Chapter Text
"I fucking hate portkeys."
Luna laughs and tucks the chain into her pocket before linking her arm with her brother's. "You hate all magical travel."
"Apparition isn't that bad."
"Fair."
It's no secret in the wixen community that some children are better adapted for side-along apparition over floo or portkey travel. In most cases, those children grasp apparition very quickly but usually can't learn using the ministry approved method. Many of those children will be given private lessons after applying at the ministry for an exception. One group of wixen that react very poorly are the seers and another are those with mage sight.
There's a familiar blonde-haired woman and young girl waiting for them, and Jon breathes a sigh of relief. "Let's go, moon."
Fleur and Gabrielle notice them at the same time and meet them just before the walkway. Fleur tugs Jon into a hug. "Thank you," she whispers, voice so soft. "I've missed you."
Jon lets out a breathless laugh and squeezes her back. "It's been four weeks."
"Long enough…"
The Delacour mansion is somehow more opulent than he expected. Four stories tall on the main building with two wide-windowed spires stretching into the sky, it seems to loom over the winding drive up to the attached garage. Honestly looking up at the magically cleaned, white bricks, he feels so small, insignificant… It harkens to the look in Victor's eyes, and the voice of the Falling. He catches sight of white feathers from the wide windows and Knows they're used by the Veela with enough blood to transform completely.
The foyer, filled with white marble and flowing lines of blue in an imitation of a breeze, stretches up into an enormous sky patterned lightly like clouds. The sound is strangely deafened when they step inside; he can hear his own heartbeat beating at his brain. He Knows that this space is meant to intimidate visitors and leave them grasping for solid ground without understanding why…
"Lulo!" Fleur calls out suddenly, and an elf silently appears before them, her wide eyes narrowing slightly at the strangers.
Lulo appraises Jon and Luna with a keenness that is far from subtle, and she stands on her tippy toes as though to make herself taller and more intimidating. She does not take guests lightly… especially not the boy her mistress Fleur was telling her parents and grandparents about… not the boy who Knows so much. "What can Lulo be doing for mistress?" Her voice is deep and raspy like the old girl spends her days working through at least a pack of cigarettes every day. On the tips of her ears are discarded and mismatching ribbons threaded through self-made holes from which veela feathers hang, gifts from the family that she treasures with her whole being. Her uniform, dove grey robes with the Delacour family crest and swirls of blue at the hem, is immaculate, nothing like the dingy pillowcase Harry described on Dobby.
Fleur gestures for the Lovegoods to put their bags down and smiles almost serenely. "Can you take their bags to their guest room?"
Lulo nods and snaps her fingers. "Thank–" She pops away before Jon can finish uttering his thanks.
"Don't mind her," Fleur whispers and laces her fingers with Jon’s. “She’s not fond of strangers.”
“I gathered that.” Jon sighs and allows himself to be drug into the kitchen only after grabbing for Luna.
In a cozy, small kitchen designed for a family to cook together instead of a team of house elves, an elderly woman with white-streaked blonde hair stands sipping tea and looking through the window. Feathers cling about to the hollow of her throat and ripple up onto her shoulders as though she's a moment away from taking off into the sky. Her nails, painted like the sky, are sharpened like talons ready to tear out an unsuspecting lover's throat. Jon remembers reading about how as full and half-blooded veela grow older, it becomes quite difficult for them to smooth out all of their avian features which drove most of the species into hiding or countries where they are revered and adored.
"Grandmère?"
The old woman turns, still holding her cup to her chest, and Jon can see the same light in Fleur's echo in this woman. "You're back," she responds in French, her tone light but surprised. "Is this the boy you told us about?"
Fleur blushes brightly. "Yes… and he speaks French."
Jon squeezes her hand. "It's nice to meet you, madam. My name is Jon Sims-Lovegood, and this is my sister, Luna Lovegood."
The woman seems to glow up at hearing his accent-less French, even her feathers fluff up slightly. "I am Fleur's maternal grandmother, Mavis." She purposefully looks at her other guest, a small glimmer of curiosity and hope in her cerulean eyes. "Do you speak French too?"
Luna smiles serenely at the old woman and replies, albeit with a mild, noticeable accent, "I do not have my brother's gift, but I have been looking into language spells."
Mavis's grin grows wider, showing off points of teeth instead of normal molars. "If only other British wixen had such good heads."
Jon chuckles almost darkly and takes a seat at the low table opposite the kitchen, moving his chair enough to give Fleur a bit more space. "Agreed."
Conversation flows fluidly in French and a small mix of English until Aria, Fleur's mother comes in from the garden with her grandfather, Geoffrey. Aria takes one look at her guests and fluffs up in delight, but not literally as she's not old enough for the feathers to set in permanently. They don't meet Fleur's father Marcus until the evening dinner where the grandparents: Aria's mother and father and Marcus's mothers (Tanya and Gale) eat with them.
They have to move to the more formal dining room to accommodate their guests, but the conversation that has been so flowy doesn't go stale once. Luna has to drag her gaze away from Geoffrey a couple of times, giving him away as using his allure, but he's paying attention to Jon who, to Fleur's amusement, doesn't notice. She'd spoken to her parents about how she wondered if Jon experienced sexual attraction at all; her description of how he interacts with Harry and Blaise had them all quite curious. Honestly, Jon has such a good time, talking with Geoffrey and Gale about growing up with muggles, that he doesn’t realize his tag-a-longs are peaking out of his hair at everyone and gaining some less than enthused attention.
Marcus's stepmother, a colder, somewhat subdued woman with eyes like the night sky and hair ran through with stars fixes the space below his left ear with a narrowed-eyed stare. Strands of her hair stand up slightly along her back, not that most people can see them. She’s never been the most fond of spiders.
Fleur notices before he does and jumps in, "Mère Tanya, what's the matter?"
Tanya sets down her fork and folds her hands in front of her, pointedly ignoring the quizzical looks her family gives her. The air has a faint smell of ozone and ocean breeze. "You have spiders in your hair," she states, lips thin and gaze cold.
“Ah… yes.” Jon flushes furiously and turns to his friend who looks just as embarrassed. "Did you not tell them about Bitsy and Jinx?"
Fleur refuses to look him in the eye and admits a bit quieter than normal that, “I honestly forgot about them… I told them about the merfolk… but not the whole first task… issue either.”
Marcus looks perhaps the most intrigued, leaning forward far enough that if his light blond hair wasn’t pinned back into a low ponytail it would be covering part of his face. “With the dragons?”
“Yes.” Jon reaches up to let his spiders climb onto his fingers and quickly chatters at them to behave. “I speak to spiders and dragons as well… We do not know why…” Jinx climbs up to the top of his waterglass to survey the table and tries to coax Bitsy into doing the same; he tells them both to be careful. “It’s more of a pain than you’d expect.”
Conversation quickly veers off again with Gale and Geoffery peppering him with questions about what magical creatures he’s been exposed to and whether or not he could understand them. They looked a bit concerned when he admitted that there’s an acromantula colony he visits regularly, and Fleur looks a little green about the whole thing… but it distracts him well enough from the way that Tanya keeps looking at him and his spiders who whisper that she feels like the wind…
He Knows they mean the Falling.
The next day, Jon finds himself standing amidst a boutique while his sister and Gabrielle look at the jewelry on the far wall and Fleur sets about using him as a mannequin while she plans how they're going to match at the party in three days. "Remind me why we're here, and why we have to match." He's more than a twinge irritated at having dress shirts repeatedly held to his chest while his friend makes little noises of disapproval.
Fleur shoots him a dirty look over the rack she's behind. "I don't want to have to dance with anyone else." Jon makes a small, confused sound. "I'm the Delacour heiress, and it's well-known that I prefer men… Since I'm of age, they're going to try harder to set up courtship dates, so I will be hounded for dances if I don't make it seem like I have a partner… and you are my friend." She pauses and looks between him and Luna. "Small… side question."
"What?"
"I know it's none of my business, but–" He's not sure he'll like where this is going. "–I know the Lovegoods have a seat on your…" She wrinkles her nose as she tries to think of the appropriate term. "...whatever place in the ministry."
"Wizengamot," he fills in when she takes another smaller break.
"Yes!" Fleur holds a shirt to her chest. "Are you or Luna the heir?"
Jon barks out a bark of laughter. "Luna is. The Lovegoods are matriarchal, so even if I was biologically one, she would have heir status."
"...the Delacours are matriarchal too." She hums and holds up the more purple-lavender, flowy blouse/dress-shirt that she knows would look nice next to her black and purple dress that she bought specifically with working Jon's favorite color into their outfits. "Do you want to wear pants or a skirt?"
He looks wistfully over at the other two girls who have started looking for the most atrocious fashion sins. "Skirt," he sighs. He kind of wishes he had one on today, but pockets are kind of important if he's not wearing robes.
Fleur forces him to hold the shirt and then drags him over to another wall where she can see a skirt that she's sure will absolutely complement his slim figure if she can find one short enough to fit; sizing charms can only do so much when her friend is about to be shorter than her sister. She pulls down the second smallest one and gestures for the assistant that has been hovering to open a dressing room. Once he's safely inside with both pieces of clothing and the assistant has vanished, she decides that it's as good a time as any to tell him her thoughts on something that's been… bothering her since his arrival.
"I know you don't like girls," Fleur says quite suddenly, when he's got the shirt halfway buttoned up. She leans against the wall next to the door and keeps her voice low even with a silencing charm thrown up. "...but I don't think you like men either."
Jon makes a quizzical noise. "What's brought this on?"
“All of my mother’s family is veela.”
Jon thinks of the dinner where Geoffrey was so chatty. "Your grandfather was using his… gift?"
The young Frenchwoman sighs. "Oui, some of my cousins will be at the party tomorrow.” She crosses her arms. “They will find it funny to try and distract you while we dance. I was… concerned, when I spoke to my mother about it, and grandfather had the idea.”
Tugging the skirt up over his, frankly, nonexistent hips, Jon looks at himself in the mirror wall to the left. “I… understand, but I don’t know why you’d bring it up now that you know.” He shoves his feet into the dragonhide boots he wore into the store, internally sighing at the fact that even with the added height, he still looks like a second-year.
Fleur takes a step to the side when the door opens, pale blue eyes shining when she takes him in. “Oh, Jon…”
He steps out into the light and fights the urge to fidget. “You going to answer my question?”
“Yes, yes.” She motions for him to do a little spin and glows up even further. “Do you know what asexuality is?”
Jon shakes his head once he comes to a stop but then gets a far off look as the Eye presses in the knowledge. “I…” He thinks about how he feels for Blaise and Harry and realizes quite suddenly that for all that he cares about the two of them, he’s never felt any desire towards either of them; it just never even occurred to him. “Huh… I never would have…” He huffs quite dramatically and throws his hands up. “Is there anything else I need to know before I meet the rest of your family?”
He expects Fleur to laugh at his antics, not for her to go a tad steely and look away as though the words are hard. “Mère Tanya comes from a family called the Fairchilds, and I would avoid them, if I were you.”