Pris De Fer & Figure Eights | a drarry oneshot |

Gardenias

Harry Potter stood standing on a small stage in front of a few hundred people in a brightly lit room, cameras clicking and flashing to take his picture and microphones shoved in his face by the arms of inquisitive interviewers despite the mini mic installed into his back.

He had just finished (and won) part of a fencing tournament that took place in France, his white fencing uniform still on due to the impatience of all the interviewers and reporters going on about how they were live and needed him on right this instant or some bullshit- Harry didn't really understand.

It was rather boring, unlike he expected. Someone would ask Harry a question, the room would go somewhat silent with the hum of voices less evident, he would answer then the room would explode into conversation about what he answered. It was frightening, even.

The room quieted down again as someone asked Harry about one of the moves he did to get a tremendously unexpected hit on his opponent when someone from the crowd started running towards the stage with something enormous in their arms.

Everyone watched as a young man with a baseball cap no older than 20 ran towards him with the comically too large thing in his embrace. a security guard ran behind him but wasn't nearly as fast as this lanky french dude.

The man reached the edge of the stage and held out, what seemed to be, a gigantic bouquet of red gardenias.

"These are for you." he told him quickly with a french accent as Harry just stared down at the flowers in mild shock.

Harry freed the man from the weight of the flowers- which were abnormally heavy -leaning back to support their weight. He's been given flowers before but the size of these certainly were extra and whoever had sent them were obviously not in their right mind.

He looked down at the flowers, the potent smell hitting his nostrils with an almost spicy scent.

"The person who-!" The security guard grabbed hold of the man to take him back to calm down before he could finish his sentence, a few people gasping before a hushed silence waved over the room as they watched the two, a camera flashing.

"Wait!" Harry said as he looked down at the flowers and back at the struggling mysterious man, "Who are they from?" he asked as he watched the man get farther and farther away.

"Who are they from!?!" he repeated, the man already halfway to the exit.

"It is written on the note!" the french man shouted back before getting taken out of the room.

Harry stared at the exit, as did many others, before they turned their heads back to look at Harry and the flowers, the sound of voices bursting out loudly once again.

"Harry! Harry! Would you read who the note is from!?" Many asked and Harry looked back down at the fetching red flowers to look for the supposed note to get them to shut up.

There was a small paper crane tucked in the center of the bouquet that looked oddly familiar and he carefully grabbed it, adjusting the bouquet to rest on his hip so he could unfold and read it.

On the note was, in fancy handwriting and blood red ink, the message 'you looked quite charming out there considering your resemblance of an egg'.

Harry furrowed his brows in not only confusion but even a little in anger. What the hell was that even supposed to mean? He did not look like an egg.

He looked at the rude note to see who wrote and in the bottom right corner were the initials 'D.M' in the same fancy writing.

D.M, Harry thought to himself to see if he knew anybody with those initials. It took him a second to realize who these could possibly be from and his mouth fell open at the possibility.