Harry Potter Veela's Embrace

It was the stress, Fleur later would admit that caused her outburst. She wanted to be champion and she'd just dreamed of winning the Triwizard and now instead of two other competitors she would have to face three. Besides if he did cheat to get in, it wasn't fair. "Why should'e complain?" She exclaimed. "E 'as ze chance to compete, asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze 'onor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!" Fleur knew that the thousand galleons didn't mean that much. Her family was very well off, but to earn it in victory would mean a lot to her.

The next words from the man named Moody's mouth startled Fleur. "Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," She glanced over at the young man who seemed...what? determined? "Yes, that's it," She realized. His eyes held a gleam of determination but none of fear.

"Yes he must have cheated," She thought. "If I was told I was forced to be in this contest at fifteen by trickery, I would be terrified, but he is not really upset," Fleur sighed as again she thought of another letter to her sister.

More arguments occurred, but to no avail. Harry Potter must compete it was decided. After the initial instructions were given, Madam Maxime led Fleur out of the room. All the way back to the carriage, she was lost in her thoughts about the competition and about Harry Potter.

She never could bring herself to write that letter to her sister. Though Gabrielle had replied quickly asking about Harry, she only wrote back about the castle and what was happening.

Fleur rarely thought of the black-haired young man outside of the questions by her sister. She saw him around the castle every so often but he was with his friends and never seemed to see her. Over the next couple of weeks, Fleur became friends with Cedric. On occasion he'd invite her into the Hufflepuff dorms. The students in that house respected her and though some of them would fall under her allure, their friends would pull them away when it happened.

It wasn't until the weighing of the wands that Fleur actually came in contact with Harry again.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander. Fleur strolled gracefully to the wandmaker and handed him her wand.

"Hmm..." he said as he twirled it in his hand causing it to shoot out pink and gold sparks. He stopped then and examined it closely.

"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches. . . inflexible.. rosewood.. . and containing. . . dear me. . ."

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," Fleur said proudly. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands...however, to each his own, and if this suits you.."

Fleur was proud of her Veela heritage. Though she disliked some of the things that came with being Veela, she was not ashamed to be called one. Her grandmother was a proud full Veela that had introduced her granddaughter to the world of her ancestors. She had taken Fleur under her wing. When it had came time for Fleur to get her wand, it was with great pride she carried the hair that her Grandmother had given her to the local wandmaker to be the core of her wand. She almost felt her grandmother's presence when the wandmaker had offered her the wand to try. Now every time she used it, she felt a bit of her Grandmother was there helping her. The wand suited her, it fit her and the magic she produced with it was her.

Now Fleur had to fight down her temper. She felt the wandmaker had just insulted her Grandmother and her heritage. As he handed the wand back to her, she tried to maintain her grace and even forced a smiled at Cedric as she took her seat.

A movement caught her eye as Cedric was getting his wand examined. She turned to see Harry trying to polish his wand. She glared at him, mostly from her bad mood, but some part of it was for her sister. Fleur felt like he'd betrayed Gabrielle in some way by cheating his way into the tournament.

As the minutes passed Fleur's temper faded. Soon they were required to pose for pictures. She couldn't help but notice how the photographer kept manhandling Harry into the pictures even as he tried to avoid them. She could see he didn't want to be there. "Could he have been telling the truth?" She asked herself. "Could he really not want to be in the tournament?"

That question stayed with her all during the night, but the next morning's Daily Prophet confused her. Cedric's picture was no where to be found in the article about the Champions and the tournament. The story went so far as to suggest Harry was the only Hogwarts' champion. When she finally laid the paper aside, she wondered if the publicity was somehow his doing. "Is he really a vainglorious person?" Soon though thoughts of the Harry Potter died away.

Days passed quickly for Fleur. Not only was she taking a full load of classes, but she was trying to prepare herself what whatever 'testing their daring' might mean. She was confidant in her abilities though and felt she was ready for any challenges.

All of that changed two days before the event was to occur when Madam Maxime burst into her room.

"I have news." Madam Maxime said in french. Her voice was wrought with excitement laced with concern.

"What is it?" Fleur asked.

"I know what your first task is to be."

That caught Fleur's attention and then she noticed the concern in Madam Maxime's face. A feeling of dread filled her. She knew her Headmistress was as strong as a person could be and if the task concerned her, it was surely not something Fleur was going to like. "What? How?"

"Never mind how, but you will be facing Dragons. You'll need to get past a dragon."

"Dragons?" Fleur gasped.

"Yes dragons," Madam Maxime repeated. "Now it is late and I suggest you get some sleep. We'll discuss it further in the morning."

Sleep would come easily to Fleur that night. All she could think was "Dragons? And this is the FIRST event? What have I got myself into?"

Deep into the night Fleur wrestled with thoughts of coming face to face with a dragon. Sometime later her thoughts turned to an emerald-eyed young man. "How can they let Harry Potter go against dragons? He is much too young," Though at the moment, she didn't feel old enough to face one herself.