He Doesn’t Look So Fake Anymore.

(Double release! And no, I won't post a third one you greedy basterds.)

Silence.

Fleur cursed herself, again and again while the uncomfortable, torturous silence set in. Whichever comfort they had established was struck, broken and thrown in the depths of oblivions.

As much as she tried, she simply couldn't grasp what the boy...what Magnus was thinking. His face blank, stuck in place since she blurted out that damned statement.

'You do not drool, really Fleur? That was the best you could do?' A voice that sounded like the amalgamation of every vicious girl she'd faced resounded in her mind.

Fleur Delacour was experiencing her very first bout of teenage stupidity, and she hated it.

'Alright, I'll apologize and we'll get back to talking...I have to say something, at this rate he'll never want to speak to me again.' She thought, but no matter how hard she tried, her lips were seemingly glued.

Just when she was about to tear up and run off, rushing back inside the carriage and hid away in the safety of her room until kingdom came...He finally did something.

A raised brow and a small twinkle in his eyes soon turned into a fit of chuckles, then a loud barking laughter. He clenched his ribs, almost pained by the strain.

There was none of that poise and coldness, no calculating looks and overly controlled features. The Hogwarts student had shed away the almost saddening maturity and carefulness, things no boy should have at this age, and finally let go.

Fleur watched bemused, her own misgivings taking a backseat as she took him in. At this one moment, Magnus Black looked his truest.

'I want to see more of that.'

It was a selfish, almost arrogant thought she had. But it was there and the champion knew better than to deny it, she wanted to see more of this, to have more of this.

More chats, more laughs, even the embarrassment was welcome if it gave her the company of someone who wasn't as patronizing as her parents or immature as her sweet sister.

She loved her parents, and Gabrielle had been her only friend for years, but was it too greedy to want more? Was one more friend too much to ask for?

Only time would tell.

"It came out wrong." The Beauxbatons champion said, ears more red than a Weasley's infamous mane.

"No." Magnus breathed in, "It was...perfect."

She watched him lean back in his seat, the old wood cracking when he shifted. He rubbed his forehead, something he seemed to do a lot, his other hand still clutching his belly.

"Now that we got this out of the way, may I ask why you made this particular comment?" As soon as it left, back was the coldness and control. "Unless you forgot, I'm able to resist the effects of your allure."

"I didn't." She shook her head, "But no one can resist it for long, and not as well as you did."

People would be affected in the end, her magic would slowly reach out to them until they are fully enthralled. It took an experienced Occlumens to defeat the infamous Veela charm, and even they had moments of weakness.

Her father had his moments of helplessness against his wife, though they were few and far between. And she could almost always sense his emotions by now, something that never failed to upset him.

There was simply no way a fourth year, albeit a gifted one, could outlast trained aurors and ministry officials.

"Ce n'est pas normal." She spoke under her breath, if curiosity was a crime then Fleur would plead guilty.

"Normal is boring." Magnus said, the words flowing out of his mouth like he said them a hundred times. He rolled his eyes, seemingly considering whether her question was even worth his time before speaking up. "I've been shielding my thoughts since my first year, maybe it gave me some sort of resistance against mind control?"

"It doesn't work like this." She let out a small smile, figuring out his knowledge of the mind arts and her kind wasn't nearly as advanced as she thought. "The allure isn't 'mind control', Magnus, it is more akin to esoteric magic."

"Emotional manipulation can be seen as a type of control." He frowned.

"Only if it was as straightforward as you think." She explained, not liking where the conversation was heading. "The allure only affects someone as much as he wants to be affected, it rouses the often destructive desire to impress, not to obey."

"Drooling is impressive?" He raised a brow, before grinning "Maybe Weasley has a chance after all…"

"Not in a hundred years." Fleur grumbled, the young red head had already 'introduced himself', so to speak. "People who are particularly weak willed get overwhelmed by the allure, losing their ability to think properly along the way."

"I see." He nodded. "That wasn't covered in the books I've read."

He blushed a little, and she didn't need much effort to know what he was thinking about. Most literature involving Veela tended to be highly biased and more than a little explicit, her want for retribution came over Fleur and she gave in eagerly.

"Oh, do tell, what exactly did you learn?" She said evenly, eyes narrowing.

Magnus looked genuinely embarrassed, and almost slipped back into his Occlumency induced poker face when she let out a chuckle, betraying her true intentions.

"You sly witch." He shook his head, cheeks still red.

She only laughed at his indignation, it was good to be the one doing the teasing, she could almost understand why he was so intent on embarrassing her…almost.

"Look who's talking." She raised her chin. "I've asked about you, you know? Your classmates were most eager to tell all the stories, petite canaille."

"Such as." He said nonchalantly, leaning toward her with a glint in his eyes.

"Apparently, you are a psychotic overachiever who secretly manipulated the entire school into thinking he was a muggleborn before freeing your father." She mock-whispered, leaning toward him.

"Fair enough." He nodded, his lips curling the slightest bit. "What else?"

"Hmm, let me think." She raised a finger up her lips. "You tricked your astrology professor into sending you a love letter on Valentine's day."

"That was a good one, payback for the trouble she gave in second year." Magnus nodded, his smile widening. "Our defense teacher was a fraud, and she didn't like me pointing it out."

"You petted your transfiguration teacher on your first lesson." She said, looking to see how he'll justify that one.

"First, she was in cat form." He raised a finger. "Second, it was retribution for my violated cheeks."

Fleur looked at him, more than a little mortified. She sincerely hoped it was an obscure British idiom, or at least something lost in translation...otherwise, she might have to burn a few people.

Magnus had one look at her, and burst out laughing.

"No those cheeks, stalker." He flicked her forhead. "She laughed at my plight when a few ladies pinched the hell out of me."

"I'm not a stalker!" She said more loudly than she intended, a wild blush appeared in her face and expanded rapidly when Magnus raised a single brow.

"So you weren't following me around under an invisibility spell?" He said, coming closer.

"I...Didn't…" she stammered for a reply, a dozen very colorful curses in her head would make her mother faint and sailors blush in shame.

"And you didn't keep glaring at me wherever I went?" He continued with a teasing grin.

"Only at first!" She protested, only then realizing she was digging her own grave. "I mean…"

"So you were glaring, what changed?" He asked, sounding genuinely curious if not for that damned grin on his face.

"Nothing…" She squeaked.

"Nothing." The smile disappeared. "Here I thought we were getting along. You were just using me, weren't you?"

"No!" Fleur said. She was red in the face and her thoughts were a mess.

"Oh, so you like me?" The smile came back in force.

"I didn't say that!"

It wasn't fair.

Wasn't she supposed to be the Veela? Why is she the one getting embarrassed by a younger boy? He should be the blushing mess, not her.

Much to her shame, the Beauxbatons champion was unable to find a reply that didn't involve throwing fireballs at the insolent shameless canaille, so she pulled a trick out of Gabrielle's book and pouted.

It wasn't very effective.

"I think I hate you." She said, frowning long sufferingly.

"I get that a lot." He had the gall to poke her forehead, an amused smile on his face. "But no you don't."

The warming charm was fading, but before she could do anything she saw him sneakily reapplying his own, bringing the slightest smile to her face.

Fleur would never admit it, but she could get used to this.

'At least he doesn't look so fake anymore.'