Chapter Text
Teach Me How Not to Care
Harry works up the courage to ask Fleur how she can stand all the attention
She was easy to spot. Fleur Delacour, Beauxbatons' Triwizard Champion, was always easy to spot, and a lot of students were happy to do the spotting. Perhaps it was her silvery hair, or her bright blue eyes, or her striking figure, tall and lithe and exuding confidence. Or perhaps it was some unnatural pull, her part-Veela nature working its magic on those around her.
Whatever it was, Harry Potter couldn't help but feel a little envious at how easy she made it look. All the attention she received seemed to flow right off of her elegant shoulders like a light breeze, not affecting her proud stature in the least. No whispered words- or, indeed, directly spoken words- moved her head from its regal posture, as if she were constantly looking down from on high. Many thought it arrogance, whether earned or unearned, but Harry could only admire her strength.
Since he had entered the wizarding world he had dealt with many of the same stares, judgments, and undue attention, which had only intensified after his name came out of the Goblet of Fire. Even some of the members of his own house, those supposed to be his friends, were ignoring him in the belief that he was seeking out more fame and glory. Even one of his best friend, Ron. Harry had wished many times over the days since Halloween for some of Fleur's strength.
So, when he spotted her alone in a secluded spot by the lake between classes, he mustered up his courage, fell behind his fellow students, and slipped away from them to talk to her.
His approach was noticed by the older girl, and she stood to face him. She was taller than he was, giving her an extra air of authority as she stared down her nose at him. She looked like she had just spotted a particularly disgusting bug.
"Er- hello," Harry started.
Fleur's expression didn't change as she spoke. "The... other, 'ogwarts champion."
Harry flushed at her clear disdain. "Listen, I didn't put my name in the Goblet."
"So you say."
Harry struggled against his rising anger and shame. If the secret to Fleur's strength lay in looking down on others, he knew he didn't need it. "Right. This was a mistake."
"Oh?" One sharp eyebrow rose.
"Yeah, just- just pretend I didn't say anything." Harry turned to go but was stopped by Fleur's voice.
"That's all? Where is your courage?" she asked, using the French pronunciation.
Harry whirled around. "What?"
"Your 'ouse, non?" Though her voice lacked outright venom, her look was still judgmental. "Your British way of sorting. The four 'ouses, courageux, ambitieux, intelligent, et fraternel?"
"Er-" Harry started, a little lost. At least the words were almost the same in English. "Maybe not fraternal, maybe more like loyal?"
"Bon. So, your courage?"
"Right, er, I guess..." his voice faded. Looking up at the older girl was a struggle, her beauty and demeanor made it hard for Harry to speak, yet a part of him wanted nothing more than to tell her his life's accomplishments, how he slew a basilisk and conjured a Patronus to drive away a hundred dementors. He shook his head and took a deep breath.
"I noticed that people are always looking at you. Staring, I guess. And I just wanted to know..." he struggled again to clear his thoughts, to stop himself from claiming the defeat of Voldemort as his own doing.
"Why?"
"What?"
"You want to know why?" Her tone was guarded, her look had transformed from disgusted to suspicious.
Harry shook his head. "No, no, I wanted to know how you deal with all that attention. Doesn't it bother you?"
She blinked at him, frowned, then narrowed her eyes again. She stared for a few long moments and Harry began to sweat under his collar.
"And why does the most famous wizard in the world need to learn 'ow to deal with attention from me?"
"Famous for something I didn't even do," Harry said. He set his jaw. "That's all anyone sees; Harry Potter, the boy who lived. Never mind that I was a baby, or that I lost my parents the night I got my scar. So all that attention is something I can do without."
"I think I see," Fleur said, her voice softer. Her eyes roved over Harry's face, though he didn't know what she was seeking. "So, what are you looking for?"
Harry shrugged, his anger gone under her scrutiny. "Dunno. Advice, maybe."
"Mais pour quoi?" Fleur shook her head. "For what? Ignoring the staring? Making them stop?"
"I guess," Harry started, "I guess I just want people to see me. Harry, not the boy who lived." He struggled to fight the blush on his face as he looked at Fleur. "Or the Triwizard Champion."
Fleur was quiet while she considered him. When she spoke it was slowly, with thought and care behind each word. "Then, I am afraid, I cannot 'elp you. I do not 'deal' with the attention I receive at all. Because, 'arry Potter, people will only see what they want to see. Unless they get to know you well, whatever they 'ear first will be all they care about. Tell me, 'ow many people do you know well?"
"Er, I guess two," Harry said, Ron and Hermione coming to mind.
"And 'ow many more do you want to know?"
"I... I don't know."
Fleur smiled. "Perhaps that will be my advice. Take care who you decide to get close to."
"So, sorry, you're saying you don't... do anything about everyone staring at you?"
"But yes," Fleur said. "What is there to do? Worry over what people who I do not care about think of me? If they judge me knowing so little about me, then," she flicked her hand dismissively.
"Well-" Harry thought better of what he was about to say and cut himself off.
Fleur didn't let him. "Yes?"
"It's just..."
She raised an eyebrow as if to say 'go on'.
"You kind of... judged me, didn't you? Without knowing me?"
Harry wasn't sure if he saw surprise in Fleur's eyes before she tossed her hair and sniffed. "And as I said, you should not 'ave cared."
But a hint of red appeared in her cheeks.
Harry didn't miss how it made her that much more attractive.
"I don't know if I can make myself not care," he said.
"Then I will say one more thing," Fleur said. "You 'ave judged me as well, without knowing me. Tell me again why you chose to ask me for 'elp with this."
"You... you always look like it doesn't bother you. Just like you said, as if nothing anyone says matters to you."
The blush fell from her face and she put on her usual icy look. She set her shoulders, raised her chin, and before Harry could blink he was once again face to face with the familiar form of Fleur Delacour, the imposing Beauxbatons Triwizard Champion. "And 'ow well do you know me?"
Harry blinked a few times. "Er, not that well."
"Then perhaps you have misjudged me as well."
"You're not saying..."
Her face remained impassive. "Saying what, 'arry Potter?"
"That your whole-" he vaguely gestured at Fleur's posture, "is an act?
Something around Fleur's eyes softened, not a smile but not the haughty look she usually carried around. "My advice, 'arry, remember it. Take care who you get close to. After all, we are competitors, non? I could take your discomfort and use it against you."
"I- er- that- would you?"
"I wonder." She looked past Harry, in the direction of her school's carriage. "I must return to my studies. I am sure you must too."
Harry nodded. "Yeah."
"Then, au revoir, 'arry Potter. It 'as been an... interesting conversation."
"Right," Harry said, still not sure what exactly he had learned from the conversation, but unable to deny that it had been interesting. "Au revoir," he added in a poor imitation of Fleur's French.
And she was gone, up the hill away from the lake and into her carriage, leaving Harry with more questions than answers, and a much greater appreciation for one fact: he didn't understand women in any language.