumbledore had placed the Beauxbatons on the Ravenclaw table of all. Here most people had enough intelligence and dignity to resist the veela thrall so far as to be able to have a conversation with her.
Fleur welcomed this and made a point of siting in front of a specially tall and quiet boy who shielded her from the all too blunt stares from the Gryffindor table.
Inwardly she gave a deep sigh. How excited she had been to visit this school! The oldest and most respected one in whole of Europe, headed by maybe the most famous living wizard! But so far British people seemed to display an unbecoming paradox of overdone reserve and barely hidden nosiness and had through fully disappointed her.
What had even -
"Fleur?"
With little effort she put on a smile and looked down to her little sister, Gabrielle.
"Qui, ma douce?"
"Il fait si froid ici..."
Gently the older witch gathered the lite girl in her arms, rubbing her warm.
"I know, Gabrielle, it is too cold 'ere. Zis country is far from 'ome. Neverzeless maman told you to try learning zis language, non? So please make an effort."
Her sister answered by scrunching her forehead together in concentration.
"I wold like to 'ave zis... ├ęcharpe?"
"A scarf? What scarf?"
Gabrielle pointed at the Gryffindor table. Fleur looked up in the direction and felt an electric shock go though her.
For a moment her sight blurred, her heat pounded and she felt as if a storm was dancing in her stomach, a deep growl threatening to escape her throat.
Gasping she shook her head and the first thing she saw when she regained her sight was a delicate neck just disappearing as two slender hands wrapped a crimson scarf around it and a mane of brown hair falling over a feminine back, covering the skin.
Fleur felt herself stand up and magnetcley be pulled to this table. She was vaguely aware of her sister's irritated calls but her eyes remained trained onto this sea of brown and red.
Finally she stood closely behind the young woman; no, girl, and was over flooded with a beguiling smell... and finally it clicked in.
She froze.
No. No, no, no, no, NO!
It couldn't be. She swore to herself it never would.
The first Gryffindor boy spotted her and immediately began drooling.
She knew she had to react quickly before she had the whole table's attention. And going back was no option either since she would seem like a fool and that was something a Delacour never did.
And than she saw her saving straw.
"Excuse me", she asked out to the blue. "Are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"
At least six heads turned to her, goggling.
Among them where a redheaded boy, whose head turned quickly to purple, a black messy haired one that seemed strangley familiar for some reason and of course her doom.
Two frighteningly intelligent chocolate brown eyes fell on her and she turned away before she made out more features.
The only one trying to speak was the redhead, but all he managed was a row of poorly accumulated sounds.
"Yeah, have it", the black haired one said finally, passing the dish up.
"You 'ave finished wiz it?"
"Yeah," redhead coughed. "Yeah, it was delicious."
She heard a snort from doom's direction.
She muttered a thank you and returned to the Ravenclaw table on wobbly legs.
Many pairs of eyes followed her back, some craving, others jealous and one... deciphering, digging.
"What 'ave you done?", her friend Emanuelle asked.
"I asked for... for a scarf for Gabrielle."
Emanuelle raised her brows.
"Zis is a strange kind of scarf", she said but Fleur wasn't listening anymore. She was only aware of her sister's little hand and worried eyes on her and the deep, raging anger welling up in body, usurping the other feelings force onto her out of nowhere.
She wouldn't allow this to happen. So Merlin help her she wouldn't.
Brown and gold danced on her eyes as she started to put bouillabaisse on her plate.


Forgive me for using the bouillabaisse scene once again, but it's a classic! Reviews are very much appreciated.