"Harry Potter" belongs to J.K. Rowling

AN: Still on the lookout for a beta if anyone's interested. Send me a PM if you want to do it. I'm still new to writing on , so I need to know exactly how to send stories to beta readers and all that.

Special thanks go to Smutley Do-Wrong and HNZ who have helped with the grammar mistakes, as well as giving me tips on characterization, also thanks to Dark Lord Potter Black for helping me in correctly writing dialogue.

My previous chapters have been rewritten (That's the reason why this chapter took so long), so check them out if you wish and give me your thoughts. More importantly, the contract has been completely retconned. It is not a magically binding contract, just a standard BDSM contract that Harry took from one of the magazines and wrote to fantasize about what could happen.

The other reason this chapter took so long to get published is because unlike the previous ones, I decided to sit on this one for a few days, then came back and saw what I'm doing and how it affects my long-term plans for this story and see if I can make some changes.

This is also the longest chapter to date, even more than chapter IV. 19k+ words in total, almost 20k. Enough material for almost two chapters if I keep my minimum 10k+ per chapter standards. Hope it was worth the extra waiting time.

One clarification on Harry's preference on women: he doesn't like haughty and cold ones because he likes being belittled. He likes them because they pose a challenge. Dominating the frigid or haughty ones are simply more amusing to him than say… Ginny. More on that later, especially when he starts to realize why he feels that way about women.

One of my common grammar mistakes is to replace "He" for "She" or "Him" for "Her" and vice versa. I found some of the errors and already corrected them, but if you find any more, please tell me so that I might correct them in future updates. Like I said before, if I have any beta volunteers, please hit me with a PM.

"Dialogue"

Thoughts

"Foreign language"

Spells

A Godfather's Promise

Chapter VI: Crazy

"Expelliarmus!" shouted the musical yet fierce voice of Fleur, her wand pointing at the final of her three contestants she had gone up against in less than five minutes. She had pounded her opponent with such uncharacteristic savagery that she had ignored the usual strategic approach she had to dueling, favoring instead to use pure strength, knowledge, and willpower to subdue her challengers.

Clemence's wand shot from her hand, and flew behind her, landing amidst the other, defeated opponents. Her wand gone from her hand, she immediately raised her hands to offer her surrender to her school's Champion, who was panting slightly.

"Who's next?" demanded Fleur, quickly recovering herself, appearing like almost she hadn't just defeated six contestants in a row. Nobody in the room seemed eager to take up the challenge, even some of the cockier male students – usually eager to try and show up and impress the silver haired girl – did not step forward to take Fleur's challenge.

Madame Maxime, however, decided to intervene.

"Fleur, that's enough," she commanded to her student.

"I can still go further Madame, I am not tired yet," responded Fleur, but her exhausted tone told otherwise.

"I know you can Fleur, but it is for the best if you take a rest. You must be in top condition for the tasks, and I do not wish for you to have a case of magical exhaustion that might jeopardize your life," chided Madame Maxime, concern for Fleur evident in her voice.

Fleur looked at her headmistress as if she wanted to argue further, but upon seeing the giantess' face, she knew there would be no set of words that would convince her otherwise. She took a survey of her fellow students, noticing that they did look pretty tired.

Despite this, she wanted to continue. She wanted to see if spending herself physically would allow her to ignore the emotional turmoil that she had been going through ever since she had last seen that… man.

"She's right Fleur, you must take your rest. There is no point in continuing, you are the clearly the best among us all," said Clemence, who had just picked up her wand and returned to her best friend's side.

Fleur sighed, knowing that brown-haired girl was completely right. The last thing she wanted right now, however, is to think. To be forced to ponder on the events that had happened earlier in the day. Quite frankly, she wanted a case of magical exhaustion right now, even if it meant that she would not be on top shape for the first task.

Even so, she smiled slightly at her friend.

"You're right, it's just me being me," responded Fleur as she holstered her wand.

"We'll practice again tomorrow, but you have to take all three of us at the same time. Just to give us a chance," said Clemence cheekily.

"You're on," respondedFleur, a forced smile on her face.

The entire gathering started to go back to their respective rooms for the night. Clemence, Amelie, and Monique were the last to go after saying their goodbyes to their friend.

With a sigh, the young Veela made her way to her own chambers for the night.

Fleur stepped into her room, immediately seeking her queen-sized bed. After the day's events, she was now completely exhausted. She wasn't tired physically mind you, being that she was in top shape thanks to her daily exercises and magical training, but she definitely was worn out emotionally. She had hoped that being exhausted physically would be better than what she felt right now.

She was already used to this feeling, she had been used to it ever since that fateful day that she had completed her transformation into maturity. The feeling of being lusted after, left her feeling like dirt every day. This one would just be another day, even if the person that was causing it was someone she had been having hopeful thoughts about. It was just another time it would happen… but it seemed worse this time.

It was worse because, try as she might – and she was trying very hard – she could not stop herself from being utterly aroused at what had transpired less than four hours ago. Her excitement made her feel like absolute garbage. How could it not?

'How could he?'

Fleur tried to stop of the green-eyed young man, yet the thoughts still rebelled against her will and brought her back to the memories of the events that had taken place during the ceremony. Without even thinking, her hand reached once again to the inside of her uniform, to where a piece of parchment lay.

In her humiliation, she had forgotten that she had taken the thing with her. Despite her embarrassment at what lay written inside, she did not do what any rational person would do and burn it away instantly. Instead, she kept it within her clothes.

She read it once again. It did not even seem to be magically binding, just some written agreement between two people. It even stated that it would terminate the day after the projected ending of the Tournament, so it was not meant for life.

The embarrassment was just too much at that moment, however. She had completely lost it the moment she had seen it, anger covered her desires at that point, but the shame came back when he had grabbed her hands and revealed the marks that had been the product of the previous night.

She cursed herself for her oversight. She had slept with the handcuffs tightly secured, the following day greeted her with the angry, red circles around her wrists. She had been panicked yet calmed herself when she managed to charm her uniform's sleeves to be even longer to hide the streaks.

He had seen them though, and given what lay written on the parchment, he was interested as well. Even though Fleur dreams seemed to be becoming a reality, she was so scared of admitting to herself and trusting someone with her life the way she wanted.

She will deny them and forget such things when. It will all be over after the Tournament is won.

'It will be over soon, I just have to endure this for… half a year. Half a year until he can disappear from my life forever' she thought as she undressed and placed her sleeping clothes on, then went to her comfortable bed, closed her eyes and was claimed by a deep slumber.

Yet her sleep did not bring her any peace of mind if her dreams were any indication, unless if peace of mind meant unwanted arousal.

Beyond the haze of the usual escapades, a picture came into view. She could see herself of course, and more importantly could feel herself. The air that passed through her heavily exposed body, or at least, exposed by her standards. She, who had never worn anything that might further entice men since her transformation.

The picture became clearer and clearer… and as it did, it became more and more scandalous.

She felt her body weight on her legs, which were also splayed open to the sides. Fleur realized that she was kneeling – and rather suggestively at that, with her womanhood exposed, or it would be exposed if she didn't have the flimsy clothing that protected her body from unwanted eyes.

The next thing that she noticed was her arms, or rather, the lack of her arms. The reason being that she felt them secured tightly behind her back with what felt like metal restraints. These ones meant far more effective than light blue handcuffs she secretly kept, the metal felt wider, sturdier. They were not meant to be taken lightly.

As her vision became clearer, so did her predicament start to become more visible. Starting first and foremost with what could barely be described as clothes.

Clothes were meant to protect the body from the elements around them, to disguise the wearer's body from the prying eyes of others. Fleur herself was used to wearing very restrictive clothing in public spaces, a method to try and prevent people from doing things they would come to regret. What she was wearing were not clothes in her view, it was an outfit – a very revealing outfit at that.

She had seen one similar before in one of her father's favorite muggle movies. She did not remember the name but did remember that it involved space, a rebellion, and swords made out of lights. The one image she did recall from her childhood memory was of one of the main characters being forced to wear something that resembled a gold bikini.

She had seen her friends wear the similar skimpy bathing suit. She herself had bought one but never used it outside of her family's private beach at Château Delacour, and even then, her mother cautioned her to use the more modest one-piece suit in order to not attract attention. While she laughed with her friends while sitting in the sand, she envied them internally. The way they could go to a public beach and wander around freely with such scandalous suits. The way they could wander about town with clothes that did not cover their arms, legs, and closed all the way to their neck. Fleur wished she could do things like that, but she knew she couldn't. The most revealing set of clothes she ever wore in public was her school uniform for Hecate's sake!

In her dream however, none of that mattered, the outfit in question was something no Veela could ever allow themselves to be seen in aside from their carefully selected partners.

The outfit was not a bikini, but it was very similar, it was decorated by was her color, a pale, light blue. The material felt soft and expensive. The rest of her body was completely bare, the valley of her breasts exposed, her perfectly formed stomach was naked to the eye. Her long legs stripped of any garments.

The only thing that she could feel aside from her flimsy garments were the manacles that bound her arms behind her back, an identical set of metal cuffs on both her ankles, and… a similar cool feeling that encircled her neck. Not so tight that it affected her heavy breathing, but enough to make its presence known.

A long, glinting chain trailed from her neck all the way to a figure that was sitting in front of her. At first, Fleur did not notice any distinguishing characteristics about the figure other than it had a male physique. As the dream began to focus however, there was something added that she would recognize immediately.

The figure had penetrating, green eyes.

He seemed to be occupied with a book of some sort in his other hands, not paying attention to the bound girl that was kneeling in front of him. Fleur wanted to do something, all instincts would tell her to get up and run away. Deep down however, the excitement made her stay. She had not been permitted to move, and she needed to stay put until she was told otherwise.

Minutes flew by, the figure's green emeralds occupied with the text in front of him. That was until he set it down on the table. His gaze penetrated hers, and she found herself unable to even move a muscle. Anticipation brewed within her, waiting to see what the presence would do to her defenseless form.

His hand slowly pulled on the leash, the chain straightening until there was no slack and it tugged on her neck. No words needed to be spoken, she knew what was being implied.

Slowly, the French witch rose from her kneeling position, noticing that her the cuffs around her ankles were also loosely unified by another chain, effectively binding her bare feet together. This one had more give than the one that restrained her hands, it was enough to allow her to stand up without much trouble yet would prevent her from giving the long strides her legs were capable of.

Not used to wearing such restraining devices, Fleur started to shuffle carefully towards the figure. With her wand nowhere in sight and her hands utterly useless, she knew that she was completely at the mercy of the man holding the leash.

The man himself began to show other features, his hair was messy, and a deep black color. He was light skinned, yet still of a darker tone in contrast to her paler tone.

Once she had reached him, his hand tugged on the leash again, forcing her to stumble slightly. The man immediately seized, preventing her fall and guided the French girl to sit down on his lap. Fleur immediately went red at the intimate contact, fully aware of her near nakedness, so much that she had to avert her sapphire gaze from the figure and look to the black pool that was the rest of her dream. She did notice however, that the green-eyed man's hands started to move towards her.

Fleur tensed almost immediately, her mind going back to that horrible memory of being involuntarily manhandled. She expected that with her current attire, and the fact that she was completely helpless, the figure would immediately descend upon her with wild abandon, perverting her form roughly to satisfy only himself.

The hands instead went to her face. Gently, it caressed her cheek, the other hand trailing her long silver tresses, his mouth inched closer so that his lips pecked her bare shoulder lightly. The hand on her cheek slowly guided her to look back upon the eyes of the man that had her in his control. Fleur felt a calming warmth wash upon her as she looked once again at the figure. The hand that was touching her long hair now held the small of her back securely, the other palm was still touching her chin softly, one thumb stroking away a terrified tear that was trailing down her cheekbones.

Fleur finally gave in.

She felt her head fall into the crook of his neck, pleasure coursing all through her as the figure held her in his control, yet never once abusing her powerless form. She allowed him to do anything at that moment, the hand on her cheeks started to trace lower, down the back of her neck, slowly switching to the front, dangerously close to her bosom. She waited, her submission the only approval that he needed to inch his fingers closer and closer, and then…

Then she woke up, her body gasping as she sat straight on her bed. Thick rivulets of sweat were slowly trickling down her body, soaking on her rich sheets. All around her the bed was clearly drenched in her bodily excretions. To any watching the scene it would be enough to make them feel worried for the French witch. Like some night terror had come in the night and scared the usually composed young woman.

Yet, despite the abnormal amounts of perspiration that saturated the soft sheets around her, that is not what greatly disturbed Fleur.

What disturbed her so was the even more damp looking area that covered her crotch, the wet clothes that covered her sacred womanhood looked like it had been recently and thoroughly soaked in water. Fleur could only look on in shameful horror as she felt her arousal spike, still heard in the involuntary moans alongside her quick breaths.

After what felt forever, she shuffled from her bed and supported herself on wobbly legs as she made her way to her bathroom, the humidly cold Scottish weather that wafted its way even into her room making her skin frigid and clammy.

She quickly filled her bath tub in scalding hot water until only her head remained exposed. She had never been truly bothered by the heat, mostly thanks to her heritage, who preferred the warmer temperatures as opposed to their ethnic rivals: the merfolk, who were fonder of the cold water.

The pale-haired young woman closed her eyes in satisfaction as she lay unmoving for what felt like hours, yet despite the steaming liquid around her, it's warmth could not hope to match the one that she had felt in her nighttime fantasies.

Frustrated, she noticed that the ache in her womanhood once again began to call again. She did not want to touch it, she didn't want to give her primal self the satisfaction of letting it know she felt this way.

Thoughts of being bound and helpless. Desires of being controlled by another. She had grown up with the insistence that such things were dangerous. That young Veela were historically preyed upon by lesser men to take them by force. Still, that did nothing to quench just how much her mind calmed when she thought of giving in to the figure. The figure she could trust to not take advantage of her.

She tried to rationalize with herself to stop thinking of such, that she should not be imagining such things. It did little to soothe the pulsating need at her core.

'What kind of dirty girl gets excited by things like that?' Fleur questioned herself.

Yet even before she gave in to her frustrations and snaked her hand to her love box, she already knew the answer to her self-imposed query. Moaning as her fingers once again satisfied her treacherous body, she came to a realization she didn't want to admit to herself. A truth she denied to herself.

That's because if she didn't, it would be like plunging into a deep abyss she could never come back from. Yet, as Fleur found out while she orgasmed once again to her perverted fantasies, you really can lie to everyone but not to yourself.

'Me… I am that kind of dirty girl.'

Harry Potter-Black decided that Roger Davies had a very punchable face.

He had previously known that the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain was extremely arrogant, the kind of bloke that thought himself Merlin's gift to young witches, but it had been bearable before. Now seeing that brown-haired asshole trying to woo an unimpressed Fleur made him want to go immediately over to him and sock him with the meanest hook he had learned at the dojo.

Sighing, he got up and started to make his way to his classes. There was no point in staying, he had completely destroyed any chance of getting close to Fleur now. He knew she was not giving Roger even the beginnings of a chance, so he didn't have to worry about that, but he was still jealous of the fact that the Ravenclaw git was able to get close enough to talk to her, something that Harry did not even consider trying after the encounter two days ago.

Thinking back, there was one thing – beyond the obvious disaster that had ensued – that made his mind wander into territories of impossible fantasies. The red marks around the lily-white skin of her wrists. Harry did not know how she got those marks, but the way she had blushed when he saw them made him think on possibilities that he had otherwise not contemplated before. Mainly because of their impossibility.

There was simply no way that it was what he thought it was. It was just too much of a coincidence. He had seen the women in the magazines, but his mind thought they were either being paid for it or they were just way too submissive in their regular lives.

The thoughts plagued him as he left the Great Hall, noticing that it was much more crowded than it was in the previous days. The wounded students were now coming back day after day, recovered from the injuries that they had sustained for taking the mocking badges. That was another piece of bad news for Harry, he had quite liked the fact that he did not have to deal with the usual scum, especially from Slytherin.

Looking at them, he did see that the ones who had come back were rather subdued, they had been beat down pretty hard. In just a few days most of their house were hospitalized, their chances for winning the House Cup were ruined, and to top it all off the Durmstrang delegation were taking their meals at the Gryffindor table rather than with the silver and green clad students.

Still, the lack of the smug look on Draco Malfoy and his idiotic friends was not enough to lighten him up at the moment, he simply took his things and made his to the common room in order to have time to pack his things.

Oh yes, there was one very good piece of news that he had received the previous day. It seemed that Dumbledore had "dug up" a school tradition in which the Triwizard champions were afforded their own rooms for the duration of the rest of the year. Meaning that Harry had been given the go-ahead to get his own very much needed personal space.

That bit of news was definitely the best he had received – along with the knowledge that he would be receiving private, personal lessons from his godfather and Remus Lupin – he would finally have his very own home away from home.

One thing he had never really gotten used to in Hogwarts was the fact that he had to share his sleeping quarters with the rest of the boys of his year. Ever since he remembered, Sirius had given him his own room at their house, so coming into Hogwarts to find his new sleeping arrangements was a bit of a shock to the more privately minded Potter heir. That would now be fixed, he had his own place now, to do with it as he wanted. Sirius had already offered to stop by their house in Berkshire to bring some personal belongings.

While he knew he could not bring his electronic equipment for lack of electricity – not to mention they might blow up later on thanks to magic and technology being like water and oil – he was still able to bring some of his less professional stuff. He wanted to decorate the walls with posters of his favorite band, maybe bring his often-unused acoustic guitar, which could replace his trusty electric Strat. The punching bag would be great for when he needed to exercise and let out his frustrations in a healthy manner.

Those thought kept him from drowning in self-pity as he reached his bed and started to pack his belongings in his trunk. It would be an odd look, to see a student packing like it was the end of the school term when in reality it was the beginning of November, yet Harry still continued to place all his clothes so that he could transport them to his new place.

"So, the Gryffindor dormitories are not good enough for you now, are they?" came a voice from the entrance of the room.

Harry turned around to see his Ron Weasley. The red-haired boy that had once been his friend looked angry. Even more so than he had been in the last few days. Still, he was not going to give in to his burgeoning jealousy.

"It's better for me to have some space to train. You don't want me casting spells during the morning, do you? I seem to remember you really liking your sleeping time," responding Harry, a part of him regretting the jab at the redhead's apparent laziness.

"You are a git you know that? You enter the Tournament without telling us, and now you want to hang out with everyone but us. Durmstrang, the 'Puffs, even those slimy snakes!" he spat out that last one with hatred.

'I seem to remember that you were the one having that man-crush on Krum. I guess your jealousy just runs that deeply, doesn't it, Ron."

"I already told you, I didn't put my name in the goblet, you fool!" Harry yelled, still angry at the Weasley's stubborn refusal to accept reality.

"How should I know if you're telling the truth? I see you now Potter, when was the last time you told me anything? When was the last time you saw fit to tell me what you were doing?"

"Potter? Are you channeling your inner Malfoy now, Ronald?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Shut up! I see how you are now. You are always buried in those books of yours, you think you are better than the rest of us. I even see that our girls are not enough for you. I always see you with Bones and that Greengrass cunt! Or do you want the Veela too?!" he yelled that last part with his now familiar jealousy.

Harry sighed. He knew that Ron was one of the first ones to be completely besotted with Fleur, and while he considered the Weasley to be in the "No Chance in Hell" category of being able to be with the French witch, he began to feel annoyed at how much he stared at her. Even now, when all his chances had been reduced to nothing, there was still the feeling of intense dislike when everyone looked at her with lust in their eyes.

Ron Weasley had always been a jealous boy. Harry knew that even the moment he had met him the first time and became more aware of it as they started to take their classes together in their first years. He was jealous of his older brothers for their accomplishments, he was jealous of Hermione because of her good grades, he was jealous of other magical families for their wealth. Most of all, he was jealous of Harry because of his fame, family, and the Potter fortune that awaited him when he took up the lordship.

Being that Harry was now not only in the process of gaining even more fame thanks to the Triwizard Tournament – not to mention that he had become acquainted with Viktor Krum, one of his heroes – there was also the fact that there were already rumors floating around about the Potter heir and the French Veela being together after he had protected her.

All of this combined was making Ron's already jealous predisposition even worse than before.

"Believe what you want to believe then, Ron. I won't try to convince you otherwise, I don't care what you think about my new friendships, and I don't think you should be calling Daphne a cunt when you are acting even worse than she is."

Ron simply huffed and then went back down to the common room proper.

Harry let out a grunt, before continuing to pack everything. Once he did though he called out a name.

"Dobby!"

A crack signaled the appearance of the enthusiastic elf that had been more than happy to serve under him after he had been freed from the Malfoy family.

"Dobby heard your call, Harry Potter sir! What can Dobby do to help the great Harry Potter, sir?!"

Harry smiled at the elf. His enthusiasm had been a little hard to get used to at first, but there was not denying that Dobby was just about the best helper someone could ask for.

"Do you remember the old room I showed you yesterday, Dobby?" a nodding head was the response.

"Good, I need you to take this over there. Don't bother unpacking it. I will take care of that myself. After that, you can go back to help out in the kitchens if you want," he told Dobby.

He did not want the childlike elf getting his mind wrecked if he saw some of the things he hid in that trunk.

The house elf of course, cried dramatically at having his preference being taken into consideration. Harry said nothing, however. He imagined that after serving the Malfoy family, even the most loyal house elf would have been grateful to leave them.

Checking his watch quickly, he saw that he had to take Charms class once again with the Hufflepuffs.

Harry smirked, it was time to tease Neville and Hannah again.

Susan Bones is an extremely kind girl. Harry doubted that he had ever met someone so predisposed to being as positive as the dark redhead in his life. There were times where she was more pensive than anything but call her name and immediately that smile would appear on her face, along with a cheerful response. It was almost unbelievable that Susan could ever muster a glare or have the mean-spiritedness to insult someone.

When he had started to talk to her for the first time just a few days ago. He thought to his dismay that the smiles and warmth that she gave off were the signs of yet another Boy-Who-Lived fangirl. Harry was completely wrong, she was that way to everyone, no matter who it was.

Harry thought that she was way to kind sometimes. There was such a thing as being too good to people, as was being currently being demonstrated as they were walking on the halls. They were walking side by side, on one end there was Harry, on the other was Susan. In the middle were both Hannah and Neville, who had finally stopped fidgeting around each other and were in deep conversation.

It had been an amazing sight to see Neville Longbottom start to come out of his insecurity. The shell that had enveloped him for so long was cracking at an incredible speed. In just a few days he was gaining enough confidence to become better at spells, not to mention he was now getting very close to the Hufflepuff blonde.

Harry was jealous. A few days ago, he was the one with all the potential to get closer to Fleur. Now, with the way it had gone, the situation had fully changed. Neville was getting to know Hannah as a friend, and Harry suspected that he very much wanted to upgrade that relationship by the end of the year.

Neville, getting a girlfriend before all the Gryffindor blokes in their year. Who would have thought?

They were walking calmly until a Ravenclaw fifth year decided to get fresh with Susan.

"Hey Sue, how are you babe," he said in a slimy tone.

Susan looked really uncomfortable. She had already met this guy before, David something. She knew what it was that she wanted, and she really did not want to give her any chance. Unfortunately, her overly kind nature did not allow her to reject the blonde boy that was before her the same way that Fleur could break a potential suitor's hope with a single glance.

Harry stood and watched as Susan tried to turn him down in the nicest way possible, but it seemed that the older Ravenclaw boy did not know how to take a hint. It got pretty bad when he started to get physical, snatching the redheads arm when she tried to turn away. He even tried to snake his fingers as close to her generous bust as possible.

Harry decided to intervene at that moment.

"Take a hint mate, she doesn't want to be your girlfriend," he stated.

The Ravenclaw just looked over at him and snorted.

"What's it to you Potter, aren't you satisfied enough with the French bird? Piss off!"

Harry gave his biggest glare and walked over to him. His height and musculature enough to intimidate the shorter boy. He recognized the Ravenclaw as being one of the students that had been let back to class, he had been wearing one of the badges.

"Alright, you keep the big-titted slag. Just remember Sue, he's already after that foreign creature," he snarled before walking away.

Susan finally let out a breath she was holding in.

"Thanks Harry. I'm sorry."

Harry took her by the shoulders so that she looked at him directly.

"There's no need to apologize, Susan. But… you need to assert yourself."

Susan just blushed and looked to a different direction.

"I know… but… you know. I really don't want to cause a fuss," she said.

Harry thought that it was cute, but there was quite a problem there. Susan needed to know her limits. He was cynical enough about the Wizarding World that he knew there were people out there that would take advantage of the heiress of the House of Bones.

Thanks to the Wizarding Worlds practices, Susan would not be able to truly inherit the title of Lady Bones without having a husband. Their male heir would be the true Lord Bones. It was an unjust system, but their world moved at a snail's pace, and so Susan – now starting to become a young woman – was not just desirable for her shapely and buxom form, but also for the political and financial power her title would entail.

It was a backwards system, but then again, so was their political system. In the coming years the young girl would have to endure the pressures of dealing with potential suitors, most of whom did not have her best intentions in mind.

Harry promised himself that he would not abandon his new friend. If she ever needed help in taking care of unwanted people, he would be there for her.

"Susan…" he said as he looked into her grey eyes, "…if you don't want to deal with them yourself, then tell me. I have no problem in dealing with dirtbags."

Susan blushed a little before nodding.

Harry and Neville took their leave. It was time for them to take Potions class. The dark-haired wizard almost cursed at the fact that he would have to deal once again with a certain professor he was scantly fond of. Especially now that the Slytherin students were once again going to be taking the classes with them. Malfoy included.

Hannah kept on looking as Harry and Neville disappeared into another corridor, letting out a small dreamy sigh.

"Neville's such a sweetheart."

Susan just smiled, thought it did not escape Hannah that she was also looking at her soon-to-be boyfriend's green-eyed companion until he also left their sight.

Smirking, Hannah decided to bring it up to the redhead.

"So… when are you going to tell him?"

Susan look back at her blond friend, scandalized. A red hue was slowly emerging from below her neck to cover her entire face. After that, she looked down on the ground in sadness.

"Hannah!"

"What? You heard him, he might as well have declared his intention to defend your honor," responded Hannah. "

"I won't. David's right, he's already after the French champion," Susan muttered. "I've also heard that he's been hanging out with Daphne Greengrass. I don't think I can compete with those two."

Hannah snorted.

"Everyone's after the French champion, and I don't think you need to worry about Ice Princess. You told me yourself that you don't think Harry is as shallow as to go for looks alone. Even then, you have that in spades!"

Susan looked at her, confused. Causing Hannah to sigh.

"Come on Sue. Have you ever looked at yourself on the mirror? When you grow up you are going to have a killer body! Don't worry about the competition. That snobby French girl will probably reject him, and Greengrass will eventually drive him away with that attitude. They have good looks, but their personality is a great turnoff. You don't have that problem," assured Hannah.

Susan sighed sadly at her friend.

"It's not that easy Hannah. You know what I will have to do if I want to continue the Bones family. Harry already has to populate two Houses. How will he deal with a third? Unfortunately, that's one of the things that I like about him, he probably won't be after the power of House Bones," revealed the redhead.

Hannah looked at her friend sadly. Of all the people that have that burden; why did it have to be Susan Bones?

"It's for the best if I just forget about him. See if there are others that can be like him," continued Susan.

Hannah thought about it a little. Who could actually match Harry Potter-Black? No one in their school year for certain. She was already pinching the other good one for herself, and Cedric was already with Cho Chang. With his confidence and potential increasing, Neville will grow into a great young man in a few years. In time his pudginess will wear off and he will be very good looking. That, along with being the heir to one of the most powerful and ancient lines will make him target for other young witches. By then, she planned to thoroughly stake her claim on him.

It did make her feel a guilty. It had been so easy to imagine, she with Neville and Susan with Harry. Her best friend having a great match just like her, but now the future the redhead was portraying was one where she would end up with a great man, while her friend ended up with someone subpar. A substitute for an individual like Harry Potter.

Life was seriously unfair to Susan, Hannah realized. But she would not be deterred.

"Just think about it, Sue. Try and get him on a date on Hogsmeade. Be selfish for once!"

Susan looked to be in deep thought, before a fake smile appeared.

"I wish it could be so. I don't want to lose him as a friend. I really like him, Hannah. Not like the rest of the girls who only see his fame and wealth. I like how strong and nice he is. He keeps giving me confidence in my classes, and he isn't obsessed with these things" she said to Hannah, her hands pointing to her rapidly increasing bust.

"He could be a little less forceful though. That's why I prefer Neville over him. Aren't you a little bothered by it?" she asked.

Susan's fake smile turned genuine, a small chuckle escaping mouth.

"I really like it when he's forceful, "she said.

Hannah simply gave her a questioning look as they made their way to their next class.

Daphne Greengrass is a bitch.

After a few classes being seated close to her, that was the realization Harry had come to. Oh, she wasn't the typical pureblood bitch like Parkinson or Bulstrode either. In a way, Harry figured that Daphne would find those views and the people who spouted them to be uncouth and of lesser intelligence.

Not that Harry disagreed, but it did not take away from the fact that he suspected the violet-eyed Slytherin girl did not truly care for his approval. To her, his thoughts were probably only above the menial ponderings of a common pigeon.

No, Daphne Greengrass is a bitch on a very different level than he was used to. The kind of bitchiness that could probably be found on Muggle aristocracy as well. The kind of bitchiness that did not discriminate between blood-status, magical capability, or even race. Daphne was a complete and total bitch to each and every one of the people she met.

If Susan was one of the sweetest, most approachable people that he had ever met, then Daphne was the absolute opposite of the crimson-haired Hufflepuff. She never smiled, not even a single hint of amusement ever crossed her face. She was completely stone-cold from the moment he saw her, till the moment she left the class. While Susan was so kind that people would go as far as take advantage of her, Daphne was completely unforgiving. She would not even deign to glance at whoever talked to her unless it was Tracey. Even Blaise was not invulnerable from her disdain.

The other clear comparison was with Fleur. The French witch could certainly have her moments that some people might consider bitchy – it certainly didn't help when she criticized away with that amazingly sexy accent – but it was a far-cry from the Greengrass girl. Fleur was haughty as a defense mechanism, to keep away unwanted people from getting too close to her. A necessity due to her heritage. She did have some disdain for more the quainter aspects of the British, and was absolutely not afraid to speak her mind when she wanted to make a definitive statement on clothes, weather, décor, customs, cultural aspects…

Getting back on track, Daphne's bitchiness was the unbearable sort of bitchiness that Harry could find almost no amusement to be around. At least not when it was directed on him.

"You know Potter, sometimes I don't know whether being around you makes people more obtuse, or simply more insufferable," she said, her sneer directed at the bumbling direction of Ron Weasley, who was trying his best to do the spell instructed by Professor Moody.

It was one thing to insult the red-headed boy who had been his friend for the first years at Hogwarts. Ron had been absolutely insufferable ever since Harry's name had come out of the Goblet. It was another thing to insult him directly when he was trying to be friendly with her. He vaguely remembered just how frustrated he had felt after the initial put-down by Fleur.

Daphne let out a condescending grunt.

"More insufferable. Weasley was always stupid. Granger is still smart, for a Gryffindor that is, but she has been absolutely unbearable with that idiotic elf liberation campaign of hers."

And I thought Fleur was in serious need of a spanking.

His mind couldn't help it. He imagined the spoiled pureblood princess laying across his lap, her arse glowing a red hue after his hand had disciplined her for daring to disrespect him. A naughty girl that was being taught a much-needed lesson.

Despite all of this, he still took his seat beside her every time there was a class with the Slytherins. That being that he really knew how to get under her skin.

"Makes sense, after all I'm hanging out with you right now."

The pureblood bitch was just endlessly amusing to banter with.

"I'm not 'hanging out' with you, Potter. You insist on being besides me on every class. I am the one who has to suffer your presence," she said, sneering.

"Right, because I know how much crave the undivided attention of Malfoy and his Death Eater Youth. I'm sure you're just anxious to hear Crabbe grunt away about the delicate intricacies of bogey eating," responded Harry.

A small laugh was the response, though it did not come from the Daphne.

"He's got you there, Daph," quipped Tracey, smirking at her increasingly annoyed best friend.

Daphne Greengrass was a bitch, but the same could not be said for the two other Slytherins.

Tracey Davis, after the initial, almost obligatory Gryffindor-Slytherin disdain, was actually quite approachable. Being half-blood, she did not have the prejudices most of her House shared. Harry found out that she actually had a bit of fascination for the Muggle world, especially with the gothic fashion that seemed to be gaining popularity in Germany.

Blaise on the other hand was a little more difficult, it took a little more time to get him to open and he never really dropped that sardonic demeanor he portrayed. Harry guessed that it was just a part of his everyday persona.

Daphne was the only one that did not seem to warm up to anyone at all. The contrast between her and Susan Bones was one of black and white.

On one hand Susan was like the perfect submissive girl. She would do everything you told her without question, like she was unable to refuse anything that was asked of her, even at her own expense. The fact that she had admitted to him that she was now getting used to being sexually harassed by even sixth and seventh year students was deeply concerning to Harry. If there was one person in all of Hogwarts that didn't deserve it, it was Susan Bones. He only hoped she managed to find a way to find someone that did not take advantage of her.

Daphne on the other hand… Harry could not even imagine that kind of attitude on a girl like her. He even tried comparing her to Hermione, but even then, the comparisons fell flat. Hermione was bossy, and sometimes overbearing. Daphne did not need to boss around, she simply insulted all around her. She had no interest in leading, because she did not wish to associate herself with anyone.

A pureblood princess indeed. He thought that if anyone would dare to lay a hand on her the way that sixth year had done to Susan, that person would quickly lose their hand.

He quickly looked as Daphne sent a small glare to Tracey. Yep, he could actually not imagine Susan ever glaring at someone.

"So how about it Daphne, should I leave so that you can go back to getting courtship proposals from Malfoy. I know that you are just scheming to get him away from Parkinson. Not that it would take too much effort," teased Harry.

The he saw Daphne flush a little red. Slowly, he was learning all of Daphne's triggers. It was so amusing to see that even Slytherin's pureblood princess could break her composure so easily, especially when one knew all the things that annoyed her.

In one sentence he had mentioned Draco Malfoy's fruitless attempts at getting her for himself – despite his relationship with Parkinson – he had mentioned her by her first name, and he had even made a slight suggestion at her attractiveness. Three things that really sent her into what he had learned the Japanese called "tsundere mode".

"Don't address me so familiarly, Potter!" she growled. "And while I despise your presence, I will admit you are not nearly as insufferable as Malfoy and his ilk. But do make an effort to not make me regret that opinion."

But Harry was just having way too much fun with her. He needed this, especially after the whole thing with Fleur went completely awry.

"You sure do have a mouth on you, princess," the casual mention of her imposed nickname making her glare even more, "did you daddy ever try to discipline you for bad manners?" he said, not even bothering to hide his smirk.

"What are you insinuating, Potter?" she glowered, the red on her cheeks now disappearing in favor of her usual pale complexity.

"You know, didn't daddy ever correct you for bad manners. There must have been at least one time when he needed the use of physical discipline."

"What?!"

Harry smiled at her before continuing.

"It must have happened more than once. You were being spoiled, so he had to take you across his lap and given your pretty bottom a good spanking," he told her.

It began on her neck and her ears. The red hue then started to spread throughout her entire face. Besides her, Tracey could not contain her laughter and had to turn away in the other direction as to not expose her break in demeanor from the rest of the students. Even Blaise – who was besides Tracey – broke into a smile of amusement at seeing the usually stoic Daphne disrupt her emotionless composure.

"Of course not, you absolute bellend!" she exclaimed, drawing the attention of the other students around her, the act causing her to blush so much that Harry thought the Weasleys would sue for copyright infringement.

"Oh, that's a shame. Of course, I could always give you that lesson. Come on princess, just lay over my lap and I can teach you how to be a respectful young girl," he said laughingly.

Daphne's only response was to sputter what he imagined was a "Shut up, Potter" before Snape entered the room and ordered everyone to stay silent.

The violet-eyed Slytherin's red complexion never left her face during the whole lesson. Similarly, Harry did not ever drop the giant grin on his.

Sirius and Remus stood waiting for the Potter heir. It had been a week since the ceremony. Harry had been busy with classes and both Sirius and Remus had been preparing the literature and the spells Harry would have to learn in order to get ready for the first task, which was just two weeks away. Similarly, they had been trying to get information on what the task would entail. They had no doubt Harry's competitors would be getting the same information from their headmasters, so they did not feel bad for breaking the rules.

'Who am I kidding. I never give a damn about breaking the rules' thought Sirius.

Harry on the other hand had spent his time reading the Conjuration texts that had been supplied by McGonagall. When he was not, he was decorating his new room to his content, already it was beginning to feel more "Harry", rather than some old marriage chamber that had not been used in decades.

Imposing footsteps signaled the arrival of the Potter heir, Sirius and Remus stopped talking to each other and instead presented themselves to their new student.

"So, what are we doing here in the seventh floor? There are not that many unused classrooms compared to the fifth of sixth floors."

Sirius merely grinned. His godson is going to get his Christmas present early.

"Maybe, but there is one room in particular that we are going to be using from now on. There will be no interruption, almost nobody knows of its existence and even less know where it is," revealed Sirius dramatically, causing Remus to shake his head in amusement.

"So… where is this miracle room of miracles, Padfoot?" questioned Harry.

As a response, Sirius merely stepped aside the wall and revealed the spectacle to Harry.

The wall slowly started to change, first in it's appearance and even it's color. Slowly a familiar form started to take replace the gray wall, until a heavy, dark brown wooden door had completely replaced the center.

"Introducing… the Room of Requirement," said Sirius.

Harry was momentarily stunned for a moment, even after three years of being in Hogwarts, he had yet to see a room appearing in the middle of a wall. He was even more impressed when they opened the door and revealed the features that this particular room had. It would be perfect for their training.

"Right, so let's get started. I think that we first need to get acquainted with more offensive spells," said Remus.

Harry looked at the werewolf, confused.

"I don't think any of the tasks will involve dueling."

"No, but we don't yet know what those tasks will entail. Dueling will help you think fast on your feet and also to train you in the case of unforeseen circumstances," justified Remus.

The Potter heir frowned at the answer.

"Unforeseen circumstances?"

It was Sirius who answered this time

"Yes… Harry, there is no avoiding anymore. You are being targeted, and eventually you will have to learn how to defend yourself properly," said his godfather.

Harry thought about it. On one hand there was no hiding it now, any normalcy that may have been in his life was now destroyed because of circumstances that he had been unable to change ever since he had been an infant. On the other hand, the truth was out. He would finally be in the know of what was happening around him. He would be considered a part of the fight, whatever Molly Weasley said be damned. He will finally be treated like a grown up like he had always wanted to be.

"Well then… let's begin" said Harry as determination filled his very core.

They spent the next few hours drilling into him not only how to cast the spells he new in a faster way, but also several strategies for defeating his opponents. He was apparently a natural at dueling, thinking fast on his feet in order come up with ways to counter and fight efficiently at a moment's notice. Personally, Harry thought he owed it thanks to his martial arts training.

Then there were the new, useful spells that they taught him. While he already knew the Disarming Charm. There were others that would surely be useful later on. They focused heavily on the Stunning Charm, which was supposed to be taught to sixth year students.

One spell that Sirius noticed that interested his godson in particular was a Conjuration spell. The Restraining spell. The Black Lord chuckled a little. He knew enough about his godson to know why he was keen on that particular one.

At the end of the lesson, everyone was tired of the constant use of magic. They sat down and tried to regain their strength, Harry was already breathing heavily. Dueling was an exhausting affair, it not only drained you magically but also physically and mentally, with the constant use of spells, movement and quick thinking.

"I'm going to the kitchens, see if they can spare something for us," said Remus as he stood up with some difficulty and made his way out of the door, leaving Sirius and Harry all by themselves.

"So, how have you been cub?" questioned Sirius as he placed a fatherly arm around his tired godson.

"As well as can be expected. Little nervous about the first task. Not much to complain about. Even got my room already," responded Harry.

"What about the ladies. Got any witches you're interested in? Or are the rumors true and you've already snagged the French champion?" he asked amusedly.

As soon as he said that, he knew there was something wrong. The usual exasperated look Harry gave him was instead replaced by a deflated demeanor. It was there only a second but it was enough for him to notice.

"It's all fine. You know I don't really want to start a relationship," said Harry.

"Why not?" asked Sirius, trying still sound playful, but seriousness and concern still evident in his voice.

"You know why. Almost all the girls are vapid Boy-Who-Lived fangirls or they are after my money. The only girl that doesn't see me like that that I know of is Hermione, and she's my friend. If they don't fall into either of those categories, they hate my guts. Most of those are Slytherin girls," explained Harry.

"Come on, there has to be someone out there," said Sirius.

Harry made a small grunt, before thinking deeply about his relationships.

"Well, there's three girls I've been thinking about. One of them is completely unreachable,"

"I'm guessing that's the Beauxbatons champion?" interrupted Sirius, making Harry nod in confirmation. A sad look appearing as he did so.

"Then there's the other two. One of them is a Hufflepuff, she's very nice. I think she may be too nice, but she doesn't go googly eyed around me like some of the other girls. She's genuine," Harry said, thinking about Susan Bones.

"Sounds like a great girl, maybe you should date her. How about the other one?" asked Sirius.

"The other one's a Slytherin," he said, causing Sirius to glance at him bewilderedly.

"What?! A Slytherin?! Bloody hell Harry!"

"A Slytherin," Harry confirmed calmly. "But she's not like the other ones. She's spoiled mind you, and she's pureblood. She's a bit of a bitch, but it's great to banter with her, it's fun to get under her skin. Also, even though she's snooty, she doesn't have those prejudices the rest of her house have," he continued to explain.

"So… she's a little precious princess, isn't she? You looking to discipline her Harry?" teased his godfather. "But what about the Delacour girl. If you listen to the rumors going around, you two are already dating."

Harry's face became even more somber, his eyes were now downcast.

"I'm not sure I can have a chance at this point with her at this point. Let's just say I'm not sure we are right for each other. She's pretty, very pretty, but maybe it's not meant to be."

"So… I won't be expecting any Veela girls around the house then?"

"Sirius… I may or may have not destroyed any chances of that happening," declared Harry.

'Ok, something definitely happened between them,' thought Sirius.

"What happened Harry? Does this have to do with what we talked about before you left for Hogwarts?" asked Sirius. He knew that Harry knew what they were talking about.

"Yeah," admitted Harry, his shoulders slumping. Sirius was not used to seeing Harry in such a state.

"Tell me about it," said Sirius carefully, knowing how delicate the subject was.

"We talked. It was an amazing conversation, we laughed, traded information. I even ended it with the promise of a date just like you told me to. And then… and then I screwed it up," explained Harry.

"What happened?"

"She found out. By accident. She found out about… the things I like," continued Sirius' godson.

"Did she panic?"

Harry shook his head.

"She was angry more than anything, maybe a little embarrassed. Still, she ran walked away and told me to never speak to her again," concluded Harry.

Sirius took a long breath, searching for the right words to say to his troubled charge.

"Embarrassed you say? Do you think… maybe she got a little curious?"

Harry looked back at him with an exasperated look.

"Sirius, I don't think she was. She was – "

"Angry," interrupted Sirius, "and embarrassed. She didn't panic or call you a creep. Did you ever think that she may have been running away because she was attracted to those things as well?"

"Sirius, it's not that way at all. She's a Veela, she's always getting stared at by people, both men and even some women. I approached her differently, I talked to her like a normal person, tried the best way to communicate with her. I knew that she wouldn't talk to me if I just did what others tried to do. I wanted to show her that I was not like the others. Then this information came up, I broke that trust. I made her think I was different and in the end, I was just the same. I hurt her more than anyone else has ever since she stepped into this country!"

Harry took a long breath after his little rant and looked at the ceiling. A dark cloud seemed to be forming around him. The king of weakness he never showed to anyone outside of the people that were closest to him.

"I am a terrible person," He finally sighed

Sirius frowned, sensing the distress in his godson's voice. "You are not, Harry. Your desires do not make you into a bad person."

"How can you be sure?" replied the frustrated voice of Harry. "What I want… my wishes and fantasies… how are they different from what the Death Eaters do to their victims? How exactly does this make me any different from Voldemort?!"

Sirius sighed, then grabbed Harry by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes.

The subject had already been breached before, after Harry's incident with Tom Riddle's diary. The green-eyed boy could not help but notice the similarities between himself and the Hogwarts student that would one day grow up to be Lord Voldemort. The concerns became especially worrying to Harry when puberty hit him like a truck, and his fantasies of damsels-in-distress became sexual desires that he only confided on Sirius after he stumbled by accident on a dirty magazine.

Even Sirius had to admit there were some similar things between Tom Riddle and his godson. They were both ambitious, they both had a long ancestry they wanted to prove themselves towards, they were both considered prodigies for their age, they could both talk to snakes, and – if the rune incident was any indication – they were both meticulous schemers.

Despite this, Sirius knew that his godson could never become someone like Lord Voldemort, and he knew exactly why.

"You care for her."

Harry simply looked at his caretaker, confused.

"What do you mean I care for her? How do I care for her when I fantasize the way I do?" he responded.

"Tell me Harry. How do you want to treat her? Do you want to make her suffer so much that she will eventually fear you? Do you want her to watch with terrified eyes every time she looks at you, feeling the need to obey you because she is too afraid to do otherwise?" Sirius questioned his godson, looking at Harry intently.

The aforementioned wizard was pondering what his godfather had told him and tried to imagine the scenario.

He remembered the day that he activated those runes, the day that he finally noticed her, the day he started to become completely infatuated with her. He remembered the look on her face, how completely horrified she was. Back then that face was because of the situation. Did he want her to look that way at him? To look upon him in horror in fear of retribution, to see the light completely leave her eyes?

No. He remembered why he started to notice her in what he now fully recognized as romantic attraction. It was when she smiled, and then when he got to really know her, he started to enjoy the other little hints about her. He was no longer bothered by the haughtiness, in fact it made her more attractive to him.

Despite all that, what he liked first and foremost was her smile. The ones that would actually reach her eyes, and how those blue pools would flare like sapphires when she laughed. To take something like that from her seemed to Harry to be a truly monstrous act.

He had done It before, when he had activated the runes. She had been happy before, only to have that joy taken from her once he had started his plan. He saw that light leave her eyes in exchange for pure horror. Even when he had saved her from the peril of his own making, that happiness was completely gone, and he was the only one to blame.

He had done it again a few days ago. They had been getting along very well, she had even laughed, and this time the laughter had been caused by him. He had even scored a potential date with her. Yet – as it had happened before – he had been the one to ruin it by letting his desires get out of control.

'If all I can ever bring her is pain, then I really don't deserve someone like that,' Harry thought to himself.

A warm hand brought him back to reality. Tracing it, Harry found the smiling face of his godfather looking at him.

"I don't want her to fear me. I want to make her happy," responded Harry.

"And that's the reason why you will never be like Voldemort. He would never care about those around him, only about himself. Even if those people are harmed, so long as he is satisfied, they can all suffer. I've known you for so long Harry, and I know that you could never become like him," responded Sirius.

"But, there's not chance now. I destroyed all hope I had with her

"Don't give up Harry. But you need to be more careful… if you want the kind of relationship you desire, you must understand that it is not only about you. Despite being a dominant person, you have to take into consideration your partners thoughts first and foremost," declared Sirius, before chuckling and continuing.

"Remember, it took Richard four years to get the woman he wanted. It took your father six to get your mother. You never know, there still might be a chance."

His godfather was right, as always. He had been selfish, he had thought only of himself. Maybe there was still hope. If so, he would no longer fail. He would rein in his desires, take control of himself, and take Fleur's wants into consideration before his own.

Should it be that here was no longer a chance him with her, he would not attempt to force her into anything, and when he meets a person that was right for him, he would not forget his mistakes.

"Besides, if all else fails, there's always young Ginevra!" joked Sirius who suddenly erupted into small chuckles.

Harry's gave a genuine smile.

"Sure, because I would just love to have Molly Weasley as my mother in law," the Potter heir said sourly.

Both of them started to laugh a moment before they were interrupted with a few knocks on the door.

The door opened once again to reveal Remus and Dobby, carrying lunch for them. There would be time to ponder later. He needed to train right now, there was a dangerous task ahead, and to come out on top would demand nothing less than his full commitment.

Harry spent the next few days thinking about what he had discussed with his godfather. That was not the only thing that was happening, slowly but surely the wounded students were now back completely, it was back to normal at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

That coming back to normal included one thing. Fleur Delacour was once again the center of attention in all their meals. Almost everyone was staring at there again once more. All of them except for a few. Neville was among them, who spent his time staring at Hannah Abbot. Cedric, who would rather stare at Cho Chang. There was also Krum, despite his appearance he was mentally strong enough to not be a drooling mess.

There was one other person who was now not staring at her, one that had been doing so just a week previously, and that was Harry Potter.

He had decided it was time to move on, the situation had gone back to the way it had before he had exploded those runes. Before that moment, Fleur had been a fantasy, a pretty face that he had imagined in his dreams, no more. It was time to go back to those times, when she meant little to him.

He still looked around to see the reactions though. Ron was once again barely able to maintain the food inside his mouth when he looked over to her direction. Roger Davies seemed to be intent on once again trying to score with her unsuccessfully, and Adrian Pucey – whose face was now half scarred – looked on with barely concealed lust in his expression.

One person that he did notice was not under the charms of Fleur was Draco Malfoy. Harry did not believe that such a thing was because of some hidden strength that the blonde ponce had, but rather because his unadulterated hatred of anything not of pure wizarding stock far outweighed any physical attraction he may have towards the French Veela.

No. Instead Draco Malfoy was once again trying to talk unsuccessfully to Daphne Greengrass. The violet-eyed girl was giving him no attention however, a condescending glare never left her face. But the gaze was not even focused on Malfoy, but rather straight ahead. She did not even consider Malfoy worthy of being looked at while she shot him down completely.

Harry just went back to his Conjuration book, intent on learning more of the advanced spells that lay inside the valuable texts McGonagall had been kind enough to point him towards. He could imagine how some of them will be useful in many contexts.

If he had been paying attention to Fleur Delacour as he had always done so, he would have noticed something strange. Mainly that she had come in later than expected, he would also have noticed that thanks to that small break in her routine, her usual coterie of friends had to leave rather early in order to catch a class that Fleur herself was able to not attend thanks to her status as a champion.

Yet, Harry did not. He didn't want to continue looking at her. It was better to forget than to be miserable.

The other thing that he would have noticed is that a group of older Slytherin students left away in a group just moments before Fleur did, something that was decidedly odd. Male students usually did not leave the Hall voluntarily until after the Beauxbatons champion did, hoping to get every glance possible of the beauty before she once again disappeared into the forbidden palace that was her school's carriage.

Harry Potter simply sat there for quite some time, reading the text. He did not have to worry about the upcoming Herbology lesson, it was only meant as a continuation for a special project that was supposed to take three sessions. Harry had already completed it with the help of Neville, so Professor Sprout told them they did not have to attend the next few classes. She knew fully well about Harry's busy schedule thanks to also being a Triwizard champion.

He sat there so long he did not see Krum and the rest of the Durmstrang delegation leave as well. Did not see the rest of his fellow Hogwarts students go out one by one as well.

He did not notice a very lonely Fleur Delacour leave after giving him one last glance.

Fleur was conflicted during the entire lunch period at the Hogwarts Great Hall. For one thing, she had to stay back with for some time after class in order to get some information from Madame Maxime about the Tournament. Information she knew she was not supposed to get, but she also knew that at least Karkaroff was not too keen on maintaining the rules with his champion, so she just heard what her headmistress was telling her.

Unfortunately, that meant that she had to arrive rather late in order to get some horribly oily British food, so her usual friends had to leave in order to get to class while she stayed back to force a heavy meal into her stomach. Her lonely presence made an even more tempting target for her long line of admirers that would usually be intimidated at seeing her surrounded by her squad.

She had to deal with an especially persistent one that was unfortunately in the same table that her school had chosen to sit at since they arrived. He was a tall, with dark brown hair and eyes, and had an arrogance to boot. While he parroted away the fact that he was his House's Quidditch captain for what seemed to be the seventh time that particular day, her eyes were focused on only one individual.

Harry Potter looked completely out of place when compared to the rest of the students in his house. The scarlet and gold clad witches and wizards were definitely the most boisterous in the entire Hall. It made such a stark contrast with what seemed to be a dedicated and studious young man. He also stood out when compared to the rest of his year, he seemed more mature, both physically and mentally. Another taller boy – a redhead – was also more physically mature, but it seemed that that maturity had all gone to his body and not to his mind. He could see with no small amount of disgust how food seemed to slop away from his mouth the entire time he looked at her.

She decided that Harry Potter was a much better sight than the rest of the Gryffindor students.

She did not fail to notice that the messy-haired wizard did not seem to be paying attention to her like the rest of the school was, or like she had seen him do so in the days before they spoke to each other. For a reason she did not know, she felt rather uncomfortable at that fact. She would much rather he be staring at her with his calculating gaze than the rest of the drooling masses who glanced her way lustfully.

After her little dream, she knew exactly what she wanted, or at least what her body and fantasies wanted. Unfortunately, she had decided to react so badly when she had been confronted by her desires previously by Harry. She had told him to never talk or pay attention to – and he did! She never expected it to happen, she had told the same exact words to other people and they never did. They would come again the next week and try to land a date again.

She should have expected Harry Potter-Black to be different. It seemed that he was not interested in the least bit now. Fleur felt for an instant that she was being served a dose of her own medicine. Was this how those people who she rejected without a second thought?

For once, Fleur Delacour wanted a person to look at her, and he wasn't doing so.

I made a complete mess out of the situation. I should have left that scroll on the floor and pretended that I never saw it. Then I would never have to stop talking to him.

She wondered how it would have gone if they had gone further. Would they continue talking? Would they eventually go out together?

Would she eventually tell him about the things that she liked?

Her mind wandered at the possibilities of what could have been. There was still hope, she could always talk to him first and hope to break the ice that had formed between them. She still carried the small scroll hidden in her uniform. During her fantasies in the last few days, when she was completely taken in by her desires, she had even signed the damn thing with her name. She could not help but imagine the green-eyed wizard as her master from the dream. He already looked older than most, within a few years he would have witches around him at all moments.

Yet, that hidden part of her wanted to be his.

Sadly, she quickly finished her unappetizing meal and gave one last glance to the Gryffindor young man, hoping that he had once again looked over to her to see if he was still interested. Unfortunately, his attention seemed to be once again in that massive text in front of her.

Fleur stood up and quickly tried to make her way back to the carriage. She did not have her friends with her right now, meaning that she was more vulnerable to students that may have been trying to take advantage of her lonely self.

Unfortunately for her, that is exactly what ended up happening.

All she saw initially was a trio of Slytherin older girls. They seemed to be around her age, definitely old enough for her to know that they would be graduating soon. They seemed to be talking with one another, nothing she cared about. She did feel a little more secure when all she saw were women in that particular hall. While she was not stranger to being flirted at by women, it did happen a lot less than where the other gender was concerned.

She soon came to regret that feeling of safety when they crossed paths. Immediately – as if it had been already meticulously planned – the witches grabbed her roughly and pushed her into one of the rooms, her surprised cry apparently going unnoticed by the rest of the castle. She immediately tried to open the door again, only to find out that the Slytherin witches had already locked it from the other side.

She was about to take out her wand and try to open it but the feeling of being watched made her turn around slowly. She quickly wished she hadn't.

She calculated that about a dozen Slytherin wizards were in the room, all of them had their wands carefully trained on her. Their lustful gazes were still plastered on, but there was the unmistakable sight of cruelty that she had seen in several of the women that envied her.

She had known about the House of the Snakes. Madame Maxime had told her about the Hogwarts Houses before she had arrived. She knew about the prejudice that was rampant in Slytherin, prejudices that extended towards all magical creatures, including her own heritage.

What she saw was a dangerous combination, the overwhelming lust that she was already used to being fused with complete disregard for her existence.

Despite that, she refused to show weakness.

"What ees 'appening?!" she demanded, a glare leveled at the chuckling group.

One of them, who seemed to have a huge scar on one side of his face and his eye gone stepped forward, his wand still pointed directly at her.

"Alright Frenchie, time for you to pay your dues," he declared.

Fleur's heavy glare never left the disfigured boy. "My dues? What ees eet zat you are talking about? I do not owe you a single zing!"

"You are wrong, something that you and the rest of your species seem to have in common," said the disfigured boy, a sycophantic smile plastered on his mouth.

Fleur already had an idea of where this was going, the way the conversation was going, it was only confirming what she already knew.

"I will tell you zis one last time. Go away and open zis door or zere will be consequences," she said angrily.

"Still a bitch even now. I will tell you what will happen you whore, you will do what you and the rest of your species were born to do. You are going to get down on your knees and service your betters. Each and every wizard in this room comes from superior breeding… full magical stock, you should be thankful to be granted such an honor. It's more than you creatures deserve," he stated.

Fleur grimaced. She already knew what they were after, but to have it lain in front of her in such a crude manner was still a shock to her system. Even before she had never had her heritage insulted in such a manner before. Anger quickly began to rise in her, but she knew she had to maintain her temper. If she wanted to get out of this one intact, she needed to use her brain and not her wand. At least… not until later.

"Vairy well," she stated with a fake smile, and thus began her plan.

She walked to one of the corners of the room, slowly, where she could have a plain sight of all the wizards that had previously surrounding her, the clacking of her short-heeled shoes being the only sound that permeated the chamber. As she did so, she slowly started to let off her potent allure, making the green and silver clad boys lower their wands in favor of taking care of their… other wands.

When she had a full view of the room, she let go of all control, watching in satisfaction as the disgusting wizards lowered their wands in full awe of her breathtaking beauty. The only other times that she had done outside of her family was with Harry. She felt sickened that she had to taint such a comparatively beautiful moment with servicing the attention of such repulsive company.

Still, it started to have the effect that she wanted. The confounded looks appeared on their faces, slowly but surely their wands were quickly ignored, until none were trained on her.

That is when she struck.

She quickly went for her wand at her side, and fired two stunners in quick succession, each of them found their targets and they slumped back in unconsciousness.

It took some time for the other wizards to regain their senses, by then it was a little to late for two more of them, one of which fell down to a cutting hex, the other being once again stunned. Twelve wizards were now reduced to eight.

Madame Maxime had taught her well. She was no longer a defenseless girl.

The remaining wizards quickly raised their wands and cast their own spells. Most of them were disarming spells. Fleur imagined that they wanted to have their fun even after their comrades had fallen.

"Protego!" she exclaimed and a blue shield formed in front of her, safely blocking the spells thrown at her, then she made one spell none of them were expecting.

"Altufumos!" she yelled, watching as a deep, dark smoke shot out of her wand and enveloped her whole form, she quickly kicked off her shoes and quietly snaked her way to a different location. She emerged from the smoke slowly to cast another stunner at the closest target, watching as he also crumpled down.

Unfortunately, revealing herself also caused the seven remaining opponents to cast their wands at her, a small tripping jinx caused her to fall on her back before she could once again retreat to the darkness of the smoke.

She got up quickly and cast another shield silently, taking the quickest opportunity to throw a blasting curse to another one. The once mighty dozen had now been reduced in half.

If this were a dueling match, she would have destroyed any of the opponents that had her trapped one by one, but numbers were still not meant to be taken lightly. She realized this when the disfigured boy sent a disarming charm, causing her wand to fly off from her fingers.

Now that her wand was no longer in her hands, she tried to once again run away to the door, but the remaining wizards quickly ganged up on her. The leader of the party grabbed her from behind, locking her arms behind her in a secure grip.

"You bitch!" he spat. "You should have known better! Robert! Teach this thing a little lesson!"

A heavyset man came into view and slapped her hardly. She barely had time regain her bearings from the physical assault when she felt him grab her jacket and start to rip it off, the sounds of fabric being torn apart sent her body into high gear once again.

She instantly started to struggle once again, but did not cry out or beg, she would not give them the satisfaction of seeing the fear that she felt coursing throughout her body. She kicked around, unfortunately she had taken off her shoes to be more silent, so when her stocking clad foot made contact with one of her assailant's crotch, it did not hurt him as much as she would have wanted.

It was all she could do to not drown in despair. She did not believe she would be lucky enough to have Madame Maxime close this time around. She didn't have nobody to help her now. She had tried as best as she could to become stronger, and yet she had failed. She had failed all of them.

On the back of her mind she remembered when she was helpless the last time, how Harry had come and held her until the peril was over.

She wanted him to come again, she wanted to be held by her protector like that again. She did not wish to be held by these despicable goons.

Comparing Harry to her situation, it was like night and day. The way he had held her seemed like she placed her safety first and foremost, it had been rough and gentle at the same time. There was none of that comforting kindness now, only savage cruelty.

Her jacket done, the savage started to paw at the blouse. She started to struggle once more, momentarily using both her legs to push him away, but another took his place.

They were too focused on the girl in front of her to hear the small commotion outside of the room, or to notice the door blast open to reveal a very pissed off Harry Potter-Black.

It was some time before Harry noticed that he was the last person left in the Great Hall, the rest of the occupants having gone away for either classes or back to their House dormitories.

His eyes finally left the text and started to pick up his things in order to go back to his own room, fully intent on taking a nap now that it was fully furnished with the more basic needs. His lonely figure made its way out of the Hall and into the corridor which led to the stairways. The whole place was initially empty, if he had gone even further he knew that it would lead to the grounds where the Beauxbatons carriage and the Durmstrang ship were situated.

He started to think about the changes he would do to his room, including the decorations. He was bringing some of the posters from his room in Berkshire. Maybe he could even bring some more entertaining literature like his fantasy novels or comic books. There would be enough space now for all of it, especially since he was getting rid of some of the things he had brought with him.

Those things being all bondage related material he had. After the disaster that was the interaction with Fleur, he decided it was best to ignore all his desires, and instead try as best as he could to have more normal fantasies. He was failing spectacularly at that, if his interaction with Daphne had been any indication, but he was definitely trying.

Be it as it may, he was burning them over at the fireplace tonight. Just like he should have burned that contract. It was time to get rid of it all. He needed to go back to what was really important: living up to his family legacy.

He had forgotten about all that thanks to Fleur. He had also almost forgotten that he was competing in a tournament that was meant for wizards that were much more advanced than him. His desires were dangerous and distracting, he needed to move on from that. To go back to focusing on being the best, to make his father proud, to make his family proud, to let the world know that House Potter was still alive and well.

It was then that he noticed that it was not as empty as he had initially imagined. Three Slytherin girls seemed to be guarding a door to one of the unused classrooms.

Normally Harry would have paid them no mind. Just another half-baked scheme by the House of the Snakes, but the way they were guarding the door, not to mention that they seemed to be seventh-year witches made him think again.

He quickly cast a Disillusionment Charm that would help him sneak up on the older witches. It was not as good as his invisibility cloak back in his room, but it would be enough.

He quickly made his way to the trio, intent on listening to their conversation. It was only after he was meters away that he finally made sense of the cackling.

"Are you sure this was a good idea? I don't want to get caught doing this," said one of them.

"Don't worry, we'll alter her memory after it's over. Potter's whore won't remember a single thing," assured another one.

Harry's attention spiked. Who were they talking about? But a pit in his stomach started to grow ever faster as he singled out the possibilities of who it might be. Hermione had gone with Ron and the rest, so it probably wasn't her. Susan and Daphne were the next possibilities, but he didn't think they would go after Susan out of fear of her formidable aunt. Daphne was a Slytherin so he doubted they would go after one of their own.

The last witch destroyed any mystery that they were hiding.

"That French bitch is finally gonna get it! I want to see her face when they are done with her – see if she still looks down on us. I want to cut up her pretty face. Will Potter still want her after she's been completely ruined?" she said, cackling as she did so.

At that point Harry saw red. He knew exactly what they were talking about. He did not think straight at that moment, he simply drew his wand and stunned two of the witches quickly, leaving only one to interrogate.

"What are you doing in there?!" he questioned her, holding her by the robes roughly.

"W-what do you mean, Potter? There's nothing here, get out, you disgusting half-blood!" she responded, but her nervousness was enough to know she was lying.

A small scream on the other side of the door was more than enough to boil his blood once again.

He threw the witch away, quickly firing a stunner behind her back to make sure she was out of commission. He then leveled the wand to the locked door without hesitation.

"Bombarda Maxima!"

He watched as the spell made short work of the door, splinters of wood being the only thing left after. He stepped into the dust to be able to see what was happening inside.

If he had seen red just a few moments ago, the sight he saw was enough to set his blood boiling completely.

Around six bodies were strewn about unconscious around the chamber, the ones still standing were now harassing Fleur. The recently healed Adrian Pucey was holding her arms behind her by the elbows. Robert McClintock was in the process of ripping even more of her clothes. The Veela's jacket was already torn, he quickly noticed that her shoes were also gone.

He didn't even have time to take in more of before his body reacted on his own. He raised his wand in the direction of Robert and quickly cast a curse.

"Diffindo!" he snarled.

He probably could have just cast another stunner to knock out the pureblood Slytherin, but his anger caused him to yell out the cutting curse. He saw as one of the hands that were groping Fleur was suddenly lopped off, blood spurting out. Robert brought his hand in front of him, as if not believing what he was seeing, before he collapsing on the floor beside his severed hand and screamed in agony.

The other assailants immediately turned their attention to the source of the curse and sprang into action. Harry cast a stunner before any of them could bring up their wands though. He saw Adrian throw Fleur roughly to the side, seeing that a new threat had come up.

It was four against one. He quickly tried to remember what he was taught by Sirius and Remus. He also remembered the rule Master Cheng had taught him back at the dojo when fighting multiple enemies. He needed to make sure their number advantage was unavailable to them, fighting them one by one.

He pointed his wand at one of the desks, throwing it to three of Slytherins so that it knocked them down. He did not expect them to be unconscious, but it gave him enough time to stun the remaining one down.

As soon as he did though, the three others regained their bearings and started to shoot curses at him. Harry cast a strong shield, before he managed to find cover behind one of the bookcases. He tried to find a window to hit another one, but in a display of great discipline, all three were sending stunners and curses at tandem, proving a counterattack almost impossible.

They did not see however, that Fleur had once again risen from the ground, but instead of going to her wand, she was preparing something far worse for her three remaining abusers.

Harry saw it starting on her arms hands, white feathers started to appear, her hands eventually gaining a claw-like appearance. When she held one of them in front of her, a fireball the size of a grapefruit appeared. The partially transformed Veela snarled, throwing it at the back of one of Slytherins.

The fireball exploded on his back, causing the flames to spread throughout his body, he was screaming from the unexpected sensation, causing Adrian and his last remaining man to look back at the enraged Veela in terror.

Harry took the opportunity.

"Stupefy!" he yelled the stunner this time, watching as it connected to the unrecognizable Slytherin, knocking him out completely.

Adrian Pucey now looked like a deer caught in the headlights, where he once outnumbered his opponent, the tables had now turned. The disfigured boy tried to raise his wand towards Harry, but the dark-haired Gryffindor was a lot faster.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted triumphantly, watching as the one-eyed Slytherin's wand flew from his hand and towards Fleur's direction. The Veela, still enraged, took the wooden instrument in her hand. Fire formed in her hands and burnt the wand into ashes in a matter of seconds.

Adrian, looked on in horror, shocked to see what had happened to his precious wand before anger once again took over him. His hand searched his robe, and he pulled out a long dagger before charging towards Harry, murderous intent in his eyes.

Big mistake.

Harry had been trained in martial arts, and that included the art of fighting an armed opponent. Adrian thrust the dagger into Harry's direction with the intent to pierce his skull. The Potter heir quickly sidestepped, grabbing the arm and holding it tightly. Quickly, he brought up his other arm with all the force he could muster up against the Slytherin's elbow.

A sickening crack was heard throughout the chamber, followed by a scream. Harry saw the white bone of his arms sticking out, blood beginning to pour out. The dagger fell immediately from his hand and collapsed with a loud clatter.

Harry was not done with him though, even as Adrian was screaming on the floor, he simply put his foot on the injured arm. He looked down on the older Slytherin with pure hatred on his eyes.

"You do not touch her!" he growled, before kicking him in the back of the head, causing the boy to slip into a relatively blissful unconscious state.

Harry did not have the time to survey the area around him though. He saw that Fleur was still in her partially transformed state. Anger and fear still evident in her eyes. He slowly walked over to her. He remembered one of Hagrid's advices when approaching magical creatures: always tread carefully.

He hated to think of Fleur as a magical creature. To him, Fleur was a person just like the rest, but there was no denying the heritage now that he saw the clawed hands and feathered arms. She was a Veela, and he was now seeing the other side of her kind. The fierce side. The side that had knocked down half of her assailants by herself.

He now saw why Fleur Delacour was chosen to represent her school for the tournament. She was a magnificent young woman.

"Fleur… it's okay… they're gone now. You're safe… you're going to be alright," he said carefully.

It seemed to working, he saw as the feathers began to recede slowly, her claws returning to the delicate fingers she usually had. The uniform was still torn, so much that he could see hints of the cream-colored brassiere she was sporting. She turned her attention away from him, making her way to where her wand lay. She slowly picked it up before walking back towards his direction.

She was completely back to normal now. Harry saw as he made her way to him, not a word was spoken as they both closed the distance between them. He then noticed that the fear and anger were gone from her eyes. She was looking at him with warmth, something that made his heart flutter uncontrollably.

They stopped when they were mere inches away from each other. Their eyes never left each other's, and they both saw very different and yet very similar things.

Harry saw the warmth, but he also saw relief, gratefulness and admiration. Tears started to pour from those sapphire orbs. She had not been crying even when she was being manhandled, but she was crying tears of joy for him.

Fleur on the other side saw the same warmth, but she also saw the strength, the determination… and the thing that she had always wanted to see from someone: honor and sincerity. She let her allure come out in full force, too tired to control it anymore.

She knew she could trust him not to harm her. Thoughts that in other circumstances would never have been admitted were now impossible to deny.

'I can trust you… I want you… I'm yours… take care of me.'

Harry held out his hand, in order to help stabilize and lead her out of the room, away from the scene of disaster. Fleur seemed to have other plans however. Tired from her partial transformation, she collapsed straight into his arms, her body yearning for the touch of the young man in front of her.

"Fleur!" gasped Harry as he quickly prevented her from falling down. "Fleur! Are you okay?"

Her response was to simply hold on tighter to him, unwilling to let go.

Harry cursed mentally. He needed to get her out of here immediately. He didn't know when their unconscious opponents would regain their bearings. He had to get her out immediately.

He thought of taking her towards the Beauxbatons carriage, but it was too far away. He didn't want other students to take advantage of her right now. The hospital wing was also out. It would be similarly risky to take her through so many hallways. The stairs were close by, if he could take her to the fourth floor, she would be safe in his new, private room. The only place he knew he could keep her while he searched for her headmistress.

He maneuvered her body so that he could pick her up. He opted for a bridal position, her hands were still clutching at his robe weakly. Taking one last glance at the destruction they had orchestrated, he left the classroom and made his way to the empty stairs, and to the fourth floor.

The Potter heir carried the exhausted Veela all the way to his room. He thanked his godfather once again for encouraging him in taking physically demanding extracurricular activities. Not that the older woman weighed that much – in fact, she was lighter than he initially expected – but was still heavy enough that he needed to have more strength than the average fourth year student to carry her to safety.

He also had to thank Dumbledore for giving him his own personal room, he didn't want to imagine the scene he would have caused in the Gryffindor common room if he had waltzed in with the barely conscious and half-naked Beauxbatons champion being carried bridal-style. Hermione would be scandalized, Ron would be jealous – even more so than normal – and the rest of his house would probably imagine the worst had happened.

The room in question was situated on one of the unused towers of the castle. These rooms were special, but they were no longer in use, and had not been for a long time. They were once called the "marriage quarters".

Back during a stricter era, young wizards and witches would get married early on at the insistence of their houses and families. Most of the couples were sixth and seventh years, but records show some marriages being done for couples as young as fourth year students.

In order for them to get used to their new partners, the marriage quarters were created. True to their name, they were special rooms that could easily house two or more individuals. They included a king-sized bed, a large wardrobe, a personal bathroom, and other furniture such as a couple of desks, a table surrounded by comfortable seats, and a fireplace.

To get a little privacy as well, each room was sealed by a password – one that he himself had recently programed – just like the entrance of the common rooms. He went over to the portrait, which portrayed a knight covered completely in black armor.

"Excelsior!" he proclaimed and watched as the knight nodded and revealed the entrance, a door was still in place, to add extra security and privacy. He really doubted that any magically raised wizard or witch would be familiar with Stan Lee.

He opened the door and made a beeline for the bed in order to lay down his beautiful burden. Going back to close the heavy wooden door with a charmed lock.

The moment he placed her on the bed though, he noticed that she immediately tensed. Even more when he locked the door.

Harry was confused for a moment, until he made the connection and cursed himself for his lack of foresight. A bed… and the events that had taken place between them, not to mention the nature of what had just happened to her not a few minutes ago. She probably thought that he would take advantage of her current state like the Slytherins had attempted to do so.

He imagined how many would fantasize about what lay before him. The object of many of his own fellow students' lust lay vulnerable, something that seemed impossible if they had seen her totally composed and assured when she was in public. Harry himself could scantly believe the vision, having seen firsthand Fleur's cavalier attitude.

It was impossible once again not to fantasize about what he could do to her, much to his disgust.

He immediately thought of the Slytherin students, and what they tried to do. He remembered what his godfather had told him. He was not like them. He was not like Tom Riddle.

He could never hurt her, no matter how much he wanted her.

"I need to go. I'll go tell your headmistress what happened," he assured her, and with that he turned around to leave. It was one of the hardest things he had to do. To have her so close, yet his morals absolutely forbade him to take advantage of the situation.

He made his way back to the door, intent on going as fast as he could to the Beauxbatons carriage. Or at least he would have, had a delicate hand not grabbed his robes.

"Non, please, don't go," came the soft, accented voice of the woman behind him

Harry was momentarily startled at the demand. Thinking he must have been hearing incorrectly, or that he was hallucinating. There was no way she had told him to stay after the argument that they had the last time they had spoken.

"It's ok, this room is secure. Nobody's coming in here without the password. I won't take long, I'll be back with Madame Maxime and Madam Pomfrey before you know it."

But the clutching hand insisted for him to stay.

"Please."

Despite all his feelings and the little voice telling him to stay with the beautiful girl. Harry knew that he should not be around her any longer. Just as he was starting to let her go, to admit to himself that they would probably never share anything, this starts to happen. He should leave, he should go to the Beauxbatons headmistress so that she can take Fleur back to the carriage to receive some attention. He should start to forget about her.

But Harry decided to be weak.

Sighing, he sat down on the bed, surprised when the hand left his robe and snaked timidly to his own. He did not deter it though, interlocking his fingers with her own. They stayed a few seconds like this, he knew that she could not stay like this forever, and that he may be taking advantage of her most vulnerable self.

"I still need to tell your headmistress," he finally commented, but Fleur did not make a sound, she simply tightened her hold on his hand. He still did not see her directly, afraid that it would break the moment.

Taking out his wand, Harry figured it was time to use a small trick Remus had taught him about the Patronus charm.

"Expecto Patronum!" he chanted, watching as a silvery ethereal glow shot out of his wand. The presence eventually molding itself into a distinguishable form.

The most noticeable thing was the wings, followed by the scales and tail. A mythical, dangerous creature. The dragon was small enough that it could fit into the room. Though Harry remembered it being a lot bigger when he had used it against all the dementors in his third year, the smaller size would help it deliver the message safely.

Beside him Fleur could only watch with wide eyes. She had heard the rumors from Madame Maxime, but it was still hard to believe that the young man holding her hand was able of such an impressive feat of magic at such a young age.

Harry recorded the intended message to Madame Maxime and Madam Pomfrey, also instructing it to go to McGonagall. Then, he watched as the small dragon unfurled its wings and flew away to find the intended receivers.

Silence reigned the room, both teenagers preferring to communicate through their joined hands. Eventually the one that ended the silent aura was Harry.

"I'm sorry," he said, gaining the attention of Fleur. "I'm truly sorry for what I did. Now I know why you were angry, and you were completely justified. Well, I'm not going to be the same as that scum. I won't be bothering you anymore, I-."

"Can I trust you?" she interrupted softly.

Harry dared to turn his face to look at her, but she was not looking at him directly. Instead staring at the wall on the other side.

"Trust me with what?" he questioned. Though a desperate part of him already knew the answer

"Trust you to not be like zem," she answered, the last word being said with a hatred that was uncharacteristic even for her.

Harry sighed, trying to find the right words. Most people would just lie to her, try to tell a version of themselves that is not true in order to fool her. But he had already decided before that he was done telling lies, especially to her.

"I don't know. I'm not going to lie to you, I do like you, and your beauty is a part of that, I will admit that. But I also like other things about you, I like how you smile, how you laugh. I find your comments funny and I enjoy talking to you. I will not get down on my knees and proclaim undying love like the rest because I don't know if I truly love you yet. But I really want to try to see if I do, if you give this perverted, fucked up guy a chance. If you don't, I won't hold it against you, I won't get in your way. The one thing I will tell you, is that you can trust me to never want to truly hurt you,"

Before Fleur could respond a heavy knocking on the door interrupted them. It sounded angry, yet more worried than anything.

Harry felt the French witch tighten her hand around his own. He was confused at her reaction but tried to comfort her.

"Don't worry, I think it's your headmistress," he assured, then slowly let go of her hand.

He stood up and made his way to the door, taking of the lock and opening the door, his wand was still at the ready just in case it was someone unexpected.

The crouched figure of Madame Maxime was at the forefront, and immediately went in and rushed to Fleur, who was still laying on the bed. Harry heard her let out a rapid, concerned flurry of French to the girl, he was a little more concerned with the other two older witches that accompanied the giantess. Both professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were allowed in after he gave them permission.

"What did you do to her," demanded Madame Maxime, who was clutching Fleur in her arms protectively. It seemed she had taken noticed the French champion's torn uniform.

She looked angry, yet Harry knew that she was doing it purely out of concern. He was about to respond but McGonagall beat him to it.

"Maxime, while Mr. Potter can be a chronic rule-breaker, he would not stoop himself so low as to attempt to assault his fellow champion."

Madame Maxime looked like she was about to argue, but Fleur then placed her hand on her headmistress' shoulder.

"It's true Madame, he helped me. It would have been much worse if he hadn't been there," she said.

Madam Pomfrey decided that it was time to intervene.

"Madame, please, I must attend to Ms. Delacour, to see if there are any damages," she said cautiously to the giantess who was still clinging on to her student.

Madame Maxime reluctantly let go of Fleur but was still vigilant of her as the Hogwarts nurse ran some quick charms on the young French witch, asking questions as she went along.

Harry turned around to see the questioning gaze of his Head of House.

"Mr. Potter, you must explain to me what happened in detail. We saw a dozen wounded students on the way here, and I do believe you were the culprit. Explain yourself," she demanded, although the worried stare she gave towards Fleur's clothing said that she already knew the answer.

"That fucking scum, tried to assault her. She had already knocked half of them out but still they overwhelmed her, I took care of the rest. Frankly, I could give a rat's ass how wounded they are. They deserved that and more," Harry growled.

McGonagall wanted to argue, but a single glance to Fleur and then to Harry's glare dropped the issue from her mind.

After Pomfrey's inspection, she cast a quick repairing charm on Fleur's uniform. It would still have to be replaced, since it only forced the blue garments back together but the tear marks were still noticeable, but it would be enough to protect her modesty on the trek back to the carriage.

"Monsieur Potter-Black, I am deeply sorry for my accusations earlier. I am grateful, you 'ave done ze school, myself, and Fleur a great service. You should be proud of yourself," said Madame Maxime diplomatically, but the gratitude in her voice was still noticeable.

"I'm sure anyone would have done the same in my situation," Harry responded.

"Non, zey wouldn't 'ave," said Fleur softly.

McGonagall on the other hand adopted her strict look.

"Mr. Potter, as Deputy Headmistress, I simply cannot ignore your misconduct. One hundred points from Gryffindor for assaulting your fellow students…"

Everyone looked like they wanted to protest, including Fleur and Maxime, but McGonagall once again raised her voice.

"… and two hundred points for protecting a foreign student and demonstrating the values that this school and the House of Godric Gryffindor was founded upon," she added with a small smile.

With that, and a final thank you from Fleur, they all left Harry's room.

The dark-haired wizard sighed tiredly, loneliness once again enveloping him. He decided that he needed a shower to take his mind of things. Part of him was admonishing himself for not taking another chance with Fleur but was quashed immediately. It was best to start forgetting about her. He needed to have his mind fully on the tournament.

Dressing for the night he made his way back to the bed. It was then that he noticed something he hadn't seen before waiting on the center of the bed. It was a small, familiar scroll. One that he thought he had all but forgotten before.

Why had Fleur given it back?

Harry shook his head. It didn't matter, he needed to do what he should have done in the first place

His hands immediately grabbed it, and he started to make his way to the fireplace so that he may burn it like he should have done so before. It was the thing that destroyed any chance he would have had with the French witch, it should be erased immediately.

Yet before he could set the piece of parchment ablaze, his curiosity got the better of him and he decided to open it once more.

There, on the line was a single signature, and it was not his. The delicate handwriting spelled only one name

Fleur Isabelle Delacour.

Needless to say, Harry was not able to sleep that whole night.

End

Song recommendation is "Crazy" by the American metal band, W.A.S.P. from their 2009 release "Babylon". I recommend not only the song and album, but W.A.S.P.'s entire discography. They're one of the best 80's bands and they are extremely underrated. Or rather, Blackie Lawless is underrated, given that he is the only original member left. They're also on my very top five, probably just below Judas Priest on being my favorite band ever.

One thing that I was extremely disappointed by in the novels is that Rowling seemed to have no outline on what to do with the Harry Potter character. In the early novels, there was a lot of comparisons between him and Voldemort, how similar they were and yet their nature made them into different people in the end. That seemed to be something that was completely forgotten by the sixth book, relegating the comparisons to "Harry has a piece of Voldemort in his scar", something which I thought was a complete cop-out.

Harry is a much more interesting character, in my opinion, when he does have those similarities with Tom Riddle (his ambition, need for dominance, overwhelming drive and strength), yet his moral compass does not allow him to do the monstrous things Voldemort did to himself and to others.

That's also why I'm not worried about criticism of "Harry being too powerful". That's how he should have been, in my opinion. I'm not talking godlike, but definitely above the rest of his peers in terms of magical power. The whole fight with Voldemort felt almost undeserved in the seventh book. We see Harry's determination, but was completely unbelievable when he went against a guy that was not only more powerful in terms of feats of magic but was also more experienced.

I hope you all liked that Fleur fantasy, I really want it to show her conflict between wanting to submit, and yet being so scared of doing so because of her experiences. Hope you all thought it was well written.

Aaah, the slave Leia outfit - the introduction for many of us to our perverted fantasies.

Now we are going for the real stuff, took me long enough, and to think I was going to start doing kinky stuff in the third chapter initially, not to mention this story was originally intended as a one-shot, I guess I do have the tendency to drag things along. Keep in mind, it won't be intense just now, it's still little awkward to do sex with Harry, seeing as he is still in fourth-year, and Fleur is still shaken by the experience. The dom/sub that will be seen during the Tournament will be more on exploration of both Harry's and Fleur's desires. Actual sex will wait until later.

This is the first time that I have written combat. Tell my if I did a good job or if I can improve. It has been a long time since I've taken martial arts lessons so I may be a little rusty. I hope I get better since the Naruto story I have planned in the future will likely involve quite bit of fighting. If any of you have any tips on how to write combat, I'd be happy to hear them.

I may end up making more spells.

"Altufumos" is a combination of "deep" (altum) and "smoke" (fumo). Just trying to make something like a smoke bomb.

I have to thank you once again for the overwhelmingly positive response I have gotten for this story despite its less than conventional sexual themes. We are now up to over 900 favorites, 182 reviews and 1,500 follows! I'm getting on the big leagues now, if this story continues to grow, it could start being on the same number of follows as some of the classic HP/FD stories, so I have to double my efforts in terms of quality.

If you have any doubts or suggestions, review or PM.

Again, if I have any volunteers to Beta read this story, send me a PM.

Until next time.

The Metal Sage