The Veela’s Champion Chapter 8

Fleur beside him at the Gryffindor table, drawing odd looks from onlookers as the Beauxbatons champion sat beside their own Champion. Harry always disliked the attention he got, especially now that he was Champion. But for her part, Fleur seemed to not even notice the stares sent their way. It was an ability that Harry somewhat envied, as he almost always shrunk under his classmates’ scrutiny. 

The French Veela carelessly buttered a roll as a wave of whispers spread throughout the hall, some of which he managed to overhear. Most of the students seemed to have forgotten the tournament entirely, instead talking about his and Fleur’s date as if it was a publicly known event.

Ever since he had arrived at Hogwarts, Harry had never failed at being the center of attention. The worst part of it was that he genuinely didn’t want the attention, and would be perfectly happy if his classmates forgot about him completely. He had spent his life before Hogwarts living in a cupboard of all things, unused to the scrutiny that came with being a public figure.

In his first year, it had been his arrival to the wizarding world that initially put the spotlight on him. As he got more used to his fame, and people started to get bored of watching him, the fight with the troll in the girl’s bathroom happened, and after that was Quirrell’s death at the end of the year. Those events ensured his classmates wouldn’t forget him, and as Second Year rolled around, it only got worse.

The whole Chamber fiasco, along with the very public revelation that he could speak parseltongue, ensured his name was branded into the minds of his classmates from that point onwards. Last year had everyone whispering about Sirius Black behind Harry’s back, and that was without mentioning the dementors and their strange interest with him.

Finally, he had arrived in his fourth year of Hogwarts, hoping that it would be a quiet school year he could cruise through. The announcement of the tournament hadn’t raised any alarms initially, and if anything he was looking forward to watching it, but then the Goblet selected his name.

What followed were some of the worst couple weeks in his entire life. His friends abandoned him, and outright attacked him in some cases, with the rest of the student population treating him worse than dirt. 

And then came the first task of the tournament, and suddenly people began treating him completely different after his unprecedented performance. No longer was he the attention-seeking brat that cheated his way into the tournament, as he was instead the Great Champion of Hogwarts. 

Newspapers printed headlines praising his performance, as his fellow classmates congratulated him in the halls, all forgetting the fact he had practically been enemy No.1 only days earlier. All it did was make him think less of them all, and Harry genuinely wondered what their attitude would be if his performance was subpar in the first task.

All of it made him want to have a secluded lifestyle more than anything, and to one day settle down in the countryside and get away from it all. ‘Maybe Fleur can join me, that way she won’t have to deal with the stares either.’

But the two of them had to endure stares for now, as the staff had informed them that attending breakfast would be mandatory. It seemed that Dumbledore had an announcement to make, and Harry could only hope it wasn’t anything related to the tournament.

At last, the aging Headmaster stood, looking more excitable than normal. The hall quieted, as Dumbledore made his way over to the center of the podium. “Now that our Champions have completed their first task in the tournament, it is my pleasure to announce that another event will be taking place.”

Whispers of excitement rang out throughout the room, and Harry felt his stomach drop. Fleur grabbed his hand, also seeming worried, as he began to wonder what Dumbledore was talking about. ‘The second task isn’t supposed to happen for another couple months, I’m not ready for something like this!’

“As is tradition with the Triwizard Tournament, an event will task place between the first and second tasks, one that will be available for every student to participate in.” Dumbledore continued, clearly building up the audience’s anticipation. “This event will be known as the Yule Ball, and will take place on the night of the twenty-fifth of December.”

Every girl in the Great Hall seemed to collectively let out a squeal of excitement, while the boys in the room seemed to instead groan. He felt himself calm down, realizing that this part of the tournament wouldn’t be nearly as bad as he feared. 

Strangely, girls all across the hall seemed to be glancing his direction, and Harry stared back at a group of third-years who, in turn, blushed and giggled at him. Sadly, the same could be said for Fleur in a way, as the attention she was getting from boys increased tenfold.

She leaned over close to him then, her voice sending shivers down his spine. “If you agree to go to ze ball with one of these others girls, I will personally chop off your manhood and feed it to you, mon amour.”

‘Possessive much?’ He couldn’t help but think. “I take it you want to go to the ball with me?”

“Oui.” She answered simply. “It is only proper that we do so, and I already have my dress picked out.”

Harry’s heart thumped at the thought of seeing Fleur in a dress, and especially taking her to the ball. Whether it was because of anticipation or something else, he didn’t know. “I can’t wait to see it.”

“It is not my dress you should be excited to see, mon amour.” Fleur whispered huskily. “It will be ze part after ze ball you should be excited about, especially when you take my dress off.”

His eyes widened in shock as his shaft began to swell without his consent, her sudden suggestive words taking him unaware. Unintentionally, he began to imagine what it would be like after the ball, with the two of them back at Fleur’s room in her carriage. He pictured himself unzipping her dress, finally revealing her naked form underneath, before she too began to divest his own robes.

It was a situation he often fantasized about these days, especially after the erotic turn their first date took. Harry had spent many nights at this point reminiscing about his date with Fleur, doing his absolute best to recall the feel of her mouth around his shaft. He would rely on his hand to give him pleasure, a poor substitute for Fleur’s mouth, remembering the moment over and over of her sucking his cock.

But the Great Hall of Hogwarts was hardly a place to think about such things, and Harry didn’t want to get caught sporting an erection at a time like this. It was humiliating that his French Veela girlfriend could get him wound up with only a few teasing words, and he could only hope to get a grip on his reactions soon enough. 

As if to recognize his plight, Hedwig swooped in landed right in front of them. His owl was carrying a letter, and Harry took it with a frown. “Who gave you this, girl?”

Hedwig hooted, almost seeming annoyed, and Harry gave her a piece of bacon to appease the snowy owl.

He opened the letter and began to read it, seeing it wasn’t written with a quill like he was used to. Harry read the letter fully, then read it against just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, and finally a third time. 

“You seem particularly interested in that letter.” Fleur asked from his side. 

“It’s from my cousin.”

The Dursleys didn’t especially like him all that much, and Harry always enjoyed escaping from them by attending Hogwarts. In a sick way, Hogwarts was more than just a school to him, but rather a way for him to get away from the Dursleys. As such, he never returned home to Privet Drive for the holidays like everyone else did, and instead spent Yule break staying at the school. 

It was weird then, for his cousin Dudley to send him a letter inviting him home for the holidays. Harry didn’t know what got into his cousin, and why he seemed so eager to get back in Harry’s good graces, nor did he know how Dudley managed to get a letter to Hedwig in the first place. 

Fleur reached for the letter, and he gave her a nod for permission to read it. She took it and read it quietly, a silent frown on her features. 

“This is from your fat non-magique cousin?” She asked finally, holding the letter with an inquisitive frown. “I thought that you were not speaking with him?”

“Me too.” Harry shrugged. “I usually don’t return home for the holidays, but for some reason he wants to see me.”

Fleur looked just as confused as him, before a look of realization crossed her face and suddenly she seemed quite amused. 

“What is it?”

“There are few things that can cause such a change in men.” She said. “Ze first of which… is a woman.”

“A woman?” Harry coughed in surprise. “Y-You think Dudley found a girlfriend, and now he wants to fix things with me?”

“Oui.” Fleur nodded with an amused smirk. “Rarely do men change their ways so quickly, and a woman would be ze simplest answer for such things.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair in confusion, not understanding Fleur’s logic at all. In his mind, the only explanation he could come up with was that Dudley wanted to pull some sort of elaborate prank on him. His cousin had spent a decent chunk of his life trying to make Harry’s life miserable, and him concocting a scheme to invite Harry home for the holidays, only to try something devious, seemed entirely plausible. 

“You don’t have to do anything for now.” She comforted him, as if sensing his turbulent thoughts. “I’ve been meaning to ask, but you haven’t found anything related to ze egg from ze first task, have you?”

“No.” He grimaced, remembering what happened when he tried to open it. “Mine just screams every time I open it.”

“Oui, mine does that as well.” Fleur sniffed in distaste. “Perhaps we can work on it today, non?”

“Sounds good to me.” Harry replied, as any time spent with Fleur was good in his book.

They stood up to leave the Great Hall, but that was when a certain redhead caught his attention. Ron Weasley approached them-or more specifically, Fleur-with a dazed expression on his face. ‘oh no.’

/////

He had lived in Harry Potter’s shadow for years. 

The tournament had been a way to get out of it, for him to finally build his own fame. It had been as Dumbledore said, eternal glory, and from that moment Ron Weasley was hooked on the idea of the Triwizard Tournament. 

From there, everything seemed to fall into place. The other schools, Beauxbatons and Drumstrang, along with his quidditch idol, Krum, showing up. Ron knew that the tournament was exactly what he needed, a way to get all of the attention, along with a thousand galleons to his name. 

But then his name didn’t come out of the Goblet, and rather, Harry’s name came out instead. 

Ron had been furious then, more angry and bitter than he’d ever been before. He threw Harry out of his life in that moment, ending their years-long friendship, and officially leaving the shadow that followed the Boy-Who-Lived.

But ever since he left Harry, Ron’s life only seemed to get worse. The recognition, the attention, and the respect he got from being Harry Potter’s best friend was gone. He was now just a nobody, reduced to being the youngest male Weasley, without anything special to his name. And it only made Ron Weasley hate Harry Potter that much more.

And then came her. The beautiful French Veela who was the Beauxbatons champion, and the girl he beat his meat to every night. He had hoped to charm her once he was selected as Champion, knowing that being fellow competitors would force them together. But instead she had become Harry Potter’s whore, and ignored all the attempts he made to reach out. 

Just the sight of her made his manhood twitch and swell with lust. The perfect curvature of her body, from the outline of her large breasts, narrowing down to her slim hips, and then the juicy heart-shaped ass he couldn’t look away from. And then there was her face, sculpted from the palette of French aristocracy that seemed to always have a bitchy look to it. And when Ron wasn’t lucky enough to stare at any of those parts of Fleur Delacour’s body, it was her platinum blonde hair and long legs that could easily be viewed from a distance he stared at.

It was as he approached her in the Great Hall that she noticed him, her eyes narrowing as her chin stuck out. ‘Don’t lose heart, Ronald.’

He got close enough to speak to her, and opened his mouth to give the pre-prepared speech he had come up with in order to ask her to the ball. His heart thundered in his ears, and he could sense not just Fleur Delacour’s eyes on him, but those of the entire hall. His first word was just leaving his lips when she cut him off.

“Do you need something, leetle boy?”

‘Little boy.’ The words were like a hammer blow to his self esteem, and Ron nearly staggered. The dismissal was obvious, along with the belittling, and his face colored even more as someone began to laugh in the background.

One of those enjoying his sad predicament in the audience was Harry, a grin on his face as he held Fleur’s arm comfortably. ‘Does Fleur call Harry a little boy?’

That thought especially burned, and unbidden imaged flooded his mind of Harry and Fleur in intimate positions. For a moment, he pictured Harry taking Fleur like a conqueror, railing the French blonde from behind with an utterly massive cock as he used her body to his heart’s content. It was a dream he had often, but Ron knew he didn’t exactly have the equipment to do something like that, and yet he wondered if Harry was doing exactly that to her every night.

Ron burned in shame, feeling as if he was being dragged down into a endless pit, and he had yet to even ask Fleur Delacour to the ball. “D-Do y-you want to g-go to the ball with m-me?”

In his pre-prepared speech, he planned to compliment her beauty first before phrasing the question more like a humble request. Instead, the question spilled out in a humiliating fashion that got even more laughs from around the Great Hall. 

For her part, Fleur seemed to almost consider it, and he felt his hope rise when she spoke. “You wish to go to ze ball with me?”

“Y-Yes!” He said eagerly.

For a moment she stared at him, and Ron felt as if he was standing at the edge of a cliff about to be judged. Only for Fleur Delacour to smash him down, dashing all of his hopes in an instant. She began to laugh, in a way that humiliated him even further, before she spoke again. “I would not go to ze ball with you if you were ze last boy in this school. And even if I did, I am sure that you would spend ze night tripping over your own feet and failing to act like a real man.”

Every word felt like a punch to the gut, as the students around them began to laugh at his utter misfortune. “W-Wait! I-I’m-”

“You are a fool.” Fleur Delacour threw back her hair in a dismissive gesture, one that made him feel like an insect. She grasped Harry’s arm, as his old friend just watched Ron coldly. “Escort me away from this rabble, Harry. I’m looking forwards to being your date to ze ball, and especially to reward you handsomely afterwards.”

A/N: Sorry if this chapter feels like filler, as I struggled with it and felt that I needed at least one more chapter before the Yule Ball.