HP: Monochrome

"'onestly, I'm not all that surprised," said Fleur as she bit into her frozen yoghurt. "At least it's better than the Ministry, non?"

"Really? That's what you've got to say? Better than the Ministry."

Fleur felt like she had to give Harry points for his dryness. It was the right mix of disdain blended with casual indifference. A rarity in this stupide country. And yes, it was Harry, not Lord Potter, or Monsieur Potter. Had somebody told her a month ago that she'd be sitting at an ice-cream parlour, having a raspberry sundae with Harry Potter, chatting away on pedestrian topics on a friday afternoon, she'd have called them an idiot and walked off.

How things change!

The two of them were sitting in their cubicle at Florean's, with Fleur going through Harry's recommendations on some of the investment suggestions she had made. Unlike her last few discourses, Fleur had found herself ditching the formal garb and the bun, and instead showed up with a semi-casual dress, and her hair tied in a ponytail. Her silk blouse had a modest but noticeable decollete, and she had been a little pleased with Harry's eyes flickering downward. He had, of course, pretended otherwise and she had allowed the pretence. It told her that while Harry Potter was resistant to her allure, it didn't mean he could resist her.

Besides, Merlin knew decent conversations were hard to come by among these putains.

"I'm more surprised Monsieur Black allowed the Ordre to continue meeting at your 'ouse."

"I'm not," Harry grumbled, "our differences aside, the Order is combating Voldemort. The last thing I want is to sabotage their efforts."

"Voldemort," She repeated, "a terrible name, for a terrible man, non?"

"Monster, not a man. One I've had to face more times than I'd like."

Fleur cocked her head. Harry was slouching in his chair, an elbow resting on the table. Not so much elegance as sloth, which made the casual demeanour with which he spoke that much more contrasting.

"You're a mystery to me, 'Arry," she admitted, "ever since I first met you before ze fireplace after ze tournament was drawn."

She wasn't lying. When she had first met Harry Potter, she had dismissed him. During the entire year, she had stayed aloof, only sharing brief, neutral conversations when the situation asked for it. Then he had saved Gabrielle and she had been a little less haughty at him, but Merde! She had never known how rewarding it was to have a conversation with a man that wasn't practically drooling at the sight of you.

He gave her a lopsided grin. One of the real ones she had seen him give. "Back then, you, Krum and Cedric looked like Champions. I was just… a mistake."

"A mistake zat became a championne at the end, no?" she asked, idly turning the yoghurt around with her spoon, "in ze Third Task."

"I still think it's unfair, how everything turned out," he admitted. "I didn't put my name in, but I didn't deserve to win either."

"Why would you say so?" Fleur hoped the words didn't sound as accusatory as they did in her head. Her disdain for Harry Potter was slowly shifting into a friendship between equals, what with his relative immunity to her allure and being a decent person. It wasn't much, but beggars couldn't be choosers. But his words— his acknowledgement of his own limitations in the Triwizard— that interested her. She wanted to know what Harry Potter, Triwizard Winner, thought about the event.

Harry snorted. "Honestly, I think you deserved to win the tournament."

Fleur frowned. "And now you flatter me."

He shook his head. "No really. I mean, I was the idiot that decided to outfly the dragon by following Moody's suggestion. I had nightmares for nights after that, waking up in cold sweat every time the dragon caught me in my dreams. There were like a hundred and twenty different things that could have gone wrong. Krum? He went all direct and blinded his dragon and took advantage of that. Cedric just transfigured a dog. Nothing wrong with it, but it was… boring."

She chortled at that.

Harry grinned. "If I was the dragon, I'd have gone for Cedric instead. Maybe the dog could have collected the egg."

Fleur laughed again at the morbid image.

"But you, you did something inspiring. You enchanted a dragon to sleep. Like, just a heartstring of a dragon is powerful enough to craft a wand. And your enchantment was amazing enough to overpower a full-grown dragon. If it were me, I'd have ranked you higher than everyone else."

Merde! Turned out she was really bad at accepting genuine praise. Probably because people were always praising her under the effects of the Allure. She flushed, and felt her loins growing excited. Unlike others, Harry wasn't actually trying to get into her panties and instead, was genuinely listing what he thought as her good qualities.

"I know veela are creatures of fire, and I… I saw how those grindylows were attacking you in the lake. You were at a disadvantage the entire time. And in the third task, Cedric cruciated you, which was illegal. He hoodwinked me into attacking Krum and then attacked me from behind. Honestly, if things were normal, either you or Krum would've been the winner, not me."

His words twisted a dagger in her heart. After her pathetic performance in the Triwizard, things had gotten really difficult for her. Winning the Triwizard would have given her a shot to her own life without Maman's interference. A thousand galleons! A job at the département des mystères at the French Ministry, and so much more. Instead, a putain from England had won, and she had gotten a zero in the second task, and had to be saved in the Third Task too. The other students from Beauxbatons had been merciless in painting her as weak.

It was why she had chosen to work for Gringotts, even if that meant living in England, despite how much she despised this country.

"Though there's something I don't understand," said Harry. "You chose to work here of all places. I thought you hated everything about Britain."

Fleur flushed. He had hit the nail right on the head. "I'm studying to be a wardmaster, 'Arry. Gringotts hires the best wardbreakers and wardmasters out there. I'm learning from William Weasley, he's—"

"Bill? You're learning from Bill?"

Fleur frowned. "Yes." After a moment of indecision, she prodded. "What do you think of him?"

He shrugged. "He's the oldest Weasley brother. He worked in Egypt first but he came home this summer. I think. He's part of the Order too."

"Ah." She said, "He umm, teaches me, and I practise in my spare time. And I work for Overseer Griphook as a… part-timer."

"Oh," He mumbled. "I did wonder."

"What?"

"You. Working at Gringotts as a paper-pusher. I always thought you'd do something, I dunno, enchanting or something?"

She clenched her fists. "You were speaking about this Ordre?"

"Sirius got Dumbledore to agree on letting me know what Voldemort's up to. But it doesn't matter." A small smirk passed over his face. "He asked Kreacher to listen to every Order meeting without letting the others know of his presence, and give me the memory without Sirius knowing about it. And then he obliviated himself of that knowledge."

Fleur blinked. "You mean—"

Harry barked out a laugh. "We've had one Order meeting after that, and Kreacher showed me his memory in the pensive. That way Sirius doesn't have to break his Secrecy vows and no one's the wiser." He snorted before suddenly pausing. "Erm, please don't say that to anyone else."

Fleur smirked. "Too late."

"Damn!"

She threw her head back and laughed.

"Yeah, yeah! Laugh it up, why don't you?" he complained, though he couldn't quite suppress a grin as her frame shook with controlled mirth.

"What of your friends?" She asked, and was sad to see the mirth vanish from his face.

"Friends…" He uttered it like it was a heavy word. Almost like an anchor. "It's a little… complicated. I got one letter from Ron earlier in the summer, but he said nothing about Hermione living at the Burrow with him."

"And you're pissed off about it."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. I mean, Hermione is my best friend. I know Ron's been infatuated with her, but frankly, I don't think they're suited. I mean, she's enthusiastic and passionate about things, while Ron's just laid back and lackadaisical."

"Opposites meet, as they say."

His frown darkened. "I doubt that."

"You fancy her." She teased. Somehow, saying those words left a bitter taste in her mouth.

He did a double take. "No. Yes? Umm… I never thought of her like that. I did fancy Cho last year a bit. She went with Cedric by the way."

Fleur remembered talking to the girl. Cho Chang. Pretty. Dainty. Probably had enough giggling girlfriends to chatter about how romantic it was to be in the spotlight, on the arm of a Champion.

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Who, me?" He asked. "Nothing. I've a trial to prepare for. All this… House stuff to deal with. Learn spells. I just wanted to be kept in the know about what's happening with Voldemort, and now I do. And then there's my magic acting out. Honestly, it's all one thing after another."

Ah. Yes that. Harry had been very cagey about it. He had tried very hard to make it look like it was just magical exhaustion but she knew better. It was in the looks he gave when she performed the simple spells. Fleur had seen him stand undecided for an entire minute before asking her to scourgify him. If she didn't know any better, she'd have said he was afraid of casting those first-year spells.

"'onestly, I'm not all that surprised. It suits you to a tee."

She laughed at his withering glare. "Come now, you told me you always get into 'airy situations like this. Or, should I say, 'Arry?" She snorted. "You have to admit, there is a history here. Precedence."

"You're making it sound like it's my bloody fault that Voldemort's been trying to—"

"I'm not talking about just Him," Fleur pacified, both hands raised in surrender. "I've heard stories about you, 'Arry. The Philosopher's stone in your first year. The Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk in your second. It was William's little sister you saved, non?"

Harry frowned at the mention of Bill's name.

"And then third year with Monsieur Black and those dementors…"

"Alright, I get your point," Harry grumbled.

"I'm not saying it to make you feel bad, 'Arry. You know I wouldn't. I just think you should talk to Monsieur Black about this whole business."

"It's not that I don't want to tell him," he admitted, "It's just… Sirius has a lot going on right now. With the Black Lordship, my trial, and Dumbledore's…"He paused again, waving his hands in frustration. "I just don't want to bother him with more."

Fleur bit her lip. "'Arry, can I be blunt? Without uh, you getting angry?"

"Try me."

She exhaled. "You've asked Dumbledore several times in the past about why this Dark Lord tried to murder you as le' enfant, right?"

"A question he's repeatedly dodged, yes."

Fleur winced at his hard tone. Clearly there were wounds beneath the surface.

"And why do you think he did that?"

"Because he—"

"Think for une minute, and then tell me."

From her own experience with other males, Fleur expected him to go defensive. Instead, he took a deep breath, and considered her question.

"He thought he was letting me be a child," Harry softly replied. "That I don't need to have any more baggage to carry around." He frowned. "But I'm not a child. I haven't been one for a long time. The Dursleys made sure of it."

"The Dursleys?"

Something indecipherable flashed on his face. "My muggle relatives. They… they don't like magic."

It took every bit of her Occlumency to control the surprise on her face. The Boy-Who-Lived grew up with muggles? Magic-hating ones? That explained so much about him, and at the same time, opened another trove of questions. She wanted to inquire about it further, but the look on his face told her he'd not be entertaining questions on that line.

"I see," she said, "So you're upset he's making your choices for you."

"Yes," he breathed, relieved. "But what's he got to do with this?"

Fleur sat up straighter. "Everything. Because you, mon ami, are doing the same to Monsieur Black."

"I— I—"

There was a tightness in his posture that Fleur had seen exactly once before. The previous Halloween, the night it all began. For someone very well attuned to the flow of magic around her, it was like looking at an air-tight can, with wind compressing it from all sides.

The peace before a particularly nasty storm.

"I'm pretty messed up, aren't I?" he admitted aloud.

The storm never came.

Fleur shot him a lopsided grin. "Boys are known to be… faible. Dim, I think you English call it."

Both of them shared a brief chuckle.

"I think it's the isolation that's making you overthink," She said, "Maybe you could visit the Weezly House? That would make them 'appy too, non?"

"I don't think it's a good idea," he bit out. "I have an ongoing trial for murder, and a lot of powerful people are blaming me for what happened at the graveyard that night. I don't want to get others into trouble."

Fleur shook her head. "I'll say that again. Isolation isn't good for you, 'Arry."

"I'm not isolated. I have Sirius and Andi with me. Besides, I need to get my magic back under control and I'm learning new things. This is what's best for me. It's best for everyone."

"Merde!" She replied. The words were biting, but there was no heat in her tone. "You're just scared."

"Damn right I am," Harry shot back, grabbing his wand, which was shooting angry sparks. "I'm scared that some Death Eater is gonna come calling and kill innocent people just because they happen to be near me."

"That isn't what scares you," she shook her head, her long silvery locks flying around with the motion.. "You don't want that to 'appen, and you'll fight like your life depends on it if it does, but that isn't what scares you."

Harry bowed his head. "I— I don't want to talk about this."

"Get over it," Fleur said, even more gently. "'Arry, when the graveyard incident happened, it dismantled your life. It took away everything familiar to you. Your life. Your wand. Even your familiarity with magic."

"I have a wand!"

"And it's better you start believing it before you squeeze it to splinters," she retorted, looking towards his clenched first. He immediately let go of his wand. "You… you don't like surprises, 'Arry. It throws you off guard. Even I can see that. Ever since ze Tournament began, things 'ave been out have been hors de controle."

Something dark and furious stirred in his eyes at her every word. For a moment, Fleur wondered if he was going to attack him. But she pressed on. "Naturally, ze idea of a fortress, someplace secure and familiar that can't be taken away from you, is appealing. Even if it means you cut yourself off from everyone else."

"It isn't like that," Harry said. "And I'm fine."

"No you are not," Fleur softly argued. "You're a long, long way from fine. And you've got to know that."

Harry shook his head slowly. "This is not a good time to get in touch with my feelings."

"Perhaps not," Fleur replied, standing up, "but I'll say this. Taking on the Potter Lordship on top of everything you've already got going on… Is it really healthy for you?"

He clenched his fists again. "I just wanted to—"

"Know your own roots," Fleur finished for him. "And I agree. But is it the only reason?"

Harry stayed silent.

"Maybe you should theenk about it," Fleur said, standing up and packing the files into her bag. "I should get going. I'll submit this to Gringotts first thing tomorrow, and I need to go shopping for a new rental."

"What happened to the one you were living at?" Harry asked, as they walked out of the cafe, right onto the street.

"Nothing to be bothered about."

"It's certainly something," Harry shot back, standing up. "You know you can tell me about it."

"Worried about me?" She teased, but blinked when he nodded.

"I know it's pretty recent, but I have been sort of thinking of you as a friend, so yeah, I guess I am worried."

"Well…" Fleur trailed off, looking unsure how to respond to that statement. Her maman had taught her to divide other people as subjects, enemies, rivals and prey. But friendship? She had no proposition to something like that, especially when coming from someone so anomalous as Harry Potter. Wealth wise, he was in the same zip code as her mother, if not the same league. Power and influence? Between two Noble Houses, he was going to be a nexus by himself. And yet here he was, offering her friendship, while staying perfectly resistant to her allure.

Fleur had no real frame of reference for how to proceed.

"I…" She felt conflicted. "I have been facing problems. Living in Britain has been just 'orrible. The Leaky Cauldron was 'orribly expensive, and Knockturn Alley was unsafe, so I tried a muggle neighbourhood. But my Allure—"

"People stare," Harry concluded.

"...Yes."

He fidgeted for a moment. "You can, you know, stay at my place. We've a big home, and just three of us are living there. Me, Sirius and Andi. And Andi's got a job so she'll be out most of the time. Same as you. The Order comes and goes, and only limits itself to the ground floor, so you won't even see them."

"I… can't."

"Why?"

"It won't look… proper."

"Bollocks," Harry snorted. He looked like he was going to say something else, when Fleur felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and felt the magic rising in the air. Before she knew it, his hand suddenly grabbed her right arm and threw her roughly behind him, shielding her with his body, as a barrage of spells slammed into him, and the large poster board he had summoned a split second before. Fleur couldn't hardly fumble with her wand, while he was already in motion—- moving ahead as the attacker's wand came up to fire a curse in his general direction, shooting a blasting curse even as he vaulted forward and body-shielded her, not half a moment before another spell whizzed through the area they had been.

"PROTEGO ORBIS!" she heard him yell.

A transparent, silvery dome formed around him, cocooning them from the attackers. His speed of casting was phenomenal, comparable to some of the best duelists she had seen at Beauxbatons. The shield held as at least half a dozen spells crashed into it.

"Merde! Why are ze attacking us?" Fleur yelled, already taking position right behind him, a pulverising curse at her lips.

"Welcome to my life!" Harry said.

Fleur could clearly see four people, all of them wearing silvery masks, and black cloaks. She met Harry's green eyes for a moment, and found a familiar, steely determination in them, when one of the attackers yelled.

"DIE POTTER!"

"Use fire," Harry whispered, as the silver-coloured spell hit the orb, shattering it. Fleur raised her wand, and with a vicious flick, thrust her wand like a sword.

"INCENDIO DUO!"

A large sphere of crimson flames exploded out of her wand, followed by a wave of searing white heat that shot in the direction of the attackers. As a veela, fire manipulation came naturally to her, and given the situation, it only got better. But nothing, nothing prepared her for what happened next.

"PROTEGO HORRIBILIS!"

Fleur wasn't sure what happened, but somehow, the broken shards of the Protego shield instantly disintegrated, turning into pure energy and exploded outward as raw, kinetic force, carrying the white heat of her spell with it. Fleur winced as it caught one of the attackers head on, bodily lifting him up and banishing him all the way to the other side of the street. Two others weren't so lucky and crashed with their backs against walls and dropped. The remaining member smashed his head into a pewter cauldron, his head now red with blood. He did not move after that.

"Get up!" Harry demanded, his voice cold and unforgiving. "I didn't even hit you that hard."

Fleur gave him an incredulous look. Hit that hard? She was certain his spells would register in the higher eighties if not the low nineties on the Dupont-Lavigne index and he didn't even look remotely close to exhaustion. Merde! It was like he hadn't even registered the spells that had hit him early on.

Instead he strode ahead, and cast a wind spell, blowing those masks away.

"Pucey, Urquhart, and Murk," He called out, "What? Couldn't beat me on the field so trying to take me out of the game? Seriously fellas, tone it down!"

Fleur blinked. He knew them? These were Hogwarts students? From the looks alone, she was certain they were sixth or seventh years.

"YOU SON OF A—" One of them began, blood dripping from his mouth as he raised his wand, but Harry was quicker, and cast what Fleur thought was a tongue-tying hex, leaving the older wizard futilely trying to undo it. The other two were still fallen on the ground, groaning as they tried to push themselves up, only to fall again.

"Guess Snape was right," Harry muttered, "Horribilis might as well be a curse!"

Fleur didn't know what that meant, and she didn't care. She noticed the blood seeping out of his shirt, and gripped his arm, pulling him into a half-hug. She noticed the way he froze at her touch.

"'Arry, you're wounded!" She exclaimed. "You need treatment."

"Hush, Fleur. I'm fine, no big deal. Just a little ache. Nothing you have to worry about."

"Arry!" Fleur stressed, "You've got serious injuries and you got hit by the dark curse earlier. We need to go to the healers right now!"

"What injuries? I'm just a little tired and sore, no worries," he pushed her back.

Fleur completely ignored his words and grabbed his arm again, right on time to keep him from falling over. What was happening? Had he gotten a concussion on his head? She was really getting worried now.

"Come, we've to take care of that. Hold on to me."

When he didn't protest any further, Fleur put his hand over her shoulders, and disapparated.