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The October air carried whispers through Hogwarts' halls. Five weeks into term, Harry found himself lost in thought, absently tracing the delicate golden figure hanging from his neck as he gazed out across the grounds from the Astronomy Tower. The necklace Fleur had given him seemed to pulse warmly against his skin whenever his thoughts drifted to her, which happened more frequently than he cared to admit.
"Thinking about a certain French witch again?" Hermione's teasing voice interrupted his reverie. She settled beside him, bumping his shoulder playfully.
"That obvious, hm?" Harry smiled, letting the pendant drop back beneath his robes. "I just keep wondering when they'll arrive. The suspense is killing me."
"Well, according to Hogwarts: A History," Hermione began, earning an eye roll from Harry, "the visiting schools traditionally arrive in late October. So you have plenty of time to prepare your grand romantic gestures."
"You're enjoying this far too much," Harry grumbled, but couldn't hide his grin.
"Of course I am! My boyfriend actually caring about his appearance for once? It's a miracle." She reached up to attempt taming his perpetually messy hair. "Though I must say, the new robes suit you."
Harry glanced down at his modified uniform. After the events at the World Cup, he'd taken more care with his presentation, trading his old hand-me-downs for properly fitted robes. The subtle changes hadn't gone unnoticed, particularly among the female population of Hogwarts.
"Speaking of admirers," Hermione nodded towards the entrance where a group of students had gathered, "your fan club awaits, Professor Potter."
Harry groaned at the nickname that had spread like wildfire after he'd started the informal defense training sessions. What had begun as helping a few interested classmates had evolved into thrice-weekly meetings with students from all houses.
"They're not my fan club," he protested weakly. "They just want to learn proper defense."
"Oh really?" Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Is that why Romilda Vane changed her perfume three times this week trying to get your attention?"
"Hermione!"
"What? I'm just saying, between the French veela and half the witches at Hogwarts, you're becoming quite popular." She kissed his cheek before standing. "Come on, Professor. Your students await."
The Room of Requirement had transformed itself into a perfect training space, with cushioned floors and mirrored walls. Nearly thirty students had already gathered when Harry and Hermione arrived.
"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks called from where she lounged against a wall. The young Auror had taken to dropping in on their sessions whenever her schedule allowed. "Ready to dazzle us with more fancy spellwork?"
"You're supposed to be here as security, Nym," Harry reminded her, though they both knew she mainly came to tease him.
"Oh, I'm securing something alright." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Securing your position as Hogwarts' most eligible bachelor. Did you know there's a betting pool about who you'll take to the -"
"Right!" Harry called out loudly, cutting her off. "Let's begin with shield charms today. Partner up, please!"
The students quickly sorted themselves into pairs. Harry was pleased to see the house divisions continuing to blur - Cedric Diggory stood beside Daphne Greengrass, while Cho Chang had paired with Susan Bones. Even some of the more reserved Slytherins had begun attending after word spread about Harry's unique approach to magic.
"Remember," Harry addressed the group, his golden eyes gleaming slightly, "magic responds to intent as much as incantation. Visualization is key." He demonstrated, conjuring a shimmering shield with a casual wave of his hand.
"Show off," Cedric called good-naturedly. "Some of us still need wands, you know."
"Wandless magic can be taught," Harry explained, as he often did when showcasing his more impressive abilities. "But the principles apply regardless. Daphne, would you help me demonstrate?"
The elegant Slytherin stepped forward, her own shield charm manifesting with pristine form. "Happy to, Professor," she purred, earning giggles from several nearby students.
Harry fought back a blush. Ever since he'd helped her perfect her defensive magic, Daphne had taken to flirting shamelessly during practices. According to Hermione, it was a calculated move to improve Slytherin's standing with him, but Harry wasn't so sure. The way she looked at him sometimes...
"Excellent form," he complimented, circling to adjust her stance slightly. "Notice how she maintains concentration even while moving. That's crucial in a real fight."
"Speaking from experience?" Tonks piped up. "Or should we ask your French pen pal about your fighting style?"
Several students perked up at this, and Harry shot her a warning look. The story of his encounter with Fleur had spread through the school, growing more elaborate with each retelling. Last he'd heard, he'd single-handedly fought off fifty Death Eaters while carrying both Delacour sisters to safety.
"Focus on your own shields," he called out to the now-whispering students. "Unless you'd all like to practice dodging hexes instead?"
That got their attention back on task. For the next hour, Harry moved between pairs, correcting stances and offering advice. He took particular pride in watching Susan demonstrate the shield charm that had taken her weeks to master - the same spell that might have prevented her capture at the World Cup.
"Brilliant work, everyone," Harry concluded as the session wound down. "Next time we'll work on incorporating movement with shields. The Halloween feast isn't far off, and I expect you'll all want to make a good impression when our guests arrive."
The mention of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang set off another wave of excited chatter as students began gathering their things. Harry noticed Cedric hanging back and motioned for him to approach.
"Everything alright, Ced?"
"Yeah, just..." the Hufflepuff prefect ran a hand through his hair. "A few of us were wondering if you'd consider teaching some more advanced spells? The kind you used at the World Cup?"
Harry hesitated. He'd been careful about which spells to demonstrate, keeping the more powerful ones private. "Some of those are family magic, Cedric. I can't share those."
"No, of course not," Cedric rushed to clarify. "But maybe similar alternatives? You're the best teacher we've had, Harry. Better than most professors, if I'm honest."
"He's right, you know," Hermione chimed in, having overheard as she approached. "You have a gift for teaching."
"I just want everyone to be prepared," Harry said quietly. "After what happened at the Cup... we need to be ready."
"And we will be, thanks to you." Cedric clapped him on the shoulder. "Think about the advanced lessons? No pressure."
As the room cleared out, Tonks sauntered over, her hair cycling through various shades of pink. "Another successful class, Professor Potter. Though I noticed you paying extra attention to certain students' forms."
"Don't start, Nym."
"What? I'm just saying, between Greengrass batting her eyes at you, Chang watching your every move, and your French veela sending those perfumed letters..."
"They're not perfumed," Harry protested weakly.
"Oh really?" Tonks plucked an envelope from his bag, waving it teasingly. "Then what's this lovely scent? Essence of Denial?"
"Give that back!" Harry lunged for the letter, but Tonks danced away, morphing several inches taller.
"'Dearest Harry,'" she began reading in an exaggerated French accent, "'I cannot wait to see you again. Perhaps we can have another private lesson like at ze World Cup...'"
"That's not what it says!" Harry finally snatched the letter back, his face burning. In truth, Fleur's latest letter had been rather... suggestive, but Tonks didn't need to know that.
"Young love," Tonks sighed dramatically. "Though you might want to warn her about your growing fan club here. Or are you planning to start a harem?"
"Well, he already has a harem, me, you and Fleur." Hermione added with a little teasing smile.
"I hate you both sometimes," Harry grumbled, stuffing the letter away while Hermione doubled over laughing.
"No you don't." Tonks ruffled his hair affectionately. "But seriously, Harry... you're doing good work here. These kids trust you, look up to you. Just be careful with their hearts, yeah?"
Harry sobered at that, nodding. He knew the training sessions had become more than just practicing spells. In a way, he was building his own little army - students who would stand with him when the time came. The thought was both empowering and terrifying.
"Come on," Hermione linked her arm through his. "Let's get dinner before Ron eats everything. You can read Fleur's letter in private later."
"It's not - I wasn't -" Harry spluttered as both witches laughed.
As they made their way to the Great Hall, Harry couldn't help but smile. Despite the teasing, despite the whispers and attention, he felt more confident than ever. Fleur's imminent arrival had given him something to look forward to, while teaching had given him purpose.
Let them call him Professor Potter. Let them speculate about his love life. He would keep training them, preparing them, protecting them. And when Beauxbatons finally arrived...
Well, that would be an interesting reunion indeed.
The golden pendant warmed against his chest, as if agreeing with the thought. Harry touched it briefly, wondering if Fleur's matching necklace did the same for her. Soon enough, he'd be able to ask her in person.
For now, though, he had a school full of eager students counting on him. And Harry Potter had never been one to disappoint.
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The morning sun streamed through the windows of the Great Hall, catching the dust motes dancing in the air as Harry absently pushed his scrambled eggs around his plate. His mind wandered to the impending arrival of the Beauxbatons delegation, particularly their part-Veela champion.
"You're doing it again," Hermione said, nudging him with her elbow. When he turned to her with a questioning look, she smiled knowingly. "That dreamy expression. Thinking about Fleur?"
Harry felt his cheeks warm. "I was just wondering when they'll arrive. It could be any day now."
"And I'm sure your sudden interest in grooming spells has nothing to do with that." Hermione's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Though I must admit, the new hair-taming charm is working wonders. Have you noticed how many girls have been watching you lately?"
"They're probably just curious about the training sessions," Harry muttered, though he unconsciously ran a hand through his now-manageable hair. The simple grooming charm Hermione had taught him had made a remarkable difference, transforming his usual mess into something that actually looked intentionally tousled.
"Speaking of which," Ron interjected through a mouthful of sausage, "we've got another full house this afternoon. Even more Slytherins signed up."
Harry nodded, feeling a familiar mix of pride and responsibility. Students from all houses now attended his twice-weekly training sessions, eager to learn from the Boy Who Lived. Dumbledore seemed to approve of this and sometimes even asked if he wanted hints. Professor McGonagall had japed that she was still her student despite what the others called him, but Harry was certain that she was proud of him.
"Professor Potter," called a melodious voice. Harry turned to see Daphne Greengrass approaching the Gryffindor table, followed by her usual group of Slytherin friends. While such inter-house interaction had been unthinkable months ago, it had become increasingly common since Harry's training sessions began.
"Just Harry is fine, Daphne," he said, though he knew the formal title would stick.
"Professor," Daphne continued with a slight smirk, "we were hoping you could demonstrate that shield-breaking technique again today. Tracy's still having trouble with the timing."
"Of course. We can work on that after we cover the new deflection patterns." Harry found himself automatically shifting into his teaching mode. "Make sure everyone brings their dragon-hide gloves. The feedback can be intense."
As the Slytherin girls departed, Hermione gave him another knowing look. "You've really come into your own with this, you know. Even the seventh-years respect your expertise now."
"It's just practical experience," Harry said modestly, though he couldn't help feeling pleased. "Anyone would learn quickly with the things we've faced."
"Not everyone could teach it though," came another familiar voice. Tonks dropped onto the bench beside him, her hair cycling through various shades of pink before settling on a vibrant magenta. "You've got a proper gift for it, Professor Potter."
Usually, he would be annoyed but decided to counter back, and he knew just what to say. "What do you want, Nymphadora?" he asked with an innocent smile.
"You dare use my words against me, Pottter," Tonks glared but decided to let it slide this one time, snagging a piece of toast from his plate. "I must say, your teaching methods are having some interesting side effects. Have you noticed your growing fan club?"
"I don't have a fan club." Harry tried to say, first Hermione, now Tonks.
Tonks laughed, gesturing subtly around the Great Hall. "Take a look around, but try to be discrete about it."
Following her suggestion, Harry carefully observed his surroundings. He noticed several groups of girls quickly averting their eyes when he looked their way. A cluster of Ravenclaws were whispering and giggling behind their hands, while even some of the usually aloof older Slytherin girls were watching him with interest.
"They're just interested in the training," Harry insisted, though he felt his face growing warm again.
"Oh, they're interested in something alright," Tonks teased. "You know, at this rate, you might give old Lockhart a run for his money in the heartthrob department. Though you've got the advantage of actual substance behind the style."
"Speaking of style," Hermione interjected, saving Harry from further embarrassment, "we should head to the library. I found some new references on French magical customs that might be useful when Beauxbatons arrives."
As they made their way through the corridors, Harry found himself increasingly aware of the attention he was drawing. Students called out greetings, many using his newfound title. A group of third-year Hufflepuffs practically bounced with excitement when he passed, while older students nodded respectfully.
They found Cedric Diggory already in the library, surrounded by books on magical theory. The Hufflepuff prefect had become a regular at Harry's training sessions, often helping to demonstrate more advanced techniques.
"Harry," Cedric greeted him warmly. "I've been researching that wandless stunning technique you mentioned. The theory behind it is fascinating, though I haven't managed more than a weak push so far."
"That's still impressive progress," Harry said, settling into a chair. "It took me months to get any results at all. Though having Voldemort pursuing your ass does wonders for motivation."
Cedric winced slightly at the name but pressed on. "Do you think you could show me the focus technique again this afternoon? I feel like I'm missing something in the visualization."
"We can work on it after the main session," Harry agreed. "Though remember what I said about keeping the wandless stuff quiet. Some abilities should stay as surprises."
This was something Harry had learned to balance carefully in his teaching. While he shared most defensive magic freely, certain skills – like his growing wandless abilities and his unique connection to magic – were kept private. He taught his students to be formidable duelists but maintained a careful edge in case of future confrontations.
The afternoon's training session demonstrated just how far things had progressed. The Room of Requirement had expanded to accommodate nearly fifty students from all houses and years. Harry moved among them, correcting stances and offering guidance as pairs practiced advanced shield charms.
"Remember," he called out over the sound of spellfire, "your shield's strength comes from intent more than power. Visualize it as a solid wall of force, not just a magical barrier."
He paused to help Luna Lovegood adjust her grip, smiling as her previously wavering shield solidified into a pristine dome of energy. Nearby, Daphne Greengrass was practicing with Susan Bones, their previous house rivalry forgotten in the focus of training.
"Excellent form, Susan," Harry commented as he passed. "Try moving your back foot another inch to the left – it'll give you better stability for the counter-curse sequence."
The session progressed through increasingly complex drills, with Harry demonstrating each new technique before having the students pair off to practice. He'd learned to layer his lessons, keeping newer students working on fundamentals while challenging the more advanced participants with complex combinations.
"Professor Potter," called out a fifth-year Ravenclaw, "could you show us that disarming sequence again? The one with the shield-breaker?"
Harry demonstrated the combination slowly, breaking down each movement. "The key is timing your shield-breaker to hit just as their guard starts to waver. Watch their eyes more than their wand – you'll see the moment of uncertainty..."
As the session wound down, Harry noticed Hermione deep in conversation with several Ravenclaws, discussing theoretical applications of shield harmonics. Ron was working with some younger students on basic stunning spells.
"Brilliant session, Professor," Cedric said as the room began to clear. "Though I noticed you held back on showing some of the more advanced techniques we discussed."
Harry nodded, waiting until the last students had left before responding. "Some things need to stay in reserve. Especially with Beauxbatons and Durmstrang coming. Never show everything you can do – that's one lesson Moody actually got right."
"Speaking of our visitors," Cedric grinned, "heard anything more about when they're arriving? Some of the prefects are saying it could be as soon as next week."
"Nothing definite," Harry replied, though his pulse quickened at the thought. "Though Hermione's been researching everything about both schools. Did you know Beauxbatons actually has more selective admission standards than Hogwarts?"
"Trying to brush up before meeting their champion?" Cedric's tone was knowing. "The famous Fleur Delacour?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"Only to anyone with eyes," Cedric laughed. "Though from what I hear, you made quite an impression on her last time?"
"We were running for our lives. I just happened to be there. That's all."
"Maybe," Cedric said thoughtfully, "but not everyone could have. There's a reason students from all houses come to learn from you, Harry. You don't just teach spells; you show us what it means to use magic with purpose."
Later that evening, as Harry sat by the common room fire reviewing his notes for the next session, Hermione settled into the chair beside him.
"I overheard something interesting today," she said casually. "I just got a letter from Fleur, she asked how our Professor is doing, and she wants to know if she has to fight off any witches when she arrives. Well, except me and Tonks."
Harry tried to maintain a neutral expression, but he could feel his heart rate increasing. "Did she say anything else?"
"Just that she's looking forward to seeing how you've grown into your power." Hermione's smile was gentle. "And Harry? She's right to be interested. You've grown into someone quite remarkable, and very fast."
"I'm just trying to help people be prepared," Harry said, but Hermione shook her head.
"It's more than that. You're becoming a leader, whether you meant to or not. The way you handle the training sessions, how you balance teaching different skill levels, even how you've gotten Slytherins and Gryffindors working together – it's impressive."
"And now you're about to have a chance to show all that to someone who already thought you were special," she added with a knowing look.
Harry stared into the fire, thinking about the approaching changes. The arrival of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would change things, but he felt more prepared than he would have thought possible months ago. He had grown into his power, learned to teach and lead, and built something meaningful across house boundaries.
Two Weeks Later
Harry adjusted his emerald tie for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, scrutinizing his reflection in the mirror of the boy's dormitory. The tie perfectly matched his eyes, which now held their natural color rather than the golden hue they took on when he channeled his unique magic. He had chosen his best school robes, ensuring they were perfectly pressed and free of even the smallest wrinkle.
"Mate, if you keep fussing with that tie, you'll strangle yourself before Beauxbatons even arrives," Ron commented from his bed, where he was struggling to polish his worn shoes to a presentable shine.
"Leave him alone, Ron," Neville chimed in with an understanding smile. "We all know who he's trying to impress."
Harry felt his cheeks warm slightly but didn't deny it. His thoughts drifted to the necklace tucked beneath his shirt - Fleur's gift.
"Speaking of impressing people," Seamus interjected with a grin, "When's the next training session, Professor Potter?" He emphasized the title with playful reverence.
"Tomorrow evening, same time," Harry replied, finally satisfied with his appearance. "And please stop with the 'Professor' thing. It's embarrassing enough when the girls do it."
"Oh, but they do it so sweetly," Dean teased, batting his eyelashes in an exaggerated impression of some of their female classmates. "'Oh, Professor Potter, could you please show me that wand movement again?'"
The dormitory erupted in laughter, and Harry couldn't help but join in. It was true - some of the girls in their practice sessions had been rather... enthusiastic in requesting his help. Tonks had found it hilarious during her visits to observe their training, constantly waggling her eyebrows and making suggestive comments about his "growing fan club."
"At least they're learning," Harry defended, thinking of his diverse group of students. Cedric Diggory had proven to be an excellent duelist, picking up new spells with remarkable speed. The three Slytherins - Daphne Greengrass and her friends Tracy Davis and Theodore Nott - had surprised everyone with their dedication and skill.
A knock at the door interrupted their banter. "Harry?" Hermione's voice called from the other side. "Are you ready? Breakfast is starting soon, and the Beauxbatons students will be arriving this morning!"
Harry's heart rate quickened at the reminder. He hadn't seen Fleur since that night at the World Cup, though they'd exchanged several letters. Each one had made him smile like an idiot, according to Ron.
"Coming!" he called back, grabbing his bag. As he reached the door, Ron's voice stopped him.
"Harry," his best friend said seriously. "You look good, mate. She'd be mental not to notice."
Harry smiled gratefully at Ron before heading down to meet Hermione. She was waiting in the common room, already immaculately dressed in her school uniform. Her eyes brightened when she saw him.
"Well, don't you clean up nicely," she said with approval, straightening his already straight tie. "Fleur won't know what hit her."
"You really think she's interested?" Harry asked quietly, voicing the doubt that had been nagging at him despite their friendly correspondence.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry James Potter, for someone so skilled at teaching defense, you can be remarkably dense about some things. That girl has been writing to you almost every day. The necklace she gave you isn't just any trinket - I've been researching it in the library. It's a very old type of protective charm that Veela families pass down through generations."
Harry's hand instinctively went to where the necklace lay hidden under his shirt. "Really? I didn't know-"
"Of course you didn't," Hermione said fondly. "But trust me - Veela don't give family heirlooms to just anyone. Now come on, I'm hungry, and we have a training session to plan for tomorrow."
They made their way down to the Great Hall, which was buzzing with excitement. News of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrivals had everyone chattering animatedly over their breakfast.
"Professor Potter!" a voice called as they entered. Harry turned to see Susan Bones waving from the Hufflepuff table, where she sat with Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley. Since he'd saved her at the World Cup, Susan had become one of his most dedicated students, throwing herself into learning defensive magic with fierce determination.
"Morning, Susan," Harry called back with a wave, trying not to wince at the title. "Ready for tomorrow's session?"
"Absolutely!" she replied enthusiastically. "I have already mastered that shield charm, and the wind and fire charms."
They had barely settled at the Gryffindor table when another familiar voice spoke behind them. "Well, well, if it isn't everyone's favorite new professor."
Harry turned to find Tonks grinning down at him, her hair a shocking pink this morning.
"Don't you start," he warned good-naturedly as she squeezed onto the bench beside him.
"What? I think it's adorable," Tonks teased, helping herself to some toast. "You should see the reports Madam Bones gets about your little training group. The other Aurors are impressed - especially with how you've managed to get students from different houses working together."
"Speaking of working together," Tonks continued with a sly grin, "I hear a certain French witch is arriving today. Planning to add international relations to your teaching resume?"
Harry nearly choked on his pumpkin juice as Hermione giggled. "I hate you both," he muttered, though there was no heat in it.
"No, you don't," Tonks sang, ruffling his carefully styled hair. "You love us almost as much as you love-"
She was cut off by the sound of trumpets echoing through the castle. Professor McGonagall's voice rang out magically enhanced: "All students, please proceed to the entrance hall immediately! Our guests have arrived!"
The Great Hall erupted in a flurry of movement as students rushed to finish their breakfast and hurry outside. Harry walked along with the others, but he quickly noticed that many of them backed away when they saw him, letting him walk through the crowd as if he was really their Professor and not just the guy who was teaching them a few things.
"Breathe, Harry," Hermione whispered encouragingly as they made their way outside with the crowd.
They emerged into the crisp morning air to find the entire school assembled on the front lawn. The sky was clear and bright, perfect for flying - which turned out to be exactly how Beauxbatons had chosen to arrive.
A massive powder-blue carriage, pulled by enormous winged horses, descended from the clouds with graceful precision. It landed with barely a sound, despite its impressive size. The door, bearing the crossed wands of Beauxbatons, opened to reveal a familiar figure.
Fleur Delacour stepped out into the sunlight, her silver-blonde hair catching the morning light like a halo. Her blue uniform somehow managed to look both perfectly proper and absolutely stunning. Her eyes scanned the crowd of Hogwarts students until they found Harry's.
The smile that spread across her face made Harry's breath catch in his throat. It was radiant, genuine, and meant only for him. She said something to her classmates before making her way through the crowd with elegant determination.
"'Arry!" she called out, her accent just as enchanting as he remembered. Before he could respond, she had wrapped him in a warm embrace, pressing a kiss to each cheek in traditional French greeting. "I 'ave missed you!"
"I missed you too," Harry managed, acutely aware of the countless eyes watching their reunion. He could hear whispers spreading through the crowd like wildfire.
Fleur pulled back slightly, her hands still resting on his shoulders as she looked him over appreciatively. "'You look très handsome today," she said with a slight smirk that suggested she knew exactly why he'd made the extra effort.
"You look beautiful," Harry replied honestly, earning another dazzling smile. "How was your journey?"
"Long, but worth it," she said, finally stepping back but staying close to his side. "I 'ave been looking forward to seeing you again." Her eyes flickered to where his necklace would be under his robes, and her smile softened. "You are still wearing it?"
"Haven't taken it off," Harry confirmed, watching a pleased blush color her cheeks.
"Fleur!" a young voice called out excitedly. Harry turned to see Gabrielle Delacour bouncing on her toes nearby, clearly wanting to greet him but waiting for her sister's permission.
"Ah, my sister insisted on coming to 'Ogwarts early," Fleur explained with fond exasperation. "She would not stop talking about seeing 'er 'ero again."
At Fleur's nod, Gabrielle rushed forward to hug Harry tightly. "Bonjour, 'Arry!" she exclaimed, her accent even thicker than her sister's. "I 'ave been practicing my English!"
"Very good!" Harry praised, making the young girl beam with pride. "Welcome to Hogwarts, both of you."
"Yes, welcome!" Hermione stepped forward, extending her hand to Fleur. "It's good to see you again Fleur. Harry can't stop talking about you."
"'E says you are ze smartest student in ze school."
As the girls began chatting, Tonks sidled up to Harry with a knowing grin. "So, Professor," she drawled quietly, "any plans to offer private tutoring to our French visitors?"
Harry elbowed her in the ribs, but couldn't suppress his smile as he watched Fleur laugh at something Hermione had said. The morning sun caught the silver in her hair, and Harry found himself thinking that maybe Hermione had been right after all.
Maybe Fleur Delacour was interested in more than just friendship. And maybe, just maybe, this year at Hogwarts would be even more interesting than he'd imagined.
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The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as students from three magical schools filled its Main Hall. Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, absently pushing his food around while watching the intermingling of students.
"Would you look at that?" Ron grumbled, stabbing his potato with unnecessary force. "Krum, sitting with Malfoy of all people. Probably sharing dark magic secrets or something."
"Ron, just because someone sits at the Slytherin table doesn't mean they're plotting world domination," Hermione reasoned.
"Easy for you to say. You didn't have his poster above your bed for three years," Ron muttered, then immediately turned red as several nearby students snickered.
Harry wasn't really listening to their banter. His attention was divided between the Ravenclaw table, where most of the Beauxbatons students had congregated, and the empty seat beside him. He'd hoped... but no, of course, Fleur would sit with her schoolmates. It was the logical choice.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione's voice took on that knowing tone he'd come to dread. "You look like someone just cancelled Quidditch forever."
"I do not," he protested, straightening up. "I'm just... observing the inter-school dynamics."
"Right," she drawled. "And those 'dynamics' wouldn't happen to include a certain silver-haired beautiful witch, would they?"
Before Harry could formulate a suitably dignified response, the Great Hall's massive doors opened once more. Fleur Delacour glided in, her little sister Gabrielle practically bouncing alongside her. Harry's heart did a complicated gymnastics routine as Fleur's eyes swept the hall, clearly searching for something – or someone.
When her gaze landed on him, her face lit up with a smile that could have powered a Patronus. Without hesitation, she changed course from the Ravenclaw table, leading Gabrielle directly toward the Gryffindors.
"'Arry!" Gabrielle squealed, darting forward to hug him before he could even stand.
"Gabrielle," Fleur chided gently, though her eyes sparkled with amusement, "let ze poor boy breathe."
Harry found himself sandwiched between the Delacour sisters as they settled onto the bench, Fleur's shoulder pressing warmly against his right side while Gabrielle bounced excitedly on his left.
"You... you're sitting here?" Harry managed, aware that his surprise was probably showing on his face.
Fleur's musical laugh drew attention from half the hall. "Did you really think I would sit anywhere else, mon cher? After all our letters this summer?"
"I-I just assumed..."
"You assumed wrong," she said simply, helping herself to some food he had never seen before. "Besides, 'ow else will I learn all about zis teaching you 'ave been doing? Gabrielle 'as been begging to join your lessons since she 'eard about zem."
"Oh yes!" Gabrielle chimed in. "Is it true you can do wandless magic? And that you're teaching everyone to fight dark wizards? Can you show me? Please, 'Arry?"
"Breathe, petit soeur," Fleur laughed. "Let ze poor professor eat his dinner first."
Hermione wasn't even trying to hide her smirk. "Yes, Professor Potter needs his strength. He has quite the following these days."
"So I 'ave heard," Fleur's tone was playful but held an edge that made Harry's pulse quicken. "Many female students, non?"
"Oh, loads," Ron contributed helpfully, earning a kick under the table from Harry. "Ow! What? It's true! They all stay after class to ask extra questions and bat their eyes at you."
"Really?" Fleur turned to Harry, one elegant eyebrow raised. "How... interesting."
"It's not like that," Harry hurried to explain. "They're just... enthusiastic about learning defense."
"Mmmhmm," Hermione hummed skeptically. "Is that why Daphne Greengrass keeps finding excuses to demonstrate her wand technique right in front of your desk?"
"Or why Susan Bones always needs private tutorials?" Ron added.
"Or why—" Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.
"How was your journey?" he asked Fleur desperately. "The weather looked a bit rough earlier."
Fleur allowed the change of subject, though her amused smile suggested the topic wasn't permanently dropped. "Ze carriage ride was smooth enough, though Gabrielle insisted on telling everyone about 'ow 'er 'ero 'Arry Potter saved her her during the World Cup."
"Only about twelve times," another Beauxbatons student called from nearby, making Gabrielle stick out her tongue.
"It was ze most romantic thing ever," Gabrielle insisted. "Like a fairy tale! And now you're teaching people to be 'eroes too!"
"Well, I wouldn't say that exactly," Harry began, but was interrupted by Neville arriving with a stack of parchment.
"Sorry to interrupt, Professor, but could you look over these Fire Charms modifications we were discussing? A few of us want to try them in tomorrow's session."
"Professor?" Fleur's eyes danced. "My, my, 'Arry. You 'ave been busy."
"It's just a nickname," Harry muttered, accepting the parchments.
"One that every girl in school uses," Ginny commented as she passed by, winking at Fleur.
"Is zat so?" Fleur's voice took on a considering tone. "Well, perhaps I should join zese lessons myself. To see if ze professor lives up to 'is reputation."
Harry nearly knocked over his pumpkin juice. "You want to join the defense group?"
"But of course! Unless..." she leaned closer, her breath tickling his ear, "you would prefer more private lessons?"
Harry's brain short-circuited completely.
"I want lessons too!" Gabrielle declared, oblivious to her sister's flirtation. "I learned lots of new spells this summer!"
"Speaking of spells," Hermione interjected, taking pity on the thoroughly flustered Harry, "how are the seventh-year courses at Beauxbatons? I've always wondered about the differences in curriculum..."
As Fleur engaged in an animated discussion about magical education with Hermione, Harry gradually recovered his ability to form coherent thoughts. He became aware that many eyes in the Great Hall were fixed on their group – particularly on how close Fleur was sitting to him.
At the staff table, he caught Tonks watching them with undisguised glee, her hair cycling through various shades of pink. When she caught his eye, she mouthed what looked suspiciously like "Nice one, Professor!"
"So," Fleur's voice brought his attention back to their table, "will you show me some of zese famous teaching methods after dinner?"
"Oh, um, sure," Harry managed. "We usually practice in the Room of Requirement. It's this amazing space that—"
"Ze room zat becomes whatever you need?" Fleur's eyes lit up. "How... convenient."
Ron choked on his pudding.
"I want to see too!" Gabrielle bounced in her seat.
"Perhaps another time, petit soeur," Fleur said smoothly. "You should rest after ze long journey. Besides, I believe ze professor and I 'ave much to discuss... privately."
Harry suddenly found it very difficult to swallow.
"Privately?" Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "What exactly are you planning to teach each other?"
"Advanced defensive techniques, of course," Fleur replied innocently. "What else could I mean?"
"Right," Ron snorted. "Defense. Is that what they're calling it now?"
"I am very interested in... defense," Fleur's smile could have melted steel. "Especially when taught by such a... capable professor."
Harry wondered if it was possible to die from blushing.
"But first," Fleur continued, serving herself some dessert, "tell me about zese enthusiastic female students of yours. I should know my... competition."
"There's no competition," Harry found himself saying, then immediately wondered where that burst of confidence came from.
Fleur's brilliant smile was worth any embarrassment. "Non? Well, zat is good to know, Professor Potter." She, of course, knew that Hermione and Tonks were part of the team, but she wasn't sure about the other girls; some of them were busy glaring at her back.
From further down the table, he heard Ginny stage-whisper, "Ten points to Gryffindor for smooth talking!"
"Ron," Lavender's voice cut through the conversation as she snuggled closer to Ron, who was determinedly focusing on his treacle tart. "You've barely looked up from your plate all evening."
Ron's ears turned pink. "Just really hungry, Lav."
Lavender's eyes darted between Ron and Fleur, noting how her boyfriend seemed to be making a conscious effort not to look in the French witch's direction. While she appreciated his consideration, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of insecurity as she observed Fleur's perfect figure and beauty. Lavender wasn't bad in the chest department, but she had to admit that Fleur had a bigger bosom than her, and from the way the dress was hugging her body, she could only imagine that Fleur was a beauty when she was naked.
"It is ze Veela allure, non?" Fleur said kindly, noticing the tension. "Your Ron is very sweet to be so considerate. Most boys do not try so 'ard to resist."
"He better resist," Lavender muttered, then blushed when she realized she'd spoken aloud.
"You 'ave nothing to worry about, ma chérie. My 'eart is quite set on another." She gave Harry a meaningful look that made him flush.
"Besides," Hermione added with a smirk, "Ron knows that if he stares too long, Lavender will hex him into next week."
"Bloody right I will," Lavender agreed, but she relaxed slightly, especially when Ron gave her hand a squeeze under the table.
"You are lucky to 'ave such a thoughtful boyfriend," Fleur commented. "Though I must say, ze way 'e looks at you when you're not watching – it is très romantique."
This seemed to please Lavender immensely. "Really? You think so?"
"Absolutely. Ze way 'e smiled when you arrived – like you were ze only girl in ze room." Fleur's observation made Ron's blush deepen, but Lavender beamed.
"That's my Ron," she declared proudly, planting a kiss on his cheek.
"Merlin's beard," Ron muttered, though he looked pleased. "Between you and Harry, we'll all die of embarrassment before the term's over."
The rest of dinner passed in a blur of laughter, stories, and increasingly unsubtle teasing from his friends. Harry barely noticed what he ate, too distracted by Fleur's presence beside him and the way she seemed to find excuses to touch his arm or lean close to speak to him.
As students began leaving the Great Hall, Fleur stood gracefully. "Shall we go see zis famous training room of yours?"
"Now?" Harry squeaked.
"Unless you 'ave other plans?" There was that dangerous smile again.
"No! I mean, no, no other plans. The Room of Requirement is this way..."
As they left the Great Hall together, Harry heard Tonks call out, "Remember, Professor – safety first!"
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Lavender called after them, then added in a stage whisper to Ron, "Though honestly, with a witch that gorgeous, I'm not sure what I wouldn't do."
"That leaves quite a lot of options," Hermione commented dryly.
"Lavender!" Ron spluttered.
Harry hurried Fleur along before his friends could embarrass him further, though her delighted laughter suggested she was thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.
"Your friends are very... supportive," she observed as they climbed the stairs.
"That's one word for it," Harry muttered.
"And your students? Are zey equally... supportive?"
"They're just here to learn defense," Harry insisted.
"Of course," Fleur agreed too readily. "Though perhaps some need reminding zat ze professor is... already spoken for?"
Harry nearly missed a step. "Am I?"
Fleur stopped walking, turning to face him with an intensity that made his breath catch. "That depends, Professor Potter. Do you want to be?"
Looking into her eyes, Harry found that burst of confidence again. "Yes," he said simply. "I think I do."
Her smile turned sultry as she stepped closer, the torchlight casting a golden glow on her silvery hair. "'Arry... I think Lavender might be onto something. There are quite a few things I wouldn't mind doing with such a... 'andsome professor."
Before Harry could form a coherent response, Fleur's delicate fingers traced up his chest before sliding into his hair. She pulled him closer, and then her full, impossibly soft lips were pressing against his. Harry's mind went blank at the sensation – her lips were like silk, warm and perfectly shaped against his own. When she parted them slightly, the tip of her tongue teasing his bottom lip, he felt as though his whole body had been hit with a pleasant shocking spell.
His arms wrapped around her waist instinctively, drawing her closer until he could feel the warmth of her body pressed against his. As her tongue slipped past his lips to dance with his own, Harry discovered what heaven truly felt like. The kiss deepened, growing more passionate with each passing second. Her lips moved against his with practiced grace, each subtle movement sending sparks of pleasure through his entire body. The sweet taste of her, mixed with a hint of the chocolate dessert she'd had at dinner, was intoxicating.
When they finally parted for air, Fleur's eyes were dark with desire, her perfect lips slightly swollen from their kiss. "Mon Dieu, 'Arry..." she breathed against his mouth. "If I 'ad known you kissed like zat... I would not 'ave waited so long."
Harry could barely string two thoughts together, still lost in the lingering sensation of her lips on his. "That was..."
"Magnifique," she finished for him, her voice low and seductive. "And zat was just ze beginning. Now... shall we find zis special room of yours?"
As they made their way toward the seventh floor, Harry found himself touching his lips, still feeling the ghost of her kiss. He silently thanked Lavender for her unintentionally perfect comment that had led to this moment.
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