Chương 93: Aftermath
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Not gonna tell you that you can read 12 chaps ahead for free, you already know.
(A/N: Thanks for reading!)
– Magnus POV
Complete loss of control, anathema to everything he ever valued and stood for.
The young man felt like a boy. He looked to the restless healers, busying themselves in a hushed conversation about this or that charm. To the few people who bothered visiting only to be chased off by a very displeased Hogwart nurse, and to the shaken girl in the bed next to his.
'Fleur,' He'd smile if it wasn't all so confusing.
She was a mess; a pretty one no doubts, not like her nature allowed her anything but the most alluring of appearances for all occasions.
But a mess nonetheless.
Bloodshot eyes, odds small feathers here and there marring her appealing neck and legs. She lay there looking so much more affected than him it was almost funny, almost.
She bit her lips and looked to him, and away in her patented 'furtive' glances. But mostly, she shivered.
No amount of warming charm was enough to soothe a Veela who spent so long underwater.
If he had any nurturing bone in his body, he would have raised his wand and cast a couple more to ease her if barely. But he did not, it was a good look on her.
That, and he had no more energy in him than she did.
He shouldn't complain, his fatigue was only physical. Fleur on the other hand had to deal with revealing her inhuman, filthy creature side while also facing elements her very blood reviled in this twisted competition she willingly joined.
Knowing her, she probably blamed herself for his hostage situation as well.
'Silly girl.'
This wasn't a complete fiasco, regardless of his inner bitching…*cough*, rightful therapeutic venting after a stressful situation.
Fleur won the task, she arrived first with an overwhelming lead over her competitors.
Beyond bragging rights, and satisfying his ego because of course his Fleur would beat the other idiots against all odds. His participation did not lessen the achievement, in fact, she should be doubly praised for securing the help of someone as utterly awesome as himself.
In the distance, someone complained about an overly arrogant protagonist. Dobby spat at the Jeffrey, his glorious liquid turning him into a seven feet tall spartan warrior, but that's a story for another time.
Back to Fleur's victory, Sirius happened to have placed a less than reasonable sum on her which yielded him and those who bothered listening to him a very nice reward.
Her Veela nature was no secret, and that made the odds very much against her.
The gold was always welcome, but the real reward was the friends they made along the way.
Indeed, stuck-up purebloods did enjoy their betting. Someone who got them a big win was bound to earn their favor, and those who were warned would make sure to think twice about the advice of one Sirius Black.
Especially when the esteemed Lucius Malfoy who made all this possible was a staunch advocate of Victor Krum; the champion of the pureblood exclusive Durmstrang school of Magic.
A lesser victory perhaps, but they needed all the wins they could get.
'Was the fallout really worth it though?' He looked at the champion his family all but sponsored by now, the girl was almost sobbing,'No, Gabrielle would have been taken if we didn't go forward with this plan.'
In any case, he's made his bed and had to sleep on it; some damage control would do, he'll fix it all up and they'll continue their somewhat sweet lives like they always did.
'But how?'
He thought long and hard about this situation, but it all came down to one thing.
Magnus sighed, getting her attention for what would surely be a very long, tiring, and troublesome conversation that might just give him diabetes.
"Fleur, we need to talk." He said the dreaded words.
. . .
Fleur POV:
Merde.
Sure, it wasn't the most elegant and ladylike speech, but it summarised things nicely.
'How on earth did it come to this?' She found herself asking this question more and more often, ever since this putain de tournois had started.
She was cold, tired, magically exhausted, cold, shamed beyond measure, cold and about to lose the most confusing yet wanted part of her life.
Did she mention how cold she felt?
Not enough time, for sure.
Fleur felt very, extremely, overwhelmingly cold and she hated it with passion.
And for what?
Glory? Recognition? She could've had that anyway! There was a position in the ICW or the French ministry with her name on it if she ever decided to go there, with her skills few masters would refuse her an apprenticeship.
Gold then? a thousand coins were no small sum!
At least, it was when you aren't the daughter of a high-ranking ministry official, born in an ancient house of vast wealth and even greater lands. Her grandmother's side availed her a rather sumptuous bakery too, and she'd take that any day over the pocket change they used as bait.
Fleur Delacour was essentially a made woman.
If she didn't do something dumb like marrying an impoverished, unsuitable man of poor breeding and ill repute. But that could never happen, she had standards.
So whichever madness possessed her and pushed her to put her name in that damned cup then? If she was so great, why did she do something so foolish?
She had no answer for that, she didn't have one when she faced that huge dragon, she didn't have one when she cried herself to sleep the night before the first task, and she didn't have one while she was laying there in the infirmary bed with a barely enough energy to fend off sleep.
No, that's a lie, she did have an answer.
Stupidity.
The ever-so-proud Fleur Delacour has finally admitted to a fault, and all it took was nearly drowning along with the one who has been her constant companion for the better part of this year.
And now her stupidity was about to cost her this bond she valued so much, whether it was friendship or something deeper, more beautiful.
'He saw it,' Fleur was mortified.
She didn't think much of it when she was mindlessly rushing underwater, barely managing to cast her bubblehead charm in all that turmoil.
She forgot it when she finally saw him, he had freed himself on his own because of course, he would.
But once they reached the surface, and she dragged the both of them to the infirmary. She could do nothing but shatter internally when her pale, perfect hand had became an awful appendage that looked like a mix between a woman and a raptor's claws.
It hit her like Fillius Flitwick's legendary bombarda spell chain, she had transformed.
It was something she wanted to avoid as long as possible, forever if possible.
Magnus had been welcoming if not outright admirative of her Veela magic; her flames more so than the allure, that boy admitted to some pyromaniac tendencies when pink toads were involved…a British idiom perhaps.
But those softer magics and this wretched form couldn't be more different.
Her father had been open too, but she remembered the one and only time he saw her mother transformed.
She learned of a rich pureblood man making an offer on both her and Gabrielle who was only four years old at the time, and lost her temper and firm control over the ancient magics in their blood.
Fleur remembered the fear in her father's eyes, the slight disgust when he saw his beautiful wife turn into a scaled, sharp-beaked, winged abomination.
She never wanted to be on the receiving end of such a look, especially from someone she held dear.
Now it was too late, he saw it, saw her.
Fleur stole a few looks, trying to gauge his reaction, but his face betrayed nothing. Damned Occlumency.
She heard him sigh, catching her attention.
"Fleur," He called, "We need to talk."
Her heart sank, it was it.
Despite her best wishes, she failed to remain stoic. No amount of rationalization kept her away from the depressive thoughts that assaulted her, it was simply too much.
She had spent months dreaming and thinking about things she'd never admit to. Looking forward to a future so sweet, she couldn't help but believe it would come to fruition.
She deserved it, after all. They both deserved it.
Now it was doomed, because of circumstances beyond her control.
'Non, it isn't done yet.' She thought, rebelling against the bleak image that would be her future.
If this fool believed she'll let him go because her bloodline scarred him then he was very wrong. Not after all this time, after giving her something so precious.
It was too promising to let go of.
Fleur burst into tears, weeping for what could have been, what she'll fight tooths and nails to protect.
Magnus will see the errors of his way, she was sure of it.
He was hers, and that is all.
"W..what?" She heard him say but was too far gone to care about his words. "Oh, crap, I didn't mean it that way Fleur, I just wanted to ah-hmm…"
The Veela didn't use her wand to silence him, there was no need for that.
No, she pounced on him with a vigor she didn't know she had, clumsily pushing her lips on his in what might just be the most unskilled kiss possible.
She was halfway on his bed, halfway on the ground with her foot still lingering on her own seat. Her aim was rather poor too, only capturing half of his mouth before correcting her attack as he moaned in delight.
He tasted of the most bland, universally appreciated flavor of mint with a hint of something she couldn't quite place but enjoyed regardless.
Magnus was putty in her hands…lips, but she felt the need to pull him closer, embracing his neck to make all attempts at escape moot. Running her hands through those long black hair, undoing the blue ribbon, and effectively ruining the style that might just be his only openly wizarding feature. She felt him shiver and subconsciously made note of this weakness for future use.
Fleur was just about to fall, but still pressed herself against him. Ignoring the half-embarrassed, half-indignant shouts of the healers. The same way she ignored her growing exhaustion or the lack of oxygen that threatened to make her faint.
'There must be a spell for this,' She thought in her daze, eager to extend this moment as long as possible.
She loathed having to pull away but had to pleasant surprise to find him seeking her out even as they gasped for air, for once his face showing exactly what he wanted, how much he wanted it.
Her still boiling blood and the magic within were ecstatic, preening under the attention of a wizard that eluded them for so long.
Fleur's forehead pushed against his, while her leg gave out making her all but crash into him as they turned into an unrecognisable mess of limbs and silver hairs.
She heard him chuckle, and couldn't help but join him, her face flushing in embarrassment, dried tears in her cheeks.
This wasn't how she pictured their first kiss.
No, she believed they'd be embracing after a beautiful night, away from the British winter and the folly of the wizarding world. The circumstances changed often; at times an end to a sumptuous, romantic dinner, and others a wild day of fun and laughter the likes of which only they could gift each other.
Or one of these moments of pure sloths she dreamed about, when they were both overworked but still had to push forward, oh how she longed to just cuddle for hours before lazily taking the next step in their relationship.
Her ears grew redder, if possible, while her mind wandered off to less proper scenarios.
'Maybe one day,' She giggled internally, and far away a white-haired man of utmost gallantry gave her a thumbs-up while writing like a possessed man.
Icha Icha Bird Lady became a hit in the pure lands.
Magnus, though, looked as if he read three tomes of that particular novel, face red and amber eyes dilated while he struggled to make sense of what happened.
Somehow, the Veela felt that everything would be alright.
. . .
Hey guys! It's Uncle Sheo!
Yes, it finally happened.
A bit of background concerning this chapter, it was originally two chapters mixed together to make one big 5k words chapter to satisfy you guys. But when I was proof-reading it, I realized I had injected way too much drama into this.
Don't believe me? Our favorite duo ended up having a massive fallout because one of them was too stubborn to go ahead and act without a plan while the other had so much pent-up trauma she exploded at him, her parents, and pretty much everyone in what would surely become a ten chapters long arc of angst.
Yuck
Of course, I, your humble writer, looked for a way to spare us the torment while also respecting both of their natures: Fleur was a mess, and Magnus needed prep-time to do anything at all.
It culminated into something you've wanted for a long while, and I planned to save it for a much later chapter. But what can I say? It just wrote itself!
Hope you had fun, I ended up damaging my leg pretty badly by the way, so you better be happy that I managed to update something! (Just kidding, It doesn't hinder my ability to write, just makes movement a helluva painful thing.)
Peace and Cheese!
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