Chapter 20.3- Doom Days

“Over here, Harry” A voice called out as we walked towards the table. My head snapped straight to him, the portly man had swapped his bowler’s hat for a top hat that did as good a job of covering his receding hairline as the hat it was replacing. The British Minister of Magic was dressed in a formal pair of Black robes that were well-made, but came nowhere close to matching the luxury of mine. The reality of a civil servant’s salary, I guess. Made me wonder what exactly all those bribes he’d been allegedly collecting from Malfoy had gone towards.

Fudge waved me over to sit next to him, and considering the other option had me next to Dumbledore of all people, I moved quickly to acquiesce to his request. Fudge and Dumbledore sat side by side, I sat to Fudge’s right, while Cedric preened as he took a seat by Dumbledore’s. Of the two men, one was clearly greater than the other, but Diggory could keep Dumbledore. The old man would do nothing but stifle me. The suspicious looks that he thought he hid whenever we happened to be in the same space would do little help for my patience tonight. Especially as once I took my seat, I noticed that it placed me right opposite Fleur’s father. I flashed the man a smile that he returned with lips pressed together so hard that they had become a single thin line.

“Very good dancing, Harry. I don’t believe I’ve met your date” Fudge began, only two steps away from openly leering at Fleur. A man without discipline would never have made it to the position of Minister in the first place, but it was very clear that he was not as unaffected by such close proximity to the allure as some were. The man next to Fleur hadn’t even paid her a second look since our arrival.

“Cornelius, this is Fleur Delacour, Champion of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and Fleur, this is Cornelius Fudge, the British Minister of Magic” He flinched at my usage of his first name for a second before beaming. I’d done it to press home the point that I had never given him permission to use mine, but he was somehow taking this as a good thing. Fucking politicians.

“Lovely to meet you, Miss Delacour. My representatives had nothing but compliments for how you aided young Harry here with handling the hellhound” He said, offering her a hand to shake. Fleur sucked in an involuntary breath before staring at the hand like a disease ridden insect before taking it in her own hand. and I remembered some bit of history that I had thought unimportant- British and French magical absolutely loathed each other. The British felt the French were weak for surrendering to Grindlewald so easily, and the French felt the British were cowards for taking so long to involve themselves in the war against Grindlewald. Regardless though, Fleur had just taken one hell of an insult. I stepped in before things could escalate.

“Fleur, a champion in her own right, was working to take down the hellhound in her own way, Cornelius. I just happened to be a shade faster than her in the moment.” I said, taking her other hand and rubbing circles in the back of her palm almost by reflex.