Year Four
Fleur whirled around, not that anyone could see her. “Ami,” she hissed, “if you do not calm down, you are going to give us all away.
Her second cousin, also invisible, tried to bring her breathing under control. “I know. I’m just worried.”
“We all are,” Cylenthene, also a second cousin, said from somewhere to Fleur’s left. “That’s why we’re here.”
The Delacours were the heart of a very large extended family in France. From when they were little girls they were inseparable. Fleur, as the oldest, was the leader of the little trio of troublemakers. As they aged Fleur grew to have the classic veela beauty, inherited from her mother. Legs became long, breasts became full, her face had an effortlessly angelic glow, golden hair flowed down her back almost to her waist, and boys began to notice. She ignored most of them. Her first duty was to her cousins and constant companions.
Ami was a year younger. Despite also being a veela, her beauty did not come quite as naturally as Fleur’s did, with a pixie nose unusual in her family. One night in her second year, she had turned her hair light blue with a charm in an effort to stand out. It fit her better than she ever expected, and now her hair was kept permanently dyed. Fleur was the ever ambitious leader, Triwizard competitor and the force that kept Ami and Cylenthene on track with their schoolwork. Ami was the shy girl, perfectly content to live in Fleur’s shadow as long as her older cousin let her. As a little girl, Ami had been scared of everything. Thunder or any other loud sound, the dark, large animals, and a dozen other things. If her parents weren’t around, it was Fleur or Cylenthene she ran to to be comforted.
Cylenthene was the same age as Ami, and since related through her mother did not share the last name Delacour. Regardless, she was just as much a part of the family. While Ami was the one Fleur had to constantly push out of her shell, Cylenthene was the one she always had to rein back. Though separated by two generations, Cylenthene and Fleur might as well have been sisters if they stood side by side. Cylenthene was the loud one, the trickster, the flirt and cocktease. Given her behavior, many guys at Beauxbatons assumed she was an easy lay and had to be educated by Fleur. Fleur was constantly covering for the rule breaking Cylenthene was committing, and not always successfully. She was a real handful.
Their parents had said on several occasions that they were either going to make one bloke very, very, very lucky, or very, very, very unlucky. They had proved that right when Pierre was brought into their group. Pierre was a natural adept at the mind arts and acted respectfully around the girls. He could make Ami laugh, and fired right back at Cylenthene when she teased him. For the majority of Fleur’s fifth year the foursome had made a surprisingly good couple. People sneered, and called them a harem of whores, but none of them cared.
Then Pierre asked for a private conversation with Fleur. The pressure was too much, he told her. He’d been acting for months like he was still happy, but every day was a gauntlet. Make Ami smile, deal with Cylenthene’s never ending talking, do homework with her, and still make time for himself. He couldn’t do it anymore. He wanted to make the relationship just himself and her, he said. He could still be friends with the other two, their relationship would just become platonic again.
Fleur had hexed him for daring to suggest he separate them in any way and kicked him out of the group. She made an apology after her parents explained to her that she was the one who overreacted, but the friendship never recovered.
Two years later, at the World Cup, they met Harry Potter. In the chaos, the three got separated from the rest of their family and stumbled upon in the forest by a man in a white mask. He was supremely overconfident and would have been handled by the three young women, but they didn’t even have to. In four spells, Harry had the man wandless, unconscious, and stuck to a tree. His fourth spell, which he told them months afterwards was a bone-breaker, missed.
He was sufficiently interesting that when they arrived at Hogwarts Cylenthene sought him out for a conversation, dragging the other two with him. When Harry’s name came out of the goblet and he lost most of his friends, Cylenthene didn’t seem to care.
“What are you doing?” Fleur had asked her a few days later. “He’s my competitor.”
Cylenthene smirked. “Scared of a little boy?” she mocked. “Besides, he’s telling the truth. This isn’t his fault.”
“And how do you know that?” Fleur demanded. She liked Harry well enough, but didn’t know him well enough to take him at his word, no matter how many times he repeated it.
“Because I sucked him off and asked him as he was still recovering,” Cylenthene said nonchalantly, as if she was explaining the weather forecast for the day. “There’s no way he could have managed the brainpower to lie to me then.”
Fleur growled. “You know, sometimes you are a whore.”
Cylenthene appeared completely unconcerned. “What’s the point of a killer body if you’re not going to use it. Besides, he’s cute.”
“You’re going to pick up an STD and then nobody is going to sleep with you at all,” Fleur threatened.
Now Cylenthene frowned. “Hey, I pick my targets carefully. He’s the only Englishman I’ve done anything with.”
Regardless of the argument, as his countrymen continued to ostracize him Harry grew more and more attached to the three french women. Fleur didn’t know when her relationship with Harry passed friendship, just that shortly after the first task it felt natural to give him a quick kiss good night.
When Fleur or Harry needed help preparing for the tournament, the other three paused what they were doing to help them brainstorm. When Ami was told her pet kneazle; Fluffers, had to be put down, she ran past Fleur to Harry who wrapped her up and placed a kiss to the top of her head without hesitation. So used to people hating him, he eagerly conversed with Cylenthene for hours every day, happily handling when all of her energy was directed solely at him.
After Fleur, to her enduring shame, failed the second task and Harry pulled Gabrielle out of the lake, her little sister wrote endless letters asking to join their group. When shown them, Harry laughed, kissed Fleur on the nose, and said three was enough.
During the third task, it had all gone wrong. Harry had disappeared, and then reappeared an hour later clutching Cedric’s dead body. Fleur, despite being in the maze, had been unable to help him. He was hurting. Fleur needed to make it up to him, and Cylenthene and Ami needed to take away his pain for a night. That’s why they were all under disillusionment charms, sneaking into the hospital wing when they were supposed to be asleep.
“Remember,” Ami said. “This is about him, not us.”
Fleur didn’t need to see to know Cylenthene was rolling her eyes. “We know,” the outgoing veela said. “You are far too excited by the idea.” Fleur stayed silent.
They successfully avoided the patrols and slipped into the wing. Several beds were full of occupants, including a Krum recovering from the imperious curse. The girls cast silencing charms over the curtains to make sure they stayed unnoticed until Ami found Harry.
“Who is it?” he croaked when Ami pulled the curtains surrounding his bed back. The trio canceled the charms keeping them from sight and stood side by side.
“We heard a special patient needed special treatment,” Fleur said with a smile at the look on Harry’s face.
“So they sent for us,” Cylenthene said, thrusting her chest out suggestively.
They were wearing matching slutty nurse costumes. Deep v-cuts revealed more cleavage than it hid, and the skirts barely hid each of their asses. Red high heels and nurse headbands completed the look. And yes, they had these on hand. Just because some of the stereotypes about veela are wrong doesn’t mean they all were.
Fleur and Cylenthene wore the costumes confidently, but Ami didn’t seem to know how to act. She settled for lowering her head and putting her arms behind her back.
Harry regained control of his senses after a few moments. “You all look… unbelievable.” Cylenthene giggled while Fleur smiled. For a few hours they would drown all his fears and regrets and sorrows and keep them far from his mind. “But…” Harry’s voice cracked. “Can we just cuddle right now? I just need to hold you guys.”
Ami was the first to respond. “Of course Harry.” She kicked her heels off and crawled into bed with him. “Whatever you want tonight.”
Fleur and Cylenthene shrugged and followed suit. Cylenthene, the lightest, ended up laying directly on top of Harry, something he certainly didn’t mind. Fleur and Ami each laid a head on one of his shoulders. “Are you ok?” he asked Fleur. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you all night.”
Fleur shuddered as she remembered the cruciatus curse she had been subjected to. “Oui, I am ok,” she assured him. “The nurse wanted to keep me here tonight, but I would rather be with all of you. Besides, I found my way back here anyway.”
“Tell us what happened,” Ami coaxed gently. “Nobody we ask with tell us everything.”
“We just want to help you,” Cylenthene said, uncharacteristically gentle as well.
In fits and starts, Harry slowly got out what had happened. He had already told his girlfriends about confronting Voldemort when he was eleven, and dragging Ginny out of the Chamber of Secrets, and rescuing his godfather from a fate worse than death. Now he told them a harrowing tale of death, capture, and Voldemort’s ultimate return.
Ami peppered Harry’s face with kisses and wiped away his tears as he told them how Cedric was murdered. “It was not your fault. You can’t do everything.”
“You are only fourteen,” Fleur said. She often forgot he was so young in years. “This is the work of others, not yourself.”
The rest of the night passed in similar fashion, Harry constantly checking that Fleur was ok, with Ami and Cylenthene in turn showering him with kisses. Eventually, one by one Cylenthene, Fleur, and then Harry all drifted off leaving Ami alone with her thoughts. The blue-haired veela smiled and snuggled into Harry’s shoulder again, strands of Cylenthene’s hair covering her face. Despite the trauma of the night, she couldn’t help but feel optimistic. She’d always have Cylenthene and Fleur, and she had a feeling Harry would be sticking around too. Ami was a naturally skittish witch, haunted by childhood fears and terrifying stories of men assaulting veela throughout history alike. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that her friends and family often had to take care of her, but this night was a chance to return the favor to Harry. He certainly seemed happier, so she drifted off to sleep with the knowledge of a job well done.
All four were woken the next day by the sound of the curtains being pulled back. Madam Pomfrey stared down at the crowded bed, the three veela still in their outfits. Ami “eeped” and tried to hide herself as best as possible, Cylenthene arched an eyebrow and dared the older witch to say anything, and Fleur realized what an idiot she’d been. Surprisingly, it was Harry who broke the ice.
“Pomfrey,” he said. “You would not believe what I passed up last night.”
The matron healer sighed. “I’ll be back in five minutes. Miss Delacour, feel free to find your own bed. I want to ensure your nervous system is suffering no lingering damage. Shifts are in the storage over there. As for you other two,” she said as she turned around. “My patients are not taking visitors at this time.”
She walked away to Cylenthene’s boisterous laughter waking up her other patients, hiding a small smile on her face. Only an idiot wizard would willingly juggle three witches at the same time, much less that trio. But Merlin knows he needed a way to sleep easily at night.
Line Break
A/N This is intended to be a series of one-shots in this universe I’ll put out from time to time. Let me know of anything you want to see specifically, I’ll consider all ideas.