CHAPTER 21:

A MOMENT OF CALM

She was so warm, Harry thought. Maybe it was due to the fact that Veela were creatures of fire and air. But it was warm in a comforting way, a reminder that, as hot and vicious a fire as the Veela were capable of generating when their ire was roused, towards their loved ones, it would never be more than comforting and familiar, like a hearth filled with flames. They were creatures of great passion and warmth, even when they could unleash the greatest of literally burning wraths. Maybe that was part of the attraction towards them, Harry reflected, not just their physical beauty, but the emotional and actual warmth they radiated.

It was the weekend after the Second Task, and Fleur was trying to teach Harry some more French. While he had learned some ever since they first met and began exchanging letters, they were rather more reliant on Fleur being able to speak English rather than Harry being able to speak French, which Harry personally felt was a little unfair to Fleur. Hermione was something of a help, given that she was fairly fluent in the language, but she was, sadly, not always that good a teacher, bossy and pedantic. Harry was fond of Hermione, she was easily one of his best friends, but she wasn't always the best of tutors.

Fleur, however, was surprisingly patient and gentle. She was also tolerant of Harry, if only for the simple reason that he tried not to stare at her. Those who ogled her typically got short shrift. A Ravenclaw by the name of Roger Davies was a particularly egregious offender, going practically catatonic around her, even while she was controlling her allure. But with those who had gained her trust, she was very patient. Harry wasn't anywhere near fluent, but he knew more than a few useful phrases, and given time, he'd probably know enough to begin speaking to Fleur in her native tongue.

But they did more than discuss the French language. They spoke about their respective cultures, as they did when they began exchanging letters, over one and a half years ago now. About places they liked, places they wanted to see in the other's home countries. Fleur waxed lyrical about a Beauxbatons excursion to Versailles, going off on a brief tangent about how a shadow war was waged during the Reign of Terror between different magic factions, while Harry remembered a school excursion long ago to the British Museum. He didn't get to go on many excursions, thanks to the Dursleys, though that change of subject led to him discussing the incident at the school just before his eleventh birthday…

Fleur stared at him, before she laughed, the sound so musical, so beautiful. "He was trapped in the snake cage?"

"Yes. I mean, I didn't know what I was doing was magic. Hell, I didn't even know I was a Parselmouth. I was surprised when the snake understood me. Dudley…" Harry shook his head, thinking back to all the times Dudley had bullied him with the tacit approval of his uncle and aunt. "Frankly, he deserved a scare like that."

"Ne t'inquiète pas," Fleur said with a wave of an elegant hand. "I mean, do not worry about them. The sooner we can get you away from those appalling excuses for humans, the better." She smiled softly to herself. "You know, this is my last year at Beauxbatons. I take my final qualifications after the Tri-Wizard Tournament ends. Then, I will have to wait for you to catch up, little boy."

Harry snorted quietly at Fleur's gentle barb. Then, he said, "I've never really given much thought to the future. I mean, about careers and all. Between everything that happened over the last four years, I've never really thought about it."

"You are still young, mon chéri," Fleur said with a smirk. "Fourteen is not too young to consider getting a job, true, but you still have three years of schooling yet. You have not even gone through the…OWLs, I believe you call them here. But…I remember you mentioning Cursebreaking."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. I considered becoming an Auror, but that means I'd have more dark wizards after me, and I'm sort of over that."

"Indeed. And given that you are the Boy Who Lived, they would probably use you as a figurehead to drum up recruitment. Or you would probably fall prey to politics like Papa did." Fleur's smile turned rueful at the memory. "I saw what his job did to him, Harry. When you are an Auror, you have to make compromises between what is just and right, and what the rules and politics allow you to do. That began…I believe you English would say eating away at him. His investigative ability also roused jealousy and suspicion. And he was also derided for having married Maman. Many were jealous, wondering, how could someone looking like Papa gain a wife as beautiful as Maman? Others were prejudiced, of course, against those of creature blood."

"I remember those letters those idiots sent you after that article in The Daily Prophet," Harry said, scowling at the memory. He thought back to the fact that someone had sent undiluted Bubotuber pus, something that could have injured Fleur badly.

"Sadly, I have received hate mail before, from so-called 'concerned' parents. Though they are rather hypocritical, accusing me of all sorts of vulgar things when the language they used was even more vulgar." Fleur scoffed. "Hypocrites. Still, Marie and Audrey count amongst my few true friends at Beauxbatons."

"I hope you made a few more coming here, Fleur," Harry said to the French witch.

"Oui. I like to think I have. Aside from you, there is Hermione and the Weasleys. Luna is not too bad once you get used to her…eccentricities?" Her face fell. "But still, I hear more than a few foolish whispers that I wish to seduce as many here as possible, that I am unfaithful to you. Others despise me for being your friend, and future lover, that I am utterly unworthy of the Boy Who Lived."

"Because who could compete with a beautiful French part-Veela, right?" Harry asked. "I mean, don't get me wrong, your beauty is a good part of why I like you, Fleur. But you're also compassionate and smart. Hell, I'm still wondering what you see in me."

"That is because those animals you lived with damaged your self-esteem, mon chéri," Fleur said quietly. "And you came here not knowing you were famous. While your fame drew me in, it was out of curiosity more than any desire for you or to bask in the reflected glory of your fame. Remember what I said in my first letter to you? I could tell that you hated unwanted attention as much as I did. You for your fame, and I for my beauty and heritage." She looked at him with her rueful smile. "Besides, you are rather easy on the eyes, if you would forgive me for being shallow, mon chéri."

Harry chuckled. "No, no, it's fine. As long as we're not shallow all the time. Merlin knows I've stared at you more than a few times, allure or no allure."

They chuckled together, joined in mirth. Their worries were, if not actually forgotten, then eased slightly by the good humour. Laughter may not be the best medicine, but it was certainly a soothing balm.

Then, after their mirth had died down, Fleur looked at Harry. "The Third Task…what do you think it is?"

"I don't know. After facing a dragon and having to go for a winter swim, I don't know what we'll have to face. Hopefully it's not quite as dangerous as the First Task."

"A vain hope, given what that fool Bagman put in the last Task." Fleur grimaced, her fists clenching in remembrance of what happened. "Gabrielle…when they had taken her, it was all I could do not to panic. Only Papa's face, calm and collected, gave me any hope that the song was a bluff. If he dares do something like this again, I cannot promise to restrain myself."

"I'll hold him down for you while you cook his nether regions," Harry said grimly.

"Oh, we will have gone on from something so simple if something happens," Fleur muttered darkly, and Harry almost felt sorry for Bagman.

Almost.

Ludo Bagman felt a chill run down his spine. Then again, the rather fatuous, thoughtless man had been feeling that quite a lot lately, and so he endeavoured, with mixed success, to ignore it.

One thing he could not ignore was the fact that time was fast running out for him. He had a ridiculous amount of debts, which he felt rather affronted at the fact that he was expected to pay them. He was the star Beater of the Wimbourne Wasps, he deserved the money more than anyone else. He deserved to win, just as he did at anything in life. He won that trial about passing on information to Rookwood (honestly, how would he have known such an upstanding citizen like that was a Death Eater?), he won so many Quidditch matches, he was a winner, and the gambling losses he incurred was not his fault. It was life and those other punters cheating him. That money deserved to go to the Greater Good. Namely, the Greater Good of paying off Ludo Bagman's debts. Ludo Bagman, after all, was but a child in the ways of the world, and a child deserved to be supported(1).

Not that these idiots understood that. Especially not those damned Goblins. Frightful little beasts they were. They didn't understand that he had given them that leprechaun gold, and that was all they deserved. They should be paying for his lifestyle. They should be glad to give him money. He wasn't sure he got paid well enough in the Wimbourne Wasps.

Still, they had been rather insistent little shits. And so, he had made a counterbet when the Goblet of Fire had spat out Harry Potter's name. He saw the opportunity, and took it. He bet that Harry would be the one to come in first place during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. They had rather grudgingly accepted.

Still, things were troubling. That little French Veela tart who seemed to be Harry's little bit of tail seemed to be sticking close to him, doubtlessly trying to distract him with her feminine wiles. And Harry was still a point behind Amos Diggory's boy. Not that Bagman had anything against Amos, but he needed Harry to win, and the boy seemed singularly resistant to taking any hints from Bagman. By jingo, the boy even seemed offended by what happened during the Second Task, as did the French tart. Couldn't they tell it was a bluff?

In any case, it was still a near thing. Harry needed to somehow be given an advantage, so that Ludo Bagman would be solvent once more. Not that he wasn't, it was just a persistent misunderstanding perpetrated by tiny little minds. No, this was merely an irritatingly necessary appeasement. People who demanded money from him for such piffling and trifling reasons were the epitome of selfishness.

Which was why, when he received the note claiming he could earn a lot of Galleons by doing someone a favour, he didn't think twice. Truth be told, he didn't even think once. All he thought of was money, money, money. He was stupid, vain, stupid, greedy, stupid, and selfish. By the way, did we mention stupid already?

So he made his way to the Hog's Head, to a room hired for the occasion. He found himself facing a man whose features were concealed by shadows within the hood of a cloak. For a moment, greed and fear warred within Bagman's mind, before inevitably, greed won out. He stepped into the room. "I believe you wanted to see me?" he asked, managing to keep the stammer out of his voice.

The figure merely gestured, and the door closed. Bagman recognised the feel of Privacy Charms settling into place. Only then did the man speak. "I have a proposition for you, Ludo Bagman. You owe a lot of money to the wrong people. I can…fix that. In exchange for you doing a little favour for me."

Beneath his hood, Walden MacNair watched as the eyes of that greedy fool began glittering. The Dark Lord had been displeased when he had brought MacNair into his presence at Malfoy Manor, though that blonde ponce and that snooty tart of a wife had clearly had the worst of it. But this plan would, hopefully, deliver Harry Potter into the Dark Lord's hands. They would be getting that batrachian bitch of a Senior Undersecretary through Malfoy's whispers to ensure that nobody had any oversight on what they were getting Bagman to do.

That interfering Frog, that old Goat, and the fleabitten Dog would no longer hinder their master's plans. Soon, Harry Potter would fall, and the Dark Lord would rise to take over Britain, and thus ensure the ascendancy of wizardkind, the proper kind of people, the only kind of people, ruled the world…

CHAPTER 21 ANNOTATIONS:

Well…it's been a long time, hasn't it? I'm sorry, but the motivation for writing this chapter was pretty much absent for a long time. Hell, I'm surprised that, after over a year without an update, I managed to squeeze this one out. However, it only goes to show: unless I say otherwise, any story I do not update for a long period of time is NOT abandoned, merely on hiatus at worst.

Review-answering time! The Lord Voldemort of Rivia: I'm glad to hear that.

DalkonCledwin: If by Eve, I presume you mean Berserker of Black from Fate/Apocrypha, then yes, she's adorable.

Leaf Ranger: Draco's a non-entity to me. I'm more concerned about what his father will do.

1. In thinking about how to write Bagman, I actually thought back to a character I truly despised, which is Harold Skimpole from Charles Dickens' novel Bleak House, a dandy who often claims to be but a child in the ways of the world, but is actually quite Machiavellian and intensely self-centred as he mooches off others. I thought of Bagman as basically Skimpole having been a sports player and with brain damage. In the 2005 adaptation of Bleak House, Skimpole was played wonderfully by Nathaniel Parker of Inspector Lynley fame.