16 The Proposal (Meeting Fleur's Parents Part One)

Fleur has been restless since this morning. Her parents were due to arrive this afternoon. She's going to introduce them to Harry. And knowing her boyfriend, she was worried that he might not ruin her parents' marriage right away. Although Fleur herself has never seen any signs of either of her parents cheating on each other. But she was her, and Harry was Harry.

She really didn't want that day to come. The months after her second trial had been some of the best months of her life. She was living with the person she loved, basically doing nothing, even though it sounds boring, but not with Harry. Around him, various intrigues, adventures, and showdowns only so-so. Hermione, for example. Harry "accepted" her and "allowed" her to come to their apartment during office hours. To socialize, to eat, maybe even to help out in some way. At the meals in the Great Hall, she's always sitting next to them. Honestly, sometimes it gets in Fleur's way, but for the most part, at least there's someone feminine to socialize with. As understanding as Harry was, many topics only girls would understand. And she didn't have many female friends. Well, frankly, one, and that was her sister Gabrielle. It just so happens that girls, especially in Charmbaton, at this age think only about boys and their appearance. And how can you not be jealous when next to lives, seemingly exactly the same girl, only always perfect. No, of course, not absolutely perfect. Fleur can get a pimple or a rash just the same. But she needs ten times less makeup to look well-groomed and beautiful. Of course, a veela will attract male attention even if she is a hundred and fifty-kilogram, dirty, foul-smelling person. But Fleur only takes care of herself for the sake of her dignity, not for the saliva-dripping primates around her. And now for Harry, of course.

Oh, a few days ago she wore a new pair of lacy lingerie. Harry liked it. He loved it. She still had hickeys on her chest and neck, albeit hidden by foundation. How she loved the very concept that she needed to dress nicely to turn him on more, not just to stupidly enhance the charms. He wants her specifically because she's beautiful, not because he's under the fucking spell of a veela. Just the thought of it made her ready to squeal with joy. And she especially liked the fact that Harry's attitude towards her hadn't changed at all since he'd seen... well, the other side of her. She'd expected him to be scared, perhaps afraid or, at worst, to stop seeing her as a girl. But no. He was deliberately proving that he still loved her just as much. Both in bed at night and in the daytime in the little things of life.

Ordinary girls don't understand what it's like to be a veela. Well, they didn't understand her at Beauxbatons. The only thing that stopped her from outright bullying was the fact that her father was the head of the Aurorat.

Hermione, on the other hand, was surprisingly understanding. Even if not completely, but at least she accepted Fleur's arguments... Well, and the fact that the veela has a boyfriend that Granger isn't interested in. But either way, Fleur was overjoyed.

Although, the whole thing was cruelly ruined by those red-haired kids. When they saw Hermione socializing with Fleur and Harry, it was a capital fight. In front of the entire great hall, the redhead called Fleur a "veela whore", Harry a "fucking snob and traitor", and Hermione, quote, "A total bitch... with them. I'm a... what about me?... freak! A bookworm." When Harry recovered a bit and was about to do something about Ron, Fleur could see it in his eyes, the professors had blown up and specifically punished Weasley for the rest of the year with all sorts of detention. His prankster brothers were said to have had a hand in his punishment too, personally from them.

Not a few days later, the now red-haired girl, this time in the hallway, apparently her older brother had set some sort of example for her, started mothering Hermione. Well, there was something about traitors too, and again Fleur was called a slut. Harry just cast a silence curse and led the angry veela by the handle further.

He didn't want to do anything to the little girl who, due to her age, does first and thinks later.

And so, while Harry sat phlegmatically in a chair and thought about something, Fleur cleaned the apartment, ate, changed into different clothes, ate, and then did it all over again. Harry, on the other hand, was thinking. What occupied his thoughts, the girl didn't know. It could be either thinking about the third assignment or thinking about what he would be putting on his plate today. And then Harry spoke abruptly:

"Fleur, marry me," he said absolutely seriously.

The girl froze on her way to the kitchen for another meal. What could she do, she was getting caught up in the excitement. She slowly turned her slightly disheveled head to the calm as a boa constrictor Harry and asked quite a bit hysterically:

"What?"

"I said, marry me," again completely calmly said the boy.

"OUI ! I mean... bien... what makes you think. pourquoi so early...?" began almost mumbling Fleur, trying to formulate her thought.

"I just appreciated that I'm unlikely to trust anyone else romantically. And the fact that I proposed will make a good argument to your parents. And, in fact, the wedding itself can be held when I'm seventeen. Things will settle down in England, or I'll be gone by then. And I love you. So do you agree or not?" finished Harry a little impatiently.

"Ahhhh," Fleur switched to an ultrasound, throwing herself into Potter's arms and pulling him into a long kiss, "Bien sûr, mon favori, Seigneur, je suis si heureux," the veela switched to her native tongue with excitement.

Harry, of course, had expected a violent reaction, so he stoically endured it, smiling and answering the kisses.

Not to say he wasn't pleased himself.

He was damn glad. Fleur would now officially be his wife. Honestly, the very thought of it thrilled him, even if he didn't show it. There was just one little thing left to do. Getting to know his parents. He's frankly afraid. Not of meeting them, no, not at all. It's that they might take Fleur away from him. One way or another.

Dominic Delacour waited for his beloved wife, Apolline, and his youngest daughter, Gabrielle. Even though they are both veelas, it doesn't cover the fact that they are also girls, and it will take them a long time to get ready. After all, today they are going to support their eldest daughter in the third round and to drive away the arrogant young man that the younger veela mentioned.

Well, the second goal was for Dominique personally, he didn't want to give his daughter, judging by Gabrielle's meager description, to some golden boy major. And Fleur is good, she fell for ponchos, most likely gifts, promises, beautiful... And when he forbids her to talk to him after the tournament, it'll be teenage angst, running away and all that... teenage stuff.

And then, finally, they get into Hogwarts with a special portkey. Dominic has been here before. When he was working as a simple auror, he was in one of the squads that were sent to support England in the first war with Voldemort. It was rather strange, because the whole situation was told to them by the headmaster. Explaining the plan of action, the balance of power, and the elite of the Eaters. Normally, this would be the job of the head of the Aurorate or the Minister of Magic... but not the Headmaster. It was only much later, when Dominic was already mired in politics, that he realized that Albus Dumbledore was the real ruler of England. And who better than him to tell him what to do and who to do it to.

He remembers the war. Frankly, it was a terrible time. Of the entire group that was sent from France, only three survived, including Delacour himself. Three out of forty-seven men. Forty-seven trained, some of France's finest fighters. And not to say that their sacrifices were much justified; they, like most aurors in England itself, were sort of cannon fodder. The Order of the Phoenix, led by Dumbledore himself, was the elite. There were a lot of really strong wizards there, next to whom Dominic felt a bit inferior... like the entire Aurorate, in fact.

Blacks, Potters, Pruetts, Bones, Longbottoms, and a bunch of single half-bloods or muggleborns. The same Evans-Potter was every bit as good as Black in combat. Black. Blacks are historically fighting mages, they've been raised that way since childhood, even though Sirius had been cut off from his family, he'd learned everything his ancestors wanted to give him before he was sixteen, and here was a muggleborn.

And the legendary Alastor Moody? He was probably second only to Dumbledore in power, and first in recklessness, of course. The story was told that the eaters had killed his wife or girlfriend, and now he climbed into the very center of battle so that he was on the verge of death every time or so. That's why he has so many scars. They say he's just crazy.

One time he saw Dumbledore battle a bunch of inner circle eaters. There were about a dozen of them. And one old man. It was really scary. The Headmaster, instead of his usual forgiveness and calmness, radiated coldness and terror, all his slightly clownish clothes darkened and looked like a black robe, and his usually kind sparkling eyes were pure ice. The phoenix looked not like an ordinary beautiful bird, but like some demon from the underworld flying around the battlefield, protecting Dumbledore from spells and scorching the devourers, all the while letting out a song that would make your blood freeze in your veins. The Headmaster, of course, wins. He didn't kill anyone, but put everyone in Azkaban. All of them. Ten of them. Eaters.

After that, Dominic mentally puts an "idiot" check mark next to the names of those people who call Dumbledore a madman or a good-for-nothing old man. Somehow Delacour, looking at that power, had the distinct opinion that if Dumbledore had been in league with Grindelwald back in the day... the world would have been overrun, drowned in blood, and rebuilt long ago.

Before all this, he had laughed at the English habit of fearing a name. Afterward, he himself had never once called Who-could-not-be-named by name. Even in spite of all the teasing from his coworkers.

By the way, Dominic also wanted to see this legendary Harry Potter. The story of the victory over the Dark Lord is also popular on the continent. To be honest, the situation in England at that time was so unstable that many countries began to build up a regular army or aurorate, each country has a different one. Because, in fact, once Voldemort took control of England, there would be war. So France, Bulgaria, and indeed many other countries sent crowds of auroras in support. That's why the story of the Boy Who Survived is popular across the continent and frankly, it's sort of like a beautiful fairy tale that housewives tell their children.

He must be about fourteen now? They say he looks like his father, and Dominic, though not much, was familiar with James Potter. He was a unicum in transfiguration. Could fight alone against two members of the Inner Circle of Eaters, and together with Lily, they could overpower five. Their combination of bulky, massive transfiguration and subtle, precise battle charms simply didn't stand a chance. For example, one member of the inner circle could fight five or six Aurors from Delacour's group at the time.

And here the son was a combination of James and Lily. Well, it would probably be a golden boy who would most likely be proud of what his parents had done. But suddenly. Suddenly he'll be something really special. Who knows. Getting into the tournament speaks in his favor, though. Honestly, Dominic believed Dumbledore, so he highly doubted that a fourteen year old could have gotten past the line on his own. Which means someone is out to kill him. Two eaters were said to have been uncovered on the Hogwarts grounds in a year, one of them from the inner circle.

When the large oak doors leading into the Great Hall swung open, the Delacour couple caught an extremely interesting sight. A young, well-dressed man of about seventeen was actively saying something to the red-haired family opposite to whom he stood. There were no ordinary dinner tables, but there were a lot of people in the hall, some of them relatives of the champions, some of them had just arrived for the third trial, and there were reporters here and there. Dominic recognized the oldest among the redheads, she seemed to be the younger sister of the Pruett Twins. Watching the conflict closely, the Delacours stepped aside from the doors, opening the passage.

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm grateful for everything you've done for me, but you can't tell me who I should live with, date, be friends with, and so on..."

"Harry, love, but that's a French veela," Molly was saying, "she's just charmed you. All she wants from you is-"

"I'll decide for myself who I want and what they need from me. You. me. You're not the boss of me. And while I..."

Just then Gabrielle burst out from behind her parents' back and ran towards that young man.

"Arry!," the little veela flew in with a shout and hugged the young man around the waist.

There was terror and panic on the face of this mysterious "Arry". He started looking around as if searching for someone and, not finding anyone, stroked Gabrielle's head with a crooked, barely extruded smile. It was quite amusing, Dominic even smiled a little.

"Hey, hi kid. You know, I think, purely my opinion, you should probably let me go..." rambled the kid still with a grimace of panic on his face.

Gabrielle, on the other hand, only chuckled into his stomach.

The doom on his face intensified. Just then Fleur walked through the doors.

Today was almost the first time Harry and Fleur had gone to the great hall not together. It was just that Fleur had asked to be left alone for a while. She wasn't entirely sure why, but she needed to sit alone, to think, to realize that she was now married to Harry... almost. Rejoice and go to the Great Hall.

The first thing Fleur saw was Gabrielle hugging her Harry, then she saw that family of redheads from the restaurant, including Bill, who now, noticing her, was trying to catch her eye. He's still holding out hope. And then with a cry of "Gabrielle!", she ran to her sister and literally pulled her away from Harry and hugged her. Then she quickly greeted Harry with a kiss on the cheek and the redhead with a nod of her head, and was about to sit down when she realized that Gabrielle was unlikely to have come alone this time.

The butterflies in her stomach instantly turned to stones.

Dominique and Apolline, watching it all, were a little out of step. Here's the fight with the redhead, here's Gabrielle knowing this young man, here's Fleur hugging Gabrielle, then kissing the young man... kisses? Mr. Delacour's fist clenched on his cane. Then clenched even tighter as Fleur grabbed the black-haired man under his arm, whispered something quickly, and the two of them, arm in arm as they did so, walked in their direction. The Weasley's stepped back a bit, discussing something, still occasionally glaring at Fleur's back.

The young man was definitely handsome. And rich. The firm of the suit was hard not to recognize when you were wearing one yourself. In principle, everything fit into Dominic's original concept of a "major". Until he looked into his eyes. Instead of fear, uncertainty and other emotions that a normal teenager should have when meeting a girl's parents, he saw a squinted evaluating look and only a slight tinge of some negative emotion.

"Maman, papa, it's good to see you. I'd like to introduce you to my fiancé Harry James Potter," Fleur said a little uncertainly but firmly.

Only now did Dominique notice the scar. But gosh, Potter must be fourteen...

Stop. What?

Fiance?