Chương 92: Not Too Late
(Note: Just so you guys know, this is chapter 88/100 in Sheo.bio. New chapter there, go check out to support the author, it's free.)
Magnus POV:
He forgot the cold water, possible dangers, and of course that ever-looming, utterly useless competition and the less-than-stellar participants that sought to rival his bird lady.
How could he care about it? When the Veela has shown him the most sincere proof of her care.
The scale-like feathers seemed almost metallic, fused to her bright silver hair. Those sharp, sharp claws, or were they talons? No matter, they looked more than capable of ripping him to shreds.
That beak of hers had a steely quality and promised a painful demise to whichever fool dared causing Fleur Delacour's dreadful ire.
Some would call it monstrous, and they would be right, as far as appearances were concerned.
Many would fear her for it, perhaps loath her even. Humankind, magical or not, was not fond of the grotesque or the fearsome.
To be both, and largely unknown at that, was practically a death sentence.
But to him, it only made her more beautiful.
He'd tell her too if his words wouldn't be lost in the water.
Her long, powerful limbs had all the grace of an avian predator of the highest caliber. But they weren't made for swimming, much less diving underwater. It was physically painful to see her struggle in such a way, almost thrashing her way to reach him a second quicker.
And it'll be actually painful if she did reach him, he noted seeing her razor-sharp claws flailing around.
He knew better than to try and put some distance between them. Or Merlin forbids, pull out his wand to cast a couple of defensive spells.
Fleur was struggling to make peace with her nature, to show her anything but complete acceptance would doubtlessly be immensely painful for the Veela, and leave mental scares that might just last a lifetime.
If he was looking to 'catch' her, and put her in a toxic relationship where the balance of power leaned heavily in his favor, he'd only have to act scarred and repulsed by her heritage before making a show of looking past it for her sake when she was at her lowest.
Break her self-esteem, then build back better with him as the centerpiece.
Classic narcissistic honeytrap, used by all sorts of people from predatory young men luring innocent maidens to middle-aged wine moms constantly putting down their comically submissive husbands.
It would be easy, extremely easy.
'But that's not what I want.' It was obvious to him.
That particular course of action did have its advantages, there was little to no chance of her leaving him as long as he didn't push it too much, especially in wizarding high society. All those pompous, ill buffoons would help push his narrative, her own father would likely be glad that someone could see past his daughter's 'unfortunate flaws' and 'social inadequacies' and accept her still.
It would also let him get away with a whole lot of things Fleur would otherwise never allow, from pursuing other women to debasing her to his heart's content. He could turn her into a housewife if he felt like it.
Some crowds wouldn't think twice about doing it if they were confident enough in their chances.
He was not one of them, not with Fleur.
Whatever twisted pleasure he'd get from breaking such a powerful, proud witch paled in front of the sheer bliss he foresaw in their shared future.
'Not to mention, Minnie didn't raise no weirdos.'
In the end, there was no choice to be made; support and nurturing were the way to go.
Even though such positive influence was largely foreign to the young man. He had a hard time taking things seriously in this wonderful new world, regardless of how real it felt.
Even the few good deeds he had under his belt were largely selfish.
To befriend Padma was nothing but a happy coincidence, as he needed someone to guard him against the foolishness of vicious children while he strived for greater things.
To take care of Luna made him feel better about his own person, it almost convinced him that he was actually virtuous and important within this world of his.
To eliminate the Baslisk, without the involvement of the Gryffindor golden boy, was only to pursue some idea of honor and bottom lines. It wasn't something he cared about all that much, as it was largely borrowed from the people who influenced him in both of his lives.
His father's rescue was the most obvious example. In his act, Magnus cemented his position in the wizarding world, worked out some of daddy issues, and threw a mighty monkey wrench in the dark lord's resurrection plans.
'But this would be solely for Fleur's benefits.' He thought, gazing at her inhuman form. 'It feels strange, but in a good way.'
He offered her a smile, and for once he did not need to force it's sincerity.
The beast-like woman was visibly in turmoil, glowing blue eyes darting around like a hawk looking for its prey. Magnus wouldn't mind being eaten, but it wasn't yet the time for such things.
It didn't look like she planned to slow down, and not for the first time Magnus was at a loss on how to deal with the fiery angel blitzing through his life…both literally and figuratively.
'Should I tell her to calm down?' He thought, then face-palmed. 'The fuck am I thinking…telling her to calm down? You never tell a woman to calm down, she'll just get ten times more emotional and potentially blame me for years of pent-up trauma.'
The Sean Connery within him told him to give her a good slap, Christian Grey told him the same thing for very different reasons.
Unfortunately, Magnus didn't have the extremely strange charisma of the one and only James Bond to keep him safe. And his story while somewhat silly, was not so ridiculous that Mr. 50 Shades could exist outside a prison cell or a shrink's office.
'Sirius would make a bird joke, a wet joke, or both.' His smile grew strained, '…Probably both.'
He seriously needed more examples in life, pun intended.
Andromeda would charm her to sleep, Ted would brace himself and let her rip him to shreds since her heart was in the right place.
Nymphadora would probably just drown.
His sweet aunt Minnie would be even more stuck, bless her stern face.
'Transfiguration is easy, people are hard.'
Fleur was a dozen meters away, and all he could come up with was some Akuna Matata nonsense and a blue-haired chick who identified as Warren Buffet telling him to be himself and not to assume the Veela's gender.
Five meters away.
He really should have planned for this.
Two meters.
'Shit.'
Why didn't he cast a couple shielding spells again? He was plenty good enough to do it discreetly, and he would have been able to smoothen things up if she noticed.
Curse him and his soft heart.
*Thump*
His first thought after the crash was that such a light girl had no business packing so much punch.
His second thought was not nearly as well-formed.
'Ouch.' His buckled under the feathery head hitting him right in the guts, 'So that's how Radditz felt when Gohan beat him up, huh.'
Magnus thanked the stars that Fleur managed not to gore him with her steel-hard beak, or her mighty talons, or her many razor-sharp feathers which tortured his mind with visions of death by a thousand paper-cuts.
Yeah, this Fleur was very pointy.
'Wouldn't have it any other way.' He smiled wrily, watching her wiggle around his soon-to-be bruised stomach, a sharp pain from his side stopped his thoughts. 'Crap, she might've broken something.'
It was painful, but he knew it could have been much, much worse.
Regardless, the second task had yet to end and neither he nor Fleur fancied a meeting with the grindylows. Or should it be called Greeting the Gryndilows? That would make a nice book by Gilderoy Lockhart if the man hadn't fled eastward as fast as he could.
'I should really create a telepathic charm.' Was Magnus conclusion's, after spending a few moments trying and failing to make her let go.
She had him in a vice grip, and there was nothing he could do to escape her clutches.
He felt Krum making a beeline for the hostages, with Diggory tailing him like a seeker in a quidditch match. He had the same success he'd get in an actual play too, as the transfigured Bulgarian all but eluded him through speed and manoeuvrers Magnus could scarcely perceive.
Meanwhile, Fleur seemed to be having a one-sided conversation courtesy of the less-than-ideal circumstances they were in.
Magnus tried caressing her scalp, a soothing gesture whose familiarity he hoped would be enough to calm her down. He quickly thought better of it, but not before almost losing a couple fingers to her hardened hairs.
'What on earth am I supposed to do?' He thought the boy was ill-prepared to deal with a Fleur in turmoil at his best. Taking away his speech was just overkill.
Fleur looked up suddenly, her hawkish blue eyes piercing through him, yet the emotions behind them were the most human thing he'd ever witnessed.
Care, fear, anger, and something else he couldn't quite identify but it made him feel as if the butterflies living rent-free in his stomach were coked up.
'Nope, no way in hell.' He shook his head, 'I'm not dealing with this now.'
Fortunately, or not, depending on who you asked. This Fleur didn't seem the type who'd give him time to think things through.
No, she was the kind of bird lady who'd just grab him tight and rush for the surface as fast as her magic-powered limbs could carry them.
Sounds overly specific, no? Well, that's exactly what happened, and continued to happen for all twenty minutes before reaching the surface.
Fleur was getting more exhausted by the minute, her inner flames all but dimming if not for her raging passion. Still, she did not give in, and that was almost endearing if not for his overly violent rescue.
Scratch that, it was still bloody darn cute!
Magnus did not wait long before giving her assistance, another water-summoning charm and the usage of the laws of propulsion gave them a welcomed boost in their cruising speed.
He might or might not have summoned swarms of invisible jellyfish on the way, imbuing them with the clear command of stinging all wizards awake. When asked he'd probably blame it on the disembodied wraith of Herpo the foul or some such.
What? It was a competition and he did bet a lot of gold on Fleur's triumph in the second task!
The tournament nonexistent rulebook didn't say anything about interference from wizards in the trials, so his actions if unsportsmanlike were still completely legitimate.
While he sabotaged her unlucky foes, Fleur was in the middle of calming down her emotions well enough to wrestle control of her form from the Veela Magic within her. It was slow, and she faced more than one large setback, but she tried.
Talons receded, feathers fused with her pale skin, and her steel-like hair became soft and sweet once more, one strand at a time.
'Good.' He thought, relieved 'She's finally settling down.'
They were close to shore, the giant shadows cast by the stands made the Black Lake even darker somehow, but he didn't care for it meant their struggle was just about done.
Once more he was forced to thank the higher powers for Fleur's rapid return to her normal mortal form.
He admitted readily to not only accepting but actually appreciating her transformation. Yet the wizarding world did not share his beliefs, magical Britain least of all. It was better for them to see the beauty and skills over her predatory form, lest they fear her even more than they already do and start having uncouth ideas.
That would be very troublesome, hiding bodies was always such a pain.
. . .
Magnus saw the light, and not the one that old goat kept preaching about.
He nearly sighed in relief, but the bubblehead charm was not designed with so much freedom in mind, no, it barely allowed him to breathe properly and broke down at the slightest difficulty.
He already had to reapply it dozens of times, in both himself and Fleur who was too insistent on keeping her hands on him to cast her own spells.
'Finally, we're done with this shit.'
They rushed upward, eager to rid themselves of the cold water. Fleur more than him for obvious reasons, and soon they broke through the surface.
*Gasp*
The bubblehead charm broke down once more, obviously.
They took deep breaths of that sweet, sweet oxygen. Shivering despite the warming charms, they barely heard someone in the first rows shouting.
"They got out! They got out!"
It did not matter for them, the adrenaline was rapidly wearing off and their muscles might just give in now that they reached a semblance of safety.
"Ma…Mag…" Fleur tried to call out to him, but her teeth kept clicking from the extreme cold. She held him close even now, and it threatened to make them both drown.
Still, he didn't have it in him to resent her, how could he?
She gave him a complex look, one that was simultaneously glad they both got out, worried something could happen to harm them once more, apologetic for reasons beyond him, and a tiny little bit miffed about how uselessly complicated his name was.
'Still better than Albus Severus.'
He gave her a reassuring smile, or at least tried to, it probably looked like some sort of twisted grimace from one of these weird cartoons people watched back in the day. The ones with too much gross stuff, because kids surely cannot appreciate a well-made story with compelling characters and relevant lessons.
No, give them a double dose of fart jokes instead.
Magnus opened his mouth to say something but ended up drinking some of that disgusting water when Fleur moved her weight once more.
He wisely shut his trap and focused on synching his and Fleur's movements to avoid drowning so comically close to the finishing line.
"Got you." He heard a loud male voice helping him up, Hagrid, he realized when he felt too large hands scooping them up from the water in one move.
It didn't last long, as Fleur proceeded to kick the gentle giant right in the knees with all her strength.
"Fleur!" Magnus huffed, as Hagrid released them swiftly.
She didn't do any damage, obviously. But the sheer shock of such a comparatively small girl packing so much strength made the big man double-take.
It caused a minor racket, but she did not care.
Fleur grabbed him once more, holding his hand tightly. Only then did he realize they were separated at some point, though it hardly justified trying to hurt the Care of Magical Creatures professor.
'Then again, who am I to talk?'
He did and will do much worse for lesser offenses.
The Beauxbatons Champion did not wait for the judges to finish debating, much less give her the points she deserved except for Karkaroff who wouldn't even pretend to be somewhat reasonable.
No, she dragged him to a large blue tent with a red symbol depicting a wand and bone crossing; the universal symbol for healers.
Predictably, they were faced by the one and only Poppy Pomfrey and two other foreign witches he did not recognize.
Common sense told him the guest schools brought their own nurses to care for their champions and student delegation, but it was still a guess.
They were ushered into beds, while the mediwitshes took turns casting various diagnostic spells. The Bulgarian alone bothered casting a warming charm he wasn't familiar with, and he shot her a grateful smile she cooly ignored.
He'd do it himself, but he used up much of his strength trying not to be helpless in that damned lake.
Magnus turned around and saw the Veela staring right back at him, her eyes still as confusing as ever. But this time there was something more, something stronger.
A determination of sorts, and that made him nervous.
One thing was certain, things will never be the same from now on.
– Author Note:
Hey guys! It's Uncle Sheo!
Sorry for the delay, but as I've told the guys in my discord, stuff happened.
Annoying, overly complicated stuff that led to me moving southward (temporarily, thank god.) into a ruined house of ours to fix it up well enough to sell it for a good price.
The bad news, is I have little to no access to the internet so for the duration of my torture…ehem, trip, I will post at a slow pace.
The good news, is I'll be back home in a couple of days (a week at most.) and will have more than enough time to post loads of chapters potentially every day.
Anyway, thanks for reading and putting up with my erratic schedule, you're the best of the best!
Sur ce.
Peace and Cheese!
…
"My lord, the bushy-haired rabbit is getting more involved in the fate of elf kind day by day." A huge, muscled figure in green robes wearing a purple boa and reindeer antlers knelt in a throne room.
The shadow covered his liege lord, hiding all of his great might and exquisite appearance, safe for a pair of glowing eyes radiating power the likes of which the wizarding world has never seen.
He sat, regal on his throne as pondered the matter at hand.
Perfect silence reigned for long before a single word broke it, its low tone sending shivers into the very souls of his faithful followers.
"Granger." He called, tasting the name on his lips.
"How bold of her to question my vision." He smiled, "Perhaps I shall meet this annoyance before it grows any further."
"As you wish, my lord."
. . .
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