Cold Grounds|Fleur Delacour
Fleur Delacour Masterlist
Word Count: ~2.6K
Genre: Fluff | (kinda) Hurt/comfort | love confession | friends to lovers
Pairing: Fleur Delacour x Female!Reader
Summary: Feelings are revealed when you and Fleur visit Hogwarts for the Tri-Wizard tournament.
Warning(s): Anxiety, feelings of expectation.
Notes:
Reader attends Beauxbatons
The reader is mentioned to have family living abroad (outside France)
Reader is Bilingual (French and English)
A lot of the information I used for Beauxbatons was found on “Hogwarts is Here” by Adelaide Dubois; the majority of the information is not canon
Normal means they’re speaking in French
Bold means they’re speaking in English
No Magique = Muggle
Ma Cherie = My darling/My dear
//————//————//————//————//
|PICTURES DO NOT BELONG TO ME|
It isn’t a surprise to find Fleur surrounded by a group of people; She’s alluring to men and women alike…and you’d be lying if you said that doesn’t include you—but you can also say that your feelings stemmed from years of friendship.
The blonde lifts her head, and your eyes meet, making your heart flutter and stomach turn. Maybe you’re projecting, but you think her eyes light up.
You watch as she quickly descends the front steps of the Chateau, which is Beauxbatons: French Academy of Magic, with unmatched elegance.
“Ma Cherie! It has been too long since I last heard from you! How was the rest of your break? You must tell me everything!” Fleur loops her arm through yours, guiding you towards the entrance, and you follow along all too willingly.
“Boring for the most part. My family wanted to try camping while we were with my cousins abroad. It didn't go too well…” You shudder minutely, recalling the unpleasant memories.
“Tell me you didn’t camp the No-Magique way.” Fleur’s nose scrunches up in distaste.
Your smile is enough to tell her that her fears are correct.
Fleur’s brows furrow as she searches for the right words. “I do not understand why No-Magiques would do that for enjoyment; from what you wrote to me in your letter, No-Magique camping is very different from wizard camping; very...cramped…”
You nod, “It can be.” You pause when you make eye contact, unable to help but note how she’s looking at you very attentively, “But there are some good parts too…maybe I’ll take you some time.”
Her eyes brighten, her smile genuine, “I would like that.”
Before you can voice your surprise at her compliance, due to how she was skeptical barely a moment ago, one of Fleur's roommates runs up to you, “Fleur! We must hurry, Madame Maxime said that there will be a big announcement after dinner!” She says breathlessly, barely sparing you a glance.
Fleur turns to you, the curiosity on her face reflecting your own, “What do you think it is?”
Your lips purse in quick thought, “I’m not sure.”
Fleur, motivated by this newfound information, drags you through the Chateau doors and into the welcoming hall; her group of admirers following close behind.
She keeps you on her arm the whole time.
//————//————//————//————//
Silently, you sit on Fleur's right-hand side at one of the long banquet tables taking up the right side of the Grand Ballroom (the left side being empty), trying to soak in the ambiance since you only dine here for special occasions.
Glass chandeliers illuminate the enchanted Baroque art on the ceilings. Marble floors are covered by tables made of dark oak, displaying only appetizers until after the sorting. Students fill chairs made of the same oak but glimmer with gold accents and softened by blue cushions. Wooden Nymphs dance around, some chatting with the students while you all wait for the first years to arrive.
You know the first years will arrive soon when three long, chair-less tables appear on the left side of the room. The empty banquet tables took up 3/4 of the length of that side of the ballroom; the final 1/4 was made up of the chairs the students would sit in before being sorted.
On the first night, it’s customary for the first years to be separated by their three house, and only sit among other first years; it is believed to encourage first years to make friends with the people they will spend most of their time with throughout the years. The older students have free rein to sit wherever they want, no matter their year or house. But only for the first night.
At the sound of the big doors opening, all chatter stops, and everyone stands, looking over to the left side of the room expectantly.
At long last, the eleven-year-olds walk through the grand doors, right by the empty chairs. As they find a seat, you notice how they can’t stop themselves from marveling at the sight of the Grand Ballroom—you smile, recalling what it had been like for you. When their marveling is over, the first year's notice, the rest of you standing, and they quickly follow suit.
The front of the room sits the staff at a solid marble table littered with gold accents. From it, Madame Maxime stands to address the crowd, specifically the first years.
“Welcome, students! I am Madam Maxime, Headmistress of Beauxbatons: French Academy of Magic.” She pauses, and polite applause follows.
After a few moments, Madame Maxime lifts her hand, and the room goes silent. “Beauxbatons has taught and housed many notable witches and wizards, such as the wondrous Nicolas Flamel, inventor of the Sorcerer’s Stone.” She pauses to allow more applause. “I speak for all of my comrades and our students when I say that we hope you find the next seven years among us to be enlightening and gratifying as you all take your place in the wizarding world!” The second round of applause holds more enthusiasm.
At the end of the applause, Madame Maxime motions for the staff and students to sit; so they do.
Madame Maxime takes a good look at the first years. “The sorting uses an enchanted bow and arrow—An arrow that is engraved with your name.” She smiles knowingly at the uneasy shifts some of the first years make. “Don't be intimidated, the bow’s enchantment will make shooting your arrow as swift as the flowing waters in our fountains, no previous experience required. Once your arrow reaches its height, it will burst into colorful sparks; the color will be what indicates your placement, but if you require confirmation, look to the bow for the name of your house.”
“Beauxbatons has three grand houses, and you will be sorted based on which house will best assist you in honing your abilities and bring like-minded people together. However, we greatly encourage you to make friends outside of your houses as well.” She paused, turning to smile at the older students before turning back to the first years.
“Bellefeuille is represented by the color green; this house will tend to the nature lovers and is characterized as being brave and loyal.”
“Blue indicates the sorting of Ombrelune; this house will satisfy the curious, and is known to house the cunning and ambitious.”
“Lastly, Papillionlisse, portrayed by purple; this house nurtures the creative, and is seen to be the house of the idealistic and kind.”
“Whatever house you are placed in will be an honor. So if you do not get the house you are hoping for, know that you are meant for something greater.” She pauses to look some of the first years in the eye. “Now let us watch as the next generation of Beauxbatons is placed among our great school!”
At that, two items appear out of nowhere: The enchanted bow resting on a pillow and an oak chest decorated with gold accents, jewels, and a lock that replicates the Beauxbatons coat of arms, both suspended mid-air for your headmistress's easy access.
Madame Maxime reaches for the bow lying atop a delicate-looking pillow, and with a wave of her hand, the chest opens, revealing an overwhelming amount of arrows.
Fleur grips your hand, both of you watching with the rest of the room in anticipation as Madame Maxime plucks an arrow from the top of the stack and looks to the side of the arrow for the name engraved into it.
“Eléonore Blanchard!” The tall woman bellowed out.
It takes a few moments before a dark-skinned girl with curly hair emerges from the seated first years and timidly walks up to Madame Maxime. The headmistress pats her shoulder, probably with the intent to soothe her, but the woman's giant hand juxtaposes the girl's small frame. Madame Maxime places the bow and arrow into the wide-eyed girl's hands and waits patiently.
Eléonore takes a breath, raises the arrow, and lets it fly.
The arrow bursts into purple sparks—Papillionlisse.
Everyone claps politely; the Papillonlisse students do so with enthusiasm.
The wood nymphs dance around Eléonore, gently guiding her towards the table that’s magically surrounded in a purple glow. You can visibly see the relief she feels at being seated.
When the applause ends, Madame Maxime pulls out another arrow from the floating chest and examines it, “Vivienne Laine!”
A girl with light red hair and fair skin excitedly walks up to Madame Maxime with a large grin on her face. She takes the bow and arrow with confidence.
She wastes no time positioning the bow and arrow, but stops briefly to take a breath, then pulls back and releases the arrow into the air.
Green Sparks—Bellefeuille.
When the nymphs reach her, she dances with them, though not as effortlessly, the whole way to the table, surrounded by a light green glow.
When Vivienne sits down, still grinning even though her face is pinker than before and she’s slightly out of breath, she looks over at Eléonore and waves excitedly. Eléonore seems to be caught off guard at first, but smiles and waves back shyly.
//————//————//————//————//
The sorting goes over smoothly, but leaves students looking expectantly at their headmistress, curious and impatient to know what surprise she’s keeping.
Madame Maxime smiles knowingly, “I'm sure you have all heard by now, whether it be from your guardians or friends, that this school year will be special.” She pauses, finding satisfaction in the sight of her students waiting with palpable anticipation, “I am pleased to tell you that this year, Beauxbatons will compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament.”
At the announcement, the students turn to those next to them, talking in confused whispers.
Fleur gently squeezes your hand to get your attention. “What is the Tri-Wizard tournament?” She whispers to you in confusion. You don’t even have time to voice your puzzlement before Madame Maxime speaks up.
“I am sure that the majority of you are curious as to what that is...” Everyone goes quiet, listening intently as Madame Maxime explains the Tri-Wizard tournament. Many students were on the edge of their seats, clearly interested; Fleur was one of them; you quickly notice. When the age limit was announced, many of these students deflated.
Next to you, Fleur’s excitement rolled off of her, and you knew she was going to enter, and it left you feeling nauseous.
//————//————//————//————//
Throughout dinner, Fleur ranted about the tournament, enthusiastically engaging in conversation with the people around you. When she looked your way, you tried to offer encouraging smiles, and she appeared none the wiser to your discomfort.
When dinner was over and it was time to retire to your dorms for the night, Fleur was still exhilarated from the news as she kissed you swiftly on both cheeks before rushing out. A group of girls followed after her.
You were still unsettled when you went to sleep that night.
//————//————//————//————//
Over a month later, you and the rest of the students in your year are finally on your way to Hogwarts. Given the age restriction, only students of age are to be journeying to your “home away from home” for the rest of the school year.
Though your feelings haven’t much changed from the announcement, the way that Fleur smiles at you and grabs your hand as the two of you walk out of the enchanted carriage, you can’t help but think that maybe this tournament wouldn’t be so bad.
//————//————//————//————//
The second task was tomorrow. You were anxious, and you weren’t even competing. Fleur insisted that she was ready, but you could tell she was anxious as well.
So, you did the first thing you thought of. A walk by the Black Lake. This is where the next task would be held. You thought that maybe seeing it before would help ease the nerves.
You were kicking yourself now.
Fleur took a good look at the lake. She turned to you, looking like she wanted to say something, then turned back towards the lake.
“What is it, Fleur?” You asked patiently.
“I-Well…” You had been helping her with her English since the tournament was announced. “I’m worried I won’t perform well…”
“You’ll do well. I’ve seen you studying, practicing, working hard to represent Beauxbatons in the way it deserves.” You answered, switching to French to better reassure her.
“But what if my best isn’t great…” she mumbled, but you heard.
“Your best will always be good enough, Fleur. To the people that truly care about you, it will always be good enough.” You took her hand in both of yours, urging her to believe you.
She looked at you assessingly. Finally, she whispered, “If I place last tomorrow, will you still care for me?” You were shocked by the question.
“Of course, Fleur, of course!” You tried to hide the fact that you were a little hurt she thought you wouldn’t.
“Everyone expects me to place. I mean, Hogwarts has a fourteen-year-old competing along with their of-age student. I need to be great.” She said.
“You’re a very intelligent woman, Fleur. With a heart of diamonds and a personality to match it. No matter how you perform during this tournament, that will not change.”
She looked at you for a few moments before leaning in. The hand that was not in yours caressed your cheek. She looked at you with such intensity that you shivered.
“Promise me. Promise me that if I do not do well in this tournament, you will still be my friend.” She whispered, the raw emotion of fear and vulnerability in her voice as she begged in her mother tongue.
“I promise.” You breathed out, completely consumed by the energy that is Fleur Delacour.
Her breath hitched, and she cast a glance at your lips, “I never really liked the cold, you know.” She muttered, “I had imagined us next to Flamels’ fountain, not these... cold grounds. But I simply cannot wait any longer.”
You looked at her lips, your eyes so pathetically begging her to kiss you, you wouldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe, until she kissed you.
Fleur took in a breath, “Let me kiss you.” She said in a mixture of begging and demand.
You nodded softly, and she complied.
She was an excellent kisser, no surprise there. She used both of her hands to caress your face, keeping you close.
You moved your hands from your lap, one going to Fleur's face to brush away the locks of her hair, and the other going to her waist.
She pulled back after what felt like a long time, and looked at you with eyes full of love, and…
You realized with a start that she had tears in her eyes.
You cupped her cheek in panic, “What is it?”
“I think…I love you.” She confessed.
Your stomach erupted with butterflies.
“I love you too, Fleur. So much!” You said in a hurry.
She could only stare at you with happiness and love in her eyes.
Who knew your love would bloom on cold grounds?
//————//————//————//————//
edited on 05/13/2024
edited on 6/17/2024
edited on 7/24/2024
edited on 10/07/2024
edited on 09/21/2025
edited on 11/05/2025
