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54.63% HP: Eagle Soars / Chapter 53: He Doesn’t Look So Fake Anymore.

Chapter 53: He Doesn’t Look So Fake Anymore.

(Double release! And no, I won't post a third one you greedy basterds.)

Silence.

Fleur cursed herself, again and again while the uncomfortable, torturous silence set in. Whichever comfort they had established was struck, broken and thrown in the depths of oblivions.

As much as she tried, she simply couldn't grasp what the boy...what Magnus was thinking. His face blank, stuck in place since she blurted out that damned statement.

'You do not drool, really Fleur? That was the best you could do?' A voice that sounded like the amalgamation of every vicious girl she'd faced resounded in her mind.

Fleur Delacour was experiencing her very first bout of teenage stupidity, and she hated it.

'Alright, I'll apologize and we'll get back to talking...I have to say something, at this rate he'll never want to speak to me again.' She thought, but no matter how hard she tried, her lips were seemingly glued.

Just when she was about to tear up and run off, rushing back inside the carriage and hid away in the safety of her room until kingdom came...He finally did something.

A raised brow and a small twinkle in his eyes soon turned into a fit of chuckles, then a loud barking laughter. He clenched his ribs, almost pained by the strain.

There was none of that poise and coldness, no calculating looks and overly controlled features. The Hogwarts student had shed away the almost saddening maturity and carefulness, things no boy should have at this age, and finally let go.

Fleur watched bemused, her own misgivings taking a backseat as she took him in. At this one moment, Magnus Black looked his truest.

'I want to see more of that.'

It was a selfish, almost arrogant thought she had. But it was there and the champion knew better than to deny it, she wanted to see more of this, to have more of this.

More chats, more laughs, even the embarrassment was welcome if it gave her the company of someone who wasn't as patronizing as her parents or immature as her sweet sister.

She loved her parents, and Gabrielle had been her only friend for years, but was it too greedy to want more? Was one more friend too much to ask for?

Only time would tell.

"It came out wrong." The Beauxbatons champion said, ears more red than a Weasley's infamous mane.

"No." Magnus breathed in, "It was...perfect."

She watched him lean back in his seat, the old wood cracking when he shifted. He rubbed his forehead, something he seemed to do a lot, his other hand still clutching his belly.

"Now that we got this out of the way, may I ask why you made this particular comment?" As soon as it left, back was the coldness and control. "Unless you forgot, I'm able to resist the effects of your allure."

"I didn't." She shook her head, "But no one can resist it for long, and not as well as you did."

People would be affected in the end, her magic would slowly reach out to them until they are fully enthralled. It took an experienced Occlumens to defeat the infamous Veela charm, and even they had moments of weakness.

Her father had his moments of helplessness against his wife, though they were few and far between. And she could almost always sense his emotions by now, something that never failed to upset him.

There was simply no way a fourth year, albeit a gifted one, could outlast trained aurors and ministry officials.

"Ce n'est pas normal." She spoke under her breath, if curiosity was a crime then Fleur would plead guilty.

"Normal is boring." Magnus said, the words flowing out of his mouth like he said them a hundred times. He rolled his eyes, seemingly considering whether her question was even worth his time before speaking up. "I've been shielding my thoughts since my first year, maybe it gave me some sort of resistance against mind control?"

"It doesn't work like this." She let out a small smile, figuring out his knowledge of the mind arts and her kind wasn't nearly as advanced as she thought. "The allure isn't 'mind control', Magnus, it is more akin to esoteric magic."

"Emotional manipulation can be seen as a type of control." He frowned.

"Only if it was as straightforward as you think." She explained, not liking where the conversation was heading. "The allure only affects someone as much as he wants to be affected, it rouses the often destructive desire to impress, not to obey."

"Drooling is impressive?" He raised a brow, before grinning "Maybe Weasley has a chance after all…"

"Not in a hundred years." Fleur grumbled, the young red head had already 'introduced himself', so to speak. "People who are particularly weak willed get overwhelmed by the allure, losing their ability to think properly along the way."

"I see." He nodded. "That wasn't covered in the books I've read."

He blushed a little, and she didn't need much effort to know what he was thinking about. Most literature involving Veela tended to be highly biased and more than a little explicit, her want for retribution came over Fleur and she gave in eagerly.

"Oh, do tell, what exactly did you learn?" She said evenly, eyes narrowing.

Magnus looked genuinely embarrassed, and almost slipped back into his Occlumency induced poker face when she let out a chuckle, betraying her true intentions.

"You sly witch." He shook his head, cheeks still red.

She only laughed at his indignation, it was good to be the one doing the teasing, she could almost understand why he was so intent on embarrassing her…almost.

"Look who's talking." She raised her chin. "I've asked about you, you know? Your classmates were most eager to tell all the stories, petite canaille."

"Such as." He said nonchalantly, leaning toward her with a glint in his eyes.

"Apparently, you are a psychotic overachiever who secretly manipulated the entire school into thinking he was a muggleborn before freeing your father." She mock-whispered, leaning toward him.

"Fair enough." He nodded, his lips curling the slightest bit. "What else?"

"Hmm, let me think." She raised a finger up her lips. "You tricked your astrology professor into sending you a love letter on Valentine's day."

"That was a good one, payback for the trouble she gave in second year." Magnus nodded, his smile widening. "Our defense teacher was a fraud, and she didn't like me pointing it out."

"You petted your transfiguration teacher on your first lesson." She said, looking to see how he'll justify that one.

"First, she was in cat form." He raised a finger. "Second, it was retribution for my violated cheeks."

Fleur looked at him, more than a little mortified. She sincerely hoped it was an obscure British idiom, or at least something lost in translation...otherwise, she might have to burn a few people.

Magnus had one look at her, and burst out laughing.

"No those cheeks, stalker." He flicked her forhead. "She laughed at my plight when a few ladies pinched the hell out of me."

"I'm not a stalker!" She said more loudly than she intended, a wild blush appeared in her face and expanded rapidly when Magnus raised a single brow.

"So you weren't following me around under an invisibility spell?" He said, coming closer.

"I...Didn't…" she stammered for a reply, a dozen very colorful curses in her head would make her mother faint and sailors blush in shame.

"And you didn't keep glaring at me wherever I went?" He continued with a teasing grin.

"Only at first!" She protested, only then realizing she was digging her own grave. "I mean…"

"So you were glaring, what changed?" He asked, sounding genuinely curious if not for that damned grin on his face.

"Nothing…" She squeaked.

"Nothing." The smile disappeared. "Here I thought we were getting along. You were just using me, weren't you?"

"No!" Fleur said. She was red in the face and her thoughts were a mess.

"Oh, so you like me?" The smile came back in force.

"I didn't say that!"

It wasn't fair.

Wasn't she supposed to be the Veela? Why is she the one getting embarrassed by a younger boy? He should be the blushing mess, not her.

Much to her shame, the Beauxbatons champion was unable to find a reply that didn't involve throwing fireballs at the insolent shameless canaille, so she pulled a trick out of Gabrielle's book and pouted.

It wasn't very effective.

"I think I hate you." She said, frowning long sufferingly.

"I get that a lot." He had the gall to poke her forehead, an amused smile on his face. "But no you don't."

The warming charm was fading, but before she could do anything she saw him sneakily reapplying his own, bringing the slightest smile to her face.

Fleur would never admit it, but she could get used to this.

'At least he doesn't look so fake anymore.'


Chapter 54: Phase II has begun

To those disappointed by the absence of an unexpected chapter, worry not for I will send another one in but a moment.

Why the announcement Uncle Sheo, are you dropping you filthy bastard, you might ask. The answer is a flat no, I am not dropping, pausing or anything that ends with ing and doesn't start with write.

So what's the fuss? Let me tell you dear readers, the tale of my dissatisfaction with this website and the any other alternative that would allow me to sustain my writing and pretend I am doing something productive without playing favourite and costing you guys money or patience.

Everything I've tried was either a failure, poorly made or simply immoral; nothing was up to the admittedly unreasonable standard I've set for us madlads.

So I thought, why not make it yourself?

It led to a plan, one so crazy it might just work out in the end, but you'll see it soon.

Will you follow me an another adventure where you'll read up to ten chapters ahead without dumb ads, payment threshold and misleading design? Will you take up my offer to join a place you need not hide when your family looks at your monitor?

Peace and Cheese.


Chapter 55: Rumors

(This is Saturday's chapter in advance, I might post another if Phase II has advanced enough for my personal risk tolerance. Guh, Enjoy.)

Magnus woke up at dawn, with all the grace of Abbadon the Despoiler and half the niceness. It took the healing properties of a warm shower, a bowl of granola and a positively unholy amount of coffee to make him somewhat presentable.

Alas, with his cognitive abilities mostly restored he was faced with one of the biggest challenges of his school years.

Outriddeling Riddle was child's play compared to this.

Dealing with Dumbledore? He'd do it ten times while he's asleep.

But this...this was a nightmare.

"I heard a very intriguing story today, Magnus." Professor McGonagall said, her cup of tea still in hand.

By now her study had become a staple of his time in Hogwarts, much like the room of requirement itself. He was confident in his ability to go there with his eyes closed, and could picture the most minute detail with perfect clarity.

The scent of wood, broom polish and high quality tea. The red and gold furniture all around, the extensive library he once had to be physically restrained from consuming, the cat sized hole concealed behind the Gryffindor coloured couch.

"Do tell." Magnus said as he helped himself to some brownies.

"Apparently, you were seen entering a broom closet with the Beauxbatons champion." She said noncommittally, drinking some tea while he dealt with the fallout.

He'd spit out the brownies in shock, but Magnus did not waste brownies, ever. So he downed them like a man in death row, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a way of getting the fuck out of this situation.

Honesty would have to do.

"It wasn't a broom closet, it was an abandoned classroom." He said, pausing when he realized how his words could be interpreted. "We were only talking."

"I don't doubt that." The teacher said with pursed lips, channeling her inner Eddard Stark as she warned him. "I am sure you're aware of how disastrous it would be if these rumors were true, for both you and miss Delacour."

Magnus was about to brush it off, but he figured out he might just get the birds and bees talk for a second time if he did. So he swallowed his pride and nodded, that was not something he wanted to hear from McGonagall.

He knew something like this would've happened eventually, but the news reaching his mentor overnight was beyond all of his expectations.

Everything about Fleur seemed to be that way, beyond his expectations. He was not nearly proud enough to deny the facts when they hit him in the face, he had heavily miscalculated the nature of the Beauxbatons champion.

Her actions were creepy, but perhaps someone else would have seen it for what it was, a curious but awkward teenager making up her mind. Not an axe murderer figuring out if she wanted to eat Eagle that night.

Alas he wasn't someone else, the worse case scenario always seemed to agree with him.

"Now that we've clarified that, I'm happy that you're taking such an interest in our guests, strengthening international relations is the point of this entire tournament and I know of no better than befriending foreign students." She said with a smile, letting the uncomfortable atmosphere leave the room.

"I wouldn't say we are...friends just yet." He said with a shrug. "She's nice to be around, very nice, but I've only talked to her once."

The transfiguration teacher didn't look convinced.

"Magnus, you don't spend six hours talking to an acquaintance." Minerva raised a brow.

"She was telling me about Beauxbaton, I just got curious." The Ravenclaw argued back, but his magic focused obsession hit back in full strength "Then we started talking about charms, and how we could apply a self-sustaining enchantment, she's brilliant with those, and managed to weave an entire warming charm in a pocket watch..."

Talks about his supposed paramour devolved into a lesson in friendship which ended up in the two of them discussing heavily theoretical aspects of runework and its application in modern enchantments.

Soon it was time for lunch, and as he often would when he spent the morning with McGonagall, he escorted her into the great hall and had his meal there.

'At least, I won't have to worry about Dobby Tate nutting in my food to establish dominance.' He thought, resolving to arrange for Kreacher to deliver his meals.

He headed to the Ravenclaw table where he saw the familiar figures of a small blonde with strange ornaments, a brown haired Indian girl with her nose in a book but unfortunately, no silver haired French student.

It was a shame, he wanted to introduce her to his friends, if only to spare him the teasing.

"Oh, you're back Romeo?" Padma smiled when she saw.

"Where's Delacour? Too sore to come with you?" Luna smirked, she smirked...the gall of her, he was almost proud.

"Shut it you two." He rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

"Does she like it when you talk dirty?" Luna shot back, almost but not quite flustering him.

The gossip mill was working full time, spinning a web detailing his forbidden romance with a certain seventh year student, the male population was torn between cursing the life out of him or asking him for details, and Dobby had briefly appeared to congratulate him and offer some 'advice' before being dragged away by the other elves.

But all in all, it was a good day.

'Would've been even better if I could tease Fleur about it.' The thought was strange, but not unpleasant.

. . .

Fleur woke up a bit late, and stayed in her bed for as long as humanly possible. It was one of the few good things about being selected as her school's champion, the ability to skip lessons at her leisure.

She was already ahead in her school work, so some degree of leeway was given to her and her indulgent sleep schedule.

The day had started wonderfully, she had sent her family a few letters and was proud to say she made a friend. Sure he was British, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

So it was an even brighter Fleur who left the comfort of her room and way too many pillows, to bravely take on the outside world. She idly wondered whether they'd have lunch together, it was something she hadn't done since her third year at Beauxbatons, doing it again would be welcome.

'I'll be able to show him some proper food.' She thought, scrunching her nose at some of the meals she saw on the table, how a society who ate beans on toast could survive much less thrive was beyond her.

Then came the whispers.

They chattered among themselves, like a cloud of locusts. A few mocking looks, some hushed laughs and a couple snide remarks was all it took.

"Good job Fleur, not even a week here and you already seduced a boy."

"He's a Black too, I almost envy you, they are a very rich family…"

"Seriously Fleur? A brit? That's low, even for you…"

She didn't care about them, they were not worth her time. Their words had hurt at first, and more than once they made her cry herself to sleep in her early years, but now she was much stronger, much better than they ever will be.

But Magnus didn't know about that.

How would he even react with all the rumors about them? Would he leave in disgust? He was the proud type, she knew at least that much, but how would he deal with rumors like these?

Her only comfort was that he knew she did not enthrall him.

Fleur headed back to her room, resolving to see him later, but for now she had to practice some more.

Her room gained a few more burn marks that morning.


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