Harry Potter and The Druid's Call

                  Harry Potter and the Druid's Call

                      Chapter Three

                       Dinner

    Harry craned his neck around, and his mouth dried. Harry wasn't usually swayed by mere beauty, but Fleur Delacour was beyond beauty. Harry couldn't think of a proper adjective to describe how she looked. Her beautiful platinum blond hair had several sapphires stringed through it that complimented her light blue dress and eyes nicely. Another oval shaped sapphire, larger than the rest, hung from a simple silver chain around her neck. Her dress fell to her feet, but it's clinging nature and a slit running from mid-thigh to the bottom left little to the imagination. The magical world was extremely conservative in terms of fashion, and just about everything else, the few remaining pure blood families were probably more than at fault for this. While the Muggle world forged ahead with rapid changing cultures and ideas, the Magical world stayed relatively the same, and had been so for many centuries. Harry was attention had strayed from his appraisal of Fleur's physical attributes, which didn't appear to go over too well with her. She tapped him none too gently on the shoulder, and nodded pointedly at a chair next to Harry. Harry blushed and nodded in acquiescence, not trusting his voice enough to speak.

    Fleur remained standing. She was staring at Harry then at the chair. Harry looked at her strangely, "Aren't you going to-," then the meaning of her gestures seeped in, "Oh!" He leaped from his seat as if burned. He pulled out Fleur's chair for her, and she smiled graciously, as if she hadn't been silently suggesting the act for the previous half a minute. The smile struggled to add to her beauty, it failed , of course, but it had tried.

    "That Muggle suit does you justice, Harry, and I see that several of your Muggle admirers agree with me."

    Harry blushed and looked away, but not because of the compliment. He didn't dare state what the dress did to her, or more importantly to him. His admirers were looking at him, many with a glazed expression on their faces. Harry didn't want to know what was going on in the minds behind those expressions. Harry also had his share of envious glares. He ignored them, he had received much worse from the Slytherins and more recently the two other Houses as well over his stay at Hogwarts. Harry was thankful that the twins were the preeminent pranksters at Hogwarts, and therefore Gryffindor was spared from the brunt of most practical jokes. Harry wondered how the Weasley family was doing now that both of the twins were seventeen. Harry smiled inwardly, the next time he saw the Mrs. Weasley she was likely to have a flowing mane of white hairs, and Ron was likely to be suffering from lingering effects of the twins' mischief making.

    "Why are you here?" he asked in a low voice.

    "Not one for pleasantries, are you Harry?" she asked in an amused tone.

    "No."

    "Well I really don't see how it's any of your business," she paused at the annoyed and slightly angry look on Harry's face, "but if you must know, I'm here to help Professor Figg with her lesson plan for the upcoming term," her face lit up as she said this, it was obviously something that she enjoyed. Harry had become sidetracked by her lips for a second as she was talking, so he missed a little of what she said.

    Harry had become sidetracked by her lips for a second as she was talking, so he missed a little of what she said, "I'm sorry Professor who, and that still doesn't tell me why you are here."

    She graced him with a sour look that somehow didn't lessen her beauty, "First you are interested to the point of begging, then you don't even bother to listen when I tell you. I'm not even sure if I should repeat myself ," Fleur almost pouted.

    "I'm sorry for not paying attention, but if you weren't so beautiful I might not lose track of the conversation," Harry replied in what he hoped was a suave manner, at least he hadn't blushed. Harry was also slightly surprised by Fleur's girlishness.

    Fleur seemed pleased with the compliment, "Well, when you put it that way I have no choice to tell you... Again. I'm helping Professor Figg come up with a lesson plan, and learning how to be a teacher assistant for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and eventually to teach it. I'm here because she asked me to come."

"Professor Figg? You mean the smelly old lady with too many cats? The same old grouch who looked after me when the Dursley's went somewhere?" Harry asked in surprise.

    Fleur's pleasant aspect diminished with each adjective, and by the end her face was looking rather stormy. She looked rather nice when she was angry, "You will not speak about Arabella that way! She has been very kind to me, and she even agreed to let me live with her until we have to go up to the school! It has been an honor live with the famous ex-Unspeakable, and I would certainly take offense if you said another derogatory word about her," she finished with a huff.

    Harry ignored this fierce rebuke, "How can you be a famous Unspeakable? If she was an Unspeakable then she wouldn't be able to tell what she did, right?"

    Fleur seemed to deflate somewhat, "Well, no one outside of that department, and the Minister knows what it is that she did, but it must be pretty important if the former Minister awarded her a hundred thousand Galleons. Plus Headmaster Dumbledore trusted her enough to watch over you," she said, regaining some of her pomp.

    "Watch over me?" he mumbled to himself, then louder, "What makes you think I need watching over?" he asked, annoyed.

    "Because you're a man," she replied as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

    "What's that supposed to mean?" Harry said indignantly.

    "Exactly what I said," she said with a reply that wasn't a reply.

    Harry was going to argue some more, but was interrupted when a waiter, clad in unrelieved white, came around with plates heaped with food. Harry's stomach growled, and Harry finally understood why Ron ate so much... Arguing. The plate was abnormally large, as was the meal. Smeltings certainly wasn't going to let their students starve. Harry and Fleur ate in silence. When the meal was over the Smelting alumni came back in and sat at a grouping of long tables near the stage. The hall quieted as the Headmaster once again took the stage.

    "And now for the awards portion of our ceremony," he announced jovially. He seemed like a kind enough person. Harry wasn't sure he would be as nice if he was the Headmaster over the likes of Dudley Dursley and Piers Polkiss. "Our first award is for..."

    Harry tuned out the man's voice which was astonishingly high for an adult male.

    "Now," he said turning his attention back to Fleur, "what did you mean when you said that I need people to watch over me because I'm a male?" He asked in a strained voice.

    Fleur sighed and gave him a reproving stare, "Historically men have always believed that they could do everything that needed to be done without help, and if they just used the common sense that they must have then they'd realize this and push down their male pride and ask for help every once and a while," she said matter-of-factly.

    Harry scowled, his male pride was definitely stinging right now, "That's just a stereotype," he replied hotly.

    "And a good one too!" she replied lightly.

    Harry, having nothing to say, said nothing. He had never reckoned Fleur as a feminist; though, with men drooling all over her all the time what else could she be? Harry returned his attention to the Smeltings headmaster, just as he was handing a small medal to a rail thin girl of about sixteen, "Our next award is for outstanding achievement in the academic field,... and our winner is..." he said, pausing to rip open an envelope and extract a folded sheet of paper, "Katherine Westfield!" he finished loudly. Another young woman ran up to accept he silver medal. "And now our last and greatest award, for School Spirit, the winner is... Dudley Dursley!"

    Dudley got up, with the help of two of his cronies, and waddled up to the podium, the three whole steps presented a challenge; though, and he took a good minute and a half to get up them. Once reaching his headmaster he snatched the small trophy from the man's left hand and ignored left hand, which the headmaster held out to be shaken. Dudley lifted the trophy into the air and whooped. The applause was light except for at his own table, and the alumni table where Uncle Vernon's loud clapping and foot stomping made up for everyone else's lack of enthusiasm. He looked as if he had one the award himself, which he had, Harry remembered, over thirty years ago. Aunt Petunia was weeping so hard her whole body along with her chair were shaking. Harry didn't even bother to clap politely. Fleur did bother to clap, if lightly.

    "Harry why aren't you clapping? It must be a great honor to win the school spirit award with so much competition," she said as Dudley stepped right off in front of the podium- he probably didn't like his chances on another go with the steps- and shook the floor.

    "Because he probably bullied the headmaster into giving it to him," Harry replied.

    "Oh, is that your cousin," she asked, and Harry nodded, "A boy from your school told me about him after the Second Task, I think his name was Draco, he said that he was always bullying you, and that you never did anything about it."

    "He would," Harry answered shortly. He was to busy thinking of all the rotten hexes he'd like to be putting on Malfoy to string out anything longer.

    "I didn't say that I believed him, Anyone brave and kind enough to save Gabrielle would never let something like that happen," she said sweetly, while beaming at Harry.

    Harry was gratified by her misplaced judgment, but felt that he had to correct her, "Dudley did bully me whenever his goons were fast enough to catch me, and there's not really anywhere to hide inside his house, and he has his friends blocking the way out, and your sister was never in any real danger you know."

    If Fleur heard him he couldn't tell, she was still staring in a way that was beginning to disturb him. Then she turned her head and stared the stage. Harry followed her gaze and saw that a band was getting ready to play. Harry blanched. Couples were already getting up and heading towards the space cleared for dancing. The door was at the far side of the room. Harry's already pale face lost what little color it had been able to maintain. He'd never make it to the door, and the girls that had followed him around last night were rushing to be the first to him. He felt a hand on his shoulder, "Is something wrong, Harry?" Fleur asked.

    Harry nodded and gestured towards the ever approaching females.

    "Hmm, I see your problem," she said, barely hiding her amusement.

    Harry of course was not amused, as he looked at the young women- trying to rush to him and not appear to do so- with mounting consternation.

    Fleur grabbed his arm and pulled him up, "Umm, Fleur, What are you doing?" Harry asked.

    "I'm helping you out," she said as she wrapped her arm around his, and began marching him along beside her. She marched straight towards the oncoming traffic of females. They split as she and Harry walked through their midst. If Fleur noticed the murderous glares she was receiving she did show it. Harry noticed them though. He also noticed that beads of sweat were forming on his brow. Harry was relieved when they finally came clear of the stormy faces and acidic glares, that is until he looked over his shoulder and saw that the group was pacing them. They seemed content to wait their turn to get him out on the dance floor, until they realized that they were headed out of the Hall and not to go dancing. Apparently this was the straw the broke the camel's back.

    "Come dance with me Harry," the first adventuresome girl said? Harry's wondered how they knew his name. Harry didn't have time to form a reply as the pretty read head was roughly pushed aside to be replaced by a girl with raven black hair and a longish face. She was then replaced by another girl before she could utter a word. Harry ignored this next suitor and looked over at Fleur to plead for more help. She was swamped down with a bunch of young and not-so-young men asking to dance and a few other things that made Harry's ears burn.

    Fleur came to an abrupt halt, making Harry stop also. Men and women clustered around in all directions. Smelting student sure were rowdy. Fleur turned to Harry, "Well, seems you've dragged me into this also," Harry opened his mouth to tell her that it wasn't his fault when she cut him off, "Obviously the only feasible solution is for us to dance with each other," Harry once again opened his mouth to protest again, and she cut him off again, "Agreed?" Harry considered his options, the people in hearing vicinity were starting to get angry, and word seemed to be spreading about Fleur's offer. The women were once again glaring at Fleur and the males were staring hatefully at Harry, and Harry thought they'd do quite a bit more than stare. He could either accept the offer and risk getting pummeled by a horde of men, or decline and be swarmed over by two or three dozen females. Somehow the former appealed to him more. He nodded and Fleur changed directions and headed to the dance floor.