The Veela Chronicles

The Veela Chronicles: Book One (2/12)

Chapter Two: An Assignment for Fleur

It was a beautiful winter day in the Reims. Fleur was walking down the hall of the Delacour mansion, deeply engrossed in the letter she had just received.

Dear Fleur,

I can't believe I am missing the wedding! I am so mad at Madame Maxime for not letting me leave school.

"You must concentrate on your studies! Beauxbatons is not an hotel or resort," she said. Hmph. I would have studied on the trip! Does she think I'm actually going to study now? Non! I'm writing you. Then I am going to write Mere and Pere. Then I'm going to… I don't know. But I'm not going to study!

You have to tell me all about it. Was it simply grand? Did Novak look miserable? Was Marko there? Did he remember me? How did Rusa look? And how was Brenev acting? I heard a rumor that she was so upset that Rusa married first, that she got engaged to the first Sileni that came along. Of course, I told the person who told me this (Colette Lefevre - she is only an eighth Veela, so she has no Veela powers, I think she must be jealous because fourths do) that of course that wasn't true! If Brenev got engaged then I'm sure she is in love. How nice! I didn't learn his name though. Colette thought it began with a "V." Do you know if Brenev is engaged? Who was your date? Will you finally tell me? If not, I'm asking Mere!

Oh, I want details! Tell me everything. Don't you dare leave anything out!

Love,

Gabrielle

Fleur sighed as she put down Gabrielle's letter. It was the day after the wedding and already Gabrielle was full of questions. She stepped into her father's study to get a piece of Delacour stationary from his desk. She unfolded a piece of the heavy cream parchment with the official Delacour seal on the top.

They were an old family who enjoyed their high status. The Delacour wizards were powerful, and the Delacour muggles were noble. It was an unusual scenario, for all the wizards and muggles of a single family to amicably live together taking an active interest in each other's lives; yet, this is what the Delacours have done for centuries.

Fleur and Gabrielle's father, Philippe Delacour, was a muggle. But this hardly brought shame to his family, although his father, and sister both possessed strong magic. Philippe instead took over as heir to the Delacour ruling lineage. Of course, France is a republic and doesn't officially recognize nobles as its rulers, but being a noble still has its power. Especially when wizards help you. The Delacours managed to hold on to all the power they used to have, forging a formidable web of political connections and alliances, extreme wealth, and magical strength.

It was in this atmosphere that Fleur and Gabrielle grew up. Even the family mansion reflected the harmony between the Delacour wizards and muggles. The splendid North and East sections of the mansion were the only sections visible to the muggle world. Philippe, Lisbeth and their children lived in the East section. Philippe's father, Marc Delacour, one of the most powerful men in Europe, presided over the North section. There he entertained his political allies and dominated his enemies.

The South and West sections were where Philippe's parents and sister lived. Magic saturated these sections -- with their dancing gardens, hidden passageways, rooms that safely opened up into the night, and even a body of water that changed from a waterfall to a pond to a raging river, depending on your mood.

The four sections met in the middle, where the common areas and work studies were located. The first floor held the ballroom, and the social meeting and dining areas. On the second floor, four work studies surrounded the library. The hidden owlry was located on the top floor. All four studies led up to the owlry, because you never knew when you'd need to send off a quick post to the wizarding world.

Back in the East study, Fleur sat down in a huge leather chair facing a bay window and pulled out a small pot of purple ink -- Gabrielle's favorite. She dipped a quill into it and began to write.

Dear Gabrielle,

You should be concentrating on your studies. Madame Maxine was correct to make you stay at Beauxbatons. Do you think you can just learn magic by osmosis?

She paused, considering if she should chastise her sister for overly concentrating on her Veela powers. Ever since her birthday in August, Gabrielle had talked about nothing but Veela -- Veela this, Veela that. "Well," she though, "I probably did the same. Madame Maxine kept me in line, I'm sure she will do the same for Gabrielle." She continued the letter.

The wedding was fine. You honestly didn't miss much. I think I would have rather been back at school. Aunt Darda must have spent a fortune on it. It was very lush and Rusa's gown was rumored to be the most expensive gown sold in Europe in six years! She seemed happy. And no, Novak did not look miserable. Really Gabrielle, both he and Rusa seemed very happy. After their honeymoon, they plan to build a home in Bulgaria. Novak is currently stationed there, and I guess he likes it immensely.

Yes, Brenev is engaged. His name is Vukasin. He is an idiot. I didn't like him and I don't think Brenev does either. Colette is probably more correct than you think!

Here Fleur paused again. How much should she tell Gabrielle? The wedding was actually quite an experience -- in a number of ways. Brenev could hardly contain her jealousy over the fact that her younger sister was getting married before she did. But Rusa seemed to take it all in stride. And it had been Rusa that introduced Brenev and Vukasin a few months earlier.

"They are both equally mean, and disdainful of non-Veela, especially muggles," thought Fleur. "But Rusa seems to have acquired all the brains. She knew that being engaged to Novak would make Brenev jealous. If it had been Brenev, she would have announced it first thing at Gabrielle's party! But not Rusa. Rusa was patient and waited until Grandmother did it for her. It made her look three times as good. And she knew Brenev would marry the next semi-suitable thing to come along, so she introduced her to the dumbest Sileni she knew. Ha! At least I don't have her for a sister, just a cousin. Brenev is quite spiteful, but Rusa is both spiteful and ambitious."

Fleur decided to allow family pettiness to keep its distance from Gabrielle. She continued writing.

As for my date, why do you think I would not have told you? I'm not keeping secrets from you.

Fleur felt extremely guilty as she wrote that line, as she kept quite a few secrets from Gabrielle these past few months. "But I have excellent reasons!" she reminded herself. Unfortunately, Fleur had found herself avoiding long discussions with Gabrielle for fear of letting them slip. But her love life seemed like a safe enough topic. She could chatter on about that for a while.

His name was Jean Candel and he works as head lobbyist for the International Society of Muggle Welfare. He was responsible for getting the Magic Allowance for Muggle Aid Act passed last year. Now wizards are allowed to help muggles in dire situations with certain magical aid, if they care to. For example, three weeks ago Jean helped two American farmers with their crop famine so they wouldn't go bankrupt or starve. Covertly of course. He's really a very nice man, if just a bit of a goody-goody. But he's completely gorgeous and a terrific dancer, so that makes up for it! I wouldn't mind seeing him again. I'm sure I could find his wild side!

Fleur laughed to herself, remembering the look on Rusa and Brenev's faces when she introduced her handsome date. Of course, when they discovered he wasn't Sileni, they lost all interest in him, or at least pretended to. Fleur noticed Brenev sneaking little comparative glances between Jean and Vukasin, as if there were any contest. That and the food had been the only good things about the wedding.

Then Fleur's face frowned, remembering the worst thing about the wedding, Marko. He was there, much to her dismay.

Yes, Marko was there but we did not speak. He did not even remember me Gabrielle.

Fleur cringed. She hated lying outright to her sister, but what else could she do? Suddenly feeling a dull ache in her stomach, Fleur wrapped up the letter with a hasty goodbye and began walking up to the owlry.

She shuffled up the oak steps, her footsteps muffled by the lush carpeting. She stared down at her feet, replaying the horrible scenes with Marko over and over in her head.

"Omph."

Fleur looked up in surprise as she walked head-on into her father's stomach.

Philippe Delacour stood at the entrance to the owlry. He folded his arms and regarded her with slanted blue eyes.

"Pere!" exclaimed Fleur. "Forgive me, I was watching my feet. I did not see you."

He merely nodded and stepped back out of the way. Fleur nervously walked into the owlry. "He's in a mood," she thought as she tied her letter to her owl's leg and whispered "Gabrielle" in its ear. Her father remained, watching her. She kept her eyes trained on the owl as it circled up and left to deliver the message. She gulped and turned around to face her father.

He finally spoke. "Fleur, come down to my office. We must talk."

She nodded mutely and led the way back down the stairs. "What did I do now?" she thought, afraid that she already knew the answer.

Fleur stood aside as her father unlocked the door to his private office. He brushed inside, not even giving her a second glance. She followed and seated herself in one of the plush visitors chairs.

Philippe remained standing.

"Yes Pere?" she finally ventured.

"Fleur Haakon Delacour," he started. "What on earth are you doing to our family name?"

Fleur's face burned. She put her head down so her long hair hid her embarrassment. "If this is about what happened at the wedding Pere, I can explain. You see…"

"NON!" Philippe cut her off. "There will be more no excuses. No more excuses for what happened at the wedding. No more excuses for your incredible lack of career and vision. And no more excuses for flittering around the house, a dead weight, while contributing nothing!"

Fleur felt like she had been slapped. She looked up and opened her mouth, but no sound came out as she looked at her father's livid expression.

"You are 23," he continued. "Five years ago, you graduated as school champion of Beauxbatons, the most exclusive wizarding school in Europe. But what have you done since then?"

Fleur didn't answer.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE SINCE THEN?" Philippe roared.

"I… But I," her voice trailed off. Fleur couldn't answer. It seemed futile to explain how horrible she felt after graduating Beauxbatons. For five years she wished she never were the school champion. Then she never could have performed so badly, embarrassing her school, family, and herself. And it had never occurred to her that dark forces were at work during the tournament. She felt stupid and was positive that her wizarding skills were useless. What good did any of it do when she couldn't even rescue her sister from a fake kidnapping, or even realize that she herself was in mortal danger for an entire school year? She should have figured it sooner, as soon as Harry Potter was mysteriously selected to participate. It was common knowledge that Voldemort was out to get him. What a perfect opportunity he had. And she walked right into it. Only her inferior wizarding skills kept her from receiving the same fate as Cedric. She stared down at her hands, tightly folding them in her lap.

"YOU HAVE DONE NOTHING!" Philippe yelled.

Fleur cringed and ducked further into her chair.

"You had so many choices Fleur," Philippe continued, his composure regained. "Yet year after year, you wasted them away, until there were none left."

Fleur blinked back tears as her father continued to rail into her.

"First you stayed in Britian," he said. "And what did you do there Fleur?"

Fleur gulped and began to speak in a small voice. "I... I worked at Gringotts."

"Correct, " said Philippe. "At a desk job that any third-rate wizard could have done, I'm sure. Why, your bosses weren't even human."

Fleur looked down at her feet.

"And it's not as if nothing interesting was going on during Britain at the time," he continued. "Not that you would have noticed, but I believe the Order of Phoenix was formed?"

"Oui Pere."

"And you weren't a part of that because...?" queried Philippe.

"B… Because it seemed too dangerous to stay around Harry, and…"

"You were afraid to join them," sneered Philippe. "But obviously not afraid to date one of them, if memory serves. Such behavior does not become a Delacour. Inexcusable!"

Fleur pursed her lips and flared her nostrils, turning her head to face the open window. Her fear was beginning to turn to fury.

"So Fleur is a coward," Phillipe mockingly told the room. "Why, then, did she say no to the position as head of the New Magical Uses Committee for Bourvier Enterprises? That was nice and safe from Harry."

Fleur snapped her head back and glared at her father. "Because I wouldn't have fit in there," she said defiantly.

Philippe gave a short, harsh laugh. "Oh no, of course not," he said. "They wanted someone who had multi-cultural experience, excellent magic skills, and strong connections."

"You forgot a pretty face," snapped Fleur. "Pierre Bourvier was a pervert."

"And you're a Veela," snapped Philippe. "You should be used to perverts by now!"

Fleur turned her head back to face the wall, tears streaming down her angry expression.

"Then there were the government offers, the private offers, the offers to make offers," said Philippe. "I haven't the patience to go through them all now, especially since they all stopped coming. But you were too good for any of them, weren't you Fleur?"

"NON," yelled Fleur, finally raising her voice. "You don't understand at all!"

"I understand perfectly," Philippe yelled back. "We coddled you, your mother and I. It was the biggest mistake we ever made. But you were our pride and joy. So beautiful, so smart, so ambitious."

Fleur looked down at her hands again, all the words she wanted to say were stuck in her throat.

"But where did that get us?" asked Philippe. "Where did that get you? I never should have listened to Lisbeth. 'Fleur is in a bad place right now,' she said. 'Give her some space and some time to figure out what she needs.' Ha!"

By now Philippe was pacing the length of his office, his face bright red with anger.

"You have done nothing," he spat. "Nothing for this family, and nothing for yourself. And don't you dare try and blame it on anything else. Bad things happen to people everyday. Evil things happen to people everyday. Most people move on. It's only the weak and the scared that sit and wallow in their misery. YOU are weak and scared Fleur."

Much to her dismay, Fleur could only stare at her hands, tears running down her face.

"You see?" sneered Philippe. "All you can do is sit there and cry! You've been moping around, a useless leech, for years now. And yesterday you hit a whole new level! I can't believe what went on with Marko Kraljevic at the wedding. How dare you cause such a scandal to our family name while you are hardly a part of the family? Non, that took too much nerve Fleur. How dare you make decisions on behalf of all the Delacours. No more! You now need to earn your place and stop putting your own selfish desires before what is good for the rest of us."

Fleur jerked her head up in surprise. There was something new to his tone that she didn't like one bit.

Philippe raised an eyebrow at her.

"No more Fleur," he repeated. "We have a job for you."

"W… we?" questioned Fleur. "Oh God, please let him not be working with Marko!"

"Yes, we," answered Philippe. "When you refused to take Marko up on his offer, your mother and I realized that you no more Veela ambition than you do Wizard. And since you have never lifted a finger to help your grandfather and I, we assumed that politics is also not among your career choices."

Fleur stayed silent, waiting to hear what was expected of her.

"We've all decided to send you on a trip Fleur," said Philippe silkily.

"A trip?" echoed Fleur.

"Oui," said Philippe. "Of course you should be sent away anyway, after the spectacle you made of yourself yesterday."

Fleur narrowed her eyes. She refused to be ashamed of what happened with Marko at the wedding.

"You are going to do a job for us Fleur. You should be able to handle it. It's not too hard, but it requires concentration. And if you dare get it wrong, you'll have all the Delacours to answer too."

Fleur looked at him silently for a few seconds before inquiring, "Where am I going?"

"You are going to Egypt - for at least a year," said Philippe, his eyes drilling into her, daring her to protest.

"A year?" thought Fleur, her mind racing in disbelief.

"You will be observing some of your grandfather's business associates there," continued Philippe. "We have reason to believe that they are using magic to gain an unfair advantage over others."

"Like you do?" blurted out Fleur before she could stop herself.

Instead of getting angry Philippe gave another short, bitter laugh.

"Precisely," he drawled. He brought his face close to his daughter's. "And you will find out exactly what they are doing that we aren't," he said. "You will do whatever it takes - use your wizarding powers and use your Veela powers, but don't let them know who you are. And don't try to fix anything. You will only report back to me. Then I'll get someone competent to take care of it."

Fleur's face flushed.

"You leave tomorrow morning," said Philippe, abruptly picking Fleur up by her arm and showing her out the door.

Fleur stood alone in the hallway as he shut the door behind her. After a few moments she crumpled down to the lush carpet, her face in her hands.

"What am I going to do?" she sobbed to herself. "My family wants nothing but to use me, so they send me away to some foreign country for a year?"

She sat in the hall crying until she realized that's exactly what her father expected her to do.

"Snap out of it Fleur," she told herself silently. "You've gone away before. It wasn't... so bad. Well, yes it was. It was awful. But think of it as a chance to do it all over." Another thought began to form itself on the corner of her consciousness, but she quickly shut it away.

Fleur stood up and brushed the tears off her face. She walked over to the hall table, picking up the small pot of purple ink she had deposited there earlier. Gabrielle's letter to her lay next to it.

"Do it for Gabrielle," she told herself. picking up the letter. "Do it for Gabrielle and for yourself."

When she was in school, Fleur had driven herself to be champion because that is what her family expected of her. She had never quite figured out what she wanted, even during these last five years, only what others expected of her.

"No more," said Fleur outloud, casting a scowl at her father's office door. "I will go, but when I'm there I will do what's right for me and for Gabrielle. No one else."

With that resolve, Fleur lifted her head up high, her blue eyes bright and glittering. She swiftly strode to her room to pack, not looking back.