Transatlanticism

As Harry stepped into the courtyard, finally managing to slip away from a few girls wanting to dance with him, an angry Ron and upset Hermione, he let out a long sigh. He slowly walked around through the courtyard, feeling snowflakes come down, descending on his face. He shivered slightly. It was quiet, and he could still hear the music coming from the Great Hall. He smiled when he heard the slow dancing music had ended and The Weird Sisters started on their rock music. Not liking the snow sticking in his hair, he conjured a band and tried to tie his hair up...

''Harry!'' Too caught up in trying to tie his hair, Harry didn't realise he unconsciously kept wandering, and somehow hadn't notice Ginny Weasley standing in front of him.

''Ginny?'' Her cheeks where flushed, and they seem to become slightly more redder than they already were when Harry called her. Harry though, sighed inwardly upon the blushing redhead. Knowing where this was going, he just couldn't bring himself to like her and he felt sorry for it. But honestly he always thought and even now, Ginny is just in love with 'The Boy Who Lived' instead of the actual simple boy, Harry Potter. His gut told him that it was not coincidence Ginny chose this chilly snowy evening to talk him, and that this was the inevitable confession.

We should become friends first. She hardly ever talks to me.

''Harry um… I need to tell you something.' She paused and Harry stared at her. ''Ever since uh...the thing with the Basilisk, I have uh…liked you–'' She stammered out. Upon hearing this several things flashed through his head. Things like how Ron would react, if he heard this. Or what his response should be.c Without hurting her too much. His eyes softened and he smiled sadly.

''– So will you be my boyfriend?'' She finished confidently, and looked into Harry's eyes. He found it endearing she managed to say that line so confidently after all the stammering.

''Listen Ginny, I like you. But I'm just not interested in you, in that way. Perhaps we can just be friends?'' He really couldn't say anything else and he cursed himself for answering her simply.

Ginny seemed to be unable to talk and she looked like she could burst out crying any moment. But to be honest, he didn't really care too much. For instance because he didn't even know Ginny well enough to even call her his friend. To Harry, Ginny was simply a younger sister of his best friend. And then, after a short silence, she ran away. Harry, stood at the same exact place, gazing around. Letting out a long sigh, before he then turned around and strode away.

After walking for a while, he reached a really lonely looking stone bench. It was dark, but a lantern beside the bench enlightened the place slightly and he saw a figure sitting on it. The Beauxbatons Champion, Fleur Delacour, looking down on her lap, with a very conflicted expression.

''Something wrong Fleur?'' Fleur glanced up, looking into his eyes and smiled before she looked into the distance.

''Non, nozzing much.'' Harry sat down next her. The snow had kept falling down and Harry's hair was covered with a thin layer of snow. He brought his hand to his hair and ruffled trough it. ''What brings you here 'Arry?''

''Since you asked,'' he begun. ''I rejected my former best friend's little sister?'' Harry chuckled. ''It actually sounds worse when you say it out loud.''

She stifled out a laugh and muttered ''Leetle boys.'' And instead of feeling insulted which he did when she called him that first he grinned cheekily. He had to remind himself to not see Fleur as an arrogant french girl.

''Merde, remind me to never go wiz Roger Davees to a dance.'' she muttered.

That's why she's here, instead of at the ball.

''Ah.'' he sighed understandingly. ''Don't mind him. I mean...Everybody is enthralled by you.''

''Even you?'' she mused.

He blushed a bit. ''Even I am,'' he paused ''doesn't it ever get frustrating? Having all those people judge you for something you can't help?''

Fleur eyed him curiously before answering. ''I used to hate the people who did when I was younger, but now I've come to realise that since it can't be helped, I should just make the people see that the veela in me is not the sum of me. ''

''Is that why you're participating this tournament?''

Fleur didn't reply and as it seemed like nothing much, Harry felt really uncomfortable.

''I need to apologize.'' Fleur inquired, quietly after a few moments of silence.

''Er..for what?'' He instantly replied. Again, she didn't answer and Harry swore she did it on purpose to tease him. Older women. She kept gazing at him, and Harry felt so uncomfortably he squirmed.

''For not believing you, and not taking you serious.'' She ran her hand quickly through her hair, leaving it a bit messier behind. And then she scrunched her eyebrows slightly. Almost unnoticeable but not for Harry. He wondered if it was a habit of her.

''You didn't take me as serious competition?'' he remarked, ''I mean, I knew you didn't believe me, hardly anybody did.'' He continued. ''I guess I do feel offended that I didn't strike you as competition.''

Fleur smiled. ''That's why I apologised, non? But don't worry 'Arry, I will zake you as serious competition and I will not lose.''

''I'll do the same then.''

''Very well. As much as I like to talk with you, 'Arry. It seems it's time for me to head back to my carriage.'' She said while she stood up and smiled innocently at him. ''Care to be a gentlemen and escort me back?''

''Of course.'' He said and he stood up and walked her back through the snowy Christmas night, back to her carriage. He bid Fleur a good night and farewell. Surprising him, she leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. She then turned on her heel and walked away as he stood frozen, staring open mouthed at her retreating form. Unable to catch the smile plastered on her face.