Something Real

Chapter V: La Vie est Bonne

Fleur walked apprehensively through the dank corridors leading up to the Potions classroom. The cold tomb-like surroundings did nothing to help her already nervous mood.

The dragons had been coming along beautifully.

"Tamer than any dragons I've seen before," Charlie had said, casting a half-admiring, half-wary look at Fleur. Fleur had tried not to look smug, though she had the feeling that she had failed miserably.

And then the Welsh Greens had developed claw-bed infections, which required a special Anti-Fungus Potion to cure.

"Professor Snape said he could make the potion for us tomorrow morning. But he wants one of us to come and assist him, since the potion has to be prepared in two separate cauldrons before it's mixed together," Nan said, her face twisting into a grimace. "Well, what he actually said was that he wants help from someone who's 'not too thick to follow my simple instructions.' That man is just such a barrel of laughs, isn't he."

Fleur let out a peal of laughter; she had not met Professor Snape and so could not tell if Nan's imitation of his voice and manner was accurate, but it certainly was amusing.

Nan quickly looked up at the sound of Fleur's laugh, surprised and pleased. Well, well, thought Fleur. The girl does know how to smile, after all. The thought made her happy; perhaps she was finally settling into comfortable relationship with Nan and Charlie.

Her contentment vanished, however, when they drew lots to see who had to go and help Professor Snape. Fleur lost.

"Is he really that bad?" she asked faintly.

"Worse," said Charlie with relish.

You do not have to sound so happy about it, thought Fleur, annoyed. Yet she was not angry, because Charlie's pleasure was obviously meant without malice: for a moment, he had sounded like a teasing older brother.

So here she was, making her way into the forbidding dungeons. What kind of a man would spend all of his time lurking here?

"My offices are over here, Miss...Delacour, wasn't it?" The voice was cold and sharp as a dagger of ice. Fleur jumped and whirled around. Recovering herself quickly, she said,

"Yes. I presume you are Professor Snape?"

"Indeed," he said, curling his lip.

The man is ugly enough as it is, thought Fleur, scanning the limp greasy hair and the sallow skin. He does not need to try to make it worse with that expression of his.

She followed him into the Potions classroom, where two cauldrons were already bubbling.

"Your task is quite simple, Miss Delacour, so you should have no trouble," the Professor said smoothly. "You merely have to stand over this cauldron and watch it until it turns a pale blue color, at which point, you will add these." He pointed to a pile of powdered dragon-nails and marched over to his own cauldron.

Fleur found the work tedious and Professor Snape himself even more so. She gazed off into space, staring at the glistening gray walls of the room.

"Miss Delacour!" Snape's voice sliced through the air and once more Fleur jumped. "I had thought that this task was facile enough for anyone to focus on," he said, his voice thick and velvety with sarcasm. "But perhaps the subject of Potions is beyond your capabilities. Perhaps you had better concentrate on...Charms, where your strengths seem to lie." He looked her up and down with contempt.

Fleur's self-control snapped. Without thinking, she switched on her veela powers with practiced ease, throwing all of her will and concentration into the illusion, the bright smile, the shining hair, the magnetic attraction that she could project. You want me. You are attracted to me. You will do as I say. You will strive to earn my approval. To please me.

Snape went slack-jawed, and his eyes took on a glassy look.

"I am looking after the potion, Professor Snape." Fleur's voice was warm and sultry; she kept throwing her magic outwards, maintaining the effect. "Why don't you go and look after your cauldron?"

"As you wish," breathed Snape, not taking his eyes off her. He bowed slightly and backed away to his cauldron, where he began to concentrate on it with all of his might.

Fleur smiled smugly. It was so easy.

Too easy. A certain discomfort washed over her, as it always did when she used her veela powers to make a situation more convenient for her. She always hated herself right after, in some secret corner of her heart.

She sighed and turned back to her cauldron, noting its pale blue color and adding the powdered nails.

When Charlie came to collect the potion and see how it turned out, Snape greeted him with a bemused smile.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," he said pleasantly. "Would you care to take the potion with you now? I can pour it out for you into this convenient flask over here, if you'd like. Miss Delacour has done such lovely work with it, it's really quite astounding..."

Charlie looked as though he had suddenly been informed that the earth was indeed flat. He composed himself enough to take the potion from Snape, pull himself away (Snape had kept a friendly hand on Charlie's shoulder) and usher Fleur out of the classroom. He waited until they had walked a safe distance away, and then he demanded breathlessly,

"What did you do to him? Did you veela-zap him? Did you?"

"I didn't mean to!" said Fleur hastily. "I--well, I meant to, but..." But Charlie was not paying attention. He burst into raucous laughter.

"That's the funniest thing I've seen in my life!"

Fleur stood still in shock. She had never come across anyone who had laughed at her veela abilities.

Charlie was shaking his head.

"Honestly--old Snape looked like he was about to start spouting poetry."

A smile tugged at the corners of Fleur's mouth. She tried to control it, but couldn't quite manage, and she too collapsed into giggles.

Charlie looked over at her approvingly.

"The Taming of the Snape," he said. Fleur grinned back in response. The two walked in comfortable silence, their laughter having given them a camaraderie that had not existed before.

They reached the sheds outside where the dragons were kept, and found Nan bent over a young Swedish Short-Snout with a worried expression on her face.

"Nan," greeted Charlie, pulling her up for a kiss. "We got the potion from Snape." Nan allowed a short smile to wash over her face, then quickly sobered.

"There's something wrong with this Short-Snout, Charlie," she said. "I can't quite tell what, but--"

Fleur leaned over to have a look. The dragon's eyes looked glazed over and extremely odd--even a dragon-novice like Fleur could tell that. Charlie leaned over as well, and just at that moment, twin jets of flame shot out from the dragon's nostrils, catching Charlie's hair and the corner of Nan's shirt. They both yelled and jumped back, a moment too late.

Fleur let out a high-pitched shriek and leapt backwards, then recovered herself and sent water streaming out of her wand to douse the flames. When it was done, she looked around to see that Charlie's face was slightly burnt. Nan was shaken but unhurt.

"You should go to Madam Pomfrey," Nan said to Charlie, her voice uncharacteristically quavering.

"Right," said Charlie; then, turning to Fleur, he added, "Thanks."

Fleur felt oddly pleased, and smiled broadly as Charlie walked back up to Hogwarts.

She and Nan followed, not noticing as a stooped figure crept out from behind them and began scanning the ground for hairs and bits of clothing.

* * *

"Manifesto Tenebrae!" yelled Francesca Cray, pointing her wand at a small red-headed doll.

The pearly gray banner reappeared; although some areas were darker than others, there were none of the almost-black splotches that had appeared on Nott's. Lucius cursed under his breath.

"It appears that Mr. Weasley is as pure and chivalrous as the rest of that litter," he said, sneering. "And the McKinnon girl's banner looked much the same. Well, who's next on our list, Miss Cray?"

"Fleur Delacour, graduate of Beauxbatons Academy," the witch said briskly, pulling out a doll with shining blond hair. "Manifesto Tenebrae!"

The same pale sheet of light emerged from the doll, and Lucius sighed and braced himself for yet another display of moral perfection.

But wait...what is that splotch over there...

"Miss Cray! Do you see that dark spot over there, to your left?"

Miss Cray's eyes traveled coolly over the banner until she saw where Lucius was pointing.

"Why, yes," she said. "That is very dark indeed. Most likely an Unforgivable."

Lucius's lips curved into a smile.

"If you would like," Miss Cray continued, "I could discover the circumstances of Miss Delacour's use of the curse--what curse she used and why she used it, and so on. You see, if you plan to use this information to discredit Albus Dumbledore, you should be able to prove that Miss Delacour did it, and I fear that a Dark Detector's evidence alone would be insufficient."

Lucius scowled, and said,

"Very well then, show me."

Miss Cray pointed her wand at the almost-black splotch and muttered a few words that Lucius could not quite catch. The banner evaporated, to be replaced by a picture of a beautiful girl underwater, in some sort of murky pond. She was surrounded by grindylows, and she had her wand raised high. A ray of unmistakable green light was shooting from the wand.

"Avada Kedavra," breathed Lucius. "Perfect."

"You do realize that there are no other humans present, and the allegation would be almost impossible to prove?" Miss Cray pointed out.

"That does not matter," Lucius smirked. "What matters is, someone in Albus Dumbledore's employ can be induced to use the Killing Curse for some price or another."

"We don't know if she did it for some price," Miss Cray objected. "Money may have had nothing to do with it, and then where are you?"

"I said price, Miss Cray. I said nothing about money." Smiling in a way that various colleagues and victims would have recognized, Lucius ushered Francesca Cray out the door.

* * *

Charlie and Nan walked back to Fleur's Hogsmeade flat with her that night. They stopped in all of the Hogsmeade stores--as quaint as they were on Fleur's first day, but somehow much less irritating now. They hovered around her door, laughing and talking, joking at everyone's expense, from Professor Snape's to Dumbledore's to Fleur's own. Oddly enough, Fleur found herself not minding very much. She heard all about the antics of Charlie's younger siblings, and told them about Gabrielle--although Nan was conspicuously silent about her own family. The pair left Fleur's flat reluctantly, and then only because they had an early morning with the dragons ahead of them.

Fleur closed the door behind them, still grinning wildly. They really are quite nice, she reflected as she settled down into her bed for the night. All of a sudden, the tiny worries and burdens she had been carrying seemed lighter. Easier to face, she thought sleepily. Her job was interesting, after all; she had real skill at it, and real friends to work with. Sighing contentedly, she drifted off to sleep.