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Chapter Text

The carriage hurtled down, coming to land at a tremendous speed. The Abraxans’ grooves hit the ground at last, and everyone inside sighed in relief.

Florian Delacour tapped his thumb against his pant leg while watching his fellow Beauxbatons schoolmates’ excited faces.

He felt none of their enthusiasm. Truth to be told, he had a bad feeling about this journey, and his Veela instincts never lied to him.

As if reading his thoughts, Madame Maxime approached him and laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. “Florian, smile,” her lips quirked mischievously when he grunted in a very un-gentlemanly manner his mother would most definitely disapprove of. “I don’t want you to scare the British ladies. I heard they are quite fragile.’’

Like he cared. The last thing he wanted was their attention. He had enough of that as it was.

The only reason he approved of this trip was to please his mentor and role model; Enchantment High Mistress Olympe Maxime. Beauxbatons’ Headmistress had supported him since he stepped into the school. He was a fledgling, inexperienced young Veela at the time. An exception, an anomaly even among his kind. He was the first male Veela born to the French Coven in five hundred years. Male Veelas were as rare as a Black Moon, it was no wonder that the Coven—and his family, were overprotective of him. He was their wonder prince.

However, that love and boundless affection didn’t turn him into an insufferable brat. It reinforced his resolution to prove to everyone that he were more than a spoiled prince with a pretty face.

Madame Maxime was among the few who glimpsed the fire burning behind his crystal clear eyes. She saw the single-minded young wizard and not the unfairly handsome male Veela.

It was the main reason why he agreed to represent his school at this farce of a Tournament and repay her kindness by doing his best to bring the Triwizard Cup to Beauxbatons.

“I heard that they consider my kind halfwits with barbarous tendencies. I’m a lowly creature, remember?” he exhaled a lungful of air as he stepped out onto what looked like the border of a gloomy forest. With the onset of fall, the tree leaves had already begun changing to a burnished copper.

Madame Maxime snorted before her face relaxed into a gracious expression as she walked toward Dumbledore.

Florian fought the need to roll his eyes at Hogwarts’ population. They gaped as Madame Maxime laughed at something Dumbledore said. His mentor was hard to miss, there was no denying the truth.

Anxiety amped up his heart rate the closer he came to the door. Everyone’s attention was solely focused upon him, and he abhorred every moment of it.

His hood unfortunately fell, baring his face for all to see. He tightened his grip on his Aura, but it was pointless. He was a seventeen-year old Veela at his prime. There was no hiding his heritage.

The thought that he was yet to find his Mate still turned his stomach, but not for the same reason it had before he reached his maturity.

He wanted her to accept him, man and Veela and all. He wanted to be perfect. For her. Just for her.

He tolerated the invasive looks, sighs and gasps, his expression as indifferent and aloof as ever. He had no intention of dropping his icy façade in front of these strangers.

Madame Maxime looked back over her shoulder, her magic reaching out to comfort him, and he gave her a stiff nod. She knew how much he loathed crowds and attention.

He followed after his schoolmates as they crossed the Great Hall before choosing seats at the third table.

“Welcome to Ravenclaw.” A small blonde offered airily. “You will enjoy your stay here, Florian Delacour.”

“How did you—‘’ He asked uneasily.

The girl ignored him, her attention turning back to the book she was reading. Upside down. “I’m Luna, Luna Lovegood.”

“Enchanté,” he frowned.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and—most particularly—guests,” said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.”

Alex Moreau—his best friend, slumped on the seat next to him and groaned. “Doubtful considering how cold it is here. I miss Beauxbatons already.”

Florian scanned the crowd mostly filled with people he hardly knew yet who looked at him as if they had every right to invade his privacy. “Let’s win the blasted Cup and go back home. Don’t act like a spoiled brat.”

“Ha!” Alex scoffed. “Look who’s talking. I’m afraid, I’ll have to disappoint you, your highness.”

He shook head, then stilled when the plates in front of them filled with food.

“C’est formidable,” he whispered in awe. “This is an amazing display of…”

“Don’t start,” Alex scrunched his nose as he studied the dishes. “Just…. Enjoy your food or….what little of it is edible, that is.”

Florian looked at the pot of Bouillabaisse with longing. Sadly, his schoolmates pounced before he could make a go at it.

“This is unacceptable,” he gave his empty plate a solemn look. He chanced a look at the gold and red table and arched a brow. “They don’t seem fond of our cuisine. Let me handle this.”

Alex’s grin broadened. “Make good use of your charm. We are grown men, and we need sustenance, mon ami.”

Florian rose gracefully to his feet, keeping an ironclad grip on his Aura and slid between the tables until he reached his quest. He cleared his throat softly, garnering two girls' attention, and said in fluent English. “Excuse me, can I have the Bouillabaisse?”

The black-haired girl in the middle looked up and their gazed collided.

Florian tensed waiting for the inevitable and cursing his luck… But… Her eyes remained focused and clear. She didn’t look perturbed or incoherent as she blinked at the dish, then pushed it toward him. “Of course. Enjoy your meal.”

Florian paused. He was rarely addled by anyone.

How unusual….

He studied her face, which—he had to admit, was hard to miss even in a hall brimming with young, beautiful witches. High cheekbones, heart-shaped lips, long bangs hiding her forehead and emerald green eyes that looked at him with a steady gaze.

She caught him staring and glanced away, a faint blush flushing her cheeks.

What in Merlin’s Name was he doing? The last thing he needed was another girl chasing after him.

“Thank you, Mademoiselle,” he nodded politely and reached for the pot.

He heard her friend’s breathless gasp but chose to ignore it. Their fingers accidentally grazed, and he was struck utterly dumb. He drew his hand back as if she had scalded him, and indeed it felt as if she had. His entire body erupted into flames. He clenched then unclenched his fist as his blood ran like wildfire through his veins.

Veelafire burned within every one of his kind when they found their Mate. When they accepted them, the burn turned into a blessed elixir, binding their lives and syncing their heartbeats as one. Once bound, neither could live without the other. He swallowed as he felt the pull in his chest, his Veela yearning for his Mate. He placed a hand on his chest, his fingers splayed, and stilled as reality dawned slowly.

He found his Mate.

It was this green-eyed, dark-haired witch looking at him expectantly.

He smiled down at her tenderly and offered his hand. “I am Florian Delacour.” If the stories he heard were true, Veelafire burned hot and hard within a Veela from the moment they found their Mate. They could never deny the pull. It was simply not done.

She bit her lower lip and looked at his hand before taking it. “And I am Calanthe Potter.”

The name made little difference to him. Yes, she was the renowned Girl Who Lived; Wizarding Britain's Saviour and Heroine. To him, she would always be his Mate and that was more than enough. Fame was a fickle thing. He strongly believed that there was more, so much more to Calanthe Potter than her name.

But he was ready to wait until she trusted him with everything: her fears and dreams and hopes and heart.

Without another word, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her trembling knuckles. It felt as if lightning had split his chest open.

The small touch made his heart thump erratically. It was heaven and hell at once.

She lowered her head, her eyelashes fluttering, and he suppressed the pressing need to slide his fingers under her jaw and gently urge her to look up at him. Only him.

Florian Delacour didn’t know what the future had in store for them. All he knew was the fire deep within him calling for his Mate. A Mate he intended to court properly and protect with his life.

Chapter Text

Florian landed softly on the grass and gazed at the Black Lake. The place was a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts Great Hall. The relaxed atmosphere was serene, disturbed only by the occasional splash of one of the Giant Squid’s tentacles. The enigmatic lake seemed also to be hiding secrets deep beneath its placid surface that mirrored the blue sky.

He could hear the Merpeople’s songs, enticing their Mates and inviting them to accept their favour.

Veelas were creatures of fire, they did not do well in water. The animosity between creatures of fire and creatures of water was ancient and soul-deep.

He tilted his head back and gazed at the rustling trees, taking a deep breath. It had been a week since he’d been in Hogwarts, a week in which he’d been trying to find a way to approach Calanthe Potter, with no luck.

Whenever she caught him staring at her, she would glance away, a pretty blush flushing her fair cheeks. His lips curved in an amused smile. At least, she was aware of him, which was enough for now. She was delicate, yet strong. Bold yet shy. A riddle he intended to solve slowly and thoroughly. 

He had changed his daily routine, making getting to know more about her his top priority. It helped that many of Hogwarts students were overly eager to gossip about their resident celebrity—or maybe it was his Aura making his job way easier for him, not that he had any qualms about using whatever means at his disposal to get what he wanted. She was his, and he had to work carefully and diligently to make her see how good they could be together.

Needless to say, he couldn't believe everything he learnt. His mature Veela senses were too sharp for him to take everything he heard without scepticism.

Finding his Mate made him believe that he could be something better, something more. The still blooming bond made him feel strong and powerful in a new way. Not physical or magical prowess.

No, the strength was in the expectation that filled his chest and warmed him to the marrow. That he had someone now who was his; solely his.

Believing that they had a chance of making a life together. Together as Mates and equals.

A new awareness slid down his back and he felt it again. A pinching sting, like the twining of threads overlapping and relentlessly encasing his heart. The pinprick of the Veelafire made him clench his hands. It was getting stronger and more pressing with every passing day. The Veela recognized his Mate before the wizard could detect her Aura.

He threaded one hand into his hair and waited with a bated breath. Calanthe appeared just a few heartbeats later. Her beauty hit him anew each time he saw her. Her hair was in total disarray, her cheeks pink from exhilaration, and there was a lightness to her step as she drew near to the rock he was leaning against. The Firebolt she held loosely in her left hand told him what she’d been up to.

So his Mate loved flying.

She froze when she realized she wasn’t alone and absently pushed her bangs away from her forehead, baring her scar for his eyes to see.

He wondered why she used bangs to hide it. Did she think it was hideous? Or like him, she abhorred probing eyes?

Even though their skin never scarred, Veelas wore their hair long with pride as a testament to every battle they fought and won and every hurdle they prevailed over. The more powerful the Veela was, the longer their hair grew. His shoulder-length hair was proof enough of how impressive his magic prowess was at the young age of seventeen.

Swallowing, Calanthe’s gaze volleyed between him and the Black Lake. His chest rose and fell with his deep, even breathing. His wings twitched under his skin and he longed to stretch them and show her what a worthy and ideal Mate he was.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you wanted some privacy,” she shook her head, rubbing at the back of her left arm.

“I don’t mind,” he smiled warmly, making sure his dimples were on full display. “You can keep me company.”

She paused, her eyes searching his face. “They’ve been pestering you.” It wasn’t a question.

“You have no idea,” he scoffed. “I hope that the novelty wears off soon.”

She lowered her head but could not hide her grin. “I’m afraid, I don’t think so.”

He heaved a sigh, then shifted his body to the right so they were facing each other as she took a seat next to him.

Even relaxed, there was raw, magical power that emanated from her and let the world know what an exceptional witch she would be one day. Her magic was magnificent.

Fire coiled in the centre of his chest, aching for her closeness, for any avowal of her acceptance.

The shrewd part of him that was all human understood he had to earn her trust and prove himself first. The stomped on his needs and leaned against the rock, pasting on a devastating smirk. “Are you making fun of my plight, Mademoiselle Potter?”

Heat crept over her face at his use of mother tongue. Unsurprisingly, French had that effect on people.

“Of course not.” Her brow creased apologetically. “I know very well how stifling unwanted attention could be. People could be aggressively invasive and insensitive.”

Her words were bitter and spoken from past experience. It astonished him that someone so young could be so wise.

“So you’ve noticed that I’m different?” he asked. His gaze was intense as he stared into her beautiful, clear eyes. She only regarded him calmly, even though he knew she was startled by the direct question.

 “I suspected something was amiss when everyone stated acting like…” she bit her lower lip and shrugged. “Hermione was able to work things out. You are a Veela. A male Veela.”

“That, I am,” he smiled, a fierce swell of pride in his chest. All his life, he never felt lesser because he was part creature. His family, the French Veela Coven and Madame Maxime made sure of that. He knew his worth, acknowledged his strengths and worked on his shortcomings. It was no fault of his that he was different; a rarity among his people. There was an abundance of pride and strength in his heritage, a bone-deep acceptance. He was what he was and that was that.

Calanthe hesitated for a moment.

“You can ask, I don’t mind,” he prompted gently.

“Is it always like this for you? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. But…” When he nodded, heart hammering in anticipation, already guessing what she would ask next, she whispered. “Why don’t I act like other people around you?”

Florian jumped to his feet in a feline-like move and offered her his hand. She stole a glance at his face, before she took it. The feeling of her skin touching his sent a tingle down his back and straight to his heart.

She gazed at him questioningly, and a half-smile tilted his lips in a way that made her blink twice. “I cannot tell you all my secrets in one day, Mademoiselle Potter. If you stick around for a while, I might reconsider.”

He knew he was laying it thick and most definitely taking the risk of overwhelming her with his attention but he didn’t care. Veelas were playful by nature. They thrived in the chase that preceded the actual Mating. More than often, they devised campaigns to disarm their Mates, flirt with them, and make them fall madly in love with them.

Maybe he wasn’t as different from his kin as he thought he were. He had every intention of winning her heart and claiming it for his own.

‘’I didn’t mean to….” She stuttered.

“Either way, I need a guide. Hogwarts is very fascinating, and I’d like to learn as much as possible about it during my short stay here,” he drawled, running a hand through his silky strands.

It was almost imperceptible, but he noticed the way she flinched when he mentioned leaving.

Could she feel the pull at her heartstrings already?

When they headed back to the Great Hall in peaceful silence, he couldn’t wipe the pleased grin off his face.

“Bravo,” Madame Maxime laid a hand on his shoulder briefly and squeezed. “You did well.” Florian looked with blatant pride at the cup. Golden wings fluttered frenetically and lifted it off the table. Not a drop of Fairy Champagne dropped. “The size and movements of the wings are well-balanced. You grasped the essence of this assignment and, again, exceeded my expectations.”

“It’s all thanks to your tutelage,” he looked up at his favourite teacher. His shoulder-length hair was tied back, causing his face to show the display of emotions on it: gratitude, respect and acknowledgement.

Madame Maxime waved her hand is dismissal. “If I didn’t see something special in you, I would’ve never lost a minute on you. I don’t invest in imbeciles.” The Enchantment High Mistress’ thick brows raised in challenge.

He grumbled. “Either way, thank you.”

Madame Maxime’s dark eyes bore into his, and he steeled himself for the inevitable. “Your work was as impeccable as ever, there’s no denying that. But your mind is elsewhere. Something happened. I can feel the change in you.”

“Would I ever be able to hide something from you?” he muffled a groan but could not keep from rolling his eyes.

“Doubtful. I’ve known you since you were ten,” she smirked and clapped her hands together. “I’ve also watched the way your eyes remained stuck to a certain dark-haired, green-eyed witch whenever she was in close vicinity. I can sense the change in your heart rate, the agitation in your movements, particularly when her name comes up. It means something. And I’m fairly certain you know what that something is. I trust that Apolline taught you all there is to know about your Veela heritage.”

“Well, I found my Mate,” he sighed. “She’s Calanthe Potter, a British witch three years my junior. Not to mention, Magical Britain’s Saviour. Could it get more complicated than this?”

“So?” Madame Maxime looked down her nose at him. “It makes no difference. You are Florian Delacour, my Apprentice and a promising Enchantment Master. You are humble, hard-working and unfairly talented. I see no problem with this match. If anything, I hope that Miss Potter is worthy of your heart.”

The approval and pride in her voice wrapped him in warmth. Madame Maxime was among the select few who never doubted that there was more to him than his perfect features. Who saw the man and not the Veela. Her faith in his ability and talent had never wavered.

“I trust this new revelation won’t harm your chances at winning the Triwizard Tournament. I need to place that cup on my shelf,” Madame Maxime’s smile was all teeth.

“Of course, not,” he huffed. “Your wish is my command, Mistress.”

Shaking her head, she looked at him with twinkling, mischievous eyes. “Moreover, I trust you have more reasons to win that cup now and show your esteemed Mate what you are capable of, n’est ce pas, mon cher Florian?”

Florian let his head drop with a groan and closed his eyes. There would be no end to Madame Maxime’s teasing now.

He halted in mid-thought when he remembered something of utmost importance. How could he forget about his spirited family and their predictable reactions to the joyous news?

His father…

His mother….

Gabrielle…

He was utterly and thoroughly doomed—regardless of the outcome of the tournament.

Chapter Text

The breeze stirred the copper leaves and teased a lock of pale silver-blond hair free of his loose topknot. Florian tilted his head and stared straight ahead at the night-darkened horizon. It was another Samhain, and he couldn’t wait to find out what the Sacred Day had in store for him.

When he sensed the disturbance in the air, he lifted himself easily, soundlessly leaping from the top of Beauxbatons’ carriage. It wasn’t his fault that he loved heights. After all, he was a Veela. A Creature of Fire and Air.

He put his hands in his pockets and surveyed the Durmstrang party intently as they walked up toward the castle from the lake. They did not see him standing in the darkness until they almost  reached him.

Some of them seized him. Other, bolder, students narrowed their eyes in blatant challenge. Unlike their British counterparts, the people of the North harboured no prejudice against Veelas. Instead, they acknowledged their raw power and considered them strong rivals they wanted to test their talent against. Too bad for them, he had no interest in indulging any of them outside of a formal Duelling Ring.

His gaze met that of Viktor Krum and he smirked. He knew a deserving opponent when he saw one. If the Goblet of Fire deemed him worthy, it was beyond doubt that they would face off. He couldn’t wait to find out if the rumours about Durmstrang’s curriculum were true.

Karkaroff laughed at someone his star pupil said and slapped him on the back with an open palm. Krum, though, didn’t look thrilled. It seemed that—like him—the Bulgarian celebrity was under so much pressure.

Alex spotted him and made a beeline in his direction. “What are you still doing here? “ His best friend frowned. “The selection is about to start. Madame Maxime is waiting for you.”

Florian scoffed and waved a hand carelessly. At once, pale blue robes of the finest silk appeared out of thin air and hid his navy blue wool pullover and dark jeans.

Alex rolled his eyes. “As enticing as this display of control over your magic is, Monsieur Delacour, I’m afraid that you are trying to impress the wrong person. I’m not your little girlfriend.”

He let out an incredulous laugh. “I don’t need to prance to have Calanthe’s attention. She’s noticing me just fine.”

“Oh?” Alex’s dark brows lifted in teasing challenge. “I wasn’t aware you’ve got so close. Do tell, mon ami.”

Florian grabbed Alex’s shoulder and winked. “A gentleman doesn’t spill what goes between him and his lady.”

Alex groaned. “It’s utterly preposterous for one wizard to possess so much charm. No wonder the boys are afraid you’d steal their girlfriends’ hearts.”

Florian’s lips quirked with an irrepressible smile. “As if I’d want to. Only one heart counts. My Mate’s heart.”

Alex clapped him on the back. “So you admit you’ve been working your charm to win Mademoiselle Potter’s heart? It’s not a simple guide you are after.”

Florian smiled but kept his lips shut. Why would he need a guide when the only thing that held his interest in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was his Mate?

As luck would have it, Calanthe took his playful words to heart and agreed to help him explore Hogwarts. He had to admit that the ancient school was rather fascinating. The castle had a lot of moving stairs, it was almost impossible to predict where they would take you if you didn’t know your way beforehand. It was full of secret passages, rooms and deserted corridors. And if it wasn’t enough, it had plenty of ghosts, mainly Peeves the Poltergeist. Surprisingly, it seemed that Calanthe had won the prankster’s respect. During one of their outings, she admitted that he was an old friend of her father. It pained him that she had to grow up alone, deprived of her parents’ love. He had every intention of telling her soon that she was no longer alone. She had him and his family now, and they would do everything in their power to make her happy.

When they entered the candlelit Great Hall, he was impressed by the changes. The orange and purple lights created a soft glow around the darkened room and drew the eye to the Goblet of Fire which was now standing in front of the teachers and the honoured guests table.

He took his seat at the Ravenclaw’s table, and Alex did the same. His eyes instinctively sought the Gryffindor table.

He squeezed his hands when he found her. The reflected light from the floating candles gleamed on her coal dark hair and cast enticing shadows across her delicate, perfect features. As if she could sense his scrutiny—or maybe because she did, she froze in the midst of a conversation with her best friends, her face flooding with colour. She lifted her head slowly, bewildered, she stared back at him. His gaze remained fixed intently on her as her blush deepened. He couldn’t wait for the day they would bind their hearts and sync their lives as one.

He shook his head when her chest started to rise and fall more quickly. He was overwhelming her and he knew it. Unfortunately, he couldn’t help it. It was in every Veela’s nature to seek their Mate’s attention and keep it to themselves as their most treasured possession.

She shifted in her seat, then paused deliberately before mouthing a shy ‘good luck’.

Florian gave her a grateful smile and nodded.

The feast went in a blink as everyone waited impatiently for the main event to begin. Most of the students craned their necks and whispered excitedly. With his enhanced Veela senses, Florian heard their pulses jump and their heart rates increase even above the din of noise.

At long last, Dumbledore waved his hand, making the golden plates disappear, and got to his feet. The silence that followed was unsurprisingly tense, and everyone waited with a bated breath.

Even High Master Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked expectant as they waited.

“I believe that The Goblet of Fire is ready to make its decision,” Dumbledore grinned good heartedly. “When the Champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Great Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber.” He indicated the door behind the staff table. “Where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

He made a sweep with his peculiar wand and, at once, the hall was plunged in near darkness. Bursts of whispers filled the space as the Goblet of Fire shone brightly. The flames turned blood-red and next, a tongue of blue fire shot into the air, carrying with it a charred piece of parchment.

Florian willed his heart to still when Dumbledore caught the first piece of parchment. “The Champion for Durmstrang is Mr Viktor Krum.”

A storm of applause and cheering swept the Great Hall. High Master Karkaroff looked ecstatic as he urged his Champion to come up to the top and get into the chamber.

Florian clapped politely. Alex leaned forward and whispered. “You are our Champion. No one deserves to represent Beauxbatons but you.”

Touched up by his friend’s unwavering loyalty, he shrugged. “I hope I had your confidence. I think most of Beauxbatons male population won't share your enthusiasm.”

Alex snorted. “That’s because they see you as a threat. Jealousy is an incurable fault.” When he lifted a pale brow up, his best friend nudged him. “Besides, did you have to be so perfect? I can’t say I blame them.”

“It wasn’t by choice, I assure you. I’d rather have a—“

His words trailed off when a second piece of parchment shot out of the Goblet of Fire.

Dumbledore caught it readily. “The Champion for Beauxbatons is Mr Florian Delacour.”

The silence that followed the announcement was stiff. Then, an uproar started as most of the female population jumped to their feet, screaming and clapping.

Florian stood slowly and headed off toward the chamber, his back ramrod straight, his gaze focused ahead.

“Well done,” he heard a whisper, and his attention was drawn promptly to its owner.

Calanthe was clapping with the other girls, her eyes bright with happiness. He winked, then his mouth tilted into a boyish smile when she sucked in a lungful of air. He couldn’t blame her. She was doing well as it was for undivided attention from an adult Veela could make most people crumble.

“Well done, chéri,” Madame Maxime was waiting for him at the door. “I knew you’d make it. You worked so hard for this moment, so enjoy it thoroughly.” Her eyes softened when he nodded. “It’s time for the world to see what you are capable of. For them to acknowledge you as more than a Veela because you are more, much more, Florian.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat felt so dry. His Mentor’s trust in his abilities never failed to astonish him and fill the void in his chest. People were either too cruel or too annoying. Alex was among the few he trusted outside his family. It was hard for people to see past his Veela blood.

Most of the time he didn’t care. Let the Magical World think him a brainless Creature with a handsome face. It was not like their opinion mattered. Nothing would stop him from getting what he wanted and building a reputation for himself.

His mask perfectly in place, he opened the door, his eyes roaming instinctively over the room.

“Bravo Mr Delacour!” Mr Bagman boomed and shook his hand frenetically. It was another slight against his race he chose to ignore. It was highly rude to touch a Veela without their consent, considering they had heightened senses.

“Thank you, Monsieur,” he held a bleak expression as he slid his abused hand out of the unwelcome grasp and stood in the corner, his back to the wall facing the door.

Viktor Krum offered him his hand. “Congratulations.”

Florian snapped his head up and looked at his competition. “Thank you. I wish you luck.”

The Bulgarian huffed. “I don’t need luck. All I need is for this Tournament to be over so I could go back to the pitch.”

Interesting….

The older man cleared his throat and clapped. “I wonder which—“

A thundering noise filled the Great Hall and made the windows almost rattle. A moment later, Cedric Diggory stepped awkwardly into the room. Excitement and wonder were written all over his face.

From what he grasped from Calanthe’s tales, Hufflepuffs were often looked over and seen as the House for people who are boring and talentless. In a word, most considered them the leftovers, about whom there is nothing special. He could understand why this moment was very special for every Hufflepuff; mainly Diggory.

“Oh, Cedric!” Bagman grin widened. “Amos will be in raptures. You did well, lad.”

“Thank you, Me Bagman,” the brown-haired wizard muttered.

He was about to congratulate the Hogwarts champion when shouts and jeers reached his ears. He frowned and regarded the door with sharp blue eyes. He felt a chill of alarm slid down his back.

“What’s going on?” Krum took a step forward.

His heart sank with trepidation when Calanthe opened the door and stood at the threshold, head bent, fingers tugging at the sleeve of her robes.

“Miss Potter?” Bagman sounded surprised as well. "How can I help you? Did Dumbledore send you?"

Calanthe froze in place, like a lamb in a wolf’s path. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

He stretched to his full height, towering over everyone in the room as anger flared in his veins.

Something wrong happened to his Mate, and he wouldn’t stand idle while she suffered.

A charge of Dark Magic snapped in the air, resonating around him and by Krum, Diggory and Bagman’s frowns and wide eyes, he was certain that they felt the shift.

His eyes went to the door again when Dumbledore rushed inside, followed by his fellow Headmasters, Lord Crouch and Hogwarts professors.

He moved closer to Calanthe, ignoring Madame Maxime’s pleading eyes.

“Calanthe,” Dumbledore asked calmly. “Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?”

Barely restrained violence rippled around him in tangible waves as soon as the words left the old man’s mouth.

“Of course, she did,” Professor Snape sneered. “She’d been crossing the lines and ignoring the rules since she stepped into this school.”

“I didn’t do it!” Calanthe met his soulless, accusatory eyes with fear-filled ones. “I swear, I don’t know how—‘’

‘’Cease your lies, Potter, and spare us the dramatics.” Snape’s words grated out through clenched teeth. When she shook her head helplessly, he tried to grab her by the arm, and something in him broke loose.

“Severus!” Dumbledore said firmly. “Enough! I believe Calanthe.”

His wings stirred under his skin, demanding he let them loose. His claws slid from under his perfectly-groomed nails and, by how sharp his vision became, he was certain that his eyes had turned golden with flakes of black—just like the fire that was part of every Veela’s soul.

He slammed a hand against Snape’s chest, halting his advance. “Careful, Mr Snape. You are overstepping your bounds.”

Snape tried to glare at him and thought better of it when he saw the look in his eyes.

The chiselled angles of his face had contorted into a fierce mask. Piercing, his golden gaze reached deep inside the man’s head until he came across that secret part of him; the part he tucked away from the world.

His Occlumency shields were of the highest quality, however, they posed no challenge to him. He made sure the fool understood that he could decimate them if he wanted to. It was only his moral code that prevented him from taking a stroll in the Potion Master’s mind. Uninvited.

He glimpsed Dumbledore’s face over Snape’s shoulder. A grim line replaced the light-hearted smile he usually wore.

The Headmaster raised an arm in a calming gesture, hoping to crush the tension before it escalated.

“Florian,” Madame Maxime whispered. “Let him go. Let’s take care of Miss Potter’s problem first.”

A growl rumbled low from deep within. His Veela was stirred on a primitive level, demanding he protected his Mate and punished all those who dared try and harm her. The Creature itched to draw claws and burn the insolent man to a crisp.

“This matter does not concern you, Mr Delacour.” The venom in Snape’s voice reeked of aggression and malice. The fool tried to stare him down, and he doubled the pressure he put against his Occlumency shields. Snape sucked in air, hard and fast, nostrils flaring. His face darkened to a mottled red, the veins in his neck bulging.

Florian let go of him and crossed his arms across his chest nonchalantly. Snape glared, straightening his shoulders in defiance.  

What the older wizard didn’t understand was that foul words and empty threats by worthless men did nothing to him. Veelas were a warrior race, they had no respect for cowards and bullies. The way he treated his student, showed him what a worthless, dishonourable man he was. He was a professor, his priority should’ve been protecting his student and not attacking her without concrete proof.

Madame Maxime’s expression softened to one of understanding when he clenched his fists and leashed the creature.

He moved toward Calanthe, shielding her with his body. “You have nothing to fear. I believe you.”

The broken look she gave him made his heart slam against his ribcage.

“Dumbledore,” High Master Karkaroff said tersely. “Surely you do not plan to have two Champions. This is most unjust, I cannot accept unless I submit the names of the rest of my students and have another Champion as well.”

“Mr Karkaroff, I'm afraid that the Goblet of Fire doesn’t work that way,” Lord Crouch said. “The rules state clearly that those people whose names come out are bound to compete in the Tournament. There’s nothing we can do now.”

Dread swamped Calanthe’s features. He trailed his fingers lightly over her back hating how helpless and small she looked.

“But how could this happen, Dumbledore?” Madame Maxime regained her composure. “I thought that your Age Line was unassailable. Mademoiselle Potter is so young."

“It is,” Dumbledore sighed. “I’m afraid, though, that someone is trying to have Calanthe compete.” There was a trace of worry in the Headmaster’s voice as he looked into his thunderous face. “But worry not, we’ll catch the culprit.”

“Right!” Moody growled. “It’s our job to catch him and make him rue the day he stepped into Hogwarts."

Florian ignored the rest of their heated rant and looked at Dumbledore. Anger brimmed in his chest when the man stared at him back knowingly.

Were the tight lines on his face due to concern or Regret?

He could almost swear he heard him whisper. “Take care of her.”

“…..The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth. I wish you luck,’’ Bagman informed them before he left with Hogwarts professors.

High Master Karkaroff put a protective arm around Krum’s shoulders and led him swiftly out of the room.

“Calanthe, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed,” Dumbledore said. “You need to rest.”

“Yes,” Diggory hesitated. He could tell he felt awkward. “Good night.”

Dumbledore sighed and walked out wearily.

“I’ll wait for you in the carriage,” Madame Maxime cleared her throat.

Florin nodded and waited until she closed the door behind her.

“Calanthe,” he clasped her cold hands and wondered how could such a simple touch make his pulse flicker with concern and fury. She bit her lip and averted her face.

“Please, look at me," he pleaded.

Her head whipped up and she rapidly blinked the tears. A wild emotion tried to rip its way out of his chest, screaming in outrage because he hadn’t been there to protect his Mate, who was his responsibility, and prevent this unsavoury surprise. ‘’It’s alright,” he murmured into her hair. “You have nothing to fear.”

He held her closer, running his hand up and down her back in soothing strokes, the pads of his fingers skipping through each ridge in her spine, loathing the tremors he could feel raking her body.

“I don’t want any of this,” she stammered. “Since the day I stepped into the school…. He wouldn’t leave me alone. I know it’s his doing. It has to be him.”

Him???

He wanted to ask her more questions. To find out who did this so he could hunt him down and make him pay for putting her through all this. But he knew now wasn’t the time. And so, he gritted his teeth and glanced down to see her staring at him warily, clearly trying to pull herself together. However, that wasn’t all he saw.

She had her share of questions to ask, too. He would gladly answer them, but he knew that the timing wasn’t right.

“No one will hurt you again,” he vowed, never more serious in his life. “I promise you.”

“Florian…” She threw herself at him, and he wrapped his arms around her. She held onto him, her arms locking like two brands around his waist.

She cried silently against his neck. No big wails or sobs. Just heartbreaking little gasps as her slim shoulders shook, and she trembled in his arms. She buried her face against his neck, and the wet tears streamed down his skin and seared him to the soul.

She needed to cry. So, he held her. Wrapping his arms around her waist and let her cry.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but after what felt like an eternity, she lifted her head to stare at him. Her hands came to his shoulders, gripping softly. ‘’Thank you for believing me, for standing up for me. Thank you for everything.”

Chapter Text

Florian tipped his head to the side and cracked his neck before settling deeper into his chair. Any attempts he’d made to smother this anger had been in vain. He’d spent a miserable few days watching Calanthe attempt to cope with the staggering surprise of the selection night. It was not unexpected, since she never wanted to be part of the Tournament.

A small smile curled his lips when he remembered the way she pressed herself into his arms, running her fingers over his shoulders and down his back, seeking comfort. It was as if she instinctively knew that only he—her Mate, could give her that.

He hated that she had to be hurt for her to seek him. However, even more than that, he was anguished for her. He wished she did not have to bear such torment to begin with.

Him….

Her words played again and again in his head. Someone was after her. Someone had staged this whole thing in the hopes of catching—or worse yet, harming—his Mate and he would not stand idle while her safety was in jeopardy.

Also, he could not suppress the chill that went down his back as he recalled the piercing cerulean eyes that watched him until the very last second, his parting words slithering through the crack of the closing door. "Take care of her.”

Dumbledore knew.

He shook his head as he painstakingly reassembled his calm. Calanthe needed him now more than ever, and he had to keep a cool head and find out as much as possible in order to help her.

“Florian, I was looking for you,” Alex broke off and cleared his throat. “Well, you see…”

He closed his book, folded his arms across his chest, and looked at his best friend. “Did you need something?” He cocked an expectant brow up.

Alex slumped on the seat next to him, ignoring Madam Pince’s heated glare. “Well, you see,” he repeated lamely, and his pulse increased. “Something bad happened.” Unlike his usual cheerful self, he looked extremely anxious.

At once, he surged to his feet. “Spill it out.” He tried to appease the fire building up in his chest, but nothing helped.

“I was coming down from the Owlery after I sent a letter home when I bumped into a bunch of Slytherins wearing badges in the front of their robes.”

“Go on”, Florian said slowly.

Alex sighed and ran a hand through his thick locks. “All the badges had a nasty message. Florian, I don’t know how this school works, but they are bullying your girl, and no one is lifting a finger to defend her.”

Dread started snaking its way into his gut, threatening to ruin the control he had worked all his life to hone. It shocked him deeply how fast Hogwarts students pointed a finger at Calanthe and accused her of cheating as soon as her name came out of the Goblet of Fire. No questions were asked, and no explanations were sought. They just decided she was at fault.

He hung tight to the resentment that always followed thoughts of how fickle people’s trust and loyalty were, and allowed the anger to overshadow the fear residing in his chest for his Mate.

Calanthe was way too accepting of her predicament. It was as if she hadn’t expected anything less. When he asked her to swear a Magical Oath to prove her innocence, she stared at him with deep green eyes filled with sadness and said flatly. “Why bother? It’s not like it’s the first time they are doing this. One moment I am the Saviour, the next, I am a pariah. I don’t care about their opinions anymore.”

He caressed her cheek softly. “It’s a great burden that you’re carrying alone.”

Calanthe stared at him as if she were trying to uncover all the secrets he was reluctant to share. “I have you now, don’t I?” A blush climbed up her face when he nodded firmly as relief flowed through him. “And I—I have Ron and Hermione too. They’ll know that I'm innocent.”

He didn’t want to pursue the matter as she dragged herself to her feet and bid him goodnight, but now, he regretted not insisting she defended herself.

“It will take some time for things to cool off and for the novelty to wear off. Those British fools are making me angry,” Alex sighed. “Maybe we have to devise some means to counterattack,” he broke off and inhaled sharply as he stood upright abruptly. “We can start by finding out who made them. I’d like very much to have a word or two with them.” By the predatory glint in his eyes, Florian knew that the last thing on his friend’s mind was talking.

Despite how easygoing and carefree Alex seemed, he was overly protective of his friends. He hadn’t exchanged more than two sentences with Calanthe yet, but he knew what she was to him, and as such, he considered her someone he had to protect.

Florian felt the burning of Veelafire in his veins as he nodded grimly. Most of the anger he had been feeling from the moment Calanthe’s name came out of the Goblet of Fire seemed to burst through a dam in his chest, demanding he punished whoever dared cause his Mate more grief.

He ground out his next words. “I can’t promise you that. I'll deal with them myself. Let’s find them first.”

Alex draped an arm around his shoulder and whispered urgently. “I believe we must leave at once. Madam Pince might hex me if we don’t.”

The moment they stepped out of the library, he almost ran into Viktor Krum. He swept his dark, stoic gaze behind him then met his eyes. “Delacour.”

“Krum,” he replied in kind.

“I was looking for you.”

Florian wanted to rub his face in frustration. He didn’t have time to exchange pleasant nonsense while—

Krum looked at Alex pointedly. The latter squared his shoulders and stick to his side.

“I have something you might be interested in, considering how you reacted to Miss Potter’s selection the other night,” Krum grated as he gave Alex an appraising look.

Florian straightened his back and waved his hand carelessly, erecting a Silencing Ward around them. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of Alex. He’s my best friend, I trust him.”

Krum’s lips curled in faint amusement. “I suspect that Miss Potter is very important to you.”

Florian stared at Durmstrang’s Champion in silence.

“As you know,” Krum shrugged. “Veelas are well respected in Bulgaria. We know how capable and gifted you are.”

Florian snapped to attention. “Is there something…”

“I suspect that Miss Potter is your Mate. Unlike what the bigoted people here think, Veelas don’t share skin privileges with random strangers nor do they show affection in public unless it’s someone they care about and considering that every Veela has a destined Mate for life…” He let the rest of his words trail off.

As might be expected, Viktor Krum wasn’t simply a burly Quidditch player. The Goblet of Fire wouldn’t pick someone unless it saw something in him. He was proving himself highly intelligent, with an acute awareness of his surroundings. It seemed he was well-versed in different cultures—Veela culture, for instance.

There was no point in denying the obvious, as he could sense no malice or bad intentions coming out of the Bulgarian.

“She is,” he said without hesitation.

He nodded. “As I suspected,” he crossed his arms over his chest. “I came here to warn you because I hate bullying. Were we in Durmstrang, heads would roll if someone dared pull off a despicable prank like this.” Disgust poured off him in waves as he explained.

“What did you find out, Krum?” he asked quietly.

His brows rose and Florian rolled his eyes and offered him his hand. It was the second time he did so, and he wondered if he had inadvertently found a potential friend in the competition.

Krum shook his hand firmly. “It’s Viktor, Florian. And just so you know, I’m doing this because I want a fair contest. I can’t have you worried about your Mate all the time. I want all your concentration in the Tournament.”

Florian scoffed. “Well, Viktor, I can’t promise you that.” When dark, relentless eyes narrowed at him, he smirked. “But even with half of my concentration, I won’t make it easy for you. I play to win.”

“So do I,” Viktor met the challenge in his eyes with one of his own.

“Err, mes amis, I think we’re veering from the main topic. Krum, you were about to tell us what you overheard, right?”

Viktor dropped his hand and his face darkened. “I knew from the start that the pompous prat was up to no good. I hate creeps and fawners. I hate scheming cowards more,” he spit the words with venom. “I can’t believe that the professors in Hogwarts are turning a blind eye to this.”

Anger burned darkly in Florian’s usually sky-calm eyes. “He? Whoever did this has to learn a lesson. The hard way.”

Florian regretted that he had to spend the next two days following the culprit’s tracks. He missed his Mate, so much, but he had to teach her bullies a lesson first.

To make a bad situation worse, it looked like things weren’t going as expected between her and her best friends. A chasm had appeared overnight between her and Hermione Granger, and they didn’t seem to be on speaking terms. Fortunately, Ron Weasley hadn’t abandoned her.

He had every intention of finding out what happened, but first, he had to do this.

His eyes went to the high dais where the professors sat. He met Snape’s dull stare with a challenging one of his own and smirked.

It wasn’t really hard to find the biggest gossip girl in the school and work his charm on her. Every second he spent in Pansy Parkinson’s company made him fight his instinct to raise his wand to curse her to oblivion. Disgust at her spitefulness attempted to rise up, but he slapped it away. He was merely postponing the inevitable for all those who hurt his Mate would pay. Eventually

He had himself to blame as well. If he hadn’t been so distracted by the exhilaration of finding his Mate, he would have paid more attention to the things going on around him. And if he’d paid more attention to what was going on around him, he’d have figured out that something suspicious was taking place under Hogwarts roof.

He could not undo the past, but he could deliver punishment. People tended to have a biased opinion about him because of his looks. He might be physically pleasing to the eye—handsome, angelic, even like some girls whispered dreamily and made him gag—however, under that flawless exterior lay a predator: cold and heartless. Most Wixen seemed to forget that Veelas were a Warrior Race.

His words were drowned out by the thundering of his own heartbeat, and he was racked with waves of bliss, his senses lit with hot-fire when he sensed her. He knew she was in a bad mood as of late, no matter how she tried to deny it. Surprisingly, he enjoyed her displays of bravado. Lifting her chin, she moved across the Great Hall, bypassing the eyes that followed her, judged her, waited for her to fail, and took her seat gracefully at the Gryffindor table.

“I think you should sit with her tonight,” a melodious voice suggested airily.

Florian quirked a brow up questioningly at the blonde who claimed the seat next to his.

“Er…Mademoiselle Lovegood, I believe?” Alex spluttered.

Florian paused for a moment to observe the Ravenclaw. She welcomed him the night they came to Hogwarts. He remembered her. There was something about her that—

“Also, thank you,” she chirped, unaware of his thoughts. “Maybe you didn’t intend to, but it’s the first time that someone stands up to Chang and defends me. She’s been awful to a lot of us all these years.”

Her eyes, although bright, had a hint of sadness in them that made him feel overly protective of the younger girl who reminded him of Gabrielle. He wanted to chase all her ghosts away.

“Why didn’t you report her to the professors?” he asked softly.

She shrugged. “I highly doubt they would’ve done anything. You know, just as well as I do, that things need to run their course. You can’t force a conclusion to a situation just because you’re tired of it. It doesn’t work that way. Everything happens for a reason. I knew you’d come to Hogwarts one day and make things better.”

His back stiffened. Those were deep words coming out the lips of such young girl.

He looked at her, his keen gaze sweeping over her innocent face. “Would you tell me if someone else bothers you?”

“I will,” she smiled. “You are my friend now.”

His attention was immediately diverted from Luna when he heard a shriek of distress. The beast residing in his chest reeked of aggression as it looked at the pretty Chinese girl who was holding her badge with a shaking hand.

Did she really think that she could outdo an Apprentice of Enchantment High Mistress Olympe Maxime?

When he studied the badge Parkinson offered him gladly, his veins lit up with a blazing fury that left him shaking. With golden eyes that resembled a raging flame, he read the words the perpetrator hid: Potter Stinks.

They enchanted the badge to humiliate his Mate. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t predict that he would use the same sword to skewer them mercilessly.

“Let me have me look,” Alex made sure his voice was heard over the commotion. "What’s this….Cho Chang is A Bully?” He feigned a gasp. “Mademoiselle, I think you might have offended the wrong people.” He added under his breath.

Change lifted her head and looked at them with wide eyes. She reared back when golden eyes flecked with black bore into hers. “It’s alright to support your boyfriend. What’s not right is to bully those who cannot defend themselves. You are a despicable human being with a rotten core,” his voice dropped low, edged with danger. “If you dare hurt Calanthe again, I won’t be so lenient. Mark my words.”

She surged to her trembling feet and dashed toward the door. Cedric Diggory rushed after her, but he didn’t care. His eyes went lazily to the Slytherin table as he whispered under his breath. Languidly, he surged to his feet, ignoring the eyes that followed him.

“Can I have a seat?” he asked softly.

Calanthe seemed surprised, but she nodded, the corners of her lips tilting up. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” His grin widened as he leaned to whisper for her ears only. “Take a look at Draco Malfoy.”

She frowned and opened her mouth. “Why would I—“

Almost instantly, he squeaked. “How!” His lips trembled as he shouted. “My father will hear about this!”

Many outraged gasps followed his outburst, and everyone started clawing at their badges. Badges they could no longer take off.

Calanthe’s eyes sparkled with a mix of disdain and curiosity. “What’s going on?”

Florian grinned and pulled her closer to him. “Here, take a look.” She leaned into him, her body pressing against his in that delicious way that warmed him to the marrow. His protectiveness became enmeshed with a deep tenderness that made every touch they shared unbearably acute. She kept reaching through the defenses he built around his heart over the years and stirring the Veelafire and he didn’t mind. He was hers. All of him.

She choked on a frantic laugh. “Y-you did this?” she looked at him in awe.

“Of course, ma chère,” he smirked. “I believe I told you how much I love enchanting objects.”

After all, it wasn’t easy to replace the message in the badge and make it stick permanently to the wearer’s robes. A humiliating message that read: ‘Draco Mafoy Has A Pea Cock.’

Chapter Text

When Florian woke up the next morning, it took him a moment to remember why he felt so giddy.

Draco Malfoy was definitely not amused when he got a taste of his own medicine. For a while, he looked as if he had turned to stone. Half delighted, half vindictive, Florian watched the colour creep along his cheekbones. He turned to his friends as if to check if any of them were faring better. Well, unfortunately, none of them had managed to take the badge off. It took a while for his message to sink. They wanted to prey on his Calanthe and now, they became the prey.

Needless to say, a commotion had started as the students clawed at their robes, moaned and screeched. None of their feeble attempts at losing the badge worked. Only taking their robes off could solve their problem.

Professor Snape didn’t say anything to that at first, but the pinched expression on his face made speech unnecessary. “How very inconvenient of whoever devised this prank to ruin a good night,” he drawled and from his curled lip, he made the words sound like insults. “Which one was it, by the way? Maybe misters Fred and George Weasley have something they want to share with the rest of us?”

“Severus,” Headmaster Dumbledore said in gravelly tones. “You shouldn’t make a hasty assessment of the situation without evidence.”

When Snape glared at them, the twins snorted. “We wish the prank was ours. It is, regrettably, way out of our skill set.”

Madam Maxime, ever the saviour, cleared her throat. “To be honest, I'm surprised someone has sought such extreme measures in his attempts to expose the culprit. These kids have been wearing the badges for days. Why haven’t you punished any of them? The way I see it, they’ve been bullying Mademoiselle Potter. I cannot say I am sorry for their predicament. Maybe this prank will teach them something of value.”

Calanthe had turned to look at him, her eyes gleaning with awe. “Madam Maxime is amazing!”

He nodded at her. “People think she’s haughty, disagreeable and proud when she’s anything but.”

To his surprise, Calanthe seemed genuinely offended. “She’s not. She reminds me of Hagrid. People tend to judge him because of his size.”

He gave a short laugh. “I wholeheartedly agree. Well then, I supposed that makes us a matched pair. We love pranks, are very fond of giants and trust each other to keep a secret. What else should we look for in a partner?”

“Florian!” She caught her breath, but before she could voice a denial, he bent his head swiftly and kissed her on the cheek.

Her squeak made his eyes flash and drift from her face to contemplate her thick mane of wild, dark hair. He certainly liked it and couldn’t wait to run his fingers languidly through the soft locks.

All in all, the night was a success. He sat up and stretched, only to find himself face to face with Alex.

“What do you think you are doing?” he huffed out a sigh.

Alex’ expression brightened and he grinned. “It’s Sunday! Do you want to visit Hogsmeade, we can buy some—“

“I’m afraid I can’t go with you,” he replied quietly.

“Wha—why?” Alex spluttered. A puzzled look passed over his countenance as he gazed at him.

“Mon ami,” Florian snorted. “I’ve always thought you are a man of shrewd understanding.”

“You mean—“ Alex gasped.

“Yes. I will spend the day with Calanthe. She promised to show me the Quidditch pitch and maybe, teach me some tricks.”

“My sly friend,” he huffed, blowing a lock of auburn hair out of his twinkling eyes. “You are Beauxbatons star player.”

“A fact she doesn’t know yet, and I trust you will keep your mouth shut.” Florian paused in the act of taking his shirt off.

“You know what they say,” Alex winked. “A best friend is like a four-leaf clover: hard to find and lucky to have.”

“Not to mention, so full of himself,” he bit back a smile.

When he left the carriage, he was glad to find that the sun's rays cascaded down from a clear blue sky, warming everything they touched. Fluffy white clouds drifted lazily overhead, creating interesting shapes against the azure backdrop. The air was filled with the sweet scent of wet grass. It was a good day to fly.

He kept his gaze focused straight ahead as he passed by several students enjoying some outdoors activities. He shivered inwardly when two pink-cheeked girls invited him to keep them company.

He expelled a quick breath when he reached the pitch. When he heard a swooshing sound, he looked up and froze. His Veela prowled beneath his skin. His Mate made a sight in her crimson robes as she manoeuvred her broom skilfully. She used evasive manoeuvres, never staying on the same altitude or flying in a direct path, then plummeted to the ground before she swivelled and took up again. He could just make out her expression, and she looked radiant as she danced in the wind. It was no wonder that she was the best Seeker Hogwarts had seen in decades.

His ravenous eyes followed her smooth descent. Joy brightened her face to another level of beautiful. He’d never seen her so happy. His heart swelled for her, and at the same time sunk, wondering what he had to do to keep that expression on her face at all times. He knew that rocky times awaited them if he were to go by what little information he managed to collect.

“Florian, you came,” she grinned, tucking a lock of black hair behind one ear.

“Of course I did. I gave you my word. Need I say more?”

“No.” Her heart-shaped pretty face flushed pink.

“How are things going with your friends?” He asked casually as he took off his biker leather jacket off and donned a sports, light parka. He preferred Muggle fashion to the uncomfortable, outdated robes Wixen were so fond of.

“Hermione is being difficult,” she fumed. “I don’t know what came over her, but she keeps needling me for information about you. She thinks our friendship is to blame for me taking part in the Triwizard Tournament. Like I’ve ever wanted my name to come out of the Goblet of Fire!” For Calanthe to have such an outburst, she must have been beyond frustrated. She never lost her cool. His poor Mate.

‘’Surely, she knows you had no choice in this. You’ve been together for what? Four years,” he scoffed.

Her bright eyes glistened. “You’d think she’d believe me.” Her face contorted into a dark mask. “We’ve been through a lot. I don’t know what came over her, but since…” Her forehead furrowed. “Everything changed since the night you arrived.”

“Me?” he heaved a small sigh.

“Maybe… I don’t know, I-I mean, most girls are not themselves around you.” When he raised his brows unimpressed, she winced, and he smiled at her fierce blush.

“You don’t need to explain,” he secured an elastic band around his hair, making sure it wouldn’t get into his eyes, and watched with smug satisfaction as her eyes followed his movements.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head.

“You have nothing to apologize for. If anything….” He gave her his wickedest grin and stepped closer until they shared one breath, then followed her spreading blush with his eyes, pursuing the wash of colour. She shivered against him, her hands gripping the bulging muscles of his upper arms. “I should thank Mademoiselle Granger for letting me spend some quality time with you.”

She pressed her cheek into the curve of his neck and shoulder. “Do you think she’ll come around? She’s my best friend.”

Florian gave her a comforting hug and whispered in her ear. “She will regret ever doubting you because you know what? You are the best friend one can have.”

He smirked as he stepped back and looked up at the sky. “Now, are you ready to get your arse kicked?”

“What!” she looked affronted, her eyes narrowing to two blazing slits. “I am the youngest Seeker in a hundred years.”

“So I heard,” he shrugged. “Can I have a broom, first?”

“Here,” she snapped her chin up. “It’s a Nimbus 2001. I burrowed it from Katie. Do you even know how to use it?”

“Of course, I do,” he declared with a sly grin. “I am Veela, remember?”

Her eyes went instantly to his shoulders, and a rush of flowing flame slid down his back. His wings fluttered in their slits, longing to break free so he could show his Mate how beautiful and strong they were. Alas, he knew she was not ready for the Veela Dance yet.

He shifted in front of her and gave her a warm smile. “You are not ready for my wings yet. Trust me in this, chérie.”

She fiddled with her sleeve and gulped.

“Now, let’s play unless you’re afraid,” he taunted brazenly as he mounted his broom and kicked at the ground, soaring up in the air. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as the cool morning air whipped his face. It felt wonderful to fly. He soared right around the stadium at full speed, waiting for Calanthe to let the Snitch loose. A moment later, she hurtled beside him, then zoomed higher. Every time they locked eyes, a blinding swell of delight filled his chest.

They raced playfully for a while until she glimpsed the Snitch. She dived at a neck breaking speed and he sped up, following her, excitement flooding him.

When they almost crashed against the ground, he veered off course, avoiding the collision, but she didn’t. In the few, curious seconds he took the decision to protect her, she accelerated then jumped off her broom and closed her fingers around the prize.

He didn’t stop to think, he pulled out of the turn sharply and hurtled downward. When he was at a touching distance, he stretched his arms and caught her, without concern for the broom’s fate.

She tensed in surprise, then her body went lax. He rolled over, so his body took the full burn of the fall. Twisting beneath her as they hit the ground, he pushed her hair back and lifted his head, watching as she settled over his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, his hands steadying her. Breathing heavily, he stared at her red face. “Did you have to do that? You could’ve hurt yourself.”

"I’m so-sorry, I…no,” she said breathlessly. “But I wanted to win.”

“Fair enough,” he tapped the tip of her nose playfully and dropped his head. He let out a snort when his gaze collided with two bulky thighs.

“I didn’t think there was anything I could gain from an outing here. However, next time, please let me know before you do that,” Viktor drawled.

After along, motionless minute, while her chest rose and fell against his, Calanthe jumped to her feet. “We crashed down. It was my fault, I…”

“I watched your Wronski Feint, and it was great,” Viktor offered her his hand. “I am Viktor by the way. Viktor Krum.’’

“I know,” she took his hand. “And I am Calanthe Potter.”

“I know.”

Hands in pockets, Florian straightened his shoulders, watching the exchange.

“I think an apology is in order. High Master Karkaroff can be extreme at times. He’s quite competitive.” Viktor shifted in an oddly nervous gesture.

“No harm is done,’’ Calanthe scanned his face thoughtfully. “He had no reason to trust me. He doesn’t even know me.”

Florian’s lips twitched. “True. However, he acted like a spoiled child who lost his favourite toy. I understand the rivalry between him and Headmaster Dumbledore, but that doesn’t give him the right to suspect you.”

Viktor clapped him on the shoulder, then produced a tiny broom from his pocket. “Now that all misunderstandings are out of the way, can we play? I miss Quidditch.”

Calanthe’s eyes widened. “You want to play with us?”

“Why not,” he arched a dark brow up. “You are the youngest Seeker in a century, and he’s a Veela and Beauxbatons star Seeker. If anything, you can give me a good challenge.”

“Don’t regret your words later,” Florian picked up his broom. “You asked for it.”

By the glint in Calanthe’s eyes and her eager expression, he knew she thought the same.

Chapter Text

Sophie Allard showed little hesitancy as she approached him. He cringed when a fierce blush enveloped the younger Beauxbatons student. His expression became pained when Alex alternated between coughing and laughing.

“Mr Delacour, M-Madam Maxime a-asks you to join the other Champions upstairs to take p-photos.”

He most definitely didn’t need more publicity or witches fawning over him. When he arched a brow at her, she squeaked.

“Thank you, Mademoiselle Allard,” he said, forcing a smile. “I will be there shortly.”

“Th-that’s good. I’ll tell Madame Maxime.” She gazed down at her feet for a moment, then left with a dejected pout.

“You could’ve treated her nicer, you know,” Alex pointed out dryly.

Florian sighed. He knew he could change from gentleness to arrogance in the blink of an eye, but it wasn’t his fault. You don’t control who or what you are. His mood swings had become worse since he touched British soil, and he had no control over them. As the days passed, he found himself craving his Mate’s touch, her smiles and her nearness. Every moment in her company held an excitement he had never known. Calanthe challenged and bewildered him, making it impossible to know what to expect from her. As she got more comfortable in his presence, she showed no hesitancy about challenging him to a game of Quidditch, teasing him about the tiresome horde of fans who wouldn’t leave him alone, and laughing at his misfortune. She was the first girl who treated him like a random guy. It was refreshing and addicting at once. She even took pride in his intelligence, making no effort to hide her surprise at his skill in Enchantment. It was pleasant to have her praise his accomplishments, and he was gratified by her respect for his opinions. He even enjoyed the way she provoked him at times, spurring him into rolling his eyes like a petulant child and then mocking him for it.

He shook his head when he reached the small classroom and schooled his features. Five chairs had been set behind the desks, and Monsieur Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a witch wearing purple robes.

Viktor shrugged and rolled his eyes, a corner of his mouth quirking up one side, the bare hint of a dimple showing. He seemed exasperated, and he couldn’t blame him.

Cedric Diggory looked a great deal happier than them. He shifted his attention to the door when he sensed Calanthe’s Aura. She looked stiff as she joined them. He saw through her with terrifying clarity, understanding the discomfort beneath her façade. He was immensely pleased when her face lit up as soon as she noticed him. Instinctively, her legs led her to him.

“Finally, you are here, Calanthe!” Bagman bounded forward. “Now, we can start the Wand Weighing Ceremony. There is nothing to worry about, we just have to check that your wands are fully functional and ready for the challenges. But before we start, please meet Miss Rita Skeeter,” he gestured toward the witch in bright robes. “She’ll be doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet.”

“Maybe not that small, Ludo,” Miss Rita Skeeter grinned, her eyes firmly on Calanthe.

At once, his protective instincts flared to life. The longer she looked at his Mate with a disturbing glint in her eyes, the more he was on a razor edge.

“I wonder if I could have a little word with Calanthe before we start?” she said to Bagman, still gazing fixedly at her. “My readers are eager to read more about ….The youngest champion, you know.”

Even Viktor uncrossed his arms and tried to shield Calanthe with his body, then gave him a questioning look when a murderous energy sparked the air and a vicious Aura rippled in tangible waves.

‘’Of course, there are rumours I want to clarify with Calanthe. I am certain that The Fourth Champion won’t mind,” she added with a way too sweet grin, and his eyes narrowed on her.

His fisted hands trembled as his claws dug into his skin. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes in an attempt to steady himself. Anger welled inside, demanding justice for everyone this vile woman had certainly ruined with her words. He knew her type. They did not mind providing false or misleading information deliberately just to increase the sales. Skeeter had another thing coming if she thought he would let her tarnish his Mate’s reputation and add to her stress. Knowing that losing control was the last thing Calanthe needed at the moment, he wiped away all thoughts of bodily harm and forced himself to the task at hand.

He let his Allure loose and stepped forward. Skeeter gaped at him and scooted back. It seemed that her instincts knew better than to mess with such a powerful being.

Madame Maxime cleared her throat, but he ignored her, his focus solely on the despicable woman. To his amusement and chagrin, a blush came to Skeeter's cheeks and unable to hold his piercing gaze, her eyes were half-closed, as if she were caught in a mysterious trance.

She was experiencing the same longing and confusion everyone tasted whenever they were in his thrall. No wonder Veelas were considered dangerous. They could ensorcell any target with their Allure and make them do whatever they asked.

His eyes were filled with mockery as he drawled. “Mademoiselle Potter is not the only Champion here.” The smile he turned to her was faintly nasty. “Could I tempt you to have an interview with me first?” With his enhanced hearing, he heard Viktor’s sardonic snort. “I believe it would be sensible to get to know the other Champions first.”

She appeared to consider his request considerably, but by her glassy eyes, he knew she was exactly where he wanted her. Entirely and thoroughly at his mercy.

When she nodded eagerly, he cursed under his breath. He needed a drink after this. Champagne. No, some of the Firewhisky his father had always stocked, distinctively strong and effective. He wanted something that would set his throat on fire, burn out the thoughts of what he had to do out of his mind. Pulling on a charming face, he strode behind her.

However, before she opened the nearby door, his steps slowed. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. A mischievous smirk crossed his face when Calanthe stared at him, a concerned expression, pinching her brow. He winked at her and her eyes widened. Viktor whispered something in her ear in his ever-calm demeanour, and she bit her lower lip and nodded in understanding.

“Mr Delacour?” Skeeter called enticingly. Exasperated, he closed the door, throwing them into darkness, and looked down at her. His eyes glinted in the dark, his beast simmering beneath the surface, longing to break free.

Her smile widened and he counted three gold teeth.

‘’So, what secrets are you willing to share with me, Florian?’’ She reached into her crocodile bag and drew out a long acid-green quill and a roll of parchment, which she stretched out between them.

He waved his hand and conjured a candle into mid-air. “For someone so young, you have impeccable control over your magic,” she exclaimed. Her compliment did nothing to tamp the ire blazing through his blood. Rather than ease his temper, his pulse pumped faster, his Veela ravenous for revenge.

“You have no idea what I am capable of, Miss Skeeter.” He tore the Quick-Quotes Quill out of her hand and threw it away. “So, no tricks.”

When her expression shifted to alert, he gestured with a sweep of his hand. “Why did you want to get Calanthe alone?”

Her flirty smile faltered, and she straightened taller in her seat. It seemed that trepidation was seeping through her consciousness. But even if she tried to identify and fight the feeling of being enslaved by his Allure, its precise nature would be obscured in a mixture of longing and confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Didn’t you want to have an exclusive? I’m ready to give you one.”

“How nice of you.” A sneer pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Have it your way, then.”

His murderous expression must have alerted her, but before she could fling the door open, he let his Allure free again and her lips formed a silent scream. Shudders raked her body and she sank to her knees. She started twitching and rocking. Her arms were wrapped around herself and there were furrows in her forehead, lines that seemed to have been carved from intense agony.

What most did not know was that Veela Allure could be wielded like a weapon. His kind used it to strike whomever they wanted and inflict extreme pain.

“You fraud,” he muttered under his breath. “These tricks are beneath a reporter who works for the Daily Prophet, but then everything in your country seems twisted. Papa was right, the British Ministry of Magic is corrupted, and your Minster is a puppet.”

“H-how d-dare you! Y-you f-filthy creature,” she gritted through clenched teeth. “I-I’ll have y-you pay for t-this! W-wait till I-I get—‘’

“That’s enough,” he said, the Veela riding his vocal cords, eyes flashing with a preternatural glow. He set the candle on a nearby upturned bucket. With rising annoyance, he realized he couldn’t stand her company for much longer.

She flinched and went rigid, breathing in rapid pants. ‘’I’m not here to listen to your narrow-minded, hate-filled rants. But what am I to expect from the likes of you? You are a disgrace.”

Without further ado, he tore mercilessly through her Occlumency shields and collected all the information he needed. She was indeed a loathsome human being—a bug. The more he found it, the tauter his muscles strained. He made sure he had a total grip on her mind before he let his Allure all out. She tried to look away, but she was unable to do anything except wait helplessly for him to release her. His eyes turned molten gold as he stared down at her and whispered. “You will leave the school at once and head straight to the Daily Prophet’s main office then start writing your next story,” he smirked when she nodded frantically.

An audible gasp left her lips when he released her. She blinked in surprise, then looked at him. Without shame or even a trace of discomposure, he gave her a small curtsey. “Thank you for your time, Miss Skeeter,” he said with a meekness that bordered on burlesque. “You mentioned that you have something to do, non?”

Startled, she jumped to her feet and reached for her crocodile bag. “Yes! I must head back to the office.”

“Don’t let me hold you, then,” he smiled.

Dumbledore pinned him with a meaningful stare as the woman made a bolt for the door. “Very well. Now that Miss Skeeter is done with her interview, let’s start the Weighing of the Wands.”

Exceedingly pleased by the way the morning had turned out, Florian took a seat next to Calanthe and twirled his wand between his fingers. He shrugged unapologetically when a smirk split Madame Maxime’s face. It was not like she expected less from him. He did nothing wrong. He was merely protecting his Mate.

 “May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?” Dumbledore said, taking his place at the judges’ table. “He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament.”

Florian whistled as he clasped the doorknob and, with one twist, stepped into the Owlery. He was certain that his mother was impatient to hear more of his séjour in Hogwarts. Of course, she was more interested in hearing more about his Mate, but he made sure to keep most to himself. He wasn’t ready to share Calanthe with anyone else yet.

He knew that day by day she was stripping away his defences, leaving him soft, open, and frighteningly vulnerable. She did something to him. Uncoiled the things in his gut he never gave voice to. It was disarming as well as frightening. No one should be able to get to him that way. He was a controlled young man, because losing control in his case could be disastrous.

Yet he didn’t mind. He was happier than he could ever remember.

He heard a gasp before Calanthe’s head swung around so fast he was surprised she didn’t snap a vertebrae. Guilt swamped her features before she schooled them.

“Calanthe?” he surveyed her. “Were you sending a letter to your relatives?”

“Er…yes.” She threw him an apologetic smile. “I bet you miss your family too.”

She was hiding something and he knew it. However, he didn’t want to pressure her to reveal her secrets. He wanted her to come to him willingly.

“I do. I miss Gabrielle.” He raised a hand to his hair and grinned. “You will love her. She can be a pain in the arse at times, but you can’t help but forgive her.”

“It must be good to have a sibling,” she muttered under her breath.

He approached her calmly and locked an arm around her shoulder. “I can share her with you if you want,” he said in a velvety voice. “I don’t mind sharing everything I have with you.”

Her dark lashes lifted, and she held his intense gaze. Deliberately, he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers stroking the soft skin of her cheek.

Shivering, she hugged herself closer to him and breathed. “Would you, really?”

“You know I would,” he whispered fiercely, staring into her face.

“Thank you,” she said, blushing self-consciously.

“You have nothing to thank me for,” he replied slowly, contemplating her rosy face.

She cleared her throat. “So, how did the interview with Skeeter go? She seemed in a hurry to go back to the office.”

Reaching for her hand, he intertwined their fingers and regarded her with a mischievous twist to his mouth. “How about we find out together?”

“This woman is utterly crazy,” Alex scratched his head in befuddlement before he looked at him pointedly.

He waved his hand. “You eventually have to face up the consequences of your actions.”

“Or, you can face an enraged Veela first,” his best friend snickered.

As expected, the next day, Rita Skeeter published her newest story but instead of the exclusive about the Triwizard Tournament everyone was waiting for, she all but confessed her misdeeds and the lies she spread through her years as a reporter starting with her being an unregistered Animagus. Needless to say, the woman had no choice but to answer to the DMLE and from the rumours, Madam Amelia Bones—the Head of the DMLE—was not someone to trifle with.

It seemed that Miss Skeeter had no choice but to pay for her crimes.

Florian leaned back in his chair. “She cannot possibly escape this. She’s ruined.”

Alex scoffed. “You’ve been squelching a lot of bugs since we arrived here.”

“I’m merely putting them in their place.” He swept his gaze around the Great Hall. Calanthe gave him a serene smile he returned. He suspected she had never been indulged and spoiled in her life. But he was here now, it was his duty and privilege to protect her and take her side in all things. She had only to wish aloud for something, and it was hers.

Chapter Text

Madame Maxime strolled casually toward him, the light flashing off the rubies on her neck. Florian sighed and put his quill down. It had been an excruciatingly long day he spent confined to the carriage.

“I’m still working on the assignment you gave me.” He glanced up at her with a frustrated frown.

“Did you make any progress?” Folding her arms across her chest, she watched with an amused expression as he raked an agitated hand through his hair. The moment she presented him with a new challenge, he rose to it like she knew he would.

“Not yet,” he grumbled. “Are you sure this is even achievable?”

“Of course, my dearest Apprentice. I trust you will find the answer soon.” She shrugged her shoulders and smoothed her impeccable robes. “Hmmm.” She eyed the chain of Ancient Runes he spent a week working on. “Maybe you should start by including some Frisian Runes. The answer is not always with Old Futhark.”

That certainly would offer more options but make the task harder. Florian, however, was determined to win the battle. “I will make sure to do that.”

“You have to give me something by Yule,” she smiled. “An everlasting flower….I know many young ladies who would appreciate such a heartfelt and beautiful gift.”

“A Yule gift?” Florian’s heart suddenly began to beat a thunderous tattoo in his chest.

“Correction. A Yule courting gift.” Madame Maxime fluttered her lashes and placed a strong hand on his shoulder, but he did not look at her. His eyes were already set on the piece of parchment. “Certainly you do not plan to ask another young lady to the Yule Ball?”

“What should I do?” His deep voice broke the silence that followed. A silver of doubt he couldn’t mask coloured his tone. His Veela was getting more restless every day, he could barely keep himself from taking Calanthe in his arms and shielding her from anything that might harm her. He was cold when she wasn’t nearby, and the thought of spending the rest of his life without her would be consigning himself to a slow death. The Veelafire had started building within him since the day his Veela recognized her as his Mate and it was growing stronger, burning in his core, waiting for her to recognize and accept him.

He shifted in his seat to meet Madame Maxime’s mischievous eyes better. “Do you think she will be ready by Yule?” Veelafire pumped through his veins, his blood coursing faster.

Madame Maxime clapped him on the back. “She will. Bring her with you tonight to the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid promised to show me something that might interest you and help with the tournament. Why, while at it, you can enjoy a moonlight stroll.”

“Hagrid ?” One creased brow arched in interest and he gave her of his dimpled grins.

A rare blush flush infused his mentor’s cheeks, making his eyes widen. She perked her chin up and looked down her nose at him. “Do as I say and no questions. Now, back to work. You have less than a month to give me an answer and as always, I expect nothing but perfection.”

Florian lifted his hand to his head again and groaned. “As you wish, Madame Maxime.”

The Forbidden Forest was brimming with Dark Creatures he could sense even from a distance. Centuries-old trees with sprawling limbs guarded its secrets, blotting out the moonlight. Bewailing sounds ghosted through the trees, whether they came from Centaurs, Werewolves or other creatures, he couldn’t tell for all his concentration was on the girl by his side.

“Even Ron wouldn’t tell me why I have to be here,” Calanthe heaved a sigh. “He knows something. He looked scared after he received a letter from Mrs Weasley.” Her brow scrunched into a frown.

“Maybe he promised someone he wouldn’t spill their secret.” Florian gave her a tight squeeze. “I’m sure it’s something related to the First Task. Madame Maxime wouldn’t tell me the details either when she asked me to come here tonight.”

“You mean we are about to find out what we’ll be facing in a couple of weeks?’’Her eyes widened. “Doesn’t this count as cheating?” She sounded incredulous. The look of sheer horror on her face nearly made him laugh.

“Cheating is a crucial part of the Triwizard Tournament, let’s say, it’s a tradition. And it can’t be considered cheating if everyone finds out.” He smoothed back a wisp of black hair that had fallen against her cheek then took her hands in his. “You’re freezing. Come here.”

His eyes poured over her, touching her like a light caress when she blushed and inhaled sharply. “But…” she tried to protest.

“No buts.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “I’m sure that High Master Karkaroff will find out eventually and tell Viktor. That man can’t accept defeat. He would do anything to get his greedy hands on the Triwizard Cup. As for Diggory….”

“I will tell him,” she said stubbornly, her eyes blazing. “It’s only fair.”

Florian’s gaze softened. His Mate was gentle, kind and caring. Magical Britain didn’t deserve someone as pure-hearted as her. His heart swelled for her and at the same time, sunk wondering how could someone so young be so wise and compassionate. Instinctively, the fingers of one hand threaded into her hair, curling around the base of her skull.

“How could you be so good to him after he turned a blind eye to the way his housemates treated you?” he whispered.

“I don’t care.” Her hand closed over his. “I’m used to people changing their minds in an instant. I guess fame is a fickle thing. Their words, though—“ She paused, lowering sooty lashes over her eye. “They tend to leave a mark.”

Florian nodded, swallowing hard, and tried not to imagine the ugly, blistering scars his Mate would carry for life. He heard some stories and from what he’d gathered, most of Hogwarts students hadn’t been kind to Calanthe through the years. One moment she was hailed as the Saviour and the next, they declared her an attention-seeking prat and treated her like a pariah. His arm came around her tenderly. They were so alike that, at times, it was overwhelming. He wondered how she had lived with this burden for years—this constant dread, this uncertainty, this loneliness. At least, he had his family and the members of the Coven to give him comfort but Calanthe had no one but….her relatives—his mind whirled with questions. He was anxious to learn more about her living conditions.

“Their words do not matter,” he said. “Those who know you, really know you, will always trust you.”

His simple words seemed to lift a weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying from her shoulders. “Hermione apologized but I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive her yet.” Her voice quavered, betraying the turbulence of her emotions. “I understand that she hasn’t been herself lately but she’s been awful to me since you—“ She pressed her fingers to her lips and quickly, lowered her head.

“It’s understandable. You are only human. You are entitled to feel betrayed and refuse people’s apologies. Just because she regrets what she did, doesn’t mean that you have to forgive her.”

She tilted her head, met his gaze with wonder-filled eyes and drifted closer. “How can you understand me so well? We’ve just met.”

“Perhaps because I’m perfect.’’ He winked at her. She rolled her eyes and willed herself not to blush but with his enhanced vision, he noticed the telltale heat that crept up her neck.

Her lips curved in a smile. “Well, let’s find out what you have to face first, Mr Perfect.”

He wound an arm around her shoulders and led her deeper into the forest.

They came to a halt when Hagrid’s voice boomed in the eerily silent forest. “Merlin's Beard! They’re magnificent!”

“Oui. They definitely are.” Madame Maxime wrapped her cashmere shawl tighter around her shoulders, her eyes glazing with awe. “And all this time, I thought I preferred Abraxans.”

Hagrid waved a huge hand in dismissal and chuckled heartily. “Abraxans are breathtaking but they have nothing on Dragons.”

“Dragons?” Understanding dawned on Calanthe’s voice.

Florian turned and stared down at her beautiful, frightened face, his expression giving nothing away though deep inside, his emotions were churning between disbelief, anger and a strong urge to find whoever came up with the ridiculous idea of bringing Dragons to Hogwarts.

This twice-cursed tournament was all so dreadfully wrong. His shoulders tensed, and his hands balled into fists, his claws digging I to his flesh. He hadn’t wanted to find his Mate like this. He didn’t want her to put her life in jeopardy. He cared little about the Ministry of Magic's reassurances that no harm would befall them. No minor was supposed to face a class XXXXX creature.

A pall of grey clouds smothered the night in gloomy darkness, mirroring his emotions. With every step they took, his face changed. A wrinkle appeared between his brows and the sky-blue of his eyes hardened to golden fury. His gaze, however, remained steady and focused. Only his chest rising and falling at a quick pace hinted toward an emotion less than controlled. Veelas were rumoured to be hot-tempered, waspish creatures but whoever wrote the ridiculous books about them, couldn’t be further from the truth. Veelas were creatures of restraint and discipline. They seldom let their feelings rule them or allowed their control to slip away. Their creatures preferred prowling, stalking and pacing. Watching from afar first, then moving in for the kill before their foes even saw them coming.

“Though, I hope that Calanthe and the lads won’t hurt them,” Hagrid said gruffly. “It’s wrong to harm such a beautiful creature.”

“Of course.” Madame Maxime smiled cheerfully.

Calanthe gasped and looked at him helplessly. He skimmed her cheek with the back of his hand and shrugged. “Giants.”

“Ah…we are finally here,” Hagrid said brightly. “Dumbledore set the wards himself. He didn’t want any trespassers in here.”

“No wonder we could hear nothing,” Madame Maxime said sternly but with a mocking smile. “That old man…He’s always two steps ahead of the rest of us.”

Hagrid’s cheeks flushed. “But he trusts me with everything. Dumbledore is a great man.” The laughter faded from his face, replaced by an expression so intense, so profoundly proud. It was clear that the man held the Headmaster in high esteem.

“He is,” his mentor flashed the shorter man a sly grin.

All of Florian’s thoughts scattered to a halt as they followed the two teachers around a clump of trees. Several men—Dragonologists—shouted and moved their wands restlessly, trying to keep the enormous creatures under control.

Calanthe’s shoulders hunched forward and she began to shake as she studied some of the most dangerous creatures known to Wizardkind.

Veelafire, protective—possessive—hit him like a fierce blow to the chest. He looked up and high above them, slitted, yellow eyes stared down at them.

“It is beautiful….” Hagrid sighed dresmily.

“Keep back there, Hagrid!” a redhead shouted. “They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I’ve seen this Horntail do forty!”

“Isn’t that Charlie? What’s a Horntail?” Calanthe sounded confused.

“It’s the black Dragon with bronze horns over there,” he kept his voice low and his calm mask of indifference strictly in place. The last thing he wanted was to alarm his Mate. Savage curses, in both French and English, wanted to explode from his mouth.

There was a Hungarian Horntail among the Dragons?

Merde…

It was the most dangerous Dragon in the Wizarding World. As the redhead warned, Horntails could shoot fire up to fifty feet and had tail spikes that could take an opponent out with a single swipe.

“Do you fancy a closer look?” Hagrid asked Madame Maxime rapturously. The pair of them moved right up to the fence and Florian heaved a sigh.

Despite his efforts, Calanthe seemed to catch his darkening gaze. “You’re worried about me.” It wasn’t a question. “You don’t have to. I will somehow manage.”

Somehow wasn't good enough for him.

The fire stirring in his gut— the one that reminded him on a daily basis who she was to him, became an inferno. His Mate was trying to comfort him. She must have sensed his fear.

The thought of her in danger steeled his spine and made his muscles tense. “I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you.” A truer vow had never been given.

She collapsed against his chest, and he held her there, rocking her in his arms. Whispering promises he intended to keep into her hair.

“I know. I’m not afraid. I trust you.” Her words echoed through his mind as he stared at the Dragons, listening to her soft, rhythmic breathing, and holding her close.

Wanting, more than anything, for her to be right.

Chapter Text

Viktor’s dark gaze fixed on him. His expression was more brooding than usual, more intense. Even the firm mask of indifference he wore couldn’t hide his foul mood.

“Are Dragons too rough around the edges for you?” Florian snickered playfully.

Viktor leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped. “I had enough of this tournament as it is. Dragons are a complication I can do without.”

“Is High Master Karkaroff giving you a hard time again?” he frowned.

Viktor’s answer was a grunt. Florian was well familiar with the feeling. From a very young age, everyone held very high expectations for him. He was the first male Veela born to the Coven in decades, he had to prove himself and bring honour to his brethren. Even though his family had tried several times to soothe his fears and prioritize his well-being, it helped little. The importance of finding a place for himself in this world had already been instilled in him. It gave him purpose. He didn’t want to feel aimless or lose direction, but at times, it was too much to handle. He couldn’t begin to imagine how hard it was for someone like Viktor Krum; the youngest professional Quidditch player in history. Add to it a lunatic headmaster like Karkaroff hovering over his head at all times and the poor guy must feel suffocated.

“Let’s get our eggs then have a good Quidditch game this weekend,” he smirked.

Viktor scoffed. “You’re not helping. I don’t fancy losing to you again.”

“I promise I’ll go easy on you next time. No Veela Magic.”

His heart constricted at the reminder. His Veela was getting more desperate with every passing day, he could barely control it. He didn’t know how much more he could take before his control snapped. No wonder many Mateless Veela didn’t linger long after they lost all hope of finding their Mates or being accepted by them. The Veelafire simply consumed their life force. His aunt Sophie died of heartbreak when her Mate refused her. The sorrow ate the flesh from her bones and emaciated her, stealing her framed beauty. Worse yet, the lingering reduced her to weeping almost incessantly till there was nothing left of the joyful woman she was—only a hollow shell was left behind. The night her heartstrings snapped, she chose to embrace death by Veelafire. It was a tragedy that gave his Coven nightmares for years. Luckily for him, he knew that Calanthe would never be that cruel.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, she came inside the tent. His mouth curved into a wicked half-smile when she instinctively moved toward him. It soothed his Veela beyond reason that whenever they were in close vicinity, her eyes never strayed from him. It was as if some part of her knew already that they belonged together.

He rose to his feet and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. Her cheek went bright pink when his intense gaze followed his hand, lingering on her cheek before landing on her eyes again.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly as he placed a hand on her upper back.

He hated nothing more than to see her in danger. It went against every Veela protective instinct he possessed. He was already burning for her. An inferno flared inside him every time she came near and he could not touch her and reassure his Veela that she was theirs.

“I am,” she smiled. 

“Good.”

“Good morning to you too, Calanthe,” Viktor drawled.

Sheepish, she mumbled. “Viktor.”

Florian rolled his eyes and took her hand. “Come, Bagman is waiting for us.”

“Now that all the Champions are here, let’s begin,” Bagman said brightly and held a small sack up. “Each one of you will select a model of the thing you’re going to face from this sack. We have four different…Er…types. Your task is to collect the Golden Egg. I don’t need to remind you to be extra careful.”

Florian narrowed his eyes when Bagman opened his mouth, his gaze fixed on Calanthe. “Let’s leave the youngest for last.” He said pointedly. “I am certain that Calanthe wouldn’t mind.”

“I won’t.’’ She looked at him questioningly. His only answer was a fond smile. He was not about to take any chances with his Mate’s safety.

“Well then,” Bagman hesitated. “If you are sure. Let’s start with you, Mr. Delacour.”

Florian blew out a slow breath and summoned his magic. Slowly, he put his hand inside the bag and closed his eyes. He opened his palm and willed his magic to find the most dangerous Dragon among the four. Pointed wings stretched at once and scratched his skin. He was not sure, but he could swear small fangs bit into the fleshy part of his palm. With a twisted grin, he pulled the Hungarian Horntail out.

Viktor gave him a knowing shake of his head and proceeded to pick up his Dragon. He didn’t even blink when he pulled out the Chinese Fireball. Bagman offered the bag to Diggory next. Even though Calanthe had warned him about the Dragons, Hogwarts Champion didn’t look ready at all. He swallowed thickly, put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out the bluish-grey Swedish Short-Snout. Knowing what was left, he exhaled as Calanthe pulled out a perfect model of a Welsh Green.

It was a small consolation. The Dragon could be considered docile compared to the Hungarian Horntail. He winced when he remembered what he had to face in a few. Madame Maxime would have his hide if he failed to collect the Golden Egg first.

“Well, there you are!” Bagman clapped his hands together. “You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons. Mr. Diggory, you’re first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Miss Potter, you are next. Good luck.”

“Florian.” Calanthe’s voice was softer than usual as she offered him her hand. There was a tender look in her eyes he had not seen before. When he accepted her offer, she threaded their fingers and beckoned him with a soft tug outside.

“You did something to the models,” she blurted out. “You made sure I got the easiest Dragon.”

“There’s no such thing as an easy Dragon.” His lips curled. “How I wish you didn’t have to compete at all.”

“But if not for this Tournament, I wouldn’t have met you.” A fierce blush enveloped her face. “Maybe it’s not that bad.”

“Maybe,” he whispered, sifting a wild curl through his fingertips. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t.” Determination shone in the depths of the emerald seas he came to love. “You’ve been protecting me. Don’t think I don’t know that you have something to do with Skeeter’s change of behaviour. You talked to her.”

A smirk split his face. “Maybe.”

Slowly, as not to startle her, he pressed his forehead to hers. She trembled, but didn’t get away. Her fingers remained firmly intertwined with his.

Sparks spit and cracked in his chest as Veelafire flew through his veins. The Veela was desperate for its Mate’s closeness.

“Just stick to the plan,” he murmured against her soft skin. “Don’t do anything crazy. I can’t stand it if you—‘’

She surprised him and stole his breath away when she rose to her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t go looking for danger. It’s rather the other way around. I’ll be good, I promise.”

He arched a brow at the edge of wickedness and defiance leaking into her voice. “See you do that, my good girl.”

A wonderful shiver rippled down her body. He gave her an innocent once-over and led her back inside. “Come.”

About twenty minutes later, Florian heard the deafening roar that could mean only one thing: Diggory had somehow managed to get past his Dragon and collect the Golden Egg. Not that he particularly cared. Something about the Champion bothered him. Maybe because he stood there watching while his Housemates bullied Calanthe. Florian was certain he could’ve stopped them with one word. He had witnessed firsthand how much Hufflepuffs loved and respected their golden boy.

“And now, Miss Potter, if you please!” Bagman bellowed.

Her head swung around so fast Florian was surprised she didn’t snap a vertebra. Determination swamped her features as she gave him a single nod and left the tent with her head held high.

Viktor took the seat she just vacated and clasped his shoulder. “Don’t worry, she’ll do just fine.”

“I know, but…” He raked a frustrated hand through his unbound hair.

“She’s your Mate and you worry about her.”

Florian closed his eyes. Viktor didn’t know the half of it—or maybe he was the only one who did. He spent years building walls between himself and the world. From a very young age, he understood he was different and it would take a miracle for people to see and treat him like a normal guy and not a something to be gawked at. Mortared with endless hours of studying and pushing himself beyond what his body could take, bricked with sleepless nights of research and training, topped with battlements made of innate stubborn will, he found little joy in life other than his family and his books.

Everything changed when he found Calanthe. She gave him purpose, made him believe that there was more to life. That he was destined for more, much more.

“I can’t stand this,” he surged to his feet and dashed out.

He felt lightheaded as he spotted Calanthe facing her Dragon fearlessly. She waved her hand and conjured a golden Pungi like he’d taught her. It was a Charm he learnt the summer he travelled to India. Madame Maxime had asked her old friend; High Master Enchanter Chandraprakash Chauhan to give him the opportunity to apprentice under him for the summer. When Calanthe had shown interest in enchantment, he lost no time in introducing her to the noble branch of magic. Naturally, he offered to help her with the First Task, and she agreed.

Like snakes and lizards, Dragons were reptiles, so Snake Charming worked on them. As soon as the Pungi started playing, the Welsh Green furled its wings and started swaying its neck, momentarily forgetting about the eggs. Its topaz eyes became unfocused and cloudy as the soulful tune grew louder. It didn’t take long for its lids to drop. Mindful of the eggs, it laid its huge head on its front forelegs. The crowd gasped when it started snoring. Carefully, Calanthe made her way toward the Golden Egg.

He didn’t realize he had his wand pointed at the Dragon until she lifted the egg high and made her way back toward the exit.

The crowd was making a thunderous noise. Bagman was shouting something, but his ears were not working properly anymore. All he could hear was the fast racing of his heart. Listening wasn’t important. Calanthe did it, and it was all that mattered. Satisfied, he made how way back inside the tent.

Viktor snorted. “I don’t know if I should mock or pity you. Congratulations.”

“Wait till you find the witch who would render you a fool,” he rumbled low. “You'll have no pity from me.”

The Bulgarian gave a throaty chuckle, shrugged and left the tent mumbling under his breath. “Curse you, Karkaroff. Did you have to drag me into this madness? I have better things to do than humour a bunch of lunatics.”

“Very daring! Well done,” Bagman yelled, and Florian heard the Chinese Fireball emit a mighty roar, while the crowd drew its collective breath. “That’s some nerve Mr. Krum showing — and — yes, he’s got the egg. Bravo Mr Krum.”

Florian secured his hair into a tight ponytail, held his wand loosely between his fingers, and waited for the signal. He had no plans to drag the inevitable. He had a mentor to please, a Mate to seduce and a tournament to win.

His eyes tingled, and he knew they were turning fire-gold. He blinked twice and took a deep breath to steady his heartbeat.

“And now, let’s welcome the last Champion. From Beauxbatons, Mr. Florian Delacour!”

He made his way steadily toward the arena. Hundreds of pairs of eyes were fixed on him, but he ignored them. His gaze was solely on the prize.

The Hungarian Horntail uncurled its wings and narrowed its yellow eyes. It was a mighty Creature, indeed, but it was his prey for the day.

After a full second of tension-filled silence, he raised his wand and whispered. ‘Catenas Lapis.’

At once, the ground started shaking under his feet.

“Merlin’s Beard!” Bagman shouted. “I hope Mr. Delacour is not doing what I think he’s doing. Conjuring objects from stones is an obscure branch of Enchantment that demands a lot of power. Can his barely mature core sustain the strain?”

Florian gave the audience a mocking smirk, uncaring about their grave expressions.

Boulders and stones started floating and shifting shapes. The Hungarian Horntail opened its mouth and stilled. He waved his wand again, and the stones changed their shapes. The large cubes morphed into links he put together until a huge chain came into existence.

“Great Scott…” Bagman shrieked. “It’s not just conjuration. He’s enchanting the stones.”

The chains wrapped themselves around the Dragon’s bulky body, mindful of its wings. He would never harm another living and breathing Creature.

The Horntail tried to thrash or unfurl its wings, but it was too late. When he snapped its jaws open, Florian conjured a Dragon Hide muzzle and secured it around its mouth. The Dragon whipped its tail once, twice, to no avail.

Florian made his way toward the unprotected eggs, his eyes firmly on his opponent. Carefully, he seized the Golden Egg and made his way back toward the tent.

“Merlin….” Bagman shouted. “What a powerful display from High Mistress Maxime’s Apprentice. She must be very proud of her pupil.”

Florian rolled his eyes, chanced a look in Madame Maxime’s direction, and cringed inwardly.

Going by the huge grin that split her smug face, Madame Maxime was indeed very, very pleased with herself.

Chapter Text

Alex flung himself onto the forest floor next to him, arms wide, and groaned. “Why are girls so complicated? Why is a simple date supposed to be the most thrilling of all experiences in one’s life? Why does it have to be celebrated with Champagne, showered with rose petals, and glorified with cascades on harp strings? And don’t get me started on the pet names! Outrageous, silly, embarrassing names they’ve been calling each other since the news of the Yule Ball spread.” He grimaced. “Is everyone going mad in this school? It’s just a Yule Ball. It’s not like we’ll swear our undying love to each other.”

Viktor snorted and propped up on his elbow. “Dragons I can figure out, my friend, but witches are in a class by themselves.”

Florian smirked, snatched a Cauldron Cake out of Viktor’s grasp and arched a mocking brow. “Aren’t you perpetually pestered by hordes of fans, best Seeker in the world? Did none of them catch your fancy?” His lips curled into an insolent grin when said Seeker glared at him.

“I appreciate the serious thought you’ve devoted to my date for the Yule Ball which brings me to wonder, did you ask Calanthe to be your date, yet?” Viktor’s grin turned feral. “Have you started calling each other pet names, like Alex, so kindly, pointed out? What is it going to be? My little plum pudding? My cheeky chestnut or perhaps, my saucy snapdragon?”

Alex burst out laughing. “Merlin! I can vividly imagine his face if Calanthe calls him one of those names.” His grin turned mocking as he shrugged. “Sadly, he hadn’t asked her yet, so no pet names. Sorry, mon ami.”

Viktor shook his head. “Poor Florian.“

Florian tilted his head and snickered. “It’s understandable, so I won’t blame you. Learning patience can be difficult for you two. Great results are reaped not by strength but by perseverance.”

Alex moaned and let his head drop to the ground. “You sly bastard. I knew you were up to something when no one asked Calanthe to the Yule Ball. You’ve been working on eliminating the competition.”

Viktor fixed his eyes on him. “I have the greatest respect for you although, I hate you at this very moment.”

Florian stretched lazily and unrepentant to the core, he had the nerve to throw his companions a lazy, victorious grin. “There was no competition to begin win. These fools don’t deserve Calanthe. They don’t know or care about her. All they see is Hogwarts Champion and the girl who tamed the Dragon.”

After the First Task, he had noticed the interested eyes that regarded his Mate in a new light. And he’d been unable to stop the sudden rise of jealousy, fierce and possessive. An angry flame burned in his chest. His Veela had clawed at him, demanding he set him free so he could torch every single one of them. Luckily for everyone, Calanthe was as oblivious as ever which in this case, was a blessing. She wasn’t aware of the desperate attempts to catch her attention, of the way gazes followed her ravenously. She likely had no idea that every polite smile she offered them made them greedier, more intent on winning her affection—as if they had any right to her heart, to begin with.

Meanwhile, Florian knew that her degree of interest in him had reached a new level. He was aware of her innocent curiosity. The Veela in him gladly noticed such things. Whenever he—not so accidentally—touched her, she blushed and stammered but she never rejected his touch, never tried to get away from him which soothed the Veela tremendously.

With that, he leapt to his feet and dusted the shoulders of his dark blue parka. “I’m afraid I have to leave, gentlemen. It’s a Hogsmeade weekend and…” He winked. “I have a date.”

“You….” Alex gaped at him.

Well, Calanthe didn’t know that they had a date. Yet. His poor Mate thought he wanted someone to show him the beautiful village.

Florian shrugged and tucked his hands in his pockets, relishing in the quick blink of shock that slackened Viktor’s jaw. Whistling to himself, he headed back to the school.

The crowd parted as he made his way toward the gates. The sunlight was peering down at him through a gradual gathering of clouds. He kept his gaze straight as several blushing girls giggled and chatted vivaciously while clutching their shawls. He rotated them evasively, his gaze darting around, looking for a dark-haired, green-eyed witch he couldn’t wait to meet.

His lips quirked when a small hand tugged at his sleeve. “Florian.”

“Good morning, beautiful,” he kissed her on the cheek, his lips lingering on the soft skin. He ignored the gasps and whispers and took her hand, pressing their palms together, fingers catching.

As opposed to that dim night he met her for the first time, sunlight made her complexion glow, the apples of her cheeks tinged with a lovely carnation pink. Her hair seemed more lustrous. A wild curtain that made the tips of his fingers tingle with the desire to skim them down the dark length. Everything about her was just perfect and called to his Veela in a soul-deep level.

She bit her lower lip and chanced a look over her shoulder. Florian frowned. “How is it going with your friends?”

A small puff of exasperation escaped her. “Hermione is my best friend and I know how hard it is for her to open up to people. In a way, she’s just like me,” she sighed. “I don’t know what came over her but…” She shook her head. “She hadn’t been feeling like herself since the Triwizard Tournament started. No matter what, I decided to let bygones be bygones. It might take some time to trust her fully like before but I don’t have time to waste on nonsense.”

“So, you’d rather spend your time with me, ma chérie?” He gave her a sly grin.

She went utterly still. A wash of deep rose flooded her cheeks and her eyes glimmered as a random ray of sunlight was caught in their emerald depths. When he arched a brow waiting for an answer, she turned away from the warmth in his gaze and tilted her face up to the sky so that anyone would think her cheeks were pinkened by the sun. Of course, the sky chose that precise moment to darken, ash-tinged clouds crowding closer together.

“Come now, I want an answer,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper.

“I like spending time with you.” Her voice was low, barely a rasp. He knew she was trapped between shyness and being wholly mystified.

He spoke next to her ear. “And I love every moment I spend with you. Let’s go, you have a village to show me and I’d rather start early.”

Florian’s chest brushed Calanthe’s shoulders as they funnelled through the crowd to the next shop. His hand was at her lower back, guiding her forward and she seemed to bask in the closeness as much as his Veela did. Hogsmeade was very mesmerizing indeed. The little thatched cottages and shops were all covered in a layer of crisp snow; there were holly wreaths on the doors and strings of enchanted candles hanging in the trees. In a way, it made him miss home.

Calanthe offered him a mischievous grin and led him to a shop called ‘Unusual Taste' where shelves upon shelves of the most strange-looking sweets dared customers to try them.

She studied a tray of blood-flavoured lollipops and gave him an innocent smile.

“Oh, no,” he laughed. “Thank you very much. I’d rather have something sweet.”

A red wall of heat enflamed her neck and cheeks. “Won’t you try one? You said you liked candies and I promise you’ll enjoy these.”

He waged a finger back at her, touching the tip of her nose. “Calanthe, Calanthe…” She lost track of her thoughts as he crowded closer, skimming his finger down her cheek. She was suddenly breathless. “I thought you were a good girl.”

“I..." She stammered.

Too intent on his goal to tease her, his lips quirked humorously. “If I remember, I have admitted to having a slight problem when it comes to dark chocolate, but you can’t fault me.” He leaned toward her. “Who can resist it? It’s too dark, too exotic, too tasty. Just the right flavour for me”

He chuckled when she nearly dropped the tray. “Would you like to go for a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, then?”

Hand in hand, they wandered onto the streets until they reached the Three Broomsticks. He paused, cunning blue eyes glinting as the crowd stopped chatting merrily and stilled. The pub went very quiet as every gaze drifted to the door, suddenly alighted to them.

“It’s tiring, isn’t it?” she groaned.

“I don’t mind the attention as long as you are by my side,” he smiled and led her along the pub to the end furthest from the door.

The landlady—Madam Rosmerta, breathless with interest hurried to take their orders. “How can I help you, my dears? Would you like two flagons of Butterbeers or maybe…”A wicked smile split her face as she met his amused gaze with one of her own. “…you’d like to try my finest oak-matured mead?”

Florian looked at Calanthe questioningly. When her eyes widened, he shrugged. “Let’s try both. I admit I’ve never tried mead before.”

“Right away.”

A swift survey of the pub revealed that the crowd’s curiosity wasn’t satisfied yet. Not that he cared about any of them.

“How do you do it?” Calanthe thanked Madam Rosmerta and clutched her fresh flagon of Butterbeer.

He sipped his mead leisurely. “You mean the intrusive gazes?” She nodded. “Such things can and should be ignored. I know it’s not easy but Occlumency helps.”

She frowned. “Occlumency?”

Florian stilled. “You don’t know about the Mind Arts?”

At her hesitant nod, he adopted a neutral countenance as if he wasn’t taken by surprise at all. While Calanthe eyed him shrewdly, he berated himself for momentarily forgetting that his Mate wasn’t brought up in a Magical Stronghold. Nevertheless, it immensely surprised him that Fourth years in Hogwarts weren’t introduced to the Mind Arts and the importance of protecting one’s mind.

“I’ll explain it to you later.” He tilted his head, studying her closely. “We have more pressing matters to talk about now.”

She took another gulp of her Butterbeer. “You mean the Second Task?” She bit her lower lip and looked at him. Her voice was whisper-soft as she spoke. “I haven’t figured out the clue yet. Have you?”

Unable to help himself, he played along. “Maybe.”

“You won’t share what you found with me?” She pouted slightly, her cheeks softly flushing to pink.

“I may be tempted to later but before that, let me ask you.” Relaxing in his chair, his keen gaze sweeping over her face, he took her hand slowly. “Do you have a date for the Yule Ball?”

“No.” she dipped her chin and averted her gaze. “I don’t want someone who doesn’t care about me.”

“And what if I tell you that I know someone who would like nothing more than to make the night special for you?” he said breathlessly as relief flowed over him.

Before she could answer, he threw a few Sickles on the table and helped her to her feet.

Once they were out of sight, he stopped.

Calanthe cleared her throat and looked around. She was obviously nervous and he didn’t fault her for that. He might as well become her first—and definitely, last—date.

He lifted his hand and slowly ran the backs of his fingers across her cheek while giving her a slow, sensuous smile. His gaze remained steady on hers. She was so endearing when she was shy. His heart beat so fast he was surprised it didn’t burst out of his ribcage.

“Calanthe Potter, I’d like to escort you to the Yule Ball. Would you have give me the honour?” A rush of eager expectation filled every thrumming pulse in his body as he waited for her answer.

Unable to withstand the distance that separated them, he moved closer and cupped her face, losing himself in the emerald striations in her eyes.

She offered him a smile. “I’d like to go with you, Florian.” They’d reached an understanding, then.

The pad of his thumb slowly swept over her brow and she shivered. Peculiarly, the vulnerable sensation tumbled through him as well, cascading down his limbs, and intensifying the rise of longing that now overshadowed everything else.

“You won’t regret it, I swear,” he whispered next to her ear.

She closed her eyes and cradled against him, pressing her cheek to his neck. “I know. Even though it hasn’t been long since we met each other, I trust you.” Her fingers caressed the nape of his neck, soothing the Veela, gentling him with her touch. Long, black waves of her hair whipped in the wind, her scent invading his senses. She tucked her head in the crook under his chin. It was…perfect.

Slowly, so as not to ruin the moment, he fastened the necklace he spent two weeks enchanting around her neck. Her fingers shot to the pendant the moment it touched her skin.

“What…” Her eyes snapped open and she sucked in a startled breath

Florian leaned closer, ignoring the way her chest rose and fell with choppy breaths. “It’s a gift. I made it for you. Do you like it?”

It was a diamond-encrusted wing that looked exactly like his. Every Veela in his Coven was white-winged, the only Coven with such wings. His were—unlike those of his kin, tinged with silver at the tips. They shone like diamonds and made a magnificent display he couldn’t wait for his Mate to see whenever he took a leisurely flight under the moonlight.

“It’s gorgeous.” She offered him a bright smile. “No one has ever given me something so beautiful.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Then I should warn you, get used to it. You deserve everything beautiful in this world, Calanthe.”

He was taken aback when she gasped and pushed him away. Florian frowned and looked over his shoulder. It was when he noticed the huge black dog growling at him. Its silver-grey eyes were firmly fixed on his face. Without thinking, he shielded his Mate with his body and flicked his wand out.

What in Merlin’s Name was a Grim doing on the outskirts of a school brimming with defenceless students?

The Grim bared its fangs and dipped its square head, ready to pounce.

“Sirius! No!” Calanthe yelled but it was too late.

Chapter Text

Florian’s body went cold. Without thinking, he grabbed Calanthe by the arm, yanked her from his side and shielded her with his body, his large frame pushing her back.

Out of the corner of his eye, he realized that the Grim was crouching, ready to pounce—on them. His Veela acted up by instinct. No way was he letting the monster hurt his Mate. His heart spiked to a frantic beat. Fixing on his target, he flexed his wand as it stalked closer.  

"Sirius! No!” Calanthe yelled.

Her cry didn’t seem to deter the monster, though. An eerie growl and the sound of bones breaking ripped through the air. A flash of dark fur flew through at him. Before he could throw the darkest curse he knew, Calanthe fought her way around him. At once, a shield of pure magic shielded them from the mad dog’s attack. Exasperated she’d intervened but having no doubt his Mate could take care of them both, he didn’t lose his momentum as he leveled his wand on the Grim.

Right now all he cared about was subduing the threat as fast as possible. He didn’t have time to chastise his Mate. That meant staying on his guard and going on the offensive. The Grim hurtled back through the air and then swivelled to the left. It bared its razor-sharp fangs in a show of aggression, its murderous eyes firmly set on him. It swept up with his clawed paw, slicing at the shield.

“I said stop,” Calanthe shouted again. “I’m not in danger.”

Florian narrowed his gaze on the Grim still shooting him daggers with its eyes. That was when he scented the human part on it. No, not just on it, but practically in him, living under his skin. It was no deranged beast but an Animagus.

He tilted his head in his direction without taking his gaze off his eyes. No doubt Calanthe was not afraid. He could sense the strong bond she shared with the Animagus. A Blood Bond.

Without waiting, he gripped Calanthe by the waist and dragged her back, putting some feet between them in a split second. He wasn’t worried about himself, but the thought of anyone hurting Calanthe . . . it brought out something dark inside him. Blood-related or not, he would not trust him before he proved himself.

“Shift back,” he gave the Grim a cold smile. “Show yourself.”

The Grim sent him a malicious glare. Calanthe took his hand and cleared her throat. “All I ask you is to keep an open mind. Sirius….is very important to me.” The sincerity in her grave expression and voice struck him hard. It was the first time she seemed so worried about someone. This man meant a lot to her.

“Don’t you trust me?” he said in a low voice, but loud enough for the dog to hear.

“I do,” she answered without the slightest hesitation and his heartbeat skittered. Her eyes widened and he knew the Veela was back in his eyes, glowing like gold as if a fire blazed from within.

“Then, you have nothing to fear.” His voice dropped, caressing her intimately.

Calanthe nodded and motioned for the Grim to shift. His face remained strained for a while, his eyes turning almost black. It was the animal part; overprotective and ravenous for blood that stared back at him, not the man.

Before he could blink, the Grim growled and in an instant, a pale and haggard man stood in its place. Tall, with sharp cheekbones, inky black hair and perfect features that showed his noble bloodline. It didn’t matter that he lacked some meat on his bones, that his hair was in desperate need of grooming or that he seemed very weary. Those silver-grey eyes were unmistakable.

Since the day he learnt that Calanthe was his Mate, Florian had started digging into her past. He needed to know more about her if he wanted to protect her.

But Sirius Black?

Wasn’t he supposed to be the man who betrayed her parents leading them to their ultimate demise?

As if reading his thoughts, she said firmly. “This is Sirius Black, my Godfather.”

“Prongslet…” The man’s voice came out hoarse, raspy as if he hadn’t used it for years—which was understandable considering he spent thirteen years incarcerated in one of the worst prisons known to Wizardkind.

He hauled Calanthe in a tight hug before he could register he had moved. Just how much was the animal part in control? It might be what kept the man sane all these years.

“I missed you.” Calanthe nuzzled into his neck. “But why are you here? You shouldn’t leave the safety of home. What if someone….”

“Shhh…” Sirius planted a soft kiss on her forehead and whispered in low tones. Unfortunately for him, he was ignorant of Florian’s enhanced Veela senses. “Since our last letter, I’ve been keeping a close eye on Hogwarts. I had a bad feeling about this Tournament and now, I know why.” His accusing eyes landed on him again. Florian arched a brow as he caught his gaze and saw the same rage still lurking beneath the surface. As Calanthe’s Godfather, it was in his blood to protect her—not that he would ever hurt her. That need was a living, breathing thing and right now Florian could see that Sirius’ Grim wanted blood. His.

He understood the struggle for he was battling his own on a daily basis, that being said, he wasn’t one to be intimidated this easily. Maybe it was time for Sirius Black to realize that he was no longer Calanthe’s sole protector.

Summoning his Veela charm, he executed the perfect bow. “Lord Black.”

It was subtle, but Florian watched as Calanthe breathed out a soft sigh of relief.

“Who are you?” Sirius Black growled, anger still on his face, his eyes glittering.

“Florian Delacour, Sir,” he answered in a steady voice.

His lips thinned. “French? It doesn’t matter. What I need to know is why were you too close to Calanthe. Who do you think you are to her?”

“Sirius!” Calanthe wheezed and he could see the blush creeping up her neck and cheeks. Sirius’ expression instantly darkened.

Slowly and with a wicked grin, Florian shrugged. If Calanthe’s Godfather thought he could scare him, he was delusional. He might be innocent, considering how much Calanthe trusted him. Come to think of it, Sirius Black was her Godfather. And by how strong the bond linked them was, he suspected he had undertaken a Blood Ritual, too. He was her father by Magic.

It was literally impossible for him to betray or endanger her in any shape or form. How could anyone suspect him of betraying the Potters? It was beyond him but then, those running the British Ministry of Magic didn’t seem the brightest people. Magical Britain could definitely do better.

His fingers curled around Calanthe’s shoulder, pulling her closer and making the older man take a threatening step forward.

Florian held his gaze and focused. Sirius Black’s mental shields were impressive. But no matter how much he seemed to despise him, he allowed him entrance as if he knew that what he was about to divulge wasn’t for Calanthe’s ears. Yet.

‘Lord Black,’ he started. ‘If what little I know about you is accurate, you are well-versed in our history, ways and customs. I am certain that you have been to Magical France before. Don’t you recognize my family name?’

Sirius’ shoulders stiffened. ‘The French Coven…”

‘Right,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m a Veela and Calanthe is my Mate.’

‘Impossible…’ His jaw clenched, his fury potent, but eventually, his expression softened as Calanthe’s gaze volleyed between them questioningly. Underneath the anger he could feel rolling off him, Florian sensed a whole lot of pain and fear. Even though he didn’t know the man well, he could guess what he was thinking. He blamed himself for failing his best friends and their daughter and he feared that he was about to lose her again. To him .

Sirius might not be very fond of him at the moment but he needed to understand that while he had no intention of letting go of Calanthe, he also didn’t plan to separate them. He would never do that to his Mate.

‘I would never lie about something so important,’ he kept his cool. ‘With your heightened senses, I am certain you feel it.’

Sirius shook his head and started protesting. He was stopped by Calanthe. “Sirius, Florian? What are you doing?” she demanded.

He looked at Sirius and raised his eyebrows. He could read exactly what he was thinking too. He gritted his teeth and stared at her affectionately. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

Calanthe cleared her throat. “Please, don’t be rude to Florian. He’s a good…” She looked at him and blinked twice. ‘’…friend.” She didn’t sound convinced however, Florian winced inwardly. Surely, she wasn’t oblivious to what taking place between them.

Sirius smirked. “Well, at least we agree upon that much.”

“Actually, I invited Calanthe to be my date for the Yule Ball,” Florian interjected smoothly. “And she accepted me.”

He didn’t miss the way her cheeks were flushed crimson. “I did. Florian has been there for me when Hermione abandoned me. He helped me with the First Task.”

Sirius exhaled and clenched his fists. “That’s good to know. At least you had someone to turn to.”

Florian hid his smirk. It was all he needed to hear at the moment. One step at a time, he’d break down that protective wall of Sirius Black until it was impossible for him to refuse him.

He tucked his hands in his pockets and asked nonchalantly. “So, Lord Black, how come you were accused of betraying your friends? I’ve heard of your Ministry of Magic’s incompetence but this is outrageous.”

Calanthe’s eyes widened, mirroring Sirius’ shock. “You believe him,” she breathed.

“Of course I do,” he smiled down at her. “Your parents had trusted him with your welfare. I can sense the Blood Bond, he would rather die than cause you harm.”

“Blood Bond?” Calanth’s sharp gaze narrowed on Sirius, the green of her eyes glowing brighter.

Sirius threw him a scathing glare and gulped. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you but…I’m not merely your Godfather. We undertook a Blood Ritual on the seventh day after your birth. James and I wanted to add another layer of protection in case anything happened to….” He looked down and closed his eyes. “It was as if he knew that he wouldn’t be there for you for long. Contrary to what most think, not all Blood Rituals are dark and evil. They can be used to protect our loved ones.” He let out a strangled sound and took Calanthe’s hands in his. “We did it for you. You are my daughter by magic.”

Calanthe didn’t respond right away and Florian realized that tears were streaking down her face. His stomach dropped but he understood that she needed to hear this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She barely squeezed the words out. “Why hide it from me?”

Sirius blinked his tears and looked down at the ground. “Even though it was instinctive for me to tell you how much you mean to me, I was afraid. It killed me to be kept apart from you for years. I lost a piece of my soul. But I thought you deserved better. I was ashamed. I wanted to tell you everything, Prongslet. But how could I explain when you were too good for someone so broken? The stupid words wouldn’t come.’’

Florian sensed his Mate’s inability to communicate. He spoke, cutting through the thick tension. “He loves you.’’

‘’I know!’’ She cried. “But all these years I thought I were alone when I had a father.”

Sirius’ head snapped up. “F-Father?”

“Yes, you stupid mutt,” she hugged him fiercely. “I know you are innocent. I believe you and nothing would ever make me doubt how much you love me. You are my only family.”

Sirius held her and murmured soothing words as he stroked a gentle hand down her hair. His eyes turned a mercurial grey storm of emotions as he spoke loud and clear. “You are my treasure to protect. I will place myself between you and whatever danger presents itself. No harm will ever come to you as long as I live. That’s my vow to you, Calanthe.”

To their horror, Calanthe started crying. Like seriously, big fat tears rolled down her cheeks as sobs racked her body. She buried her face against Sirius’ chest and reached back with one hand. Without thinking, Florian intertwined their fingers, soothing her with his magic.

Something fierce twisted in his chest. His Mate had unknowingly revealed so much about her past. She was lonely. He wondered how her Muggle relatives treated her. If anything, she didn’t sound fond of them.

He lifted his head and his gaze clashed with that of Sirius. He nodded at him and the older man mimicked the small gesture. It seemed they were having similar thoughts. ‘I’ll help you prove your innocence. Calanthe needs you.’ He said calmly.

Sirius took a deep breath and forced himself to extend the olive branch he really didn’t want to. But he had been right. His own pride was no reason to lose a relationship with his daughter because Florian was here to stay.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It felt like forever but eventually, Calanthe’s tears dried up. She tilted her head to the side so that she could breathe better. “I’m so happy,” she murmured, her throat raw. She rested her chin on Sirius’ shoulder and sniffled once, dragging in a ragged breath. “Thank you for today.”

Florian smiled. “Anything for you.”

Chapter Text

Calanthe fingered her fine silk crimson dress as she surveyed her reflection in the mirror. She adjusted the pendant Florian gifted her, her lips lifting in a smile she couldn’t help.

Truth to be told, she could barely recognize the reflection looking back at her with gleaming green eyes. The dress was Sirius’ Yule Ball gift. He sent it with a letter protesting he could not trust Mrs Weasley’s taste in fashion and that his daughter deserved nothing less than the very best. Even acknowledging that fashion was not necessarily her forte, she didn’t doubt that the dress had cost him a fortune, not that Sirius cared about expenses whenever she was concerned.

Parvati made a noncommittal sound. “Your dress is gorgeous. Is it made of Acromantula Silk?”

Calanthe winced, her thoughts going back to Aragog and her bloodthirsty clutter. “I don’t know,” she shrugged.

“It is,” Lavender dropped the hairbrush as she answered. Her gaze travelled slowly over her, lingering on the embroidered corset wistfully. Calanthe suspected the protective Runes were stitched in silver thread.

“Can’t you see how soft it is? You certainly can’t find silk dresses this fine in Madam Malkin’s or Shrew and Scold’s Wear. I bet it’s worth a fortune but it suits you,” she smiled. “Delacour won’t be able to drag his eyes away from you all night.”

Parvati winked playfully. “It’s time for Calanthe to ensorcel him with her aura.”

Staring at them with wide eyes, Calanthe blushed from head to toe. She cleared her throat and said breathlessly. “But I’ve never said who’s my date for the Yule Ball.”

Lavender rolled her eyes. “As if we need to ask you to know. We’ve seen the way you are around each other. I can assure you that he’s extremely serious about you. If I know anything about Veelas, it’s that they mate for life.”

Hermione stood still, radiating nervous energy as she came farther into the room. “You look beautiful.”

Calanthe’s gaze took in the worried pucker of her forehead, the twitching fingers and fidgeting feet. Her eyes were as round as a punished child’s, and a feeling of overwhelming sadness poured through her.

Hermione had hurt her badly when she abandoned her at the beginning of the year. She didn’t know whether it was entirely due to Florian’s Aura or if she was harbouring such thoughts for long but shied away from expressing them. Either way, it would take some time for her to forget what she did. However, she was in a good mood tonight and didn’t want to ruin it with grudges. She was about to attend her first Yule Ball escorted by a guy whose company she came to treasure above all.

Her heart beat like a war drum in her chest when she remembered the way he looked at her before Sirius ruined what might have become her first kiss. Florian Delacour had in fact a sublime face, wicked in its heartless beauty. He looked like a fallen angel but to her, he was more, way more than his perfect features. No one had ever cared about her, prioritized her needs and protected her like he did. She wasn’t as oblivious as everyone thought. Boys wouldn’t do half of what Florian did for a random girl. Lavender was right. He was interested in her. Interested in more than her company and she didn’t mind. Quite the opposite.

“You look stunning too,” she smiled, eyeing Hermione’s periwinkle dress. “Why do you seem uneasy?”

“I thought you might still be angry with me,” she looked tormented as she averted her gaze. “I don’t know what came over me. I acted like a fool.”

“You did,” Calanthe nodded. Taking one of her hands, she drew her to the nearest bed and sat next to her. Lavender and Parvati pretended to be checking up their make-up but she knew they were paying attention to the discussion.

“Hermione, you can’t abandon your friends. We’ve been together for four years. You know you’re too important to me. You are my first friend, my confidante and my partner in all the dreadful adventures we had.”

Tears filled Hermione’s deep chocolate eyes and splashed down her cheeks. Calanthe wiped them gently with her forefinger. “I don’t know if I’d ever forget what you did. But I don’t want to lose you. Besides, if I deprive you of the chance to intimidate and oppress Ron, I’ll demoralize you. He needs you to keep an eye on him.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said, sadness dripping from her tone. “All I need is a chance to prove myself.”

“You have it.”

Hermione smiled and shook her head. “I didn’t know that my mental shields were so feeble. I’ve been wrong and arrogant. Books are not enough to learn everything about the Magical World. Look what an impromptu meeting with a Veela did to our friendship. I read about Delacour’s kind, but…”

“But books are not enough,” Calanthe arched a brow up. “It’s not Florian’s fault that he was born a Veela with an Aura.”

“I know,” Hermione’s eyes widened. “I meant no offence. I noticed the way you look at him. I won’t lie, I’ve never thought you’d look at a guy that way.”

Calanthe bit her lower lip and remained silent at first. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss her talks with Hermione. No one understood her as she did.

She regained her composure and murmured. “He means a lot to me.” Fractious colour rose in her face as she remembered the way he kissed her cheek, it was so tender, it left her stunned and speechless. Even now, the thought of it sent flutters of pleasure and heat through her. It was utter madness. With all the hugs and kisses she shared with Ron and the twins, nothing had ever felt so intimate as the pressure of his lips on her skin. “I can’t stop thinking about him,” she confessed. “I don’t know what this is called or where it would lead but I can’t keep from wondering what it would be like if . . .” She couldn’t say the rest of it aloud. She began to fiddle with her dress. “All I know is that he makes me happy, whole,” she whispered. “I’ve never been ruled by these thoughts or feelings. I’ve always been able to put them away as if they were nothing. What’s the matter with me?”

“Oh dear, finally.” She heard Lavender murmur and sent her a guarded glance.

Parvati smirked. “You’ve been all work and no play for much too long. Who knew you’d fall for a French Veela?”

“Calanthe…” Hermione grinned, slid a cool hand over her clenched fist and gave it a comforting squeeze. “You are in love.”

She would not survive the night, Calanthe thought gloomily as she stared at the crowd. Students from the three schools were in their formal attires. Boys were mostly dressed in schemes of white and black and dress boots while the girls were swathed in silk and tulle.

Somewhere in the whirling mass, she glimpsed Cedric escorting Cho Chang. She looked gorgeous in her silver traditional Chinese robes.

Ron gave her a sceptical look and tightened his hold on Lavender’s arm. “You can’t stay in this stuffy corner, you know you have to move eventually, right? I thought you were eager to meet Delacour.”

Lavender chuckled. “You have nothing to worry about. You look perfect plus moving makes the evenings pass by more quickly. You should try it.”

Calanthe squared her shoulders and made her way down the stairs after she waved at Ron and Lavender. Hermione went to the Ravenclaws’ dorm to wait for Terry Boot.

The steady thrum of the noise stopped when she made her way toward the massive crowd. Self-consciously, she kept her head high and her gaze straight as she looked for Florian.

Viktor was waiting for his date around the corner, his tall frame leaning against the wall. A wry smirk bracketed one corner of his mouth when he noticed her. “Calanthe.”

“Viktor,” she couldn’t help the smile that split her face. Viktor was someone she came to consider a close friend. Like her, he hated his fame but was helpless to stop the hordes of witches and fans pestering him. “Where’s your date?” she looked around.

“I’m here,” Daphne Greengrass’ perceptive gaze searched her face. “Lady Potter.”

Calanthe’s heart skipped a beat but she hid her surprise. She was aware that her magical education was lacking, something she intended to rectify soon. She had a father who would see to that now. She was no longer alone and unprotected.

“Heiress Greengrass,” she replied.

Viktor straightened, lifted Daphne’s hand to his lips and a mischievous smile broke out on his face when faint colour washed over her pale cheeks. “You look breathtaking.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” Daphne cleared her throat. Viktor shrugged and offered her his arm. “Let’s meet inside.”

Calanthe nodded wondering what was keeping Florian…

A commotion started followed by a shocked silence. Calanthe turned around and stilled. Stepping onto the hall, followed by Alex and Luna Lovegood, Florian finally made an appearance. He was handsome in his fine white robes with light blue velvet lapels. With his hair swept away from his face, it drew attention to the sharp, angles of his features and the bold slashes of his pale brows.

He whispered something to Alex and kissed Luna on the cheek before his gaze drifted to her. His light blue irises gleamed as they descended on her and a rush of eager expectation filled every thrumming pulse. Unruffled by the gasps, looks and whispers, he made his way to her. Reaching out, he hooked one finger underneath her chin and brushed his thumb over her skin, his eyes the colour of topaz, soft and enchanting. “You look gorgeous tonight, ma chère.” The feel of his hand on her, the light, tingling pressure of his thump, kept her brain thoroughly scrambled.

“So do you,” she whispered.

His eyes darkened when they went to the pendant he gifted her and a satisfied smile lifted his lips. He waved his hand, producing a wrist flower corsage. Calanthe blinked as he fastened it around her left wrist. “The flowers are…”

“…made of crystal,” he smirked. “I enchanted them myself. It took me a while to decide which stone represents you. Some Oracles think that crystal manifests transcendence and the light of the heavens. In ancient religions, the stone symbolized purity, faith and perfection. I think it suits you.”

Calanthe touched the delicate flowers with a shaking finger. Perhaps it was the reckless velocity of her pulse that accounted for the strange feeling that came over her, a velvety quietness that routed her thoughts and smothered every awareness of the scene around them. The world disappeared, and there was only the guy looking down at her with twinkling eyes. She closed her eyes, conscious only of the faint scent of his perfume, the rise and fall of her chest, and the wild tumult of her heart. The spell was broken by his soft chuckle, the sound rippling gently along her spine. “Professor McGonagall doesn’t look happy. Let’s not keep her waiting.”

Calanthe nodded and sneaked her arm through his without hesitation.

“Miss Potter, Mr Delacour,” McGonagall pursed her lips, flicking a mildly surprised look at their linked arms. “I admit I never thought we'd have two Champions go together to the Yule Ball. You’ll be first, followed by Mr Krum and Miss Greengrass then Mr Diggory and Miss Chang.”

Florian bowed his head. “As you wish, Professor McGonagall.”

Calanthe swore that the stern professor looked a bit flustered. As soon as Professor McGonagall left, she nudged him playfully. “Does that usually work?”

Florian’s lips quirked as he saw her expression. A twinkle of arrogant amusement appeared in his eyes. “Every. Single. Time. Without fail.” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “However, I never charm more than one witch a night.” His tone was a mockery of politeness. “A Veela has to draw the line somewhere.”

She subdued a grin. “You’re incorrigible. I hope you’re not using that Veela charm on me.”

At once, his expression sobered. He surveyed her with a serious face and reached out to push back the few loose tendrils of her hair Lavender left dangling on her temples. “Anyone but you. Never you.”

“I know.” She ran her hand over his. “I trust you.” He smiled with such warmth it made her insides tighten with yearning.

“Are you ready?” He took his position and offered her his arm.

Was she ready? She didn’t know. She hated being the centre of attention. Abrupt avoidances and long awkward silences used to be her way of dealing with the crowd.

But tonight…Tonight she wanted to feel special.

She tucked her arm in his and grinned. “Let’s give them something to talk about.”

Florian winked and they started walking.

The walls of the Great Hall had all been covered in sparkling frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished, instead, the main floor was crowded with students clustered at the small round tables set back enough to allow for private conversation.

Everyone was staring at them as they neared the top table. Florian didn’t seem bothered at all. Maybe because he was used to intrusive looks.

Dumbledore regarded her with twinkling eyes and clapped happily. A mischievous smile edged Madame Maxime’s lips. Calanthe swore something went between her and Florian the moment their gazes met.

“Madame Maxime seems very fond of you,” she mused as he helped her to her seat.

Lifting his brows, he took the seat next to her, putting himself between her and Percy Weasley. “She’s my mentor and the first professor who believed in me.” A Reluctant smile crossed his lips. “She sees me for what I am. Florian, just Florian.”

Calanthe gripped his hand. “You’ve accomplished so much. There’s no shame in admitting how brilliant you are.”

Her words rendered him speechless. Maybe this was one of the main reasons she appreciated every moment she spent with him—other than the fact that she had unknowingly given him her heart. They were so alike it was scary at times. She looked down at her empty plate.

“They’re enchanted,” Florian explained. “Your Headmaster seems very fond of his tricks.”

Dumbledore chuckled looked down at his menu and said. “Beef steak.”

As soon as he did, the rest of the table placed their orders.

Viktor grumbled. “We have a very strict diet in Durmstrang. That and Quidditch, makes it hard for me to enjoy a good, juicy steak like everyone else.”

Daphne looked at him, batting her eyelashes. “And where exactly is your school?”

High Master Karkaroff plastered a very fake smile on his face. “Miss Greengrass, how very Slytherin of you to try to divulge our whereabouts.”

Viktor snorted. “Nice try, Daphne.”

“I just want to know,” she pouted.

“Maybe I’ll tell you one day,” he laughed gently. “Let’s enjoy this night, first.”

Florian snickered, his eyes twinkling madly. “All this secrecy . . . one would almost think you didn’t want visitors.”

Viktor lifted a challenging brow. “I bet Durmstrang is too cold for a Creature of Fire like you. You’ll freeze your bits if you step into it.”

Florian shrugged. “No need to tell me any more,” he assured him, a grin crossing his face. “I think I know where it is. And you’re right. Icy winds and thick snow are not my thing. I prefer my bits just where they are, thank you very much.”

Calanthe lowered her head and pretended to cut the meat as a blush rose on her face. She was used to Florian’s naughty and suggestive comebacks, but never when they had company.

High Master Karkaroff scoffed and glared at them.

After they enjoyed their meal, Professor Dumbledore stood and waved his hand. The tables were pushed back against the walls, leaving the floor clear. The Weird Sisters trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause. Calanthe’s heart clattered to a stop as she realized they were about to have the first dance.

Florin stood first and helped to her feet then bowed and offered her his hand. “Ma chère, would you honour me with this dance?”

“I’d like to but…” she hesitated. “I don’t know how.”

Florian grinned and drew her to the dance floor. His hand pressed her head to his shoulder, against the soft, supple velvet of his robes. He stroked her cheek gently before he put an arm around her waist. For the rest of her life, she thought hazily, she would remember this moment. “You’re used to being in charge, to leading your friends as you embark on your hazardous adventures,” he murmured against her temple, “You had no one to catch you if you set a foot wrong.” His voice curled around her ear, making her shiver. “But I’m here now. And very soon, you’ll have Sirius, too. Take this night and every night after off. You’ll have my arms to hold you steady. What do you say to that?”

She let herself relax into the power and heat of him, conforming bonelessly to the hard framework of his body. A brush of silky hair against her cheek raised the little hairs on her arms and the back of her neck. The movements of her breathing pressed into the rise and fall of his chest until the rhythms blended. Unnerved by their proximity, she turned her head looking at their fellow Champions.

He tapped her chin with his forefinger and amusement flicked one corner of his mouth upward. “What would it take to keep your attention fixed on me?”

“I am paying attention to you,” she retorted.

“Not fully. I want your eyes on me.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm before he shaped her fingers against his chest. He whirled her in time to the exuberant music and she couldn’t help but close her eyes and laugh.

Soon enough, other couples joined them. Neville and Ginny, Ron and Lavender and Alex and Luna danced nearby. She snickered when Dumbledore started waltzing Madame Maxime.

The Weird Sisters played the last note and applause filled the Great Hall. Instead of taking her back to their seats, Florian escorted her along the side of the hall. The front doors were open and the garden was Fairy-lit. They set off along one of the winding paths through the rosebushes until they found a deserted corner. Florian looked at the single marble bunch and smirked. He took a seat first. “Calanthe, come and join me.”

Drawing a breath, she moved. When she looked down, she realized that her knees were between his sprawled thighs, she gasped, her cheeks colouring.

“What’s the matter, mon amour?” he crooned. Swiftly, he took her hand and she found herself sitting on his lap.

“I…”

“You’re what?” he grinned. “You look so beautiful when you’re flustered.”

He was still, his gaze locked on hers with an intensity that sent a jolt through her. He wanted to kiss her, she thought, and she went weak with anticipation, her heart thudding and pumping. However, she had to be sure first. “Florian, what are we doing?”

Laughter danced in his eyes. “Mon amour,” he chided, “don’t you know when someone is flirting with you? I’ve wanted to have a moment like this for you for months.”

With his hand supporting her nape, he brought his lips to her forehead and smoothed out the furrow of her frown. “How much do you know about Veela Mating?”

“Not much, but…” she whispered, dreading and anticipating his next words at once.

There had always been an aloof streak in her, but she couldn’t seem to find it whenever she was in Florian’s company. She was breaking apart inside. She would never be the same after the day she met him.

Tonight had turned out to be one of the happiest nights of her life, a gift that had somehow fallen into her hands. She had never bothered much over the question of her own happiness, having been far too busy trying to stay alive. Were her suspicions right? Was she Florian’s Mate? Would he be hers forever like she hoped?

“Do you know that Veela mate for life? When a Veela meets their Mate, the flame of the Veelafire ignites in their soul and their blood turns to lava. Nothing can extinguish that fire but their Mate’s acceptance.”

All the dreadful minutes of her life, the years of bitter struggle, had led to this moment. The scars her soul had worn like armour were dissolving at his words, at his touch. The graceful hands she so admired lifted to her head, slender fingers wandering behind her ears and into her hair, and the feel of it was so exquisite, that she all but purred.

“Veelafire isn’t something one chooses.” He kissed her temple. “It’s an irresistible force, two compatible souls finding each other.”

The urge was too much to resist. Helplessly, she leaned forward, closed her eyes and just kissed his pale cheek. It was even more satisfying than she’d thought it would be, her mouth finding tender warmth. Florian’s breath caught hard, and his body jolted. His fingers sank into her hair and he eased her head back, his iridescent eyes staring down into hers. His white teeth caught at his lower lip in the prelude to a grin. For a moment, he looked heart-stoppingly handsome. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” One of his palms came to rest low on her spine. His other hand slid around the back of her neck, closing tenderly around the small muscles.

“I do,” she locked her gaze with his. “If you are my Mate, then I accept you. For life.”

She gasped when his eyes turned to molten gold. When he opened his mouth, she noticed that his canines had elongated. “If you accept me then I’ll claim you with this kiss.” Her stomach suddenly went very light, as if she were falling. His lashes lowered as his gaze fell to her lips. His mouth came to hers, as light as a brush of silk. He was tentative at first, making no demands, only feeling the contours of her mouth with his. Softly, his lips moved over hers in sensuous touches that quieted the chaos in her head. Mesmerized, she answered with hesitant pressure, and he shaped her response and played with her until she began to dissolve in the slow, endless teasing. There was only them and this moment.

When she opened her eyes, she was met with the sight of the majestic snowy-white wings that arched over his wide shoulders. She stared at them with mesmerized, wide eyes. Florian smirked and spread them wide. They shimmered like diamonds under the faint moonlight. Calanthe stared at them mutely. Her entire vocabulary had collapsed. She raised a trembling hand and touched the arch of one wing. “They’re…beautiful.”

Nudging her chin upward, he stole a last swift kiss and pulled her into the crook of his shoulder. His wings whipped out to their full breadth obstructing her view of everything else before they cradled her in their warmth. “You’re beautiful but most importantly, you’re mine. Welcome to the Veela Dance, ma chère.”

Chapter Text

Dark clouds had gathered across the sky, the wind had started to ruffle the leaves, and the temperature had dropped a few degrees. But it wasn’t the brewing storm that made him stop at 12, Grimmauld Place’s threshold. Having been thoroughly taught by Madame Maxime for years and mercilessly tested more times than he cared to remember, Florian Delacour was intimately familiar with the deadly wards of old strongholds. He knew that every Ancient Rune, every patch of trees, every seemingly harmless stone, and every nook provided to pass as an imperfection could be a deadly trap.

Because it was instinctive, not because he thought there was any real threat of being there, he did what he could to avoid being caught in a vicious trap. Maybe it was his self-preservation but only a blabbering fool would feel safe standing at the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black’s doorstep. The Blacks were notorious across the Magical World for being sly, vicious and ruthless. Florian, however, wasn’t stupid. He was a man on a mission. Lord Sirius Black was his Mate’s Blood Father and his acceptance was paramount if he wanted to have a future with Calanthe. He didn’t need to read her thoughts to surmise how much the man meant to her. Hence, why he left the safety of Beauxbatons carriage and apparated to London as soon as he received Lord Black’s reply.

Admittedly, he didn’t have much experience dealing with overprotective fathers. He had never fancied a witch before Calanthe but he couldn’t recall ever coming across this raging need to win someone’s acceptance. He smirked when he remembered Lord Black’s expression when he caught them in Hogsmeade. If not for Calanthe, he wasn’t certain that the Grim wouldn’t have attacked him. He nearly chuckled, recalling Lord Black’s reaction when he worked out what Calanthe was to him.

Florian sobered and observed mildly as the wards enclosed him, judging him and gauging his intentions. He relaxed and waited. He wasn't disappointed when heard a light clicking sound. He put his hands in his pockets as soon as the first glimpse of the white of a House Elf's eyes emerged from the shadows. He frowned when he sensed how ailing the old House Elf’s magic felt. He was under a powerful enchantment. He gave him a hostile glare and mumbled something under his breath about Creatures sullying his Masters' home.

“I heard that,” Florian wrinkled his nose, hiding his amusement. “Unlike your masters, my hearing is beyond perfect.”

The elf’s already wide eyes bulged wider in fresh panic. “You have nothing to fear from me,” he said gently. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Kreacher,” the elf averted his gaze.

“And I’m Florian Delacour. I don’t know if your master has told you about me, but I’m family.”

Kreacher frowned as his words penetrated and he watched with a predatory smile on his face, clearly enjoying every moment, as Lord Black’s foot caught in the rug and he stumbled. “Curse you Kreacher! What are you doing chattering with a stranger.”

Florian’s smile deepened, his white teeth flashing across his face like a wolf’s. He executed another perfect bow. “Lord Black, thank you for agreeing to have me in your home.”

At once, Kreacher’s demeanour changed. He shot a resentful glare in the direction of Lord Black before he made himself scarce. Whatever grudge Kreacher held against his master, it was deep and festering.

Sirius cursed. “That damned elf.”

“I don’t mean to interfere, but perhaps you should check him for spells. He’s enchanted,” he suggested nonchalantly.

Sirius lifted a brow and invited him inside. He held back a grimace as he studied Grimmauld Place, his gaze casually exploring the dark hallways. Faint light streamed from the dirty windows and pooled into the grey marble. Several House Elves’ heads were hung on the wall. The sight was hideous. Forcing himself to behave calmly lest he insulted Lord Black, he followed after him to what looked like a private study, its ebony panelling glowing ruddily in the lamplight. The room was hard and uncompromising, with minimal upholstery and sharp angles, and no ornamentation save for a row of stained glass windows. He noticed a small door to the left that led to what he guessed was a private library.

Sirius’ lips twitched as his gaze moved in the direction of the door. “You’re right. That’s the Black Library, my grandfather’s pride and joy. I’m afraid only the Lord, the Heir and those the Black Magic deems worthy are allowed access.”

Somehow, he managed to remain respectfully silent but deep down, he was eaten up with curiosity. He could imagine the kind of rare books and manuscripts the Blacks had collected through the decades.

“I have no doubts that the wards are just as impressive as those of the house.” He paused before he added with deliberate bluntness. “Are Lord Orion Black’s journals kept in the library as well?”

At once, Sirius stilled. “Do you know about my father?” The words left his lips like he was pulling his own teeth.

Florian held back a victorious smile. “Of course, I do. He was an accomplished Spell Crafter. Madame Maxime had mentioned him and several other members of your family.”

Sirius looked at him incredulously. “Well, there had been several Spell Crafters, Warders and Enchanters in the family. Nothing special to disclose. I know you’re interested in these branches of magic but that’s not why you are here, Delacour.”

“I do find your family history particularly interesting, Lord Black,” he nodded smirking. “Most importantly, I find everything related to Calanthe interesting and you’re her family.”

Sirius shot him a glare. “If you’re here to—‘’

‘’She’s my Mate,’’ he replied exasperatedly, raking his hair back with his fingers. “And she’s aware of what I am to her. The Veela Dance has started.”

Sirius shook his head silently. The way his fingers trembled bespoke his feelings towards the news. It didn’t matter for Florian had no intention to let go of Calanthe’s hand. For the first time, he met a girl who didn’t take one look at his face and pledged her undying love. Calanthe saw him for who he was, Florian, just Florian. He wasn’t blind. Of course, he loved the way she stared at him sometimes. But she saw far beyond that. She saw the man under the Veela veneer who was determined to prove himself on his own merit. She saw the man who no one—not even his schoolmates—had believed in to become someone to rely on. She saw a young man who’d taken it upon himself to prove everyone wrong, to prove that he was more than the beautiful shell. She saw the skill that made him one of the best students, that made the Triwizard Cup choose him.

After a while, Sirius sobered. His shoulders hunched. “I suspected as much the first time I met you. I might not be ready to accept you but I know about your customs. A Veela loves only once. You’re bodily unable to betray or mistreat her. That, at least, is a small relief.”

Florian’s lips curled in the faintest of smiles. He couldn’t blame the older man. It had been a couple of months since he’d met Calanthe Potter and he was excessively protective of her. He didn’t know everything Lord Sirius Black had to go through but he knew that he regretted the choice he made. A choice that cost him thirteen years with his Blood Daughter. As a consequence, he didn’t fault him for his possessiveness.

“So how long do you think it’s going to be before you acknowledge my bond with Calanthe?” He smarted.

Sirius let out a pained groan, eyeing him as if he carried the Dragon Pox. “Why have you asked for an audience? Don’t you have a Tournament to get ready for?”

He leaned on his chair. “That, I do. As it happens, the Second Task takes place in the Black Lake.” He smiled but the sense of dread that had begun to crawl over him the night he opened the Golden Egg and listened to the song grew stronger. Who would have guessed that the organizers could be so unmindful of the feud between water and fire creatures? A Veela  in a Mermen Village? It was a blasphemy.

He exhaled and kept all his emotions under lock. He was there for a more important reason, he would think about the Second Task later.

He turned back to Sirius who’d been looking at him with an odd expression. “Does Calanthe know?”

“I’ll tell her tonight. Rest assured I’ll do my utmost best to prepare her. No harm shall come her way. That being said, do you have the slightest idea of how much she loves you and misses your presence in her life? Calanthe is not the most outspoken girl, but your absence is hurting her. She needs you.”

Maybe it was not his place to confront Lord Black. Maybe the man wouldn’t appreciate his concern but he didn’t care. All that mattered was Calanthe’s wellbeing.

Sirius let out a pained breath. “I regret what I did that twice cursed night, I should’ve taken her away. When I heard that she was living with Petunia and….” He closed his eyes.

The way Sirius pronounced Calanthe’s aunt’s name warned him to be on alert. Something cold and ugly slid down his back.

“She’s Lady Potter’s older sister?” he asked slowly.

Expression grim, Sirius shook his head. “I’m not ready to talk about her today.”

There seemed to be something wrong about the woman, and Florian found himself deeply concerned. Of course, he’d noticed that Calanthe seldom mentioned her relatives. The thought of them mistreating her filled his veins with fire and made his claws sink into the fleshy part of his palm. It also gave him a legitimate reason to dig deeper into his Mate’s past. He could wait to find the truth and act accordingly. Veelas were ultimately predators who tracked and stalked before they caught the prey. He stashed the knowledge for later and decided to find clues soon.

He extracted a small piece of paper from his pocket and offered it to Sirius with resignation. “I contacted my father as soon as I heard your story from Calanthe.” His gaze conveyed the message that now was not the time to debate the issue. “He agrees that your ministry is run by a flock of fools. It doesn’t take much to prove that you are innocent. You are Lord Potter’s Sworn Blood-Brother, you went through a Blood Ritual to adopt Calanthe. If anything, your magic and hers recognize you as father and daughter. You are obviously unable to harm the Potters, your magic would rebel and kill you.”

Sirius’ expression turned to stone and his mouth hardened. With his enhanced senses, Florian sensed the bitterness rising inside him that threatened to pour out in hot molten waves. “They made me lose years I could’ve spent taking care of my daughter. It sounds unlikely, and yet that’s exactly what happened. They condemned the Lord of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black with no evidence and turned him into a fugitive.”

“My father will use all his connections to help you prove your innocence, I promise you won’t regret using this portkey.”

Sirius’ gaze bored into him. His hand lingered midair for a moment before it closed around the piece of paper, squeezing it.

“I presume, by doing this, you’re seeking my blessing,” he arched a challenging brow up.

Florin smoothed his biker leather jacket and stood slowly. “I’m doing it for Calanthe. Oh, and just so you aware. I will have your blessing. Eventually.”

Laughter danced in Florian’s eyes as Calanthe emerged from the pool. As soon he returned to Hogwarts, he invited her to the carriage. He didn’t think much as he asked her to visit the pool with her Golden Egg. Her gaze scrutinized him almost as intensely as Lord Black's before an endearing blush adorned her cheeks. He explained that he found out about the clue.

His hand still supporting her arm, he brought his lips to her forehead and smoothed out the furrow of her frown. He couldn’t help it, his Veela demanded skin privileges to soothe his possessiveness.

“Whoever is in charge of the tasks is insane,” she mumbled under her breath as he threw a fresh towel around her shoulders. “Do they really expect us to spend an hour underwater?”

Suddenly, the blood slid from her face, and he listened as her heart started to pound—gallop, more accurately. “What will you do? How will you retrieve the thing you miss most?”

He didn’t need Legilimency to hear her fears. The images flashing through her head weren’t pretty. She knew what water did to his kind. Instinctively her hands slid around his shoulders. He caught her to him, and that was where they stayed, her softness moulded to the smooth, bare skin of his chest. She was so warm and he wanted to embrace her and never let go. He’d known she was his perfect half, his anchor and haven, but touching her in the flesh was an entirely different kind of knowledge. The kind of knowledge that once awakened would never be put to rest again.

“Florian….” She whispered, shivering.

“Don’t worry, mon amour,” he grinned as he pressed her body against his. His fingers dug through her hair to grip the back of her head and bring her lips against his. Her gasp of surprise was followed by an even bigger one when he took advantage of her surrender to steal long, slow, gentle kisses. When he lifted his head, she tightened her grip on him. “Now that I found you, I have no intention to lose you.”

“Not that I would ever let you go,’’ she caressed his jaw softly.

He lifted an amused brow, pleased by her claim on him. To his surprise, she laughed, swiping a strand of wet hair from his temple. He didn’t think she even realized what her touch did to him. But he did. The unconscious gesture was both tender and intimate, and worth every minute he spent waiting for her acceptance. “If I have to, I would fight the Mermen for you.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” There might have been a touch of lingering huskiness in his voice. ‘’My beautiful saviour.”

She dimpled, her smile turning sugary sweet. “Not without cause, at least. You are mine as I am yours.”

“You’re a fierce, possessive little thing, aren’t you, mon amour?” he teased, enjoying the fiery blush that stole up her neck and cheeks.

“Thank you,” she said primly. “I think that is the nicest compliment you’ve ever given me.”

Chapter Text

‘’I miss Gabrielle. I wonder what she’s been up to since we left France,’’ Alex smirked, flipping his hair out of his eyes and leaning his leaner frame against the open door.

The reminder made Florian’s shoulders stiffen. Loosening his hold on the book he was skimming through, he uncuffed his sleeves and rolled them up past his forearm. His family would arrive soon. Awareness rippled down his back. Truth to be told, the prospect of his mother meeting Calanthe made him apprehensive. Apolline Aliénor Delacour could be…larger than life at times. As for Gabby, the little firecracker derived sick pleasure from mercilessly embarrassing him. The tension came back with a vengeance, his blood running cold as he remembered the second task which would take place in two days. To say he had a bad feeling about it would be putting it mildly. Getting too close to water never bode well for Veelas. Either way, he would not let the Mermen get a hold of his Mate. He’d die before he let any harm come her way.

He finished rolling up his sleeve, baring a pale, well-muscled forearm and glared at the merciless prick he called best friend. “And you seem very happy because? Maybe you forgot that I have to dive into a Mermen-infested lake in two days and spend an hour trying to fend them off my back.”

At once, Alex’s eyes widened and his expression sobered. “Are you serious? I’m worried sick about you but I know you can do it. You’re the most talented wizard Beauxbatons has seen in ages. You’re the youngest Enchantment Apprentice in history.” Fear lanced like a whip through Alex’s words even as Florian relaxed slightly. “Of course, you’ll beat those good-for-nothing, disfigured fish-men and make them rue the day they declared war on Veelas.” He thrust his hand through his hair in frustration, making it stick on end. A sure sign that his faithful friend was at the end of his rope.

Florian sighed tiredly. “Let’s take it one thing at a time. I have to deal with Maman first.”

“As expected, you’ve sorted out your priorities,” Alex cleared his throat, that mischievous spark back in his eyes. “Madame Delacour is…impressively intense.”

“You mean scary,” he snorted. “I know she has that effect on people.”

“Well, she’s your mother and you know her better than me,” Alex murmured sheepishly, rubbing a hand over his face as he collapsed onto one of the chairs in his room. “But maybe Calanthe needs a mother figure like her in her life. I don’t know much about her relatives but…”

Alex looked down in a way that made the short hairs at the back of his neck rise. “Out with it!” he demanded.

“Well, Luna says that relatives do not treat her well.”

His gaze snapped to his friend, a full-on storm brewing in his eyes. No longer a vivid blue, but actual lightning flashed amidst sky-blue in his eyes. His Veela was in full control; his power was a living thing, scraping against his skin and looking for a way out. The hate he felt was bone-deep, wrathful and ravenous for revenge. It was a driving force inside his chest he could barely control. No one was allowed to hurt his Mate. Ever.

“If they….” He hissed.

“Later,” Alex jumped to his feet and put a calming hand on his shoulder. “You will deal with them later. Let’s concentrate on the bloody tournament first.”

Florian swallowed down the instinct to run away. Madame Maxime’s mouth quirked. He lifted a shoulder in what he hoped looked casual. “I’m ready.”

“I know.” She watched him for a long moment in a way that made him feel he was eleven again. “I’ve never questioned your ability to overcome difficulties and show the world what an impressive wizard you are. That being said, I can’t help but worry about my favourite Apprentice. Unfortunately, there is no way around it now. You have to face the Mermen.”

“I'm your only Apprentice but I can’t blame you. A Dementor makes a better company than a Merman. Alas, whoever has designed the tasks is an imbecile. A British imbecile.”

An amused smirk creased his mentor’s proud features. “And yet, your Mate is a blue-blooded British witch. If not for this tournament, you wouldn’t have met her. You should be grateful for small mercies.”

Florian half-smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. Alex’s words still roared in his head.

“You’re distracted,” Madame Maxime pointed out. “You have to clear your mind. We cannot afford distractions.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make you proud,” he rolled his eyes.

“I received a Patronus from Apolline. She should be here with Gabrielle shortly,” she smothered a smile. “Also, I believe your father will bring a very special guest with them.”

Florian’s heart beat a staccato tattoo against his ribcage. The news would mean a lot to Calanthe. “He did it?”

Madame Maxime ruffled his hair, knowing how much he hated having his top knot in disorder. “Monsieur Delacour can be persuasive. It took him less than a week to present Lord Black’s case to the International Confederation of Wizards. They agreed to give them an audience. Later yesterday, Lord Black gave his testimony under Veritaserum and was declared innocent of all crimes. As of today, he’s free.”

Florian couldn’t help but grin widely. Sirius Black had made it perfectly clear that he would make the courting an arduous task and do his best to obstruct the Veela Dance. Now that his father-in-law was free, he couldn’t wait to meet the challenge head-on.

Florian gazed at the sky. His grandmother always said that sunset was a time when every fear, every concern and every doubt effortlessly disappeared. How he wanted to believe her.

He pressed his head against the tree trunk and closed his eyes when he felt Calanthe’s presence like a caress against his skin. He could sense her anywhere. She was a living, breathing part of his soul.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and stared through heavy lids at his Mate. The last golden rays of the sun that spilt in through the clouds caressed her with a familiarity that made him envious. The shadows knew her as well, nuzzling every dip and hollow. She looked perfectly at ease as she made her way towards him, knowing his favourite spot in Hogwarts.

His Veela clawed at his skin, asking for their Mate. He wanted to hold her again, he wanted to touch her, and with a smirk, he realized that he hadn’t run out of pretences to lure her into his arms. What recourse was he to take today?

He looked at her in silent contemplation and felt some part of himself give way to a stronger demand. “Mon amour, I missed you,” he said in a deep voice—the Veela voice, his intent stare urging her to get closer. “Come here,” he whispered.

Her vivid green eyes became dark with wonder and disquiet as they met his. The air was fraught with suspense. After several moments of inner debate, she moved hesitantly to sit down on his thigh. Hard muscles flexed beneath her as he shifted to accommodate her. His hands settled at her waist, their pressure light and firm, a steady influence that served to comfort her and make her feel secure, still, close, and cherished. Slowly, she extended her hands and placed them on his shoulders. Her fingers spread over their breadth and strength, her thumbs detecting the strong pulse through the thin material of his shirt as they pressed into the shallow hollows beneath his collarbone. “How are you doing?” she asked gently.

His fingertips rested on her body with gentle lightness. “Now that you are in my arms, nothing else matters,” he said huskily, drawing her further between his spread knees, “but I might need something to make me feel better,” he gave her the look that never failed to make colour rise to her cheeks.

Leisurely, he waited until she lowered her head, finding his mouth with her own, shivering slightly as they first touched. Florian was unaccountably touched by the innocence of the chaste caress, he fought hard to tamp down the violent strength of his response to her, and he won the inner battle by only a hair.

“What about now?” she breathed, her hands tightening an inch or two closer around his neck making his body tingle as the tender surface of her delicate wrists brushed his skin. “Is it enough?”

The feel of her as she perched on his lap was unbearably tempting, like a kitten begging to be cuddled. “Maybe I need more reassurance,” he rasped wickedly, a sultry glow emphasizing the golden sparks in his eyes. Then he winked.

Calanthe smiled, shaking her head slightly as she looked at him. “You’re a tease,” she murmured, leaning forward until their noses nearly touched. His muscles tightened into unyielding hardness. “Let me give you some luck for tomorrow,” she offered, and tentatively she sought the tender fire of his lips once more. Florian allowed himself to respond with careful eagerness. The last thing he wanted was to scare her.

Slowly but surely, the kiss turned into something dreamy, an unspoken language of heat and fire, tenderness and greed. He was so famished for her. Man and Veela had wanted her for so long, but they’d never expected to have her in their arms.

Calanthe shivered and he held her tightly. Nothing had ever devastated him the way she did. He pulled her closer, trying to protect her with his entire body, and she sighed softly, clinging to him. When the need for air became too much, he pressed his forehead to hers. “Tell me that you’re mine, mon amour. Tell me that I’m the only one, and there’ll never be another.”

Her hands come up to grasp the sides of his face. “I belong to you. Only you. No one else.”

Satisfied with her answer, he tickled her making her laugh in dizzy jubilation. “Florian! Stop it!” she wheezed, but he ignored her pleas and laughed huskily in her ear. “I won’t until you repeat what you said again and again and again….”

“Florian!” Calanthe’s amusement faded. Whatever she saw caused a soft scald of pink to spread over her face. Her skin turned hot beneath his fingertips. “Stop it,” she whispered breathlessly, tugging at his hands urgently and trying to leave his embrace. “We have…”

“Florian?”

Florian cringed and loosened his hold on his Mate.

Of all the times….he swore under his breath.

“Maman?” he sighed exasperatedly, looking over his shoulder. “Weren’t you supposed to arrive tomorrow?”

Calanthe stiffened in his arms. “Y-your mother?”

Apolline Aliénor Delacour looked magnificent in her powder blue silk robes. She arched a taunting, pale brow. However, the wicked twinkle in her eyes betrayed her. Her shoulders shook slightly as she chuckled, knowing it would drive him mad. “So this is my daughter-in-law? How wonderful!” she clapped. “I apologize for the interruption but I had no choice. I took a portkey to Hogwarts as soon as Madame Maxime contacted me. I had to. I can’t let them throw my Gabrielle into the Black Lake. She’s not as powerful as you, yet.”

Florian jumped to his feet—with Calanthe still in his arms— “What?” The guttural growl swelled in a violent vibration, rippling down the lake and shattering every boulder and pebble.

Chapter Text

Florian glared at the Black Lake, his eyesight still blurry with emotions. His claws sunk into the fleshy part of his palms as he strived to calm the Veela lest his Creature unleashed a kind of wrath beyond Hogwarts wards’ capacity to contain.

‘’Hostages…” His tone lost its gentle note, dropping to threatening and deadly. How dare anyone entertain the idea of putting his baby sister at the bottom of the Black Lake?

He had never known hatred like he did at that moment, helpless to do anything but what he wanted. It shook him to the core, along with the fear and anger vibrating through his veins. The Veela raved and snarled, itching to set everything on fire. Soulbonds were everything to his kind. Any Veela worthy of their name would die for their kin. Gabrielle…she was but a helpless child.

Disregarding his state of mind, Apolline patted his shoulder lightly. “It’s no matter. I made it clear to Olympe that, unless she wanted our Coven to descend on Hogwarts, she better talk the judges out of this madness. I will not be held accountable for their ineptitude. I call such act an unmistakable declaration of war.”

He heard a soft gasp before two elegant arms wrapped around his waist. Apolline’s lips twitched with mirth. Naturally, he rolled his eyes and ignored the twinkle in his mother’s eyes. He was content to hold his Mate for as long as she would let him. She was supposed to be comforting him. Fortunately, something in the Veela eased as well. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but rest his cheek on her silky hair. He breathed deeply, trying to discern the hints of earth and flowers he came to associate with her. It was like being swaddled in a spring dawn. She sighed and kissed his chin. “Gabrielle will be safe and so will you.”

Undeterred by his mother’s knowing grin, Florian kissed her softly on the forehead. The budding bond between them felt like a pulse whenever they touched; it buzzed in the air every time they were close to each other. It was there now, throbbing between them, their souls reaching for each other, seeking to entwine. Florian couldn’t be happier despite the dire circumstances. How long had he yearned for such a moment? For someone to be there for him in his time of need, to be his; unmistakably and gladly and solely his for all eternity.

He closed his eyes and let his arms close around her in a possessive embrace. He held her tighter than usual, moulding their bodies together and listening to their hearts as they beat in perfect sync. When he opened his eyes, his mother winked and mouthed hastily: ‘later’. He nodded and she left, a playful smile adorning her lips. There was no more thought as he basked in Calanthe’s nearness. Instead, he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. Some faraway part of him, the human, civilized part, urged him to be cautious, to go gently, but it was drowned out by the sudden roaring of the emptiness and fear and anticipation within him. The aching void of years spent in uncertainty and fear abruptly reared up and demanded to be filled. He clamped her to himself with one powerful arm and dropped his forehead on hers.  “Tomorrow,” he smiled against her lips.

She stole a kiss and replied. “Tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Madam Maxime asked for the umpteenth time. “You are a French citizen and by the Coven’s laws….”

Florian sighed. “Did Maman threaten you?”

His mentor lifted her chin in indignation. “Who do you take me for? I do respect your mother but did you forget who I am? I’m just being a sensible mentor. I invested too much time and energy in teaching you. I’m not done with you, yet. You owe me so much, young man, and I plan to collect. With interest, of course.”

“And I’m sure that you’ll never let me forget that,” he smirked. “Why, thank you Madame Maxime, your care warms my heart.”

She rolled her eyes and waved him off. “Is your plan invincible? I won’t settle for a second place.”

“Of course,” he ran a hand through the silky strands falling over his forehead and partly obstructing his eyes. It was no use to fix his hair, it would get wet soon. “I got an annoying friend to bring back and a Mate to get back to, remember? I have no plans of getting caught by Mermen, we won’t hear the last of Alex’ whining if he accidentally freezes something of value underwater.”

Her blood-red lips curved. “You brat….” She clapped him on the shoulder knowing how much it irked him to be treated like a child. His mentor knew him too well, it was scary at times. “Remember, mastering your weaknesses is true power. There’s no shame in leaning on others from time to time.”

Florian smiled down at her. “I’ll keep your words in mind,” he promised mildly, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.

“Florian!” Two thin arms wrapped around him tightly. “Here you are.” He turned slowly and patted Gabrielle’s cheek as he did when she was a child. “Gabby.”

She scrunched her nose in that adorable way and stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m not here for you. Where is Calanthe?” She looked around.

Florian raised an eyebrow at her. “Calanthe?”

She grinned, nudging him with her hip. “Yes, I want to meet my fated sister.”

“Don’t tease your brother, Gabby.” Sebastien Delacour admonished playfully as he walked across the crowd with his usual grace and elegance. Florian smiled at his father when their eyes met.

“Papa. I believe you’ve been busy.’’

Sebastien smirked. “It was no bother. Padfoot is an exceptionally delightful man.” Amusement was reflected in his father’s dark eyes. “After all, we’re family.”

Gabrielle scoffed. “I wouldn’t say he thinks of Florian as family. He was quite inventive with the spells he intends to use on him.”

Florian rolled his eyes. “He’ll come around. Eventually. Where is he? I thought he’d make an appearance now that he’s free.”

Sebastien shook his head, his shoulders trembling with laughter. “Don’t concern yourself with him. He’ll show up. I found out that Padfoot is rather fond of….dramatics.”

“Should I be worried?” Florian tilted his head.

Gabrielle’s fine brows, several shades darker than her hair, gathered in a scowl. “I won’t let him hurt you. Maman would burn him to a crisp.”

Sebastien chuckled. “Aren’t you a bloodthirsty little thing? We don’t want to hurt him, we want him to accept Florian as his son-in-law.”

“But he is!” She crossed her arms across her chest. “He and Calanthe are Soulmates and nothing, no one, can get between them. I’ve been waiting for Florian to bring my sister home for ages.”

Giddy warmth washed over him. His family was his greatest support. “Thank you, my saviour,” he said, the smile still hovering on his lips. “That is kind of you, my sweet. As such, I have nothing to worry about.”

Gabrielle huffed. “I dare him to keep Calanthe from us. He’s no match for you or Maman.”

“How lovely,” Apolline tapped Gabrielle’s nose. “I believe we won’t need Fire Balls to make Lord Black see reason.” Then to him, she added. “Where’s Calanthe? Shouldn’t she be here by now?”

Florian’s gaze flashed past the stands that encircled the Black Lake. Despite the freezing weather, they were bursting with students from the three schools.

He looked for Calanthe’s friends and a sigh left his lips when Hermione looked at him and shook her head exasperatedly. So, they picked up Ron as her hostage.

Gabrielle caught his hand abruptly. ‘’Will you be fine down there?” She bit her lower lip. “I can hear the Mermen’s song and it’s hurting my ears.”

His hand stroked tenderly over her hair. “Poor darling. It’s all right. Nothing fearsome down there. I’m safe.”

He sensed Calanthe’s Aura before he saw her. He turned around. He’d been waiting for her to make an appearance. His breath caught when she waved shyly at him. Her eyes rounded slightly when she noticed his father and sister.

“She’s beautiful,” Gabrielle whispered. “Will she love me?”

“Of course, she will,” he winked. “Who could ever resist your charm?” She giggled and tightened her grip on his hand.

Calanthe walked slowly toward them, her red robes flowing around her ankles. Her hair was arranged in a tight ponytail as if she were preparing for battle.

Her gaze volleyed between him and Gabrielle before a tender smile lifted her lips and made his spirits soar. As expected, her mere presence banished his confusion and fear. Her eyes softened when they landed on a —surprisingly—shy Gabrielle. It was so unlike her. He combed the soft locks that had fallen on her forehead, his amused gaze intent on his Soulmate.

“I presume you are Gabrielle,” Calanthe started gently. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Me too!” Gabrielle rasped excitedly. “I’ve been waiting to make your acquaintance for months.”

“Don’t overwhelm Lady Potter, Gabrielle,” his father intercepted. “You’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other later.”

“Mr Delacour,” Calanthe curtsied.

“Please call me Sebastien,” he took her small hand between his. “We’re family.” Stricken, she turned away from him and tried to stifle the choking feeling that had risen in her throat. He could guess how touched she was by his father’s words. He knew how much she yearned for a family. By now, he had no doubt in his mind that her relatives were treating her badly.

“Only if you call me Calanthe,” she whispered softly.

His father grinned. “Welcome to the family, Calanthe.”

They were interrupted when shocked gasps and a few cries and whistles came from the crowd. Calanthe froze, she was too surprised to blink or pull away from him.

He exchanged a look with his father and the latter winked smugly.

Gone was the haggard, soot-streaked fugitive he met months ago. Lord Sirius Arcturus Black sauntered toward them in remarkable finery. True to his name, he was dressed in black from head to toe, every inch of him polished and perfect. His silver-grey eyes remained glued to Calanthe as he ignored the chaos his sudden appearance created.

Florian smirked. His father-in-law was even taller than he remembered, bigger, his shoulders broader. His formidable presence was like an elegant suit of clothes. It seemed that his treatment had gone well. It took some effort from his family to convince Sirius to seek a Healer. No one could imagine the kind of horrors he had gone through for thirteen long years. No man could emerge unscathed after being in close contact with the Dementors for so long. Out of the periphery of his vision, Florian saw the judges proceeding toward them. Dumbledore looked particularly conflicted.

“Prongslet,” Sirius said gruffly, looking down at his daughter.

“F-Father? But…” Calanthe took a tentative step toward him. “Why are you here? Have you gone mad!” she whisper-yelled.

There was a burst of fierce gasps and yells when Sirius took her in his arms and kissed the crown of her head. “I am exactly where I should be. Supporting my precious daughter as she competes in this twice-cursed tournament.”

“But…” Calanthe gripped his upper arms.

“You have nothing to worry about, ma chère,” his mother cleared her throat. “Sebastien and I have been busy lately making sure that Sirius’ name is cleared. He’s a free man and he has every right to be here.”

Calanthe turned her head with a start, her eyes were as huge as saucers as they volleyed between him and his family. “You did this? You helped my father regain his freedom? I…”

“You owe us nothing.” He traced his soft cheek with his fingers. “Sirius is family, too.”

“Not by choice,” the older man murmured.

Gabrielle glared at him. “You are no matter how much you whine like a petulant child. You’re Calanthe’s father so you are stuck with us whether you like it or not.”

Sirius sighed and everyone burst out laughing. Florian rolled his eyes when Mr Bagman shouted. “Sirius Black?” 

Diving into the Black Lake sounded like a great idea at the moment. At this rate, it seemed like trouble followed his father-in-law like a most faithful shadow.