Champions

The order of Merlin

The remainder of the week passed rapidly, and then it was gone — and the threatened Order of Merlin presentation was suddenly upon them. Harry wasn't even remotely thrilled about this. He truly did not want to be seen in the same light as Pettigrew, Lockhart, and Dumbledore.

But Fleur had convinced him of the utility, and so here he was.

He was surprised that Dumbledore hadn't tried to put a stop to it, but Fleur suggested that it was simply political capital that he didn't want to expend. Harry thought she was probably right. The man's notable absence from the proceedings, however, was a petty statement that he did not approve.

Not that Harry cared; he preferred it that way, in fact.

The presentation was taking place in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. While Harry thought that was odd — didn't they have ballrooms or something for this sort of thing? — a makeshift stage was set up along one wall, with that particularly obnoxious fountain off to the side where it would not have pride of place.

Thank Merlin for small mercies.

The stage itself was draped in white, and a lectern stood atop it, awaiting the Minister's pleasure. Harry almost expected there to be chairs behind and to either side of it so that he and Fleur could be put on display, but they were mercifully absent. Instead they would sit in the front row of the audience and be called forward.

The room was packed with people, mostly from the upper echelons of society, clustered around various tables full of finger foods. Harry knew few of them, but easily recognized Neville's Gran talking to Madam Bones. Others were far less familiar, though he did vaguely recognize many as members of the Wizengamot.

It mattered little; he had no interest in hobnobbing.

The scrutiny they were under was distinctly uncomfortable, and it was only Fleur's presence at his side that enabled him to endure it with any level of equanimity. He hated his fame, and he hated attention, and he really didn't feel the need to be on display to receive a pretty bauble, just for defending that unfortunate young woman from Snape's malicious idiocy.

And that unfortunate young woman had just found them.

She was a thin, average-height, next door sort of girl with brown hair, brown eyes, and a friendly face. Her hair was pulled up in a bun that gave her a severe look a la Professor McGonagall, and that was the only thing that at all obscured the fact that she was probably just out of Hogwarts.

"Mr. Potter?" she called quietly.

Harry smiled slightly at her, but otherwise remained silent as she approached. She seemed nice enough at first glance, but the crowd was pressing in on him as always. It tended to make him not want to speak.

"I'm Janice O'Connor," she continued. "I just wanted to thank you. If not for you, I… I would probably be dead."

"You're welcome," he replied softly. "Though to be fair, if I hadn't been there Snape might not have cast at all."

O'Connor blinked bemusedly, and Fleur chuckled. "Do not mind my 'usband," she smirked. "'E is far too modest for 'is own good."

O'Connor smiled genuinely back at Fleur. "I never would have guessed", she said with a shake of her head. "For all that he's famous, nobody really knows much about him."

The conversation might have continued, but O'Connor's eyes suddenly widened as she spotted something over Harry's shoulder. "Sorry, I need to go," she said abruptly. "And Mrs. Potter, you'll just have to forgive me for this."

The young woman suddenly reached in and grabbed Harry in a tight hug, finishing the gesture with a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered.

And then she was gone before he could even respond.