Yule Ball Thy Name is Fluff

(A/N: A little bird told me you missed the fluff, here you go.)

When you wake up in a world of magic, lineage-centered fascism and very poorly thought-out economics, you don't spend much time thinking about going to some glorified prom.

Yet there he stood, enjoying the cold breeze in a stylish black and silver muggle suit that would do little to protect him from the cold if he didn't add copious warming charms.

The pumpkin-shaped carriage with many enchantments was in front of him, reminding him of a sweet night the likes of which he rarely enjoyed.

Every now and then, some students would leave dressed in their best robes. Most of whom were witches, they offered him smiles and giggles and blushed the likes of which only foreign young girls could muster.

Some of them even asked him for a dance or two, only to be disappointed. They might've been French but they unfortunately didn't hit that sweet spot of charm, teasing, and grace he was looking for.

'Nor can they throw fireballs.' He smiled, if anyone asked him why he went with her he'd surely use this excuse.

Not that anyone would, ask him, that is. Most people would either be impressed, envious, or a combination of the two. Magnus didn't blame them, sure he'd break their legs if they started annoying him, but he did not blame them.

The boy felt Fleur before he saw her, the familiar grasp of her allure trying and failing to get a hold of him. It greeted him like an old friend, brushing against the calm wizard's whole being with a softness others could scarcely imagine.

All the while trying to cajole him into giving in.

From anyone else he'd be revolted by such an attempt on his mind, his freedom. Unconscious or not, Magnus wasn't one to let such an affront slide…but it was Fleur, and he did not have it in his heart to be vexed by such things.

He knew it would hurt her if he did, his own flawed mind was too vicious not to realize it. With but a few words he could break her, shatter her heart and ruin the sweet witch. A few more could destroy her self-esteem, and within days he might be able to lure her back onto his grasp.

That way she would never leave him.

'Stop thinking like this.' He chided himself, this was supposed to be another happy, perfect evening in the company of a perfect woman, and he would be damned if he let his absence of innocence hold him back.

The allure got stronger, and by now he could feel its fiery source approaching. He looked calm and ready, but could feel his heart beating on his throat.

The door opened, and Magnus was certain it stopped beating.

It did not matter though, nothing did really. Magics, Riddles, Big dogs and overgrown goats…it was all meaningless, mere dust compared to the sight in front of him.

He did not know if it was the silvery gown that brought out her nearly glowing hair, Fleur's flushed face, sweet smile or the fact that all of this was for him. But Magnus had once more been defeated by the plethora of emotions he was feeling, and he wasn't even mad about it.

He stood there, still as statute, if he was anyone else but himself he'd doubtlessly be gaping at her red in the face. But he was Magnus Black, and he'd do no such thing.

"Aren't you going to say something?" Fleur was flustered, but did her best to hide it as she played with her intricately braided hair. It looked like art, and he felt the urge to run his hand through it and ruin her hard work.

It was awkward, but he'd rather keep staring for a while.

"You're beautiful." He said, his voice disgustingly soft.

Fleur rolled her eyes, but seemed satisfied nonetheless.

"Because I am a Veela." She dismissed his compliment, but still wore a satisfied grin which only widened when he helped her down the stairs.

'Women.' Was his thought on the matter. Magnus spent most of his time with them yet all he learned was ignoring their bullshit and just doing what feels right.

Fleur was right, however, her gown was pretty but rather modest. It did not display nearly as much flesh as others did, nor did it hug her forms like the dresses he'd seen in the muggle world. Yet she wore it more beautifully than anyone else ever could, then again he wasn't being objective.

"No, It's because you're Fleur." He said promptly, earning himself a minute blush he enjoyed thoroughly.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere, Black." She raised her chin, which would have been more efficient if she wasn't in the protest of taking his arm in a death grip.

Veela were a lot stronger than they looked.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be." He replied, but her reaction was more subdued this time. A sweet smile, a graze on his arm and a fond look were pleasant enough, but it was the embarrassment Magnus was looking for.

"Idiot." She muttered, but he knew better than to stop.

"Your idiot." He said.

"I thought you didn't want me stealing one of Britain's treasures?" Fleur fought back, not one to play the timid young lady for too long, unfortunately.

"No, I said the English would resent you for it." He guided her to the castle, not minding the mobs single or paired who walked by. "I've never been particularly patriotic."

"Good to know." She spoke under her breath, shooting him a look once she realized she said it at once. The Witch was obviously hoping he didn't pay attention, or was at least gentle enough not to mention it.

But he did pay attention, and wasn't gentle by any means.

"Oh, why?" He smiled like the devil, minus the mind tricks, that was more Fleur's avenue anyways.

'She will chicken out.' Magnus thought, his smile widening. He saw her taken aback face, the red tink growing ever so slightly while she stood there trying to find a way to get herself out of this. 'This girl's an open book.'

It could be bad, most people are weak enough to ignore her tells but anyone worth mentioning could read her faster than you Dumbledore could say mind arts. For the moment, it serves Magnus purposes, but he'll have to do something about it if he keeps her in his life.

The alternative is not telling her anything, but he isn't foolish enough to think it could ever work out this way. Even if he decided to trap her in a toxic relationship, he'd have to throw her a couple truths to show her she could still 'fix' him.

"Forget it, little bird." Magnus rolled his eyes, not flinching when he felt her nails biting onto his flesh. Fleur was grateful that he dropped the matter, but bird jokes always got to her. "You know, I kind of liked it."

…

She looked at him, mouth opening and closing multiple times. In the end, she seemed to decide that the right course of action was blushing like the young maiden she wouldn't admit being (Unless it served her purposes, namely teasing him.) while muttering a string of curses he once more tuned out for the sake of what little innocence he still had.

"Cat got your tongue, little bird?" This time she didn't scratch him, unfortunately.

"Don't call me that." Her voice was even, even as she nodded indifferently at a couple girls from Beauxbatons and their dates. Plain looking, unimportant and some of them had glazed eyes that Magnus would enjoy turning into a permanent feature.

It's easy to get brain damage after all, the stairs can be tricky even though Hogwarts is obviously the safest place in the country.

"Why not? I do let you call me all manner of embarrassing nicknames." He said, making a conscious effort not to hex the male population into oblivion.

"It's not the same, I say it in French." She replied as if it explained everything. "And I am a beautiful older girl, it's a perk that comes along with it."

"Hmm, petit oiseau?" He said tentatively, "Nope, sounds dirty."

"I guess it does, pervert." Fleur smiled, and he let go of the murderous thoughts…for the moment.

"Only when I'm with you, ma Fleur."

"Shut it, petit canard, you know you can't handle me." she said, and that was a challenge if he ever saw one.

"I think I can, ma rose."

"Coquin." (Rascal)

"Mon ange."(Angel)

"'oney." Fleur used a foreign accent, it was super effective.

"I like this one, my love." He blushed, but this was one was a calculated move…one that was remarkably easy to perform, as he only had to allow it, but calculated it was nonetheless.

Worth it too, the face she made was a work of art. One he'll likely admire many times, Occlumency was just that useful.

Magnus couldn't help but laugh lightly, unfortunately giving her the wrong impression.

"Moving fast, aren't you." She grumbled not one to enjoy being the butt of his jokes…at least, not without fighting back. "I don't remember giving myself to you."

Her wording was dangerous, it could very well result in her father putting a price on his head….who was he kidding, the man had been an auror for years, he'd try to do the killing himself. The key word being try.

"Not yet." He said without skipping a beat, he couldn't afford to show weakness now.

"Bold." She commented, doing a fine enough job of concealing her feelings on the matter…at least, by her standards.

"Don't you like it?" He smiled, "Or you'd rather be the one teasing the innocent younger boy?"

"You're making me sound like some sort of degenerate." She scrunched her nose, and he nearly bit into it.

"No, just a very cruel vixen." He shook his head, barely seeing her raised brow, was it normal that each expression she made was either cute or unbearably alluring? Right, Veela.

"It thought I was a bird." Fleur said, somehow forgetting just who she was talking to. "…crap."

"Crap indeed, I'm glad you're finally admitting it." Magnus smiled nice and wide, "I don't see why you're so ashamed, bird rules."

"I'm going to burn you one day, Magnus, I really will."

The two of them headed toward the champion's room, McGonagall had reached to each one of them to arrange for the honored students and their partners to go there before the ball could start. From there, they shall be seated in a place befitting of their stations with their respective headmasters and a few ministry officials dispatched for the occasion.

They met many students along the way but ignored every single one of them. Too engrossed in their conversations, silly as they were, the two of them teased each other relentlessly. None was willing to admit defeat, even though the damage done to each other's composure was great indeed.

People were surprised to see the potentially deranged scion of Black being so cordial to someone outside his inner circle. Others wondered how in hell was the French Champion consorting with an Englishman, or how happy she was all the while.

But a common understanding was reached, the Yule Ball was bound to be very interesting, and the Hogwarts rumor mill will be working overtime to use this gossip gold the two not-love birds had so generously provided.

Lavender Brown was already talking about pregnancies, life debts, Veela Bonds, and forbidden romance a la Romeo and Juliet. Some were eager to see just how true these were, others didn't care much as long as they could entertain themselves and feel more important than they truly were.

Some oddly colored bugs would gladly put some spice in that tournament since there was no boy who lived to keep the people entertained.

Yes, the Ball will be interesting.

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