58 No Way in Hell

(Ramdan Moubarak, sorry for the delay, many things happened and I found myself stuck with a headache, a damaged laptop and no motivation to fix it since I was fasting; meaning i'm only a functional person after sundown...sorta like a Vampire, not Molag Bad in the deal thank you very much, though Serena is the best.)

"I feel like I've tried to headbut an armored troll." Magnus said, leaning back against the soft cushions Fleur had summoned all around.

The French witch had rather liked the enchanted study room, hidden behind the portrait of Fantasio 'Bob' Lennon; a dark wizard known for impersonating famous muggles through the ages.

Why he was the one controlling access to a strategically placed study room in the library of all places, Magnus neither knew nor cared enough to find out.

The room was rather small, almost too small for his tastes. It once had an almost crumbling wooden table and a couple chairs, which he used well in his time, but the Beauxbatons champion preferred vanishing every bit of 'Crude Britishness.' except him and magically reconstructing it.

It was still small but the amount of cushions, blankets and warming charms turned it into the comfiest room in the entire castle, RoR notwithstanding.

"Bad day?" Fleur asked him from her spot in front of him, the room was so small their feet were almost touching.

The Veela's unreasonable need for warmth was sated by the many charms she'd applied, so she had removed the many cloaks and doublets she'd wear everywhere. Leaving her with nothing but her school's uniform, minus the rather ridiculous hat.

Of course, it was Fleur, so she kept a blanket on.

"Like you wouldn't believe." He said, opening his eyes to see her blue ones peering at him with amusement. "What?"

"If your school work leaves you like this, I don't know how you'll manage your Newts." She smiled gently, soothing any grief he might've had.

A few days ago, she wouldn't have dared poke fun at him by any measure. The witch was terrified to drive off her newest, and possibly only friend, and kept walking on eggshells to avoid bruising his ego.

He was glad she felt more comfortable nowadays.

'I wonder what kind of face you'll make once you'll realize I took my newts before you.' He thought, allowing a small grin to set in.

His blond haired friend from across the channel looked at him curiously, still trying to see what makes him tick. She should've known better than to try and understand how the mind of a paranoid rich boy with issues worked.

"Have you finally succumbed to the allure?" She said huskily, he could almost hear her mischievous smile.

It was there, her allure that is. It always was, radiating off her and trying it's best to ensnare him. Once you got over the whole 'Will make you act like a freaking idiot' shtick that went along with it, it was almost enjoyable.

Or maybe it was his Black blood speaking? Loving the way a potentially deadly ability brushed against him just because he had a measure of immunity did make him look like a headcase.

"Yes, I feel the sudden and irrepressible urge to hit you with a pillow." He said, channeling his inner maniac. "That must be your allure twisting my mind, you sly witch."

"Don't even think about it." Fleur warned him, producing a few embers in her hands.

"Scary bird lady, got it." He nodded in fake seriousness.

"Magnus…" She looked at him sternly, but her eyes and twitching lips betrayed her amusement.

"Yeah, yeah." the boy seemingly relented, before giving her a Sirius worthy smile. "But you were really hot right now."

"I always am." She raised a brow, daring him to say otherwise.

That was a battle he simply couldn't win.

"You're still a stalker."

He enjoyed watching her face turn into a very charming tint of red, she was probably the only woman who could pull off being embarrassed so graciously.

Magnus knew it was her nature as a Veela, making her every action unbelievably attractive, but he liked to think at least some of it was due to her being Fleur.

Just the right amount of snooty arrogance wrapped around an absolutely adorable marshmallow of a girl, her existence being magic in itself also helped get her in the self-proclaimed supreme magic enthusiast's good graces.

"Will you tell me what's bozering you?" She said after the proper amount of huffing and puffing his remark demanded. Fleur stayed casual even then, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ears in a way that did many horrible, wonderful things to his teenage mind.

'That lisp was definitely intentional.'

But Magnus could see how attentive she was, not that she could ever hide it. Fleur Delacour might have perfected the art of bitchy aloofness and holier than thou attitude, but she still had the deceitful capabilities of a cornflake.

He couldn't help but smile at that, but there was simply no way he could tell her the truth.

'I am beat because I've been trying and failing to control the cursed flames of Fiendfyre every night to destroy the multiple soul shards of a noseless dark wizard.' Didn't seem that convincing, he found it hard to believe himself half the time.

"Nothing." His smile widened when he saw the no-nonsense look she shot at him, with her patented 'cut the crap' gaze and all the determination of an overly curious Veela.

She wouldn't even argue about this, although her own depiction would be much less crass.

"Yes, people do often feel utterly exhausted with an obvious strain in their magic for no reason whatsoever." She rolled her eyes.

That made him pause.

"You can feel my magic?" He asked, disbelief clear in his voice.

"Depends." She said, looking way too mischievous for his sensibilities."Is it a euphemism?"

...

Magnus Black didn't do blushing, but this was a very close call.

"Fleur." He said, trying to salvage the situation.

"Oui?" She raised a single, perfect brow, and he knew he was beat.

The French Witch did show him some mercy, fortunately, ending his plight with a couple gentle pats on the cheek. It felt nice…in a very strange way.

"You can't win against a Veela, mon petit chou." She looked way too proud for something so benign. "What would your countrymen say if they saw the heir of the illustre house of Black flustered by a young maiden?"

"They'd probably go on a warpath, there's no way in hell they'd let the French damage one of their national treasures." He did have some fight left in him, after all.

"Arrogant much?" She said, her hand surprisingly warm on his face. He hadn't realized how close their faces were until he found himself unable to look away from her lively blue eyes; he could almost see glimpses of fire dancing behind them.

"I know what I'm worth." He said plainly, yet more softly than he'd intended.

"Is that so?" She smiled, and he could feel her breath on the tip of his nose. "You might be more suited to French soil."

"I don't think the British would let me go so easily." He chuckled, "You might have to kidnap me, Fleur."

"Maybe I will." This close, her eyes seemed avian and more than a little hungry.

"Maybe I'd let you." Since when did he speak like this?

He didn't like this.

Magnus was currently feeling many, many highly confusing emotions. He wanted to hide his face, smile madly or just give in and kiss her already…shit.

Since when was kissing on the table? He most certainly didn't sign up for this.

The contract was clear; he got the pleasure of teasing an admittedly very cute girl while power tripping over his fellow students envy, a very nice way of giving them the middle finger just so. And she got a friend who didn't drool, obey her every whim or think she's the best thing since sliced bread.

He called bullshit, this was an obvious breach of their accord.

"Silly boy." She smiled so sweetly at his misgivings all but faded "Don't go around saying such things, a girl might just end up believing you."

But he did mean in it, he wouldn't mind her stealing him away from this damned country, not at this moment at least. And the truth of that statement brought with it way too much baggage than he was comfortable processing, but it doubtlessly meant something very, very troublesome.

"Besides, it's not a kidnapping if you're into it." She released his face and returned to her place, and he could do nothing but mourn the warmth he'd just lost.

"No, no it's not."

Shit, he might just have to talk to Sirius about this mess. That man was supposed to be his father, right? It ought to be his duty to help him deal with the hormonal mayhem he was becoming.

He snorted.

'No way in hell am I telling him about it.'

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Hey guys! It's Uncle Sheo!

Again, sorry about this delay. Concerning the new cheese mongers community, I made some progress and stroked off a couple options. The chapters are coming along nicely, though I had to rewrite this one from memory on my phone (excuse the spelling mistakes, Kuro.)

My laptop should be fixed in a couple days, so Wednesday's regular update won't be affected. No people, I can't release double or triple to compensate, at least not right now.

Have a nice day, and Ramadan Karim to those who are now hungry as all hell. (For those who don't know, it's basically nofap November on steroids for muslims; No food, no water, no cuss, no nothing from sunrise until sundown...)

Sorry if there wasn't much plot, I didn't want to ruin things so fluff was all I can reliable create in these conditions. Stay tuned for more, until then...

Peace and Cheese!