Champions

Change of Venue

For a moment when Harry next woke – he was disturbed by a very unpleasant nightmare involving Fleur and a mob of screaming Hogwarts witches – he thought that it was just a dream. But then reality came crashing down again, and he found it remarkably difficult to suppress the panic that once again threatened to erupt. He could only wonder: what was his world coming to?

For all intents and purposes, he was engaged to be married!

It was startling and unbelievable, and that was without the fact that his prospective wife was quite literally the most beautiful woman he had ever met! How was this possible? Some part of him thought he was awfully lucky, but he was mature enough to recognize it as his hormones talking.

He had no idea what was even involved in being married. The extent of his knowledge was that they would have to live together, and he didn't know her well enough to even know if they could get along. The list of potential problems was getting longer and longer, and he really wished it would stop.

But wallowing in fear was not Harry's way, and he soon realized that his best move was to talk to Sebastian about it at greater length. The man appeared to genuinely care, and that was worth a tremendous amount in Harry's book. For his daughter's sake at the very least, it was almost a certainty that he would do what he could to help.

With that in mind he opened his eyes, and was surprised to come face to face with a tiny veela, who was standing mere inches away, staring at him with a confused frown.

"Er, hi," he said thickly.

Her frown disappeared, and she smiled at him. "Bonjour, 'Arry," she said brightly. Then the frown returned. "Pourquoi êtes-vous dormir sur le canapé?"

Harry blinked. "Er, sorry Gabrielle, I don't speak French," he said bemusedly.

The little girl's brow creased in puzzlement, and then concentration. "Non... speak... Eenglish," she said haltingly.

Harry couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. He had never dealt with children before, but had to admit that she was adorable as she stood there looking expectantly back at him. She was going to be a knockout when she grew up!

"Sorry," he said with a patient smile.

The girl frowned at him, and then looked furtively around before suddenly climbing onto the couch, and then onto him, eliciting a soft "oof!". Taken aback, he just watched as she curled up on his chest like an enormous cat. Not knowing what else to do, he wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling off and hurting herself.

With a mental shrug, he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep, surprisingly comforted by her warm weight.

-break-

Six hours later, Fleur Delacour left her room in search of breakfast. She was aware that her father had spoken to Harry the previous evening, but had yet to hear the outcome, and she was very nervous. Then again, the lack of yelling was probably a good sign; she only heard one brief outburst, which was probably much better than she herself would have fared.

She could not even begin to imagine his reaction to finding out!

Were it her, and especially at that age, she would have been raging. The entire concept of arranged marriages was anathema to her – they had never been a tradition in the Delacour family, even with as much history as it had – but that was essentially what this was! The idea of allowing some random man to wed her, let alone bed her... The mere thought of it made her skin crawl.

And that was essentially how it must look to Harry. If he agreed – which he most likely would thanks to that odd nobility of his – he would essentially be signing on to allow her to have her way with him. And unlike most boys, her veela allure would be no comfort since he didn't react to it. She somehow doubted that he was the type to enjoy meaningless sex.