A Godfather's Promise

A Godfather's Promise

Chapter III: Angel Witch

"Please, my Lord!" a male voice screamed shrilly, though the only thing Harry could see was a blurred shadow, making it unable for him to identify the kneeling figure. The voice however, was enough to let him know that there was probably a horrified look on his face, as it begged towards the figure.

"Silence!" yelled another voice, this one sounded weak and frail, but still commanding enough that the kneeling figure stopped his begging immediately and recoiled in what Harry presumed to be a painful resignation.

"You keep disappointing me, servant!" rasped the voice, and Harry felt that it was strange to hear a sound so hateful come from a voice so silent. Harry knew, however, that such a thing was not impossible and the proof was being shown to him right now. Just being in the presence of the voice brought an overwhelming sense of dread inside him, worming its way into his body.

"Perhaps this will make it so you remember to take my orders more seriously, Crucio!" snarled the small, spiteful voice. After that the pitiful shadow on the ground started screaming as he spasmed in pain. The sounds were inhuman, as though it was coming from the voice of an overgrown rat and not a person. Harry tried to shut it out by pressing his hands on his ears, but it was no good. The screams were still pounding in his ears.

The worst thing however, is that Harry felt that he was enjoying it. As if the screams filled a hidden, dark, and primal part in his very being. The green-eyed wizard, now pressed his hands against his head. He needed to get out!

The whole scene started to get blurrier, until only blackness remained, yet the squeals still persisted. Harry thought he would never get away from them, and would be trapped in the darkness. Despair started to fill him, breathing started to get heavier. It was getting harder to pass oxygen to his lungs. The Potter heir thought he was beginning to pass out, dying would be better than staying even one more second in there.

Coming back to his senses, Harry immediately sat upright, and found himself staring at the Gryffindor common room. The small specks of light meant that the sun was beginning to rise, giving Harry enough illumination to see the state of his body.

Sweat drenched not only his nightwear, but also the heavy sheets meant to keep him warm in the cold Scottish weather. It looked almost as if someone had thrown a glass of water or two in his bed. The feeling of clammy coldness was felt in his body.

Bringing his hands to his head, he felt that his long hair was also wet with his bodily secretions, the salty liquid still dropping from the raven tips down to his chest.

'It happened again,' Harry realized, still panting heavily from the horrible and realistic nightmare that had invaded in his sleep. His nightly experiences had recently been filled with visions of loveliness and perversity, starring a pale haired beauty. They had frustrated the half-blood wizard, they made him resent the way that Fleur had taken over thoughts in such a way.

Still, the dreams of the French beauty were certainly much better than the alternative.

'What do they all mean? What are the figures? why did I cast an Unforgivable? Why did it feel so good?' Harry's mind went through the questions as his breath was slowly regaining its normal pace. The adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins now leaving him feeling cold and wet.

He had been so absorbed in the thoughts of the French veela that he had forgotten the things that had been plaguing him ever since Peter Pettigrew had escaped from him and Sirius during the end of his third year. Once again, the Beauxbatons champion had left him vulnerable.

'Fleur Delacour, you take the nightmares away. I hope you are in the next one… please come back,' he begged to himself, almost pathetically. Harry hated how he now needed to depend on Fleur in order to make his nightly escapades pleasurable again.

Harry looked around, hearing the snores coming from the red headed figure next to his bed, he realized that his fellow students were still sleeping, apparently undisturbed by the emerald-eyed wizard's night-terror.

Said emerald-eyed wizard sighed, knowing that they would not be awake for another hour and a half, in order to get breakfast.

And people wonder why most male wizards get so overweight when they get older, Harry grumbled internally, getting up from his bed, fully intent on starting his morning routine in order to get his mind of the disturbing nightmare.

Making his way towards the dormitory's mirror, Harry's mind drifted off once again towards the Fleur. Yes, Fleur. Harry had stopped thinking about her as the 'French witch' or 'Beauxbatons champion' or 'her', she was now 'Fleur'.

It's beautiful name, Fleur Delacour,' he thought to himself. He had said it for the first-time last night as he was reading. Harry decided that he liked the way the name seem to come out of his lips. 'Fleur, flower, a beautiful French flower. A beautiful French flower that will probably never pay even the least bit of attention to someone me.'

At the last thought, Harry began to grow uncomfortable. That was until he looked himself at the mirror.

Harry did not consider himself to be narcissistic, up until a year ago he did not start to pay attention towards his physical appearance. Starting with the top of his head, he gave a long stare towards his dark colored mane and sighed. His hair had always been comparable to a bird's nest, Sirius laughed when he had tried to comb it during last summer.

"Just like James, he could never get it down, he tried every charm he could, and it would still rebel," laughed Sirius. "Even your grandfather couldn't control his, Merlin knows Lady Dorea tried to whenever they went to a social event, but the famous Potter defiance seems to affect also their hair."

So, Harry had tried to find a solution, eventually looking at the posters of his favorite musicians, he decided to let his hair grow. Now, the raven locks reached all the way to his shoulders, and kept growing.

Harry frowned slightly, it was getting too long, so much so that it was now interfering with his sight. He would need to get a hair tie soon, in order to prevent his hair from getting in the way of his eyes. Around his face, the early signs of a small beard were beginning to show.

His eyes were the next noticeable thing about him, some people would tell him it was the thing that drew most attention to him, especially the people who had known Lily Potter. Green orbs stared back at the reflection, the only evidence that his mother had left behind in him. Harry had taken to using contact lenses in lieu of glasses ever since they were broken against his fight with Quirrell. They were a temporary measure until the eyes matured enough to get Lasik surgery performed on them.

The rest was pure Potter: hair color, height, broad shoulders, and long arms. The traditional body that characterized his father's family.

The body that he had been training since a young age. Sirius, at Harry's behest, had involved him in Muggle physical activities. It started with the little league soccer team over at his school in Berkshire. At seven however, after seeing many Bruce Lee movies, he asked his godfather to enroll him in the local dojo – which he still attended to this day – in order to learn how to fight with his body.

The rigors of his physical activities had left him well toned. Taking of his shirt he noticed the beginnings of a six-pack forming, and his arms already had well defined muscles. Even Harry had to brag a little in that he was one of the most fit students in Hogwarts. His physique – combined with his tall height – made him very desirable to the witches of his year, and some fifth, sixth, and seventh years as well!

Hell, even if he might have only been imagining it, Nymphadora Tonks seemed to be blushing when she went over during the summer to Sirius' and Harry's house.

Maybe that's why most witches were not currently hospitalized, they did not wear the badges mocking him the previous day. Indeed, most of the people that were currently occupying beds at the hospital wing and St. Mungos happened to sport a Y chromosome.

Quickly changing into his training gear, he once again made his way down to the castle grounds, and unto the Black Lake. Upon his arrival, he was once again met by the sight of Viktor Krum, who appeared to be doing the morning stretches.

Surprisingly, however, Viktor Krum was not the only figure that seemed to be making an appearance in the morning.

Behind him, other footsteps were heard, making Harry turn around to greet the newcomer. He was met with the yellow clad figure of his fellow Hogwarts student and Triwizard Champion, Cedric Diggory.

Cedric looked over at Harry and after small look of surprise, gave a small smile, "Seems I was not the only one who is also taking his training seriously, am I?"

Harry smiled back, his head pointing towards the figure of Krum, who was already at the lake, "Not the only one indeed. Krum and I have been here since yesterday," informed Harry.

"Let's go meet him then, I guess a bit of fraternization between champions is in order," Cedric answered, now making his way to the Black Lake to meet the black and red clad Durmstrang champion, who was now stopping his morning routine in order to greet his rivals.

"Good morning, nice veather for training isn't it," came the accented voice of Krum, who, to the Hogwarts students' surprise, was giving them the ghost of a smile.

"Nice weather?" asked Cedric, incredulously. It had to be at least five degrees in the cold Scottish autumn, the humidity making it so that the freezing wind stuck right into their skin, seeping into their bones.

"Yes, in Durmstrang there is alvays snow, so ve cannot train outside, it is difficult to exercise vhen you are limited to inside school," responded Krum in a cool manner, breathing deeply to take in the cold, humid air that was characteristic of the Scottish Highlands.

"Where is Durmstrang?" Harry asked, he knew Beauxbatons was in France but he did not know where the infamous eastern European school was located.

"It is in northern Norway, close to Barents Sea," answered Krum.

Harry understood, that far north it would always be frigidly cold, and on winter the nights would be longer, leaving them with little daytime to help them keep warm amid the low temperatures and snow. Even the longer days during summer would not be enough to generate enough heat to let them stay out of the shelter for a long time.

"How do you deal with the cold? it's bad enough when winter comes over here," asked Cedric, now starting to stretch his arms in preparation for the morning exercise.

"You don't, you take shelter from it and vait, and stay in castle all the time," answered Krum, giving Harry and Cedric an idea of what life in the cold, Scandinavian school was like.

Harry felt that he much preferred Hogwarts if what Krum was saying was true.

"So, it seems the Triwizard Champions are now going to be training pals in the morning huh? I mean we're pretty much all here," pondered Cedric, looking at the other two wizards who would end up being his rivals when the Tournament starts.

"Ve are not all here though, there is another one of us that still missing," reminded Krum. Harry knew that he was referring to Fleur, causing him to tense up slightly, something that Krum managed to catch. The Bulgarian champion sent a slight smirk his way.

"Do you think she's coming, I don't think she likes the company of men. You've seen how she treats them when they approach her," said Cedric. Harry knew what he meant, having seen Fleur look at the drooling simps that approached her with looks of contempt. Cedric then added, "It might also be too cold for her, I've heard that Beauxbatons is in southern France, near the Mediterranean Sea, it must be a completely different weather for her to get used to."

"I vouldn't vee so sure about that," said Krum, his eyes now looking past both Hogwarts champions, and unto the small hill where the Beauxbatons carriage had been situated.

Harry and Cedric both turned around to see what had caught Krum's attention, and were struck by a sight of loveliness that made Harry's heart start beating faster. The thoughts that had been with him the previous day came roaring back as his world was now centered on what lay before his eyes.

The very person that they had been talking about was now walking down the hill, Harry noticed that Fleur was wearing a light blue tracksuit – almost celeste in color – that was doing a very good job at hugging the contours of her body. The luscious long hair that she usually let flow behind her back was now tied into a long ponytail.

One thing Harry did see however, is that she shuddered slightly, making him think that Cedric did have a point about Fleur being unaccustomed to cold weather. She started to move her limbs arms gracefully, in what seemed an attempt to get her blood pumping for a warming effect.

Suddenly, Fleur's attention now turned towards the three other figures that were also at the lakeside. Harry saw her small lovely smile corrupt itself into her usual haughty expression, her eyes narrowing over at her rivals. Not sparing another glance, she then turned away and proceeded walk to another site around the Black Lake.

"Ouch!" muttered Cedric sarcastically before letting out a small chuckle, "So I guess we can't count on Frenchie to join our little club,"

Harry had heard Cedric, but his attention was focused on Fleur's retreating form, a small pang throbbed in his chest in sadness. The lovely woman that he had held the last morning was now gone. Replaced once again by the "Beauxbatons Champion". Still, the green-eyed Gryffindor was looking at the sensual movement her tied up hair was making.

'Where did you go Fleur? Where is the real you? I saw her the last day.'

Harry kept looking at her until he felt the light touch of an elbow prodding into his ribs. Looking at the source, he found the smirking faces of Cedric and Krum staring at him in amusement. Cedric broke in laughter at first, and to Harry's surprise, Krum actually chuckled.

"What happened Harry? Want to go and take her into your arms again?" said Cedric in between pangs of laughter.

Harry paled slightly, "You saw that?"

"Saw it? Harry, you were staring into each other's eyes for almost a full minute before you let each other go!" revealed Cedric, still letting out small chuckles as he tried to recover himself, "Cho later told me that it looked so romantic," he mocked lightly.

"Veela… I don't know if I should feel pity or envy," said Krum, still smirking at him.

"You guys are getting this all wrong, Malfoy was right beside her with six badges on his robes, she would have gotten seriously hurt if they exploded in her face," Harry tried to explain, but neither Cedric nor Krum seemed to be convinced by his explanation. It did not help that Harry felt his face heating up when being reminded of the events that took place the day prior.

"Sure Harry, saving someone absolutely involves having your faces mere inches away from each other and ready for a good long kis-"

"We should get started with our training, if we dally any longer we won't get any breakfast," interjected Harry, trying to change the topic of conversation.

"What about breakfast? I'm sure there will still be enough food for all of us, half the damn school is hospitalized. Remember?" retorted Cedric.

'Oh yeah, I remember. I was the one who put them there after all,' thought Harry with a small smile of satisfaction.

"They deserved it, that vas a childish display," said Krum, the contempt in his accented voice evident. No sooner did he say this, that he started to jog, "Keep up, or I'll ve the one vinning Tournament," and with that he sped off.

Cedric then started to do his stretches. Taking off his sweater in order to make it easier for his body to move around.

Harry took his sweater off as well. Before starting his stretches, he took one last look at the retreating figure of Fleur Delacour, before sighing and returning to the task at hand.

'I really want to see the real you again, no matter what it takes.'

If anyone were to were to look at Fleur Delacour for the first time without knowing her, they would assume that she was a princess straight out of a fairy tale. Her unearthly beauty certainly made her seem like one. The kind that would end the story on the arms of a charming prince that would love her forever. The stories would tell you that the princess would also return the love, and the prince would never dare to lay a hand or hurt the prince. Most muggle girls were raised with these stories, and the same could be said about Fleur Delacour.

Of course, Apolline Delacour would tell the stories to her sweet daughter, every night as she slept she had told her about how there would be someone out there for her that would treat her like the little princess that she was. When she grew up she would then marry this man and would live happily ever after. The young Fleur Delacour ate it all up.

Not that her mother was to blame of course, she was only trying to shelter her precious daughter. Fleur later came to realize how much different real life was from the stories.

When she had entered Beauxbatons, she had her usual group of friends, ones which she believed she could trust. That was until puberty began.

One of the characteristics of being a Veela was that they matured much differently than human women. Rather than starting to develop from girls to women in their teenage years, Veela remained stagnant until they matured enough mentally to deal with the stresses of womanhood. This was an evolutionary trait of Veela to prevent them from reaching their full potential until they were ready.

For Fleur, that meant that while her friends were starting to grow, develop, and start to gain interest in the opposite sex, she was still stuck with the appearance of a small girl even at the age of fourteen. Fleur still remembered the said days when her so-called friends started to abandon her, afraid of being associated with the 'little girl', and the boys stopped being around her in favor of her human friends.

Fleur cried to herself in her Beauxbatons dormitory during those days – completely alone except for some of her teachers and Madame Maxime – she wished for nothing more than for people to pay attention to her.

'I should have been careful of what I wished for,'

When she was almost at the age of fifteen, attention is definitely what she got. From one night to the other she matured from an eight-year-old girl, to a breathtakingly beautiful seventeen-year-old woman.

Fleur remembered being ecstatic, so filled with joy that she did not mind the fact that had to wait for her parents to take her for a few days off from Beauxbatons to buy her new clothes, as well as take her to the Veela elders for inspection. When she returned to Beauxbatons, surely her friends would come back to her!

But Fleur was wrong. Instead of ignoring her, they now began to hate her. The attention that she wanted… she got. The reason for their hate was the way the males now acted around her. Being a young, newly mature Veela, Fleur did not have the control that some of the older Veela had acquired through experience, that and the fact that she was also more powerful than most of the others, something that made it notoriously difficult for her to control her charms at normal levels. This made her allure very powerful to the boys and young men. Even some of the teachers had to be trained to ignore it as best they could.

There was no charming prince for Fleur, the handsome boys that she wanted attention from now turned into aggressive and drooling barbarians at the sight of her, eager to do anything to gain her favor. If they managed to stop drooling around her that is. They got even angrier when she began denying their requests for physical contact.

She remembered one particular student: Gustave Lefebvre, who was almost three years older than her. He was particularly insistent, always looking at her in a disturbing manner. Following her between classes and all the way to her dormitory.

That is, until one day, when Gustave decided to use the newly learned Bombarda spell on her door during the middle of the night. Fleur listened to the banging sounds from her bed as she saw her magically enforced door shaking. Eventually even the door that had been charmed by Madame Maxime herself exploded. Gustave entered the room with a crazed, lust filled expression; her wand left her hand after he fired a disarming charm, then proceeded to force himself into her bed, tearing away at her clothing.

A panicked Fleur tried to force him away, but it did no good. Sensing her distress, her other form had to take over. When the teachers finally got to her, Gustave had to be sent to the hospital for third degree burns.

After that Fleur realized that she could trust very little people outside of her family, she would have to be constantly on guard, and the probability was that she would never find someone that could resist her charms the way her mother and grandmother had found theirs. Her daily life was exhausting ever since that day, she lived in constant vigilance and only allowed herself a very select company.

She asked Madame Maxime herself to train her to defend herself, and so became the school prodigy after that.

The only positive thing after the event was that she made new friends who had heard about the situation. All women, except for one man.

Louis Duval was the only man in Beauxbatons that seemed to be able to resist her allure. Fleur had been glad that she had one very attractive man that seemed to be interested in her for more than just her body and beauty. He seemed to only have female friends, which was odd at first but Fleur

When Fleur had gotten interested enough in Louis she had asked him if he wanted to go out with her, hoping to start a relationship that could possible flower into something more. Unfortunately, she discovered the Louis was not… interested in women as other men were.

Louis was still one of her best friends, but it definitely left Fleur disappointed.

'The only man that seemed to be decent, and I can't start a relationship with him.'

Fleur sighed as she returned to the carriage after her morning workout. She had opted to go out early, hoping that there were no other students around to see her exercising. The young Veela reasoned that with most of the male Hogwarts population now having to receive medical attention, she could find some time in the morning just for herself.

It had started well enough, with her dressing in her Beauxbatons training gear after a good night's sleep following the pandemonium unleashed during the previous day. The loss of overly hormonal teenage males was a blessing for the French beauty.

It started to go downhill the moment she decided to step outside the carriage.

If there was one thing she complained about ever since she had arrived to the British school of magic was the weather. It was unbearable. The wet, humid, and cold air immediately hit her like a brick wall, the light fabric of her tracksuit not fit for the temperatures of the Scottish Highlands.

Walking down the hill, despite the ghastly weather she allowed herself a small smile, thinking about what she would write to her sweet little sister, Gabrielle. The smile stopped however, when she looked at the Black Lake, and saw that the other Triwizard Champions had had the same idea as her.

The three of them were men. She had met them when she had been chosen to represent her school in the Tournament. Two of them were about her age: one of them was dark eyed and broody Viktor Krum, the other was Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff house.

The third one however, was probably the one that had most interested her ever since she had set foot in this god-forsaken country.

She knew about him from the stories. Even in France they had hear the story of the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter. Although if rumors were true, he was technically Harry Potter-Black. He had surprised her first when she went over to the Gryffindor table for a bowl of bouillabaisse, since the one in the Ravenclaw table had been depleted before she even had a chance to get some for herself. Noticing that the lonely raven-haired wizard had a full bowl next to him, she decided that one overly excited boy was better than approaching any of the other tables that were filled with more than one overly excited boy.

She walked over to him, the drooling students following her with her eyes, their actions making her increasingly uncomfortable. Her constant guard tightening even more as she approached the Gryffindor table.

He had noticed the boy was reading a book, not paying attention to her just yet. Internally, she dreaded the moment his eyes look over to her, knowing that all seriousness would turn into absolute stupidity. Fleur was certain he would fall victim to her allure the same way all of the male Hogwarts students seem to be. The red headed boy several seats away was already making her sick to her stomach by letting the half-chewed food out of his open mouth, his face purple.

Readying herself, she finally spoke to him, "Excusez-moi, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

Sure enough, his emerald eyes searched for the source of the voice that had questioned him. Fleur held her breath, waiting for his reaction. Only to be surprised when all he did is widen his eyes slightly, then looked inquisitively at her.

"Am I wanting the what?" questioned the boy.

'What is this? Where is the open mouth? The drooling? The stuttering voice? The eyes wandering throughout my body?'

Regaining herself, Fleur once again asked, "Ze bouillabaisse", her hand pointing to the full bowl besides the raven-haired Gryffindor. Causing him to take his eyes away from her – once again surprising Fleur – and looking towards the large bowl containing the French dish.

The boy then looked back at her, "is it any good?" he asked her sincerely, his eyes once again not wandering across her body, in fact he looked more interested in the book he had been previously reading than the figure of a Veela in front of him.

'Much better than the greasy slop you barbarians insist on calling food,' Fleur wanted to say, but simply nodded lightly towards the boy. Causing him to take a small portion for his own, smaller bowl, before picking up the larger bowl and offering it to her. "Here, enjoy," Fleur took the offered dish, and saw him promptly go back to reading the book.

Making her way back to the Ravenclaw table, she sat down next to a to a female Ravenclaw student that she calculated could be a year younger than her, and served herself the traditional French dish.

Despite herself, Fleur could not help to look back at the peculiar Gryffindor student that seemed to throw off her allure like it was nothing. Glancing at the Hogwarts student beside her, she asked "Pardon, I would like to know 'o is zat boy over zere," making the Ravenclaw student look over at where Fleur was signaling.

With a small blush, the Ravenclaw student looked back at Fleur. "That is Harry Potter, he's in fourth year. In Gryffindor house," she answered, making the Veela breathe lightly.

"Ze Boy-'O-Lived?" she asked back to the Ravenclaw.

"The very same, although rumor is that he is also in line to be the new Lord Black. When they call his full name it's Harry Potter-Black," added the Ravenclaw student. "You could say that he is kind of our resident rebel, but he is at the top of his year. There are many rumors about him and the things he's done here at Hogwarts."

"'Arry Potter," mused Fleur, now ignoring the Ravenclaw. It was a shame that he was younger than her, finding a man that was so resistant towards her allure was extremely rare. Once found a Veela would usually do anything they could to get the man to notice them and form a relationship. A man that could throw off a Veela allure not only was strong willed, but extremely powerful in terms of magical prowess.

'That is unfortunate, he is a little too young… and a little too British.'

She stopped thinking of him as too young however, thanks to the events that were to follow.

She had been angry when he was also apparently chosen by the Goblet to compete in the Tournament. She believed that she deserved to compete, she had been training for so long to prove herself as a witch and to show the world that she was not just a pretty princess. She did not believe him when he said that he had not placed his name in the Goblet. Unfortunately, she may have said some words that she regretted.

He gave her a look that conveyed an emotion that she had never seen from any male since she had matured. Fleur was used to looks of lust, want, need, desire, shock, and even hunger. Never had she seen a man look at her in anger as Harry Potter did.

Still angry, she once again complained about the fourth Triwizard Champion. She would regret it, Harry Potter had erupted in fury, revealed the Potions teacher and the Durmstrang Headmaster to be Death Eaters, and stormed out of the room in sheer rage. Fleur still remembered being shocked at just how mad he was. He had slammed the door so hard that one of the hinges busted, and several pots in the room fell and broke.

That definitely made an impression on her, but she just thought she was now an incredibly aggressive person that she did not want to have contact with for the rest of her life. So, she once again returned to her routine for the following days, having to concentrate on her training for the tasks that awaited her. Everyday having to ignore the stares that were being sent her way. By this point she was seriously considering staying at the carriage for the rest of her time in Hogwarts, but Madame Maxime had told her that it was expected that a champion present herself to the rest of the school.

What she did not expect was what had happened the previous morning.

A loathsome blond-haired boy from Slytherin and his boorish friends had brought quite a bit of badges mocking Harry Potter. She looked over in disdain as he passed them around, she knew many people would consider her to be a little haughty, but she never turned to the outright mocking cruelty that the Hogwarts students seemed to be displaying.

She had heard of the blond boy. Apparently, he was the epitome of the stereotypical British pure-bloods that considered themselves better than everyone else. Fleur had caught him staring at her at times – like almost everyone at the Slytherin table – not doing his ideals any favors by behaving just like everyone else. His pure-blood was still not apparently strong enough to prevent him from ridiculing himself.

He made an even bigger fool of himself when he tried to give them to the Durmstrang students. They – like her – looked at him in contempt, Viktor Krum giving him a disapproving look before signaling to his friends.

The Durmstrang-Slytherin "alliance" had been dead after that, with Viktor Krum leading his schoolmates away from the green and silver table. The blond-haired ponce then turned his attention towards her and the other Beauxbatons champions. Fleur mentally sighed when she saw him, his idiotic fat goons, and his pug-faced friend make their way to their spot in the Gryffindor table.

She sent a warning look to her friends: Amelie, Clemence, and Monique; who later went on to sent warning looks themselves to the rest of the Beauxbatons students. When the loathsome boy arrived, nothing but glares received them.

Oh, the boy still tried to give some to them, and when he approached her he did so with a stuttering voice and glassy eyes. She gave him the biggest, most contemptuous glare that she could offer until the heavily cosmeticized pug-faced girl elbowed him so they could get away. Said girl then told her what she had come to expect of most jealous women, with an added bigoted twist of course.

"Stay away from him, you filthy creature! the only thing your kind serves for is servicing your betters! Stay away from us proper pure-bloods!"

Fleur only responded to her with a practiced tone, "Oh, zank you for ze advice. If I evair wanted to look for an excitable leetle boy like 'im, I will cake myself in w'ore makeup, making me look so ugly zat 'e would look for any ozzer woman zat eesn't me."

The response caused her friends to laugh at the now red-faced girl.

She did have to reluctantly thank the boy however, the stupid badges for once took her attention away from her. Fleur felt that enough attention was taken of her that she was able to lower her guard, and thus, loosen the control of her allure. She began to talk and smile with her friends, causing her charms to increase significantly. The beautiful French Veela was finally happy for the first time since setting foot inside Hogwarts.

That was until she heard the explosions, causing the entire Great Hall to fall into chaos screams of confusion and terror filled the room.

Fleur saw her friends look hit the floor, trying to find some cover under the tables, Clemence was screaming at her to get down, pulling on her blue Beauxbatons uniform trying in vain to get her to take shelter along with them.

Inside her mind, Fleur Delacour was a mess. She could not move, Suddenly, she was a newly matured Veela hearing the banging noises being produced by Gustave's wand against her door. She stood frozen in place, even when she saw the terrible blond boy from before with the explosive badges close to her face all she could do was place her hands in her ears to try and drown out the pandemonium, and shut her eyes. She was expecting to be blown away any moment now.

No harm came upon her however.

She first felt the rushing speed as a presence seemed to push away the hateful Slytherin boy away with a violent shove. Then she felt something that would usually make her react violently: two toned arms grasped her lithe body, and turned her around so that she was now being placed safely away from the soon to be exploded pompous blonde.

The strong, broad chest signified that she had been grabbed by a male. Panicking momentarily, her mind once again returned to the violent pawing appendages of Gustave Lefebvre. Fleur now expected rough, violent hands to start violating her sensuous body, taking advantage of her helpless state.

No hands came however, only the increasing noises of the exploding mocking badges. Reluctantly, Fleur decided to let her guard down again, all defenses coming down. She grabbed the man's robes tightly, and buried her face into the side of his neck. Her subconscious detected the smell mint leaves, a very nice fragrance that helped calm her during the chaos.

Calm, a mental state that had forever been denied to Fleur Delacour. Always having to be in control of herself, always composed, never letting herself trust anyone, always aware that if she let go, there may be unfortunate consequences.

And now she was letting it go.

In her vulnerable state, she was letting go of everything, putting all her trust into the male figure she had not even seen with her own eyes, and she felt peace as she did so. Digging her nose into his neck and breathing deeply, she felt so secure in this man's embrace as the banging noises started to die down. The thoughts of Gustave and all the men that had taken advantage of her before now far away from her mind, like they had never even existed.

When the sounds died, she finally dared to open her eyes, only to find that she was still being held by the figure tightly. Slowly letting go of his robes, she finally spoke.

"Pourriez-vous me laisser partir? S'il vous plaît?"

The figure did not seem to notice what she had said. In her nervousness, she had forgotten that she had spoken in French. Regaining her senses, she tried to remember her English.

"C-could you let me go? Please?" Fleur asked once again. The figure now turning his attention to her.

Her blue eyes met the young man's green orbs. Fleur was taken aback by the color, and the fact that there seemed to be no gazes of lust as he stared at her. She was being drowned in them until she remembered that she was still being held by a man.

Fleur waited for the usual response, waited for him to take her. Most men would do so in a position like this, and they would do so when the French Veela was in control of her allure. Fleur was not in control anymore; the man was being blasted with the full force of it while he held her.

Yet, instead of doing anything, the young man simply looked into her eyes, his arms still embracing her securely, but in a kindly manner, the way no other man had ever held her before unless you counted her father, Dominique Delacour. Fleur also noted that his mouth did not open, his lips remained close as they were so very near to touching her own.

Finally, the young man did something that no other man would do in his position, he let her go. She felt his arms leave her, still staring at her intently. Fleur stayed still while he did so, as his arms left her perfectly formed body, she once again started to remember that she needed to rein in her allure. After letting it all out in the emerald-eyed wizard's arms, she felt her personal prison come back as she regained control.

"Zank you," she gasped, still looking at those strangely familiar green eyes.

Finally, she tore away her sapphire eyes away from the man and started to make her way to find her Headmistress, getting worried about what happened to her and the rest of her friends during the chaos that had reigned in the Great Hall.

They had returned to the carriage that day, and Madame Maxime had given them the day off to regain their bearings after the traumatic experience that they had suffered that morning. Fleur, however - being a Triwizard champion - had attended a meeting with Madame Maxime.

"I have gained information about your rivals, none of them were injured during the disaster that happened this morning," Maxime informed Fleur, reminding her about her role as a representative for her school.

"Fleur, even if he is younger than the others. I've learned things about Harry Potter-Black makes me believe that you should not underestimate him," The Beauxbatons Headmistress told Fleur.

Fleur then was struck with emotions and let out a small gasp as she remembered the events that had taken place earlier that day.

The emerald-eyed wizard! The one that had held her and did not seem to be affected by the full blast of her allure! It had been the Harry Potter all along!

'The little boy,' Fleur remembered shamefully. In her memories of that morning, Harry Potter-Black did not have the appearance of a little boy, but of a young man.

"-eur, Fleur!" the French champion heard her Headmistress, pulling her out of her thoughts, "Are you sure you are well, Fleur?" the giantess questioned, making Fleur's attention come back to reality.

"I am sorry, Madame Maxime, please continue," Fleur said to the Beauxbatons Headmistress.

"As I was saying, I have heard rumors about the boy from a credible source. He has been the source of quite the talk in 'Ogwarts ever since he arrived three years ago," explained Madame Maxime, gaining breath before continuing what Fleur realized would be a long story.

"You know about the story of the Boy-Who-Lived?" seeing Fleur's nod, Maxime continued, "After his parents were killed, he was taken and raised by his godfather, Sirius Black. He, along with Harry Potter's father: James Potter, were the youngest Auror captains in British history, which tells makes me believe that Harry Potter received advanced training when he was younger. Sirius Black, along with Harry Potter, disappeared from the Wizarding World until the moment of Potter's first year. By the time the year ended, young Monsieur Potter was rumored to have defeated and killed an undercover Death Eater that was secretly posing as a teacher," Madame Maxime told a stunned Fleur.

The beautiful Veela looked incredulous. "Killed a Death Eater, and adult? While he was still a first-year student? How is that even possible?" asked Fleur, nervousness forming in her stomach.

"I do not know that, all that I know is that the very same day that Monsieur Potter had been hospitalized, the body of the Death Eater was seen. His body was almost completely destroyed, a hole the size of a Quaffle ball was in his chest," explained the headmistress.

Fleur was growing increasingly shocked. 'How can a mere boy kill a fully-grown wizard? That is not something that can just happen.'

"There is more," continued Madame Maxime. "Last year he and his godfather tried to hunt down the escaped prisoner, Peter Pettigrew. The same man that betrayed Harry Potter's parents to the dark lord. They were set upon by dementors. Sirius Black was incapacitated and could not hold them off. That's when Monsieur Potter-Black cast a fully corporeal Patronus charm that repelled dozens of dementors,"

Fleur stood up from her chair, "No! I do not believe it; such a thing is unfeasible! It is unthinkable to believe that a third-year student can cast a full Patronus charm! Not even I can cast a full one!" she exclaimed, astounded at the revelations that her headmistress was telling her about the young man. "Is the person who told you these rumors actually telling the truth? With all respect, he could be lying to you Madame?"

Fleur noticed that Madame Maxime actually… blushed, before composing herself, "Suffice to say that I can trust the source enough," the giantess stammered.

"But Fleur, this all pales in comparison of what I heard happened in his second year. Have you ever heard of Salazar Slytherin?" Fleur nodded affirmatively and Madame Maxime continued. "In his second year, Salazar Slytherin's chamber was opened, and his monster began attacking the students. It resulted in several petrifications; fortunately, no students died. One girl was taken to the Chamber though, and was almost killed."

Fleur attention was focused solely on her headmistress now, following her every word.

"She would have died, Fleur, if Harry Potter did not discover the Chamber and followed the monster to its lair," Madame Maxime then took a long, deep, shaking breath before continuing. "Fleur, the monster he found there. The monster that he killed… was a basilisk,"

Fleur sat aghast at what her headmistress told her.

'A basilisk… no, that is just not possible. It cannot happen. A single boy cannot kill a basilisk. It must be false! It must be!'

A basilisk is considered to be the second most dangerous creature in the Wizarding World. The only thing that is above it were the legendary massive Iceni Black dragons that had not been seen since the times of the Roman Empire. For a second-year student to of have killed one of them by himself? Such a thing is unheard of!

"You see Fleur, he is not just a little boy. They say that greatness flows in his veins," said Madame Maxime.

"His veins?"

"Do you not know about House Potter, Fleur?" the giantess asked her prodigious young student, causing her to shake her head.

"They are the oldest wizarding House in existence. They trace their lineage to the patrician families of the Roman Republic. They organized the campaign against Britain and succeeded. They have been in these islands since before Merlin and the 'Ogwarts founders. Their family is one that produces leaders, conquerors, and mighty heroes. Monsieur Harry is the last of his line, maybe those stories are true after all," explained Madame Maxime.

"I overhead that he won't be wearing the Gryffindor colors to the tournament, because he is not representing Hogwarts. He is wearing the ones of his family. Red and Black… those colors and the dragon banner attached to it struck fear in the hearts of men long ago. Be wary of him Fleur!" warned Maxime and Fleur nodded.

"But then again, maybe they are just stories," pondered the headmistress before casting Tempus charm. "Dea Matrona, it is already this late! It has been a long day Fleur, go and get some rest," Maxime shooed, and Fleur was left to her thoughts.

Which brings Fleur to the present predicament. Out of the corner of her eye she spied on the figure with the long, raven hair while she began her morning exercise. Stretching her lithe body as she pondered what had been revealed to her about Harry Potter last night.

'It had to be lies, jokes made at Madame Maxime's expense,' Fleur thought to herself. The things Madame Maxime told her were tales straight out of the muggle fantasy books. There was no way a fourteen-year-old boy was capable of such feats. Not even fully-grown wizards had such capacity, she would tell the rumors to the other Hogwarts students and they would laugh in her face and question her where she heard such outrageous claims.

And yet, Fleur continued to doubt herself. He had resisted her allure, a full blown Veela allure. Such a thing was almost unheard of. Even her father Dominique would get glassy eyed, albeit momentarily, if his wife, Apolline, unleashed the full power of her allure.

The way Madame Maxime would tell her rumors of Harry Potter reminded the times her mother would take her to see the Veela elders along with the other young Veela girls. Her grandmother, Agathe, and the rest of the more mature Veela would tell them legendary tales of beautiful Veela women who would only take into their company the most capable of men.

Agathe would tell her granddaughter that Veela women would seek the best, and would always get them in the end. The fearsome conquerors, the charismatic leaders, the mighty heroes. Veela would turn their head on the followers, seeing them as not worthy to be in their presence. Only the best men were able to resist their allure and claim them for themselves.

'But he is just a boy!' Fleur reminded herself, before once again taking a quick peek at the figure of Harry Potter before she started running along the lake.

'He sure does not look like a boy, that one seems to already be a young man,' a hidden, primitive part of Fleur seemed to retort inside her mind.

'No, he is too young, there will be others that are more suitable for him. Maybe a younger Veela could look for him. Maybe Gabrielle…' Fleur's more rational side countered

'How hard is it for one of us to find a proper man? I enjoyed letting my guard down, to let my allure flow freely like it is meant to do, to be in his arms again,' Fleur's inner Veela raged.

'But… but he is British! An uncultured savage, a barbarian that will-' "Oof," gasped Fleur. Too busy with debating with herself, she had run into the figure of the very same person that had been at the center of her thoughts.

She felt as she ran into what seemed like a brick wall, then started to fall backwards. Fleur prepared herself for impact.

But, almost as a repeat of what happened the previous day, a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her body; pulling her body from an inevitable fall to the hard, cold stones, and settling her once again on her feet.

Fleur, now regaining her senses, looked around at her situation until he found herself staring at the same emerald orbs that she had been thinking of previously. The silver-haired witch looking at the full figure of Harry Potter-Black.

Like Maxime had said, he now seemed to be wearing a set of colors that were not representative of Gryffindor. Opting for a pair of black pants, combined with a red sweatshirt. The latter article of clothing had an engraving on it.

A black dragon, one that according to what she had read in the Beauxbatons private library last night, was meant to represent an Iceni Black, was engraved into the center. Its open mouth was roaring at an unseen enemy, black flames spouting from its jaws. Crossed around the dragon were two Roman gladius swords, a nod to their Roman ancestry. The Potter symbol was certainly eye grabbing.

Yet her attention once again turned to the eyes of the man holding her. His eyes once again were clear yet powerful. None of the usual dreamy, glassy texture was seen. His mouth remained shut, no disgusting liquids falling from it, and his face remained calm, something that would seem impossible by any person holding a woman like Fleur.

To Fleur's own dismay, she once again felt her herself faltering at the sight of those twin emerald spheres. As her allure flared up once again to its full blast, she saw how those eyes stared deep into her soul, almost demanding that she surrender all control to them.

And she did.

Fleur felt that inner peace from the last day reemerging as she gave herself to the young man holding her. The inner Veela nature inside of her swooning as she gave her complete trust to the younger wizard. She felt so free now, like it was always meant to be this way for her. The young prince her mother had told her about in the tales was finally coming for her.

No

The memory of Gustave Lefebvre once again coming to her mind. She painfully reined in her allure. The burden of control settling on her tired shoulders once again.

Taking one look at Harry Potter-Black's green eyes, she tore her gaze from him with a visible wince and ran in the other direction. The direction where the Beauxbatons carriage was situated.

'Remember, there is nothing like that for you. The tales were false, they do not exist,' Fleur thought to herself as she sprinted as fast as she could back the carriage.

'No! Can't you see? He no little boy. The elders said the truth, go back to him!'

'No. He is too young, Fleur. Stop thinking about him. Don't hurt yourself any more.'

The green eyes and raven hair still lingered long in her mind long after she had arrived back into her room and crawled back into her bed.

Harry James Potter kept looking at the carriage that the silver-haired goddess had disappeared into long after she had pulled herself from his arms when he prevented her fall. The intoxicating feeling of having her back in his grasp leaving the Potter heir light headed.

After the Fleur he had seen the previous day had seemingly disappeared again, he had started to despair a little, resigning himself to yet another day. He started to do his morning exercise with stretches. Followed by sit ups and crunches, and finally practicing his martial arts moves.

He had been breathing deeply when a figure slammed into him.

Instinctively grabbing the source of his disturbance, he once again felt his arms encircling the shapely figure of the woman that had taken over his thoughts. He stared at those beautiful blue eyes. This time taking more time to appreciate the lovely witch that had once again found her way to him.

Her mouth slightly open, she was taking deep breaths after the physical exertion she had been putting herself through. Her narrow face was perfect, framed by her defined cheekbones. Perfectly symmetrical.

Her hair was like a sea of silver. Pure and untainted. The eyes however, were still the most attractive part of her by far. He could not get over how beautiful they looked. Especially now that she did not have that haughty attitude she had shown earlier.

That's right, the Fleur he had seen the previous day was back. The arrogance gone from her made her even more beautiful. Beside him he saw that even the usually composed Cedric and Krum were now sporting dreamy eyes and were slowly but surely opening their mouths, as if to say something.

And just like that, she was gone. He heard her gasp once again. The lovely sound engraving itself into his ears. With a look of pain on her face, she tore herself away from now. This time not even asking for his permission, and she sprinted back towards the hill where her school's carriage was.

"Wait!" he shouted, but it was no good. She just kept running away from him. He was about to run after her but the chuckling sounds of his new friends beside him made him stay put.

"And what do you call that Harry? Are you sure you don't want to go run after her and kiss her?" cajoled the voice of Cedric. Krum simply satisfied himself with a small smirk.

"What?!" asked Harry.

"Do you know how lucky most of the guys think you are after that little display yesterday, and now this?" asked Cedric.

"It's not like that," responded Harry

"Try to convince the rest of the school. Rumor around Hufflepuff is that you are already going out together but don't want the rest of the school to know," responded Cedric

"A few of my fellow Durmstrang students think same thing," Krum said, breaking his silence.

"I really need to get going, I need to shower and get ready for the day" responded Harry, not really wanting to continue the conversation. He then started to make his way back into the castle.

"Suuuure, a nice, long, and very cold shower," teased Cedric behind him, Krum snorting lightly

Sometimes, Harry really wanted to kill his new friends.

The Potter heir made his way back to the common room, and before entering the showers, he went to his trunk to pick his clothes for the day, as well as his school robes.

At this point he did not really know how to get to her. He wanted to see the Fleur that only seemed to appear when she was on his arms. His mind was now thinking about her even as he prepared himself for the day.

'How do I do it Sirius, how do I get to know one person that keeps running away from me in only five months.'

He had no idea how to do it. How did his father deal with his mother? Sirius had told him that Lily Evans evaded James Potter for almost their entire tenure as Hogwarts students. It was until the end of their sixth year that they started to truly get close, and by seventh year they were already an item.

Lily had been ignoring him until them. The only times that she did pay attention to his father was when she was lecturing him about treating others better, a lesson his father took to heart later on. Only then did Lily accept him into her heart.

'Why do you keep running away? I'd never hurt you. That'd be the last thing that I'd do.'

It was the truth; his fantasies kept his blood pumping but he did not want to force her into doing anything she did not want either. Harry felt that to do something so inhumane to such a beautiful woman was akin to killing a unicorn.

That was when he suddenly remembered what tomorrow was.

Tomorrow they would have the Wand Weighing Ceremony. Only the champions would be able to attend, of course there would be other people as well, but there would not be many of them. If he arrived early, he might have a chance to speak with her privately.

Deciding on his course of action, he picked up his clothes and went on his way to get ready for another day.

He would have his chance then. He will finally have the chance to speak alone to Fleur Delacour.

AN: Chapter III is here, and quite frankly I have to say something.

I am officially done making promises.

When this story first floated into my mind one tired Sunday evening. It started as something simple: "Make a BDSM story between Harry and Fleur". They were my favorite Harry Potter pairing, so of course it sounded logical to make something I had not seen before. I wanted my own shot at Harry/Fleur and I wanted to make it have a unique twist that no one had done.

Mind you I have never committed myself to writing something like this before, and I almost didn't. The short prologue I initially wrote was less than 1k words and was more of a commitment to myself to write a story with that little idea I had.

Now it evolved into something more. The initial plans I had for it are now gone, it grew into something else. The way the contract is going to be done now will be far more consensual then it was initially planned in my little head.

I promised that this was the chapter that would deal with the contract, instead I ended up making a Fleur POV of why I see her as being a perfect candidate for a sub role in BDSM. So, I failed you guys on my original promise, and I won't be doing them anymore. The kinky part of this story will have to wait.

On the other hand, I am extremely grateful for the attention this little story has received. I love reading all of your reviews and suggestions; so keep them coming!

If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm a huge heavy metal fan (Harry's personality is kind of derived from that in this story if you saw the hints the last chapter), so I have kind of made it my "author mark" to name my chapters after songs and albums that inspired me while I wrote the chapters

And the name of this chapter is "Angel Witch" a song by the British NWOBHM band Angel Witch on their debut album… Angel Witch… yeah. Not many people know about them today, but they were legends in the burgeoning heavy metal renaissance in England after the popularity of punk music. The main guys of that movement were Iron Maiden, but many people forget the other awesome bands that came from there: Saxon, Grim Reaper, Motörhead, and yes, Angel Witch.

The song almost singlehandedly inspired me to write this story. Check out the lyrics and song and don't tell me it reminds you of what a Harry/Fleur relationship could be from Harry's point of view

I hope to keep this little tradition going throughout the story, and my other stories.

If I have any Batman/DC and Naruto fans reading this, head on over to my profile to see the other stories I have planned out and give me your thoughts.

Don't forget to give your review!

Until next time.

The Metal Sage