Past Present

Harry couldn't seem to keep his mind on class that day, not even Potions. Reviewing his notes in the common room later, he could not for the life of him make out what he had written about dried salamander tails. Restless, wanting some excuse to roam around, he decided to walk down the hall and talk to Viktor. What was the good of having the person who had done the lecture down the hall if you couldn't go talk to them whenever you wanted? Ron was off with Hannah Abbott, Hermione was already in bed upstairs, Ginny and Neville had gone for a walk around the lake. Hermione would have been his first choice for notes, but she had been yawning at dinner in the Great Hall. She had bid them all goodnight right after. Harry had felt about as attentive this afternoon. Even Neville's notes were probably better than his own today, Harry thought ruefully. Viktor should be there. He and Hermione often spent a little while in his quarters about this time of the evening when neither of them were busy. He could break into his new chocolate stash when he returned, and then finish his studying. He didn't feel like talking to anyone else in the common room, so he sighed and heaved himself out of the chair and toward the portrait hole.

Near the corner of the hall leading to Viktor's room, Harry heard a sharp rap, as though someone were knocking on a door. Sidling up beside the suit of armor there, he peeked around it and was surprised to see Fleur Delacour, knocking on Viktor's door, casting a furtive glance around. Harry tried not to breathe, willing himself to be invisible behind the suit of armor. As Viktor's door swung open, Harry caught his voice saying, "I thought you were... Oh. You." Viktor stepped out into the hall and clapped his door shut sharply. "What do you want?"

"A civil conversation," Fleur said lightly

"I tried that a few times, Miss Priss," Viktor said acidly, his expression reminding Harry of someone who had been asked to suck lemons.

"I deserve zat, I was not ze most civil woman. Truce for a few minutes?" Fleur said, fluttering her eyelashes prettily.

"What do you want?" Viktor repeated, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Will you not invite me in?" Fleur asked softly, laying a hand lightly on one of his arms. Viktor seemed to flinch slightly.

" I am sorry, but I do not think it proper. You can speak to me out in the hall," Viktor said firmly.

"You invite 'er in," Fleur replied, looking just a smidgen pouty, leaning out a bit as though trying to catch a glimpse of the doorknob behind him.

"Does this conversation haff a point at all? Or is this just about my social schedule? Whom I occasionally invite in there for a few minutes to haff tea or coffee? I go to the common room more often than not these days, if you want an update," Viktor stated, not moving from his spot in front of the doorknob.

"No 'ospitality for me, zen?"

"I can take you to the kitchens if you want tea or coffee," Viktor said, not unkindly. "Or are zey still 'olly inadequate compared to Beauxbatons?" he snapped.

Fleur chose to ignore it. "Well, zen, I suppose I can say what I wish to say out 'ere. I wish to apologize for my be'aviour earlier. I should not 'ave argued in front of ze students or Umbridge. I 'ave my reasons, but I want to make it up to you. 'Ear me out," Fleur purred, slithering up closer. She was nearly touching the front of his robes. Harry was beginning to feel the same lightheaded vacant feeling that he had for the Veela at the World Cup. He bit his tongue to keep his mind on staying still. She must really be turning up the Veela-charm, Harry thought to himself, concentrating on the bead of sweat preparing to trickle down his forehead.

" I do not think I like where this is going," Viktor said, sliding over and away from her, away from the doorknob that had been pressed into his back when he had leaned away.

"'Ear me out, please. A gentleman owes a lady zat at least, does 'e not?"

"Talk fast," Viktor replied, sounding frustrated.

"I admit, I was unfair. I was terrible about you in front of Umbridge, but only because I am confused. Confused as to why you waste your time and persist in zis nonsense," Fleur said gently, leaning forward a little. Her thigh was actually brushing up against Viktor's leg. He shifted uncomfortably, further along the wall, further away from her.

"I would think that newspaper would show you it is not nonsense..." Viktor began, but Fleur began shaking her silvery-blonde curtain of hair around her shoulders as she shook her head in the negative.

"No, no, no. Not zat. 'Er," Fleur said simply, grasping his upper arm again.

Viktor's brows drew together. "Now, do not start in on..."

"She's a child. A mere child by comparison," Fleur purred, but there was a hint of contempt in her voice.

"Three years and a bit of change is the difference. Who are you and Umbridge anyway, the age patrol? Does not bother us. Should not bother you," Viktor said shortly.

"Oh, zat is not what I meant by it, zat she is a child compared wiz you. Well, she is, but zat is not what I meant. Why waste your time waiting for 'er?" Fleur asked, nose in the air.

"Because some things are worth waiting for," Viktor shot back.

"But you deserve someone your equal. Someone who could give you what you need. Meet all your needs," Fleur said, crossing her own arms.

"Give her time, she will probably be more than my equal, soon enough."

"But why wait when you can 'ave zat now?" Harry was trying to make sense of what she was getting at through the roaring in his head, and his knees were growing weak, so he slid down the wall to hide behind the base on which the suit of armor rested, still peeking around the corner of it. She couldn't mean what she thought he meant...surely. Fleur reached up with slender fingers and picked a stray something off of the front of Viktor's robes, then turned her back to Viktor and Harry for a moment, as though gathering herself. Her left hand idly played with the small purse-like pouch dangling from her sash for a few seconds.

"What are you talking about?" Viktor asked, looking down at the spot where her fingers had been. She turned back to him, then pressed against him lightly once more, hands on his shoulders.

"I could fill up some of your time. Why deprive yourself while you wait for 'er? Why not enjoy yourself wiz a real woman? I bet I could make you forget zat bushy-'aired leetle girl..." Fleur began in a breathless rush, pressing against him harder than before. She seemed to be grinding her hips against his thigh.

"Hardly," Viktor said coldly, stiffening against the wall.

"I could. At ze very least, I could... relieve some of ze... tension of waiting..." Fleur said slyly, her right hand trailing down the front of his robes. She had made it past the sash around his waist when Viktor grabbed her wrist firmly and held it back up at her shoulder height.

"Keep your hands to yourself," he said bluntly. "Remember yourself and where you are."

"Shy? Worried someone will catch us? You could remedy that by opening your door. No one would ever be the wiser, you know. Just let me 'ave one 'and, you do not even 'ave to do anyzing ..." she said in a low, throaty voice, bringing her left hand back toward him. He captured that one before she could touch him at all.

"Do not make me want to break your wrist," Viktor growled, grinding his teeth. "What...part...of...'no'...do...you...not...understand?" he asked, leaning closer to her face, biting off each word.

Her only response was a whispered, "Ze fact zat you are saying 'no' to me. To zis." Her tongue darted between her lips and fleetingly touched the corner of his mouth before he jerked away.

"Never...touch me... again," he said firmly, steering her away to arm's length by her wrists. "Never come to my door again, either. I told you no last year. And I meant it," Viktor said, uncurling his fingers from around her wrists, turning on his heel and putting a hand on the doorknob.

"You just say no because you are afraid to take what you really want," Fleur mocked.

"This might come as news to you, but not everyone wants you," Viktor muttered, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth.

"Zat Mudblood is not even worth rutting wiz," Fleur said viciously. Viktor's lips peeled back from his teeth, and instead of the tirade Harry was expecting, he cursed her with one word, Bulgarian or Russian, Harry could not tell, he just suspected it was very rude, and spat on the floor at her feet. He glared at her a long moment, then stormed into his room and slammed the door so violently that Harry half expected the stone wall to buckle. Fleur never even glanced in his direction when she went stomping off down the hall, nose in the air.