Fleur
The Great hall is filled with the usual clatter of breakfast. Sitting here, and eating, still felt awkward to me.
I was used to Beauxbatons' refined version for meals and table etiquettes, even during regular breakfasts.
So I still couldn't wrap my head - and fingers - around just one set of fork, knife and spoon for the whole meal.
Beside me, Roger was going on in full swing about how beautiful I looked even after being attacked and scratched by grindylows in the second task.
Like that was the only thing that mattered as the result of my failure in that task.
Not the fact that I couldn't reach Gabrielle when my little sister - my most precious tressure - was tied to a statue underwater and was supposed to be rescued by me in time, only for me to be taken down by a bunch of lake creatures.
Like "how shiny my hair glowed because of black lake water" was more important than saving your little sister and scraping through the challenge, hoping that by force of willpower and sheer luck, I will not disappoint Madame Maxime and my parents by not winning the tri-wizard cup.
Because, frankly, against an international - almost worshiped - quidditch seeker, an ace wizard at the age of 17 and the boy who lived, my chances of winning are as slim as my fingers; which was now the center of Roger's admiration.
"Your elegantly petite fingers makes these cutlery look so beautiful and... Use worthy!", he exclaimed pleased with himself, like he has just found a word worthy of being included in Ancient Wizard Word Spells and Dictionary.
"Zat ees very sweet of you to say, Roger", I replied, in my most practised tone to placate an admirer, but my almost too heavy accent tells me that my mind is still otherwise occupied, even after making sure to have a good beauty sleep - my mom's answer to stress.
Giving up on the hope of getting distracted by Roger's flattery, I let my attention drift to tonight's event, effectively tuning out another string of complements on my "long silvery gold mane of hairs like a dreamy, golden unicorn".
The final task of tri-wizard tournament. Just the thought makes my stomach dip and my hands sweaty.
I cannot remember being this nervous ever in my life, or for my life. I just knew that I would tolerate any amount of disappointed words from Madame Maxime and my parents if I somehow managed to get out of this tournament, alive and intact.
But after facing a dragon - albeit human friendly - and being taken magnificently down by lake grindylows, this was looking to be a big, unattainable goal to be achieved.
Goals.
At 17, not many expected a girl like me to have any concrete goals. They assumed me to be as much of a fairy princess as I looked, waiting for a knight in shining armour to ride from moors and save me from the big bad world and ride with me into sunset.
The analogy turned my stomach. But what had my heart stuttering was the fact that I might not be able to prove them wrong if I didn't survive tonight.
The world would think of me as a delicate princess unwittingly volunteering for a dangerous game, only to die, as prince charmings were not allowed in such tournaments.
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My Eldest Weasley
Fanfiction[COMPLETED] Bad memories are hard to forget, Good ones even harder. Fleur Delacour has been treated like a princess all her life, and usually, she didn't mind it. But after witnessing a tragedy occur, she realized that instead of going on to live li...
